This blog with begin with a joke but then will shift gears totally, so be prepared. Wonderful friend David from London sent jokes again and this one definitely caught my fancy (wherever that may be).
United Nations Survey On Senior Males
The sexual Activity Of Senior Males.
The frequency of sexual activity of senior males depends on where they were born.
Statistics just released from Statistics Canada and The United Nations B.O.H. Team, reveal that:
North American, Australian, New Zealanders and British men between 60 and 80 years of age, will on average, have sex two to three times per week,
(and a small number a lot more).
Whereas Japanese men, in exactly the same age group, will have sex only once or twice per year if they are lucky.
This has come as very upsetting news to a lot of us at the pub, as none of us had any idea that we were Japanese.
Me: David, darn you! Now I have to blog, this is too funny to keep to myself.
I forwarded the joke to a man with whom I was having a relationship – he was/is in a relationship with another woman.
Me: This from David, whom you have met. I hope you are Japanese. Hahahaha
He has not responded as yet but he is funny and I cannot wait to see what he has to say! If it is not too vulgar I shall pass it on.
But now onto to the serious stuff. Abandoning my daily habit of writing an upbeat blog has had dire consequences. My disillusionment with this craven city festers. Festers shall be the word of the day, and such a word it is! Fester, a verb,
1 his deep wound festered: suppurate, become septic, become infected, form pus, weep; Medicine be purulent; archaic rankle.
2 the garbage festered: rot, molder, decay, decompose, putrefy, go bad, spoil, deteriorate.
3 their resentment festered: rankle, eat away, gnaw away, brew, smolder.
Paul Simon’s Hyde Park concert aired recently with his profound Sounds of Silence. It so aptly applies and describes Vancouver and its inhabitants.
Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
But this is almost a miracle. CPI in an email told me of a study which you can find my googling Vancouver Unhappiness 2018. The study concludes that Vancouver is the unhappiest city in Canada. To quote from the article: “Vancouver and Toronto ranked as the unhappiest cities in Canada, according to a recent study from UBC’s Vancouver School of Economics and McGill University.Researchers looked at life satisfaction across over 1,200 communities across the country and found that people living in cities reported being less happier than those living in rural communities.” The study looked to the reasons and conclude: Helliwell says the biggest difference between the happiest and least happy communities is how much of a sense of belonging people feel towards their community.”Trust, involvement and a chance to join with others engaged in improving lives are all connected, with each adding happiness.”He says average incomes and unemployment rates were not a factor in the study but happier communities have lower commute times, and fewer people spending more than 30 per cent on housing. Helliwell says the biggest difference between the happiest and least happy communities is how much of a sense of belonging people feel towards their community.”Trust, involvement and a chance to join with others engaged in improving lives are all connected, with each adding happiness.”
I, like most people, love being right. I knew that this had to be a depressed place with its inhabitants walking the streets like zombies. People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening. But the timing was nothing short of incredible. I have been trying to cheer this place up but to little avail. I can officially give up and have because it is a lost cause. I will enjoy my remaining months here as much as possible but then take my good cheer back to the San Francisco Bay Area. I tried, manfully, but it proved impossible.
I did have an exceptionally happy time at the Vancouver Art Rental & Sales event. It featured the incredibly talented artist Jean Paul Langlois. His speech focused on the inspirations that informed his art. It was moving and gave such insight into his work. I did what any upbeat person would do – I purchased my favorite piece – one that contains graphic language” Alberta Wheat Pool” The photograph is the two of us pictured in front of the art. I love it, it is now the wallpaper on my phone. But guess what? We follow each other on Instagram – what an honour that is for me. He posts pictures of his work. He likes quite a few of my posts. I am in ecstasy, truly I am. AND tonight I go to VSO to hear Rene Fleming. Can you imagine? And I was born in Saskatchewan, Regina to be precise. My parents were going to name me after the city but someone intervened. PHEW. I am going to get all dressed up for the concert. Some Vancouver people dress like they are going skiing when they go to the symphony. I guess they are depressed. I am not. So there! So there! So there!
Later I shall discuss the downward spiral of depression in this city. It is all rather fascinating in a way and explains a great deal. It is not my problem, Hottie used to say. But he is wrong, it is. . .
