Do you know of the Freudian allegory that can be read into Thomas the Tank Engine?

If you're reading, I'm sure.

Thanks for the picture, monster! It certainly makes a lot more sense, now. Knowing nothing about trains, I couldn't figure out what the hell "buffer up" was supposed to mean. I know "buffer" to be like an extra space, or some just-in-case extra, but I didn't know it was also a train bumper. I think the idea of holding hands is probably spot on.

I knew I'd find my answer on the Cellar. :)

Actually, this one is prety clean. (I know, that doesn't sound like me!)

Busy RFN but I'll be back to explain later. Toot toot.

My wife and kids were in a community chorus Broadway tunes show today at a local church. It was really good and I was proud of them. I got there early with my mother in law, and got a seat in the 3rd pew on the center aisle. I had a nice view. I could see everything very well.

One weird thing that happened is that one of the paid soloists, a beautiful Asian woman who I've never seen before, chose me to look at when she was singing her solos. No big deal, right? Well, it was strange because this attractive woman with the voice of an angel sang two love songs while making direct eye contact with me for the entire songs. I would shyly break eye contact and look away once in a while during the first song, and she would always make eye contact with me again when I would look back. For the second song, I didn't look away at all, and we stared into each others eyes while she sang words about how much she loved me. The emotions I felt were so intense, it felt like I was cheating on my wife, while I just sat there in a crowded church and watched this soloist perform. It felt like this woman and I were the only two people in the room. Making unbroken direct eye contact for that long is powerful stuff.

At the reception after the concert, the soloist and I never even looked at each other, let alone spoke to each other. We're strangers.

Edit: I just re-read this, and it sounds all sad and wistful or something, but the thing that struck me the most about the event is how direct eye contact and music can pull up powerful emotions. Emotions that will disappear as fast as they come up.

That's very interesting, Glatt, now go and take Mrs Glatt out for dinner before she gets insecure.


Okay, back to the trains.

Of course we all know the Freudian sketch of mental structure with the Id, the Ego and the Superego, but just in case I'll give a quick rehash here.
The Id is the set of basic desires for food, pleasure, sex, ego gratification etc etc.
The Superego is the moralising regulator that controls and often forbids access to these pleasures.
The Ego is the mediator and compromise between the two, that tries to satisfy the Id without getting hassled by the Superego too much.

Id = Troublesome Trucks.
Superego = Fat Controller.
Ego = Thomas the Tank Engine.
Thomas is frequently caught between the strict demands of the Fat Controller who orders him to push the Troublesome Trucks around in specific ways, and the Trucks who are always up to self-indulgent mischief. Thomas is often frazzled trying to reconcile these conflicting forces.
There are some claims that one of the reasons that Thomas appeals to kids so much is that they can relate to his situation. Or maybe it is just that little boys like talking trains. Or else that they look like willies, especially when they go into tunnels.


ETA. Ducks is right. I do know some weird shit.

I just made an appointment to take our other dog in for teeth cleaning and to have a couple removed. Poor guy will have a sore mouth for a day or so, but at least he won't have to pay for the procedure.

Dogs can't pay bills anyway. No pockets. No money.

And that's not the only thing he's missing - [hint: I can't pimp him out for stud services to recover the money] :)

They put up a trapeze school in the parking lot across the street from my office last week. I keep forgetting to bring my damn camera to work with me. The squeals of terror coming from one student at the school yesterday afternoon were amusing. It's all right out there in the open where you can watch.

I have bad mouth-hunger.
I want to eat and eat and eat and eat (you get the picture, I'm tired of typing it far sooner than I'd be tired of eating and eating and eating etc)

I am NOT hungry.
My belly is satiated.
But my mouth is raging.

Argh.
Stupid brain.

...Barry White playing in background......

......Capnhowdy peters out......

.....does not post.....

Indeed?

Am fed up with waiting for a cheque with my tax return.
It's so unfair.
Lousy tax office holding onto my money.

Ditto National Insurance too for good measure.
And neither are contactable by telephone.

Meanies.

Today is going so slowly.
And more to come tomorrow I fear.

I don't know, I'm just really out of sorts.
I've tried to pin down why, exactly, but I think it's just today's mood.

I feel life is pointless and I have nothing especially to live for.
Not suicidal as such, just buried under terrible ennui and with no appetite for the future.

I honestly cannot think of anything I can do tomorrow, except go for a walk, and I feel my brain has been wrung out of any interesting walking possibilities already this week - I've been out for an hour most days. I can't even just shrug it off and sit in the garden as it's going to be showery all morning. And I went to the library as today's outing, so that's already ticked off the list.

BIG sigh.

Sunday is Father's Day, and we are going out for a Spanish meal at 13.00.
I am looking forward to it, but it's one of those awful occasions where as it gets closer, any genuine enthusiasm feels more like dread. All I really want to do is sleep, but that never comes these days.

On Monday I'll at least have some money, although all of it is earmarked for bills and catfood/ litter. But at least it will be a change, some reason for being in town. And I weigh-in of course, which gives me something else to do.

Tuesday I'm at Oasis for most of the day (okay, three hours in real terms) - counselling then acupuncture then group. Even if I don't quite feel A's enthusiasm for it, "It'll be a great day!" No, a great day would be a trip to Alton Towers, not 3 hours at Oasis... but I bowed to her enthusiasm, she's a positive influence. And then I'm off to the doctors, so it's a hair-raising schedule.

Wednesday, Mum & Dad leave for 2 weeks housesitting. Which I am both looking forward to and dreading. This might even be the reason for my current mood. I'll have a new prescription of Trazadone, so at least I can double that up and sleep for a week. But what will I do on my own? Will I be able to stick to a schedule? Will I drink?

And a week after that is my birthday. I'll be as much on my own as every previous year. All the disadvantages of living with parents without the one clear advantage of waking up on your birthday and someone else knowing about it. Never mind - I'm going to meet them for lunch, so that's better than most. I know what I'm going to wear as well, which helps. But it pours down!

Maybe I'll shave my legs tomorrow.
Nothing like the high life, eh.