Posts Tagged ‘Erections’

“Almost there.” ( The reluctant bride)

January 16, 2016
Old Australian cottage on our farm.

Old Australian cottage on our farm.

With six days away we spent some time mulling over a title of the book that I plan to self- publish. One can actually have a computer generator going that will come up with thousands of suggested titles on the internet. It is called a ‘title generator.’ We quickly gave the generator the flick. I have a petrol generator underneath a small bench outside in case of a power failure. We have used it a few times. The noise is nerve wrecking, but with the double glazed windows it is bearable and very handy in an emergency. The neighbours have no such protection!

In any case, after much mulling on our mind’s generator, we came up with ,”Almost there.” It feels nice and does relate to a journey as told in the following chapters holding many fictional memoirs. Is there such a thing as fictional memoirs? Is this a severe case of tautology? I am curious. Aren’t all memoirs to a degree fictional. Are all our memories so set in concrete when so many years have passed? I suppose in biographies of famous people, the writer uses dates and much  corroborated material that can be dug up from archives etc. One can say that a biography is non-fiction, but memoirs…?

I do believe the title of a book is very important. It has to be interesting enough to catch the viewer’s attention as the first step. A casual observer in general just gives a few seconds, to make up his or her mind to take it to the next step in glancing a few pages or the header. It is after those first few moments a book is either bought or not. Perhaps mainly not!

I am making an enormous leap here. The fantasy of having my book in a shop is nice to contemplate but let’s not hurry to the altar too quickly. This bride is very reluctant and likes to spent a bit of time mulling as well. She might well think the groom is a bit of a Wally and she needs more time in contemplation.

The previous suggested miss-mash linking vignettes and memoirs with a nostalgic looking back on Colonoscopy and Erection Dysfunctional Benefits (EDB), were howled down unceremoniously. “How could you even think of it,” followed by, “are you mad, stupid or something, you call yourself a writer?” Being the general gist of it.

Most other titles seemed  clichéd or sentimental, not really connected to the story, plain silly. It is not easy. Fortunately I have Helvi who is very good at connecting things and coming to the unembroidered essence of things whether with titles, arguments or in general matters. Isn’t it odd that is took a few days to come up with  ‘Almost there?’

The title then has to be followed with a short and general description of what the book is about. This too is very important. If it doesn’t hold attention, chances are it will be put back on the shelf. Each word has to be succinct and arouse the interest.  And then, the choice of cover. What then and what next?

And so it goes.

More words and more sex.

March 11, 2015
My parents first home in Australia

My parents first home in Australia

With luck most of my mornings are born with some positive thoughts that turn into a melancholic potpourri as the day progresses. Of course, with Milo the incorrigible JR Terrier on his special pillow next to me on the floor, makes for positivity no matter what nightmares one survived in those previous hours. It was hoped that with getting old, a kind of dull soothing numbness would give a deserved relief to being on a razor’s edge grappling with pasts that have gone. Not that there are many things that I ought to have regrets about but reflections still nag and refuse to lie down.

One of those is never having studied and gained a university degree. I am still overawed by anyone that has a degree, even if just a bachelor one. As for a PhD, I restrain myself not to shake hands or curtsy, offer to shoe-shine a PhD owner. It doesn’t matter when people tell me, all this glorifying of academia is grossly overrated and I should be satisfied with what I achieved. I married an academic, with a cum laude as well, but at times feel rotten, taking the credit as if somehow I was sitting next to Helvi during her studies at the Jyvaskyla university in Finland. It was so long ago. She did not speak much English and my Finnish consisted of one word ‘rakkaani’. We stumbled by in German, but love’s language is often simple, that one word Finnish poem sufficed, still does.

I read in Saturday’s paper a large full page ad from the University of New England. It exhorted the public to take up degrees in all sorts of studies. I went through all the options. How would it feel to hold a degree in Rural Science or bachelor of Criminology, Master of business? I could have studied medicine and spend years doing colonoscopies or alternatively, been a renowned dentist, looking at patients from the other end. A good lawyer; soothing warring couples in Family Court, while wearing a wig kept overnight in an Arnott’s biscuit tin. I could be walking through Law courts with a roped blue duffel bag slung (casually) over my shoulder and coughing significantly while passing an attractive , just minutes before walking out of chambers with her mint fresh decree nisi, fascinating divorcee.

