Well. Did y’all have a good week? That’s nice.
Mine? I don’t want to talk about it. I went for a bike ride today to clear my head and … what? … Yes, I realize it might help to talk about it, but thanks anyway. It’s over. The End, and glory to God.
Let’s just drop it. Here, watch a puppy hiccup and blink.
was one of my favorite writers. He’s dead.
The man had more than a way with words. He had an uncommon depth of insight into the dry gultches of the disaffected consciousness of a half century. And he was simply a beautiful writer.
Updike will be missed.
My favorite of his books, Toward the End of Time.
The artist brings something into the world that didn’t exist before, and he does it without destroying something else.
– John Updike, writer (1932-2009)
Thank everyone who calls out your faults, your anger, your impatience, your egotism; do this consciously, voluntarily.
– Jean Toomer, poet and novelist (1894-1967)
It’s quiet in here. The neighbor’s bumpinthumpin children have drifted off to presumably, hopefully, untroubled slumber. I can hear the clocks ticking, and the spinning of the hard drive in its case. Maybe that’s the fan.
I am a fan of a poetic that looks into mirrors at an angle, seeking the structures of bone but also furniture, a bit of the window’s hungry horizon. Sometimes, a fleeting wisp of ghost.
President Obama
President Obama
President Barak Obama
Sweet
Get a good night’s sleep, America. We got a mess to start cleaning up tomorrow.
Well, that’s it. The long, sad, sordid, sick and twisted, destructive and desperately fearful reign of George the Lesser is shuffling out the back door, not a moment too soon.
It doesn’t surprise me that he still doesn’t understand what he’s done. The Decider to the end.
I guess it’s time to move on, having acknowledged that Inauguration Day will dawn with at least 4229 Americans dead in the Iraq Oil War.
It is important to note that, though solidiers will be on hand, power is expected to pass to Barak Obama in a matter of hours, without bloodshed. A peaceful revolution has taken place, to the extent that the moral character of our government has the potential to project our morality as a society in a much different way. That’s wonderful, a cause for gratitude, a testimony to the spirit of our people.
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.
– John F. Kennedy
I’ve been trying to get a post up on the blog for days. The arrow of time has me pinned and wriggling on the wall.
I started a post on Sunday night, by writing:
Well it’s been a quiet weekend here in the Fortress of Solitude (FoS). Actually, I got out a few times, which seems antithetical to the premise of the hermitic existence to which I have consigned myself. But I guess I won’t berate myself too much; I did get a little reading done. And I managed to get the bathtub pretty clean. That’s something.
I’m so cute when I’m typing stuff.
I started a fourth draft of the novel. I’m making progress. Can’t wait, right?
A dog and an elephant, best friends in Tennessee.
It’s an amazing world.
I have never gone to sleep with a grievance against anyone. And, as far as I could, I have never let anyone go to sleep with a grievance against me.
-Abba Agathon, monk (4th/5th century)
Well, I hope nobody out there is feeling agrieved with yours truly, because it’s almost time to hit the hay. And tonight, when I turn out the lights, the Christmas lights on my balcony go out for the last time this happy holiday season.
I hope it was peaceful and healthy for you and your family. And if you forgot to get goodies for your pets, just turn back the calendar and make it right, OK? What goes around comes around, and I’d hate to see Santa put your name on the Bad list next year; worse yet, you might get trampled by reindeer.
Hey, it could happen.
I’m writing a novel. Here’s some general information.
In addition to occasionally discussing the project on this blog, I may post excerpts of the draft manuscript for purposes of collaboration and networking. As these are draft sections, all rights are strictly reserved.
The following files are currently available.
Excerpt of Chapter 25, Draft 3
Marty talks about breakfast for dinner, sees himself as the lost son.
Well, 1 down, 364 to go. I’m trying to come to terms with the whole idea of facing a new year. It feels a little like staring into a dark tunnel and slowly realizing it’s a crocodile’s gullet. Explains the damp air and the dripping sounds. And I can’t shake the feeling I got ripped off on the last year. I ought to have some change coming back from 2008. It was never my intention to leave any change behind as a tip. The service wasn’t all that good, if you know what I mean.
Does that seem like a negative attitude for the first day of the year? Oh well, the first day wasn’t all that great either. I overslept, then forgot to turn on the TV and watch the Rose Parade. So I’m already getting the stinky end of the existential stick in 2009.
Today, I was listening to Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac podcast for New Year’s Eve.
In Mexico, people eat one grape with each of the 12 clock chimes at midnight, and make a wish for the coming year. In Venezuela, they wear yellow underwear for a year of good luck. In Japan, people eat soba because long thin noodles symbolize longevity, and at midnight, temple bells ring 108 times, matching the 108 attachments in the mind that need to be purified before the New Year.
At midnight in Greece, families cut a cake called a vasilopita, which has a coin baked inside; whoever gets the coin will have a lucky year.
In this country, the most famous celebration is in New York City’s Times Square, where up to one million people gather each New Year’s Eve to watch a ball drop.
First of all, 108 attachments in the mind? The entire consciousness? I have more attachments than that about bodily functions alone. And I’m pretty sure the average urban Japanese guy could keep up with me on attachments. Time to update that tradition for inflation.
In the podcast, Garrison added a sentence to the end, “Be grateful you are not one of them.” Yeah. But the example he chose for US is out of context with the others from other countries. Americans do have food traditions for New Years, if you want to dig them up. In my family, we eat black eyed peas every year on January 1. Sometimes with cornbread. I googled this and learned it’s traditional in many parts of the U.S.
I’ve had my beans and watched some football – also a NYD tradition in our clan – so I guess I’m good to go. But carefully, very carefully. There is a heavy fog tonight, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it lasts until Christmas.
And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
These files are available in pdf format. Adobe Readier is necessary, and is a free download at adobe.com/reader.
Poems
Stories
Novel Excerpts, work in process
Excerpts from chapter 25: Marty sums up his life and circumstances.
Could WalMart sell an electric grill, into which one plugs an iPod. I guess our brains have been deep fried in consumerism.
Metaphor 