Re: How to explain synchronicity?
Posted: Thu Jul 29, 2021 8:02 am
Beautifully harrowing, Santeri. I didn't turn down Helsinki girl. We didn't, by mutual consent. We talked, danced, laughed, drank a little. That was enough. The laughing, some craic, seemed to be enough. Much respect all round. No dismissiveness, if that's what I conveyed. I was Irish, that's all. A girl could not safely have behaved that way in Cork or Dublin. Some subtlety would have been the norm. Even saying the same thing in French. Some degree of plausible deniability, both knowing what was happening. I felt honoured at her directness, also conscious of my newly married situation.
Early lessons that liberation is for all, not just those liberated. In the Gaeltacht, the ladies' choice dances. Blessed relief. Dance or not dance, who cares. And even at the discos, even when slow sets were a thing. Clarifying.
And the trip to St Petersburg, on the boat. No judgement then, just a slight freaking out. The partner sharing, the direct eye contact with a nod. Too much for me, then. And throw in deep catholic guilt. There were tales of such things at home, in the big houses, with priests and cops involved. Much better in the open. Morality though, like taxes, being for the little people. Or so I thought then. Never knew about the children. Never knew what was happening in the little houses too. Never knew about the politicians, the priests, the partners, participating, facilitating. Never heard of mother and babies homes until relatively recently. Not even rumours. Yet it all had to have been an open secret. Never heard about the involvement of british aristocracy and security services. Little boys is/was their thing. Prince Andrew is just a window. That poor british baby girl in Portugal. Another window. And on they go, playing their control games. With their sleeper agents, previously compromised, being gay not being enough these days, have to go for the children.
Good mini-series on Sky over here. Ghislaine Maxwell, another window.
Back to synchronicity. Your dad worked for the Statistics Office, lost his job for crazy, had a punishing conscience. Not overwhelming to me at all, now.
Early lessons that liberation is for all, not just those liberated. In the Gaeltacht, the ladies' choice dances. Blessed relief. Dance or not dance, who cares. And even at the discos, even when slow sets were a thing. Clarifying.
And the trip to St Petersburg, on the boat. No judgement then, just a slight freaking out. The partner sharing, the direct eye contact with a nod. Too much for me, then. And throw in deep catholic guilt. There were tales of such things at home, in the big houses, with priests and cops involved. Much better in the open. Morality though, like taxes, being for the little people. Or so I thought then. Never knew about the children. Never knew what was happening in the little houses too. Never knew about the politicians, the priests, the partners, participating, facilitating. Never heard of mother and babies homes until relatively recently. Not even rumours. Yet it all had to have been an open secret. Never heard about the involvement of british aristocracy and security services. Little boys is/was their thing. Prince Andrew is just a window. That poor british baby girl in Portugal. Another window. And on they go, playing their control games. With their sleeper agents, previously compromised, being gay not being enough these days, have to go for the children.
Good mini-series on Sky over here. Ghislaine Maxwell, another window.
Back to synchronicity. Your dad worked for the Statistics Office, lost his job for crazy, had a punishing conscience. Not overwhelming to me at all, now.