We all know that men think about sex nineteen times a day and not as previously thought every seven seconds or so. It is also claimed that they think about food about the same number of times. In any case, in sex-thinking at least, it is twice as much common in men as it is in women. I think it explains a lot. When taken in consideration that most man also wake up daily with an erection, (or ‘boner’ in American English) it is surprising men get to do anything at all. How did they manage to become doctor, statistician or admiral?

As a growing roseate cheeked school boy totally taken in by sprouting first pubic hairs, my greatest fear was being called in front of class while suffering an un-abating relentless case of tumescence (boner in US). I used to feverishly conjure up about being rope- bound on a tram track being run over. I was too young still relating that to the opposite sex. That came later. I kept thinking pensively that ‘this’ has to finally go somewhere. It just has to. It can’t be for nothing. My mind was inquiring and curious. I remember pushing it against a door lock. But, one glorious day, I happen to look at a women’s magazine ( my mother’s). (Oh, I know, there is a lot there), and stared at an advertisement for a girdle. It rose magnificently again and all fell into place. The puzzle was solved. Even so, miraculously, I weaned myself away from girdles and moved over to gir(d)ls. It took some time though. I could so easily have ended up sleeping with underwear with buttons under my pillow.

Of all the possibilities that came after Rotterdam, my parents migrating away from home and culture did play a role. I worked and earned in the New Country, did alright, but no degree.

Hydrating Shampoo with endless Erections?

November 7, 2011

It clearly has gone beyond the realm of fantasy when shampoo is being advertised with having hydrating qualities. I thought it insulting many years ago when shampoo selling, directed mainly at the mane of the female, had those pseudo scientific linguistics added. VO5 or HO2 Carotene added for free and TO YOU. Now we have shampoo for curly hair, shampoo for straight hair, and even for baldness or ‘no-hair’, Shampoo for the bald? All this is now called ‘hair therapy.’ Are women taken in by all this? Perhaps they do? Advertisers now go through a lot of research before spending millions on ads. They understand that the word ‘therapy’ is immensely popular. Many are proud to admit they are in ‘therapy’, busy solving deep-seated and clear-sighted un-solvable problems, all clearly the fault of great uncle Herman with his sweaty feet. So, it seems logical and a short step to link shampoo with ‘therapy.’ Next time, I stand under the shower I’ll try and avoid ‘hydrating’ my hair. You just never know what damaging hydrating chemicals are in it.

Of course, stupid ads are even worse for the male. “Have women screaming in your bed, begging for more” is included in an ad for some Goat tablet. There are pills for penile enlargements with promises of a never ending erectile stamina with gigantic phalluses to make the ladies smile. “Make your love last longer” was on a gigantic bill board near Sydney’s airport some time ago advertising some inhalant taken through the nose. They should put that sign inside The Family Courts.

However, the blue ribbon for nonsensical advertising has to be awarded to the commercial TV channels. It was bad years ago. Now those channels just show ads with, if one is lucky, some short bits of film segments in between. There is no escape.

In some countries, Holland included, TV and Radio had no advertising at all. It was simply banned. However, as a triumph of money over good sense, the captains of industry and money making started both commercial TV and Radio stations off shore in international waters on boats and a tsunami of junks has followed ever since. The battle is lost now, but at least, they still have the sense in Holland, when we were there last, to show the ads in between programs.

Now, I hardly watch those moving pictures at all, ABC including. The modern way of making TV is to include hissing or amplified humming noises. Is this to make it real and to hide the lack of anything of substance? A kind of stupor inducing white noise with sometimes a few words intelligible but mainly a mixture of ssssssssssss…real cools…..zzzzzzzzz. Yeah… me…….. suck…..gggg nowrrrrrr……..fuck youhhhhhhhhhhh…………, aaaaaaaaa……kind off…….yeh know…

It’s all so much Ennui, Weltschmerz, Malaise, and Accidie… How come English language is so poor in having words describing spiritual poverty?

More moronic TV is on ABC3. There is this irritating couple of pre-teens who can only think of fun by throwing buckets of paint over each other or rolling their eyes, twittering their eyelashes. It’s just bullying and the noise is unbearable. Who watches this stuff….?

There is one program that has a group of young people in a wild and dangerous jungle. At least, they try and overcome adversity by climbing trees, abseiling cliffs or roping across a river. It might be an English production, but at least it tries to entertain by adventure and includes nature. All taken together though, I find the fare for both young and old on TV clearly declining. Or, most likely,…… am I getting a bit passé?

