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Let's talk about the pleasures and puzzles of the smaller mystery--mystery novels and other fiction--and the bigger one--life.
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About Me
Where in the world are we from?
Quote for the week
. . .here is a smoke signal, unmistakable but unobtrusive--we are following what comes, going through the world, knowing each other, building our little fires.
William Stafford
William Stafford
31 comments:
You guys were adorable yesterday--I'm lookin' at YOU, Rick! And YOU, Kelly And YOU, Far!--and where was I??
Well, first there was the internet interruptus, then I was working hard, and this morning my mom got sick again and I can't get her to go to the doc. One whole side of her body hurts now. Not good, I'm thinking.
And I am wiped from two amazing dreams. In one of them, the ex-husband of one of my best friends confessed to me how sorry he is to have made a mess of his life with cocaine. My friend will be glad to know it. :)
Please forgive me if I'm off track for awhile. Not off-line, just off the beam a bit.
Not that the rest of you weren't adorable, too!
Aww, who's adorable? Nancy is, that's who! ;)
Aw, shucks!
Hi, Jen. :)
The even later Monday picture post, but I have an excuse because I'm on the road again.
Greetings all from not that sunny Sunnyvale, California.
We are allowed to be bored.
I wanted to post this yesterday, FarFetched. But forgot. Just one of those things I ran across decades ago and can never quite forget when I am bored.
Besides, fetched, I thought you'd like the wag pun. Being me, I can't just paraphrase, so here's the entire thing. [Sorry, Nancy.]
Dream Song 14
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the green sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) “Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.” I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bore me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
As bad as Achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
John Berryman.
Morning Nancy and everyone.
With all going on you have a good reason to be off the beam a little bit.
BTW I agree with Jen 100%. :)
Andi, that looks like a painting!! Sorry the road you're on today doesn't look like this one.
Great piece, ghost. Sorry about your mom, Nancy. :-(
And ditto, Jen!
Morning, everyone.
I LOVE that photo, Andi.
City mothers and fathers should think long and hard before naming their town Sunnysomething.
(waving from work) I agree with the adorable-ness....
Great poem, Ghost. I have a friend who claimed she had never been bored. I was astonished, having myself been bored AND boring more times than Halloween has Snickers. So I began to describe the actual feeling of my boredom. "Oh!" she said, in a mutal moment of epiphany. "I call that tedium."
Jeez, half of the interesting things I've ever done have sprung from boredom. The other half have sprung from hormones. :)
Hi, kb!! The people around you must wonder who you're waving at sometimes. :)
Morning, family man and beth! Man, do I know how to beg for compliments, or what, lol!?
LOL, Nancy!
Interesting things caused by hormones. Hmmm...the hormone-induced things I do usually involve a box of Kleenex and chocolate. :-)
Now, TEQUILA-induced things are a TOTALLY different story....
Ha, beth! I guess I'd better change that division of inspiration to "thirds": boredom, hormones, and beer. A recipe for trouble, if I ever heard one.
Hey y'all! Here's hoping your mom gets better, Nancy. Mrs. Fetched is sleeping off an all-night chicken roundup. She had better be sleeping.
As for beer being 1/3 of inspiration, my theory is that the inspiration is always there, the beer (or rum, or tequila) simply unblocks it so it can flow down to the keyboard. There's often a fine line though, between letting inspiration run loose & your hands running off the keyboard. :-P
Ghost, thanks for the poem. A rare lull at work kind of blindsided me. No panic-mode stuff (as of 11am, anyway)... I guess I'll try getting an early start on the firmware documentation.
Nice pic, Andi - cold flame.
Time to start poundin'....
Beer. . .inspiration. . .who's talkin' about writing, far? :)
boredom, hormones, and beer. A recipe for trouble, if I ever heard one.
Also? A perfectly accurate description of how I spent most of my time during the years 1985-1991.
Hm, that would have been me from about 1963 to when I handed off the baton to you, Jen, lol. Okay, maybe not that long.
If you have to go through a beer, hormones, and bored stage, the sixties were sure a great time to do it. I feel sorry for kids today who have to be so damned careful about everything. Of course, they may grow up to have a complete complement of brain cells, too.
