Cold Old Lady

The beloved old Victorian Lady that is this beautiful house, is fucking freezing. I am enjoying a saturday night in, had a shower, washed my hair, put on a soft cashmere and set to work in the kitchen on a smashing bolognese. Only problem is that the Old Lady has quarry tile flooring and no heating in the kitchen except for the cast iron range that I definitely cannot bearsed to light up. So it's KimJones jacket zipped, scarf on and LCD blasting from the speakers to keep me toasty. Whilst chopping onion and squirting paste I have been ruminating on the nature of Truth, the current favoured topic for active project of the moment... having deliberated over the various theories of truth I have realised that to actually expound my five or so universal (or noble, if yer buddhist) truths, I have to actually hang them from some apparatus (parables, folk tales, anecdotes, songs, visions etc). This is no great discovery- perhaps all of knowledge or idea-ism has been thus communicated over the centuries- but its a bit of a revelation for me, as initially I was tackling the pure truths themselves, and this was simply too visceral, too flaky and obvious. Not that I plan to luxuriate in the world of allegory or parody. Really it's just the realisation that I am at liberty to roam in personal and indulgent realms of personal experience, and utilise, hijack and exaggerate these for the purposes of addressing the truths- Illusion, Laughter, Greed, Communication, Lies,  Loss, Taxes, Cyclic life and Linear Eternity, to name but a few...