Category Archives: Writing
After a seemingly endless succession of gloomy, cloudy, drizzly days, we’ve managed to pull off a couple of blue-sky, bright sunny days! Not in a row, mind you, but Friday was beautiful, and today is downright glorious! Sunday is truly earning its name today!
The Minnesota Twins, bless their hearts, even pulled off a win against the Detroit Tigers yesterday (hoping for another today). That gives them a win-loss record of 30-35, only five games below the desired .500 mark. (It’s a no-go mojo for a team to play below .500 or a batter to hit below .200 (in infamous “Mendoza Line“).)
On a day like today one can’t help but to think about oranges.
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11 Comments | tags: Batman, batmobile, batphone, Hamlet, humor, June, knock knock, orange, oranges, poetry, round fruit, silly | posted in Brain Bubble, Writing
It’s a gray skies snowy Sunday afternoon, the fireplace is turned on, Bull Durham is on the TV machine, and I’d rather play with POV-Ray, snooze or get back to reading Terry Pratchett‘s Going Postal than spend hours working on a blog post. Sunday should be a day of rest or, at least, of difference.
I’m not particularly stuck on Sundays; my Lutheran background programs me for Sundays, but there are other ways to keep a Sabbath.
I do think it’s important to observe one day a week that is tuned differently than your other days. I think it’s mentally and spiritually healthy to change your pace one day a week. Dedicating a day helps insure following the practice.
Saturday thousands died for my amusement; today my desiderata is pax and nepenthe, so I thought I would share a Desiderata with you.
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20 Comments | tags: Desiderata, Les Crane, Max Ehrmann, Mr. Spock, nepenthe, pax, poems, poetry, Sabbath, serious poetry, Terry Pratchett | posted in Basics, Quotes, Writing
Today you get a re-post of a post from last year at this time. And it was a re-post then, as well. It’s piece I wrote several years ago for a writing exercise in another venue. I thought it turned out pretty well, and I still like it after so many years, so I thought it was worth sharing again.
The original writing exercise (and it was just an exercise; there were no winners or judges) was to write a short piece from the point of view of a pumpkin. The exercise was given to us around this time—fall—just before Halloween. (It was the same guy who gave us an exercise to write a piece from the point of view of our car!)
Most writers took the tack that pumpkins suffered horribly at this time of year. Naturally, I took a different tack, and so I give you…
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9 Comments | tags: dirt, Gourdian, gourds, humor, Jack-O-Lantern, kiss a Gourdian, orange, pumpkins, vines | posted in Writing
Oops!
To My Subscribers: you just got an email saying I’d published a new article, but if you followed the link it won’t (shouldn’t!) work. I’m sure we’ve all done it: clicked the big blue [Publish] button rather than the harder-to-notice white [Save Draft] button.
I was working on an article for later, got as far as I wanted to today, and meant to save it as a draft for later. But the Big Blue was just too easy to click!
Fortunately, WordPress allows you to put a published post back into draft status (and I set it to Private just to be sure).
So, oops, my bad! Cat got out of the bag early, but kitty is kenneled again until later!
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Leave a comment | tags: ALCS, Delmon Young, Derek Jeter, Detroit Tigers, Doug Fister, Joe Girardi, Miguel Cabrera, MLB, New York Yankees, Prince Fielder | posted in Baseball, Writing
One of the things that drives this blog and informs its content is that I have a sense of being on the downward part of the hill.
The hill in question being the one they say you’re over when you’re past your prime. Mind you, I’m not far over it, but the path definitely leads downwards these days. As a great poem puts it in another context, “But at my back I always hear, Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.“
[That poem, by the way, is a hoot. It’s about an 17th century guy giving his gal the old line: ‘Time is short, let’s get it on, baby!’ And you gotta love a poem with the couplet, “The grave’s a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.“]
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2 Comments | tags: age, Andrew Marvell, carpe diem, Gonzo Papers, Hunter S. Thompson, Jack London, Jimmy Buffett, over the hill, Red Lobster, wisdom | posted in Life, Writing
You never know what will bubble up when you poke around the interweb. I was browsing about, a bit blurry after couch snoozing all morning, and stumbled on a writing contest that tickled my fancy.
It’s funny how an idea can spring to life nearly fully formed after being seeded with an idea.
The seed that fertilized my mind was the current contest on the Trifecta Writing Challenge. The challenge went thusly:
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15 Comments | tags: African Swallows, Count, European Swallows, Holy Hand Grenade, Killer Rabbit, rule of three, three, Trifecta Writing Challenge, triple | posted in Brain Bubble, Movies, Writing
When it’s 3 AM and the bad moon rises; lunacy.
When darkness and disappointment rip the soul.
When tears no longer wash away the pain.
When anger blots mind with spilled-ink thoughts.
When fear grows tall in cornrows of dismay.
When silence echoes with loss and cost.
When life’s hollows capture rage and regret.
When bone ache of could haves, should haves, weigh heavy.
When angels hide and demons call.
When sorrow seems the guiding star.
When unspoke pleas on deaf ears fall.
When good deeds seem unseen; each misstep marked.
When luck sours; curdled dreams gone; drained.
When words fail; brightness tarnished brass.
When age brings wear and weariness.
When change whips flesh from back; submission.
Branches move in the wind; look!
On the horizon a storm brews.
When love’s a dead ember; coals gone to charcoal.
When hope tastes like ashes and dust.
When you stand alone in the crowd.
When blank faces don’t look back; eyes avoid.
When reaching hands grasp nothing.
When longing overtakes sense and senses.
When empty arms make a cold vacuum.
When heart breaks on lonely shores; beauty lost.
The storm comes.
Winds blow; boughs break.
Lightning cracks; rains come.
The storm passes.
Air cools; breeze blows.
Day dawns; light comes.
Moon Spirits, 4/5
Lisa Unterbrink
4 Comments | tags: darkness, despair, Lisa Unterbrink, loss, Moon Spirits, poetry | posted in Writing
This is a companion piece to yesterday’s post about my high school English teacher, Mr. Wilson (which may—or may not—be his real name). This piece concerns something that happened in high school that changed my life. It’s one of those moments when you turn onto a new road that ends up becoming a permanent part of your path. As we say these days, it rebooted my life.
The road turn took place in 1970, but the first real seed was planted the year before. It was my first year of high school, and I went to see a play, Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, put on by the high school. The play was staged in the school’s auditorium, a 1000-seat genuine theatre complete with fly galleries, lighting positions, and a booth at the back for projectors and the main spotlight.
It was the first time I’d seen a live play or a theatre like that.
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23 Comments | tags: Cloris Leachman, drama, Ed Asner, high school, lighting guy, Mary Tyler Moore, theatre, theatre lighting | posted in Life, Writing
(Not Mr. Wilson)
I’ve spent so much time today reading and commenting on other people’s blogs (and a few on my own) that now I’m feeling a bit weary of writing. Still, we’ll see how this one goes. It’s a combination bone to pick (albeit a small and arguable one) and remembrance of things past. Distant, dim past. High school past. Nearly forty years past.
I’ve been remembering the past for a variety of reasons. A high school friend, one of the very few I’m still in touch with, is also facing looming job elimination.
And just yesterday, someone else from high school sent a message to my Facebook page (which I maintain for the purpose of old friends finding me, and only for that purpose).
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12 Comments | tags: Chaucer, classy, English class, high school, Mr. Wilson, Neil Gaiman, Sandman, unique | posted in Life, Writing
Logos con carne 