Would You Follow: author's diary, #1

By Bernard Harold Curgenven

Even if my faith is fully restored to what it once was, or greater, I am still not sure it will be the size of a mustard seed.

I never actually kept a diary, so it wasn't easy recalling my past from childhood. I was able to recall most of the humorous and sad situations that are most relevant to me and those whom I wish to reach with this book. There isn't really anything incriminating to write about, but there are silly moments. I am not perfect and I don't know of anyone who is, but I always make the best of every situation, which is exactly what God expects us to do. This is actually a collection of individual memories that aren't necessarily in date order. I went to school, to the army and to work, and finally on to becoming a family man, but will I ever really change? I don't think I can!

You will probably have a good laugh at the mischief I have caused over the years, both intentional and unintentional, and you will probably shed a tear or two, but does this make me a comedian, a philosopher, or just another novelist and poet?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bernard Harold Curgenven
• Release date: Feb 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393141136

Book preview

Introduction to My Diary

Reality is a touch and go, or a hit and run, and it is unclear whether or not I am actually living my worst nightmare. What could possibly still go wrong, or right for that matter. Often my thoughts and words are a vague memory, as my conscious and unconscious self, awakens to an open plane, or large open room of nothingness. Visions are often hazed with a fog or mist of sort, and are thus a blur!

Throughout my life there have been times of both deep concern and ignorance, and how does this actually relate to irony, and everything else? There are memories of my childhood, since the age of two, or earlier, right up to this very day, that unconditionally haunt my puny mind! My present age is forty five, and it remains a mystery, why the almighty has kept me alive. My failure as a racist, a sexist, a father, a son, a brother, a husband, a student, an innovator, a soldier, a writer, an employee, a partner, a leader and the list goes on, has impressed upon the minds of many, and has quite possibly tortured and destroyed a number of souls over the years. I no longer know, in fact the truth may have been a lie from the very beginning. I don’t bloody well know! When will this self-torment end then?

Fancy a cup of tea, while you read on? Do you take it with sugar or salt and a scone? Help yourself to all, or none. This may take a while, and is certain to be no fun! Then we shall proceed, for what can we possible lose, and what is left to gain?

Is it my unhealthy eating habit that has caused this obesity, one may ask, or the continuous slouching and writing? Don’t bother cursing or mocking me, as there won’t be any fighting. If it is true that the continuous gaining of body mass makes one obese, then surely it is also true that one’s reliability on spectacles, actually proves one spectacular. If this were true, then I am both obese and spectacular, with the latter being my bound fait and destiny. On this light, the spectacles have come with me since the age of two, therefore I have been spectacular for the past forty three years, and as you may know, we spectacular parasites are often considered and named nerds or queers! The truth and the untruth looks rather lavishing? How then do you react to this, my peers?

During the day there is much laughter, which could quite possible be a cover up, and much anger and confusion! In the evening there are both tears of torment and relief. During my sleep, when insomnia doesn’t have a hold on me, there is laughter and tears. There are nightmares, although the recurring nightmares have all left. Have they failed me, or vice versa? Many others have given me testimony on their insomnia, along with their complaints and mumbo jumbo! Thus this leads one to question the cause and purpose of this insomnia. Nobody seems to have all the answers, and what we may have known, is often lost in this torment. What then is the purpose of gaining knowledge, whether it escapes our minds, or dies with our beings? Knowledge is passed on from friend to friend, generation to generation, and lecturer to student, but what purpose does any of this have, and how does this knowledge benefit humanity and the spirit world, assuming there is a spirit world? Our faith in religion and God is destroyed by our desires for worldly possessions and matters, which only leads to loss, in doth knowledge, power, desire and life. Where have I gone wrong, or have I been wrong since the beginning?

