Month: April 2017

Today’s Theme Music

“Let’s dance. Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.”

Yeah, I’m hearing it like it’s nineteen eighty-three. Good year for me. Exciting future ahead. Woo-hoo. The future was so bright, I had to wear shades. I never knew then that I’d be worrying about the sun going down on me. Never thought about walking the line, dancing in the dark, or learning to fly. Yet, here I am sixty going on a million, flapping my arms and trying to catch the wind beneath my wings.

It’s all a pot of words, a stew of ideas, a stream of visions and information, a stick, a stone, the end of the road.

Here’s some Saturday morning Bowie. He always knew more than us.

 

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Today’s Theme Music

Hey writers, hope you’re having an exciting, productive Friday of writing, editing and revising. It’s rainy here, which seems conducive to sitting down with a writing utensil and notebook, or a typewriter or computer to pursue your stories and dreams. We have a little music to help keep your words and energy flowing. Back in nineteen eighty-nine, the Berlin Wall still existed, as did the U.S.S.R. Living in Germany, stationed with the 7405 Ops Squadron and writing short stories, this song was an instant hit with me.

Here’s Tom Petty with ‘Runnin’ Down A Dream’. 

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Recatpricate

Recatpricate – to give and take mutually with a cat.

In use: Nan kissed her cat on the nose, and she recatpricated with a lick of Nan’s chin.

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Today’s Theme Music

Marcus reminded me of an excellent song for pattering through the day.  A dance song, they provide instructions in the lyrics:

It’s just a jump to the

And then a step to the right.

With your hands on your hips.

You bring you knees in tight.

(h/t to Metrolyrics.com)

From nineteen seventy-five and ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, ‘Let’s Do the Timewarp Again.’ It’s such a rousing, crazy song, part of a rousing, crazy movie, that it’s inspired cults. The cast was excellent, the plot was unpredictable, and the plotting was frenetic.  Beyond all of that, I could really use a timewarp today. Forward or back, left or right, I don’t know where I’d go.

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Catankerous

A feline with a bad-tempered, uncooperative, wayward disposition is said to be catankerous. 

In use: Normally a sweet and gentle calico, Tabitha always became catankerous when the moon went full in July.

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Love’s Fabric

He saw him across the swirl of activity. It took some effort to press himself closer for a better look. As he made his way past an entanglement of shirts, jeans and underwear, the other spotted him.

Despite his heritage and their obvious differences, instant attraction occurred. Shedding regard for what others might make of it, the old black rayon polyester blend, a plain sock from an inexpensive store, began dancing with the young gray and black wool Gold Toe. Soon they found commonalities. Both were dress socks, although for different occasions, meant for a man, sizes ten through thirteen, and shared a calf-high design.

It wasn’t long before they were entangled in intimate acts within the dryer’s hot confines. Opprobrium rapidly followed. “You already have mates,” they were told. “Think of them. And the authorities will separate you, once the cycle ends.”

Knowing this was true, they spent as much time as possible together. Some sympathetic plaid boxer shorts approached them. “There’s a way out of here,” she said. Yes, stories of that underground dryer vent was woven through their society.

A buzzer’s warning pierced the cylinder. The cool down cycle. Little time remained. They made their decision. Love was hard to find among the clothes. They followed the secret route out, hopefully, to happiness.

It helped to be open to looking past another’s materials and age to find love, but to fully embrace it was to fully embrace the unknown, and venture into new realms.  It would be hard, but they knew it would be harder yet to give up without trying.

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Today’s Theme Music

Visiting with family, tread carefully. Words and looks creak with nuances that you may not notice. As these matters are delivered to your attention – “What did you mean by that?” – you realize how gingerly you must move.

Liam Sternberg wrote a song about the awkward poses struck while trying to keep your balance and avoid trouble. The Bangles made it a hit in nineteen eighty-six. Here’s ‘Walk Like An Egyptian’.

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A Dream of Departure

Man, were we busy. People were returning from other assignments, and we were all going in new directions. I knew them all, co-workers, comrades, friends. Our energy was high. My wife was busy with a special task but was becoming frustrated with her role and how others regarded her.

Our commander got up on a table to address us. He began lamely. Not getting the response he expected, he went in a new direction and then told us he’d talk to us later. We resumed our preparations.

I was happy and excited, anticipating new directions. “We need to celebrate,” someone said. “Yes,” I agreed. “We should get beer,” another said.

“I can make beer,” I announced. As I did, I went back to a clear plastic bag. Dry yellow foam filled it. Holding it up, I said, “This is beer.” The bag was as light as cotton candy. “You just need to add water.” Others were doubtful and amazed, but I was undaunted, joking with them about the brew that would result.

The bag was not closed. Tilting to one side as I pressed forward, much of the yellow foam fell out. I remained undaunted and in a humorous frame. Still talking and laughing, I began scooping up the foam and shoving it back into the bag. Another came to help, holding the bag open for me. We found this very funny.

We crossed the gathering and paused. My wife intercepted me. She was angry. “Who spilled the water?” she demanded, pointing. It took several repetitions before we grasped her question and where the water had been spilled. It wasn’t much and didn’t matter to me or the others. This irritated my wife, who stormed off in dismay. Shrugging it off, the rest of us continued to prepare to party and depart.

Afterwards, my wife and I walked along a sidewalk. Everyone was moving their possessions from their homes. Movers were going to some houses. We waved at folks that we knew but then started finding some possessions discarded along the walk. We didn’t think that stuff was supposed to be there. Beginning to pick up the first pieces, we quickly discovered a larger cache of personal, prized possessions. We were stunned. The quantity was too large for us to do anything except heap it. The mystery of how it all came to be there consumer our attention.

While we did that, one of the people came along. Recognizing some of the stuff as hers, we pointed things out to her. “I don’t care,” she said. “They can do what they want with them. I’m through with it. I’m going on.”

They settled the question in my mind. If it didn’t matter to the owner, why should it matter to me?

So much depends upon how something is regarded.

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How Being Patient Improved My Writing

Millie Ho’s post reminds me of my quest for writing patience. Patience came on its own eventually, as the writing process came to gratify me. In a sense, I think that can be dangerous, too; it’s possible to be too complacent about it, because, hey, I’m writing, and I’m happy. What else is required.

I like her points, though. Law enforcement officials often talk about the CSI effect. It’s a halo of belief that evolves about modern policing, forensics and justice that emerges from the ease with which clues are found and linked, leading to the quick, successful solving of crimes.

I think writing – and other ventures – suffer from how relatively easily television protagonists write a book, get it published, and become a best selling novelist and celebrity.

Yes, it embittered me, to have me and my efforts compared to fictional writers and their success. Yes, it rankled me. Now, I accept it with the grace that comes with patience, the understanding that the experience is part of the process, and knowledge about the truth about publishing.

No, I don’t really know the truth. I only know that it’s far messier than it’s usually shown on television.

But it still sometimes rankles.

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