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In Praise of Erectile Dysfunction

January 29, 2011


Gerard Oosterman

It has got me beat, why, when getting older and the morning glory finally in retreat, allowing a bit of a sleep in, that men’s obsession with flagging tumescence is called a ‘dysfunction’. The scientists in cahoot with sexologists have pored for years over glass test tubes to come up with a solution that will make the ageing male re-born again and cure him from flaccid flesh, drooping donger and dismissive dirges from partners. The expert doctor will now prescribe a pill to try and crank up the tired and ageing engine of love and lust once again.

We all know why doctor’s waiting rooms are seeing more and more men, looking a bit shy and sly. The grey haired male heads are now buried in Women’s Weekly trying to fill in the remaining left out clues on the cross words or count the differences in the two pictures. Life hasn’t always been easy.

All those relationship and marital battles, the kids gone astray up North bumming around on Noosa’s beaches with strumming guitars and silly girls with oafish boys. What about the maintenance and restorations, additions, extensions on houses and costs of kids, all those years of mortgage payments and sometimes also on partners and wives long gone.

Oh, that fatal dipping back in once life, the reminiscing on things gone by, and was all this for the insane drive and biological need for the going up and down.  Is that what has driven us all along in life?  Is this why we are sitting here in a doctor’s waiting room, all lost and chewed up?  Is it to pursue us men forever on?

Better stick to this puzzle making words from rows of letters, see how many I’ll get in before seeing the quack and get script on Viagra again.  I wonder what the Doc does in his old age, no doubt very generous in his own prescriptions.

Would all this worrying about rigidity in pyjamas next to partners be some giant con to get the pharmaceutical companies out of trouble?  I believe there is now a Viagra for women as well; many scientist have worked feverishly on this for a long time.  They believe that this new kind of female Viagra makes the blood flow to the pelvic area and works wonders.  Tests, so far done on rats, have shown it to be safely tolerated and the Pharmaceutical Companies a doubling of profits is assured if we can make ‘normal’ women feeling they have a ‘normal dysfunction’ as well.  Just like us blokes.

There are vague references made to men, as they get older, having vascular problems, smoking or drinking etc, all very normal and lack of tumescence a result of those chosen life styles.  Never ever, do they say that getting older might mean that things slow down a bit and that the flaccidity problem is a result of healthy ageing and pretty normal.

Oh no, around the world, hundreds of millions of men are bombarded with advertisements on how normal it is to have ED, and this is the triumph of money over common sense, it is a DYSFUNCTION and therefore ‘not normal’.  Millions don’t want to be feeling they have a dysfunction and hence the queue to the doctors and the handing over of billions to the merchants of Viagra, Cialis, Ram Rods, Pole Vaulters and others.

It seems that the mature man perhaps ought to take matters in own hand, step back sceptically and re-consider the issues a bit more thoroughly.

Could it be that advancing age is blessed with well hidden benefits of not having to be driven by those ridiculous up and downs, up and downs again?  It is not as if, afterwards, one ends up in Kalgoorlie or Vienna.  No we are still in the same spot and our partner will soon be snoring, a bit tired and the Viagra now is calling for revenge but will settle for a solid bout of thirty six hours of indigestion.

Gee, what rotten luck.  The Sudoku has been done in the May 2002 New Idea.  Don’t doctors ever think that patients might like something a bit more recent?

Just a good cuddle is what we are all really wanting more than this struggle with rigid or sloppy bits and being dependants on a pill.  It’s our entire fault, the stupid chasing of something that has gone, changed for something else, youth that is gone, thankfully gone!

Who would want to go through all that again?  Surely by now we could be looking forward in at least not having to worry about erections at bedtime and forgetting the Viagra.  We finally have the house paid, plenty of knives and forks, all the things at last in the right place, made a few friends and got it made, with pictures of smiling grandkids as proof.  The ride-on mower and two door fridge.

And afterwards, that glass of red, post dinner and on the comfy settee with partner in opposite armchair, nothing doing, not TV or Vid, nor noisy kids or tumbling dryer and dishwasher.  Just be sitting there.  How glorious.

That’s it, we are fed up with being taken as a sucker, enough is enough.  We have done our heaving and hoisting for pleasure, procreation and progeny, more than enough for the time being.  Put it all to pasture for a year or so, go for hugs and kisses, smell the roses and enjoy  time left.  No worries, yippee!

Doctor will see you now.

Yes, doc, I have got such a persistent cough………..