The Ghost Canary

Ghost Canary

Some say they hear bumps in the night. When investigated, there’s often nothing, and no one there. Perhaps it’s just the old building settling down after a hard days work. The wooden rafters contracting under their heavy load. Whatever it is, these sounds can be unsettling, unlike the sound of the ghost canary.

Not many hear her over the din of other sounds. The very fact she seems to just sit and sing is a strange phenomenon in itself, not to mention, she isn’t real. Female canaries aren’t even supposed to sing. Then again, if you mentioned either thing – real or sing – perhaps offence, would be the result.

It’s only out of the corner of the eye, can she, be seen. The sound is clear enough. A beautiful song sung, just for the sake of singing, or she hoping to attract a mate, another ghost canary out on the wing? There are a lot of them when you take the time to notice, freed from the black mines, where they died, of our fire.

It’s that thing about being at peace I suppose, when you simply find pleasure, in singing a song. After all, the ghost canary is no more afraid of us, than we are of it, or once we’ve investigate, the nothingness of that bump!

You’ll also see the ghost canaries when you’ve nothing to prove; no hidden agenda, no lonely message, no love to find. It’s that peace of mind that causes you to sing, even when there’s no one there. I sense those people retired from it all, they’ve done their bit, made peace with the world. Never assume it makes them as harmless as a canary… mind.

You might think she sits in a little house, discarded on a kitchen cupboard, amongst pots and pans with unloved mugs sat cold. But no, she’s everywhere, it’s only the symbol that’s static you see. She plays her tune in your left ear, then it’s your right, all because this time you’re listening, no more in a fright.

She doesn’t love you, it isn’t that causing her to sing. It’s her freedom dong that. The ghost of her former self, giving us a sign. Her beauty and gentle sensitivity, used by the gorgons, to save their wretched lives. Carried deep underground, where the poisonous truth filled her lungs, choking out her life, so fast, the gorgons had time.

There are no canaries left, to do this job for us now, we must find a better way, to dispel our poisonous gas. No gentle souls are prepared to give us their time. We’ve used that particular card, way too many times. But bless the little ghost canaries, as we enjoy their song, freed from the hazards, the hazards of mine.

Power in the Unexpected

Spill the Beans

‘Some people really think they’ve got all the answers don’t they?’ said Tom.

‘Go on’ prompted Lisa

Tom and Lisa had been friends for a while. There was a little chemistry between them, but they weren’t yet at the friends with benefits stage, if you catch my drift. It was warm and dry in the cafe.

‘Well there’s this guy, whose book I’m reading at the moment, reckons if you’ve got an issue with health or addictions or whatever, all you need to do, is imagine you’re the last person on earth, and all your problems will disappear.’

‘Sounds a bit simplistic to me, what’s his reasoning?’ asked Lisa

Tom now had a cynical lilt to his voice, ‘His reasoning is based on old philosophical stuff relating to control and will and all that. He’s basically saying that illness and addictions are only a means of control. He’s saying that we spend most of our time wrapped up in seeking to get the love and attention, we lacked in childhood, through the control of others. He reckons being the last person on earth, or imagining you are, is likely to enlighten you to the truth of your condition.’

‘Wow, bit left field that Tom, why are you reading it anyway?’

‘I saw it on Amazon, the title got me. It’s called Power in the Unexpected. It’s about gaining personal power, and how that can be found in unexpected ways.’

‘Power in the Unexpected’ repeated Lisa. ‘Punchy title that, found in all good book shops… and Amazon hey?’

‘Actually you’d be surprised, there’s some good self published books out there, they’re not all vanity stuff you know.’ said Tom

‘And now he’s defending something he was cynical about a minute ago.’ mocked Lisa.

‘Oh bollocks to ya, I just though you might be interested.’

‘Umm, well maybe I am… a little. Anyway, what problems do you have, that are likely solved by imagining yourself as the last person on earth?’ enquired Lisa.

‘Now you ask I have this thing with sugar. You know I gave up smoking some years ago?’ Lisa responded with a nod, ‘Well, the more I’ve read the more I understand my sugar habit is just replacing the fags.’

‘And your point?’

‘The point, my dear cynical friend, is if I was the last person on earth there’d be no shops open selling Mars bars!’

‘Oh fuck off!’ said Lisa, a little too loudly. She blushed.

‘Actually, the point is, if I were the last person on earth, our man reckons what’s most likely to happen, is I’d have to take responsibility for my health, and not unconsciously seek this from someone else. I know for a fact, eating too much sugar is going to lead to health problems in the future, but it seems our of my control. Our man is saying, if you don’t have control over the self, you’re likely seeking this over someone else. You’re exerting control over others by creating concern in them and their unconscious need to take care of you. He reckons whole governments are being hoodwinked by the minds of the neglected.’

‘Jesus Tom, I’m not sure about that, but did you know loads of Victorians died of teeth.’

‘Teeth?!’ exclaimed Tom

‘Yeah, teeth, that’s what they used to put on their death certificates when it was rotten teeth, abscesses and infections that killed them. People died of teeth.’

Tom was just nodding his head, and not in the positive. ‘That, what you’ve just done there, is what our man would call the-will-to-power. You’ve just tried to trump my conversation with some bullshit about teeth. You’ve just tried to exert your greater will over me with something about fucking teeth.’

‘As we both know Tom, my will is, and will always be, greater than yours. The reason I mentioned teeth, is because if you were the last man on earth, not only would there be no shops, there’d be no dentists to pull out your rotten bloody teeth. And it is the case, and lets not forget it’s an unconsciously thing, I am seeking to take care of you. You’re my beautiful baby! Now get me another coffee will you, oh, and a Flapjack, I’m bastard starving!’

‘Fuck… hot milk with your Americano darling?’