My sons are aged three and five, and boy, are they alive!? They bring back memories of my childhood, of when my brother, who is no longer with this world, and I were young. We would love and hate, and fight and befriend one another. The pushing, shoving, slapping, punching and hugging seem to be passed down from generation to generation, and living in our genes. The difference lies with discipline. As children, we were disciplined and guided, which generally kept us from becoming murderers and rapists, but unfortunately the so called system of the modern world has once again failed us in this field. We are practically forbidden to discipline our siblings, and should we go against the system, by spanking our children, we will be considered child abusers, and thrown into the same category as sex offenders, or rapists, or something to that effect. Should we let our children run a mock, and therefore welcome a future of anarchy and total disorder? Here then, feel free to find me abusive, as I believe in the odd spanking. I have read the bible at least twice, and therefore know that the love of a father includes and exercises discipline. Does this mean that I wish to be a God? Believe what you may, there is no skin off my teeth!

There have been regrets in the past, and many stalk my conscience to this very day. One regret being not having written a diary. There was no desire for such recording, until now that is, after deciding that there are no answers to my many questions, and no reaching my goals. The question with priority being, ‘Has it all been pointless?’ Now I will attempt to capture as many memories and desires as possible, before they escape me indefinitely, and once they have all escaped, only amnesia remains, and therefore nothing else, no hope, no desire, no need. Nothing within nothing, darkness within darkness, loneliness within loneliness, and death within death! This then is my fear within fear! In other words, my ultimate fear!

I do hope that you have been captured by my bickering thus far, or do I? Never mind, or do mind, for I too am confused, and no doubt my mind is misused and self-abused. This would explain my abusive powers and poor attitude toward life. My behaviour patterns, if you would at all consider them patterns, are totally undesired and unhealthy to an almost perfect human being, such as myself! Therefore you who cast the first stone or rock, had better be perfect, and don’t even consider judging me, unless you are prepared to be judged. This prophesy belongs not to me, but to a power far beyond my imagination, and is extracted directly from the bible. This I remember, as if I had read it a moment ago. Truth be told, I have neither read from the bible in years, nor been to church in almost a decade. Then I too shall be found overlaid with burden, should my soul be weighed. Once again, this is self-inflicted! Will my spirit dwell in heaven some day? Will I live forever, or die soon and rest forever, or is torment my destiny to be, or am I on the path to nothingness!?

Read on, until the almighty floods my thought with rain, and ends my joy and my pain! Read on, if you are not yet entirely convinced. Whether or not, what!? Are we both insane?

My Childhood Memories

As previously mentioned, I have been spectacular since the age of two, and although the memories of this stage in my life are rather vague, I do have the photographs to verify this claim. It seems I was born with a squint, and therefore walked into everything. Thankfully my parents noticed, as a child of this does not know right from wrong, and normal from abnormal. Come to think of it, the technology in 1971 was rather spectacular in itself. Who would have imagined that a toddler’s eyes could be corrected with glasses. How on earth did they ever manage to test my eyes. All parents are aware of the term, the terrible two’s! Any normal child of that age cannot concentrate during an eye test, which brings us to question whether I am actually normal. Suffice to say, the arms were dislocated from the rest of the frame, and my parents had no easy life after this! The frame had to be strapped around my head with elastic. Finances were limited, therefore my parents were unable to replace the broken spectacles. There were no plastic lenses in those days, due to limited technology, so one can imagine the mass and weight of the frames and lenses. Many of you are familiar with prisms. Now imagine a baby having to bear this burden! It certainly is no laughing matter!

At this age I was blessed with a little brother, and the jealousy was obvious. There was fight and spite, as you can imagine, however this little imposter was mine to bully, and eventually I adopted a protective attitude toward this little newcomer. This little boy was no longer seen as a mere threat, but we were clearly best of friends, in fact he would be my only real friend for many, many years to come! There were fights, as we both stood for our rights. Toys were limited in those days, compared to the vast range of today, however a child should never have too many toys. Children and adults alike, tend to take for granted what is free, particularly when it is available in abundance. Brother and I had each other! We would fend for each other, and even lie to our parents on behalf of the other! Oh, how I long for those days! I loved my baby brother beyond description!

Mother was the regular housewife and mother. She was forced to give up her day job, shortly before I arrived on the scene. Father was a train assistant, soon to become a driver. He worked double shifts, in order to provide for us. As most parents in those days, father was strict, and we feared him.

Is it not strange each generation is softer than the previous? My family is no exception to this. I remember how strict my parents were with us, and upon hearing tales by my grandparents,