A belated good morning to all and sundry. I did the hormones thing but not the beer. I preferred adrenaline at that stage. It's only in the last couple of years that I learned to drink at all and even then it's a moderation thing. I blame my mother for the latter, the drinking that it, not the moderation.
Yeah, I was a sober (officially, anyway) raging pile of hormones from 1973 to... oh, 1981 or so. I then added beer to the hormones.
The hormone part is far from over, although it's on the wane.
Gosh Nancy if it wasn't for the 60's and 70's I might have a full complement of brain cells. I just wish I could remember the 60's and 70's. :)
Morning, Kelly. Sorry there's no tea on that table on the front page. I guess you gotta special order.
far, it is a far, far better thing when hormones stop raging. :)
fm, good thing you're here, too. Between us we might have a complete cerebellum. :)
Bordeom is preferred to Berryman's cure. He jumped or slipped and fell off an icy bridge in Minneapolis. I think I recall that he missed the water and more or less smothered himself in the bank of the river. Fins up.
That and Lithium.
"The Devil and John Berryman took a walk together
They ended up on Washington talking to the river
She said 'you're pretty good with words but words won't save your life'
And they didn't so he died."
We all come down and drown in the Mississippi River.
-- Craig Finn.
Not that I am in less than a Happy Mood. :-) But, you know, it's nearly Halloween.
Well gee, Nancy, I haven't been called adorable since Eisenhower was in the office. And we wouldn't have any place to be adorable if you didn't have a blog. Just think, we'd all have to writing or working or doing the laundry or eating more chocolate. (Light bulb goes on.) Damn you! I'm eating less chocolate these days because of you! You can't type and eat chocolate at the same time...too messy.
But bloggers are never late. It's a passive form of communication. That's why I never write, "Oh, my gawd! There are zombies in my yard eating my goldfish's brains." I just swing into action and get out the Bay Seasoning so that the zombies stay occuppied trying to figure out what is in the seasoning while I run to my neighbor who does have a shotgun, because as we all know zombies must be shot in the head to die. And what does it mean when a zombie dies? If they died the first time and their soul went somewhere, did it return when they became a zombie? Does it flee again when they die a zombie death? And what about the sins they commit as a zombie? If they had a clean soul when they died the first time, is it now soiled by their zombie deeds? Or, do they get special dispensation, like an unbaptised baby, and go to limbo for a while while they think about their zombie deeds even though their brain is now completely gone?
Why do I all of a sudden want fish for dinner tonight?
Have a nice day. :-0
-rick
http://muse-needed.blogspot.com/
Rick, my personal theory is that ghosts and zombies are sort of opposite: ghosts are disembodied spirits, while zombies are dispirited bodies. Ghosts, having no physical brain to store memories, quickly forget things — including what they're supposed to look like, which is why they're often depicted as an orb or sometimes a person under a sheet. Eventually, they forget why they hang around and move on. (I wrote a story along those lines, and have not posted it to TFM only because I've never gotten around to it.) Zombies, on the other hand, remember things but have no will (no spirit).
Hm. I'm often dispirited and just do what I'm told. I guess that makes me a part-time zombie. Sounds about right.
I'm late too! Late, late, late to the party. Right now we're gearing up for the great candy giving tomorrow. So many many little ghouls and ghosties, so little time.
Rick, oh no! I am distraught to think I may have contributed to chocolate deprivation. That can't be true. Either you ate it and then forgot you ate it, because you're a ghost with no physical brain to store memories (See: farfetched's comment), or a zombie snuck in and took it while you ran for the bay seasoning.
Have a nice evening. :)
((Far,)) our blog village is excellent medicine for those dispirited moments we ALL have. Chocolate also works. :)
Waving at b2!
Ghostie, I guess it's best to Stay Off Bridges in Minneapolis!
Farfetched, I love your theory on ghosts and zombies. My occasional forays into zombiedom usually have to do with consuming too much chocolate (or maybe not enough.)
Nancy, so sorry about your mom.
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