Let not the right paw
Stop the left paw from acting
For the best of both.
Drop by Drop
One drop,
one second,
one dribble,
one trickle,
one puddle,
one stream,
one minute,
one creek,
one hour,
one lake,
one river,
one sea,
one ocean,
one storm,
one day,
one night,
one week,
one month,
one year,
one century,
one era,
one world,
one galaxy,
one universe,
frozen,
static,
changing,
eternal,
always there,
always gone,
a second at a time,
seen,
forgotten,
remembered,
misunderstood,
drop by drop.
A Writing Cat’s Advice
Chase your tail, writer
And rest, groom, eat, mingle, then
chase your tail, writer
Ginger
I caught a glimpse of ginger as I walked,
back behind the white picket fence on third street.
I thought it was a ginger cat,
but it was a ginger chicken.
Today’s Theme Music
A new FM radio station was launched in SF when I lived in the area. Part of a national development, the station was called Alice, KLLC. They played what I guess would be called light adult contemporary music.
I liked KLLC, especially the morning show, with Sarah and Vinnie. That abruptly ended one morning; Vinnie was gone.
Anyway, a song that received a lot of air time was ‘Cornflake Girl’ by Tori Amos. The song came out in 1993. I retired from the USAF in 1995 and started working for an startup coronary angioplasty company. Hearing this song one day at work, I asked several twenty-somethings that I worked with, “What’s a cornflake girl?” I didn’t know. They snickered and didn’t answer.
I didn’t know what a raisin girl was, either, but didn’t bother asking that trio of information, the only young folks that I worked with or knew at that time. This was before Google and the net as we know it today. Looking it up or finding the answer was difficult. It pissed me off that they wouldn’t answer. Oh, well.
Well, now I know.
Me
I might die today, or maybe tomorrow. I may have already died and just don’t know it. I can be slow on noticing things sometimes.
Meanwhile, I’ll drink my wine, coffee and beer, overeat and chastise myself, do what I think I need to do, and live as I think I need to live. I’m not worrying about regrets or what I will or will not achieve, what others conceive of me, nor wasting time.
I’m just going to be me, obnoxious and lazy as I sometimes am, procrastinating, stupidly drunk, focused and solitary, standing on the edge, wandering and wondering.
How Much Editing Is Enough?
I discovered at work (in those days) the importance of editing. So many emails flew through the work threads with terrible grammar, spelling or punctuation. I would think a little less of those people for them; then I would see one such error in my email, and think a little less of myself….
It’s worse with books. When I’m reading something, encountering spelling, punctuation or grammatical errors, or awkward sentence structures propels me right out of the book.
You’ve had a request for your complete manuscript from an agent or editor. Suddenly your mouth goes dry. Your knees are shaky. Is your manuscript REALLY ready for prime time?
OR
Let’s say you’re a DIY person, and you publish yourself through Amazon or Smashwords, or some other self publishing organ. Will your readers toss your book in disgust because it’s so amateurishly edited?
OR
Maybe you’re hyper-anal or compulsive, and you don’t know when to stop the editing process. When, exactly, is enough enough?
To my mind there’s no “exactly” possible; it’s my contention that there’s never been a perfect novel or non-fiction book written. Still, don’t use that as an excuse to take a lazy approach to editing.
Some newbie writers don’t much care for the editing process; it’s not where the creative process is, they will tell you. And some high-dollar writers feel this way, too. But editing can…
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Today’s Theme Music
A co-worker hated this song, hated it.
The song is ‘Torn’, as covered by the Australian, Natalie Imbruglia. A stanza includes the words, “Lying naked on the floor.” This always send Louise into head-shaking disapproval.
“She’s lying naked on the floor. That’s disgusting.”
“But it’s not — ”
“Disgusting!”
“But it’s — ”
“No. That is so gross.”
Guess Louise is a germaphobe.
Here it is, from 1997, ‘Torn’.
The Portal
The portal was opened too much
admitting too many sights and sounds
distracting and drawing
thoughts and energy
from where they were proposed to be.
So he narrowed his focus.
But it remained too wide
permitting in conversations and laughter
and news and sounds
of cars and trucks
and people and animals
distracting and drawing
his attention
from it was supposed to be.
So he narrowed his focus.
Then all he could see were his words
all he could hear were his sounds
all that troubled him were his thoughts
and all there seemed to be
was his voice
and his typing
as his fingers skated and checked across the keyboard.
This seemed just right.
The Fitbit Effect
“You’ve won your penguin award,” the email said, or something like that. “You’ve walked seventy miles already! That’s the same distance the emperor penguin walks each year,” or something.
It was an email from Fitbit. Cool, seventy miles, I thought, in two weeks. Not great, but I’ll take it. Besides those emails with odd ‘awards’ and progress announcements, the Fitbit has had some interesting influences.
My wife and I each have a Fitbit and wear them continuously, except to recharge. Recharging is required about every five days. It takes one to two hours, but damn it, I was chuffed: that is one to two hours where my activity isn’t being counted. I’M BEING CHEATED.
We’ve taken to jogging around the house, ensuring the right arm, where we wear the Fitbit, swings forward and back. We often jog in place as we’re doing things. “Hey, did you read the news?” she asked, jogging in place. “No,” I answered, jogging toward her and then jogging in place as we chatted. “What news?”
We’re both right-handed so we’ve both figured out how to do things with our left hand instead of our right hand, and continue jogging in place. Making coffee and popcorn, cooking in general, getting the mail, the newspaper, emptying the trash and recycle…brushing our teeth. I’ve drawn the line at shaving my face and drinking liquids.
Everything is taken as an opportunity to add steps. Where we used to empty the car in one or two loads after shopping, to minimize the number of trips, we now carry less so we can maximize the required trips.
It’s insane.
It also seems a little addictive.
I’ve entered into competition with myself – I did fourteen thousand steps yesterday – go for fifteen thousand today! – along with a spousal competition. “How many steps have you done today?” my wife asked this morning, after returning from her Y work-out.
I’d been expecting this. “I’m at four thousand.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m at forty-one hundred.”
We both started running.
