Don’t Anger the Muses

I love it when I get in here to write, and I seem to know exactly where to begin and what to type. Little thinking is demanded; it’s just go, go, go. 

I know it’s not from ‘nowhere’ or some mysterious regions of my brain, or a gift from the muses. Truthfully, I’m agnostic. I’m not going to be categorical and say that it isn’t the muses. Maybe it is. Don’t want to outrage them by denigrating their contribution, you know. If it is due to the muses and they cut me off, I’d be bereft.

In my defense, I know that I stopped in the middle of a scene yesterday. I was following a trend. Once I’d shut down and was walking, thoughts arrived about what to do. Walking frequently acts as a laxative on my thinking, out there, going somewhere that only requires me to think, left, right, left, right — which out for the bus — permits to me to think.

I’d not been planning my thoughts and wasn’t actively thinking about the novel in specific ways. It was more a part of multi-streaming that I often do, especially while walking, surfing a little of one before jumping to another. This idea popped up, found its roots, and grew. More grew, developing new angles, as I showered and shaved this morning.

I guess it’s probable that I was thinking, but the muses were directing the streams and deciding what came to what. How’s that for a compromise?

Got my hot coffee. I’m in my chair. Time to write again, at least one more time.



It’s A Good Day

to –

write a book

work in the yard

try something new

nap with a cat on your lap

walk and exercise

breathe in the air and enjoy the sunshine

read a book.

When it’s a good day, it feels like everything is possible, and it’s all enjoyable.



The View Dream

For this dream’s beginning, I was with a large gathering for a dinner in a big banquet room. The dinner wasn’t formal although the round tables were all covered with white table cloths, china, crystal glasses, and silverware. Everyone was dressed informally in jeans or slacks. I knew many people there as friends. I wasn’t staying, though.

Just before leaving, I happened to look out a window. We were in either a high-building or a place on a high hill. I don’t know which. I chanced to go by a window. The window provided a gorgeous panoramic view of a bay with bridges. Calm indigo waters filled the bay under a perfect azure sky.

I raised the blinds to more fully see the scene, and then called to some of my friends, telling them to come see the view. Several came. We looked out on the sun-blessed world and remarked on the tranquil, peaceful curative that the scene provided.

I left.

I headed out across some fills and found myself traveling in parallel to a column of brawny men. Their garb suggested something out of an age one thousand years before. From what I gathered, they were planning some picnic or festival. Sometimes they chanted.

Encountering a man walking the other way, he asked me about where we were going, and why I wasn’t dressed like the rest. I told him with a smile that I was part of that group and that I didn’t know who they were or where they were going. I smiled as I said this, and then waved at the men, who seemed to have been following my conversation with the stranger. As I finished speaking, I said, “This is my turn,” and turned onto a path that ran perpendicular to their travels.

I followed the run through a field of short, tarnished gold grasses and came to an asphalt street. It was far from the intersection where you’re supposed to cross. A few others were talking about crossing the road but were unsure how to go about it. They began resigning themselves to going to the intersection so they could safely and legally cross.

I, though, decided that I’d chance it there. No vehicles were coming and the visibility was good, so why not? After crossing and reaching the other shoulder, I noticed that others had crossed with me. Then I saw a pair of police officers walking down the shoulder toward me. I suspected that they were going to ticket me or make a big deal about what I’d done but I decided that I didn’t care. I knew where I was going and didn’t want to be delayed.

Finding another sketchy path, I continued on my through another field of tarnished golden grasses.

The dream ended.

Fitbit Progress

Reviewing my Fitbit YTD, I found that I’ve walked over twenty-eight hundred miles, averaging 7.85 miles a day.

I was wondering about it today because as I went to walk, part of me whined, “Do we haft to?” in its best three year old voice. “Can’t we take the day off?”

With a grudging grimace, I imitated Mom and said, “Let me think about it.” That quieted the quitting part of me while I checked my numbers. I hadn’t done that in a while. Yes, I check daily to see what I did the day before. Once in a while, I look at the weekly total. I always have a general feel for how much I’ve done without getting into details, but I don’t really look at the ongoing cumulative numbers.

After checking the numbers, I felt pretty good about my average and agreed to the partial day off. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Maybe with an extra cup of coffee in the afternoon, I can make up today’s shortfall.



He stepped aside to let a woman pushing a shopping cart go by. A young girl in the cart’s child seat said, “Mom, while I ever be big enough that I don’t have to ride in the cart.”

Mom replied, “Yes, you’ll be big enough sooner than you think.”

The man said, “I wish I could get in a cart and ride around.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, I would love to be in a cart and have someone push me around.”

As the adults laughed, the child stared at them. Then the man rounded the corner. Encountering a woman in a wheelchair, he began re-thinking his wish.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

I heard this song a few years ago, on its first release. I still hear it once in a while, and sing it to myself as I walk about Ashland in my pre-writing and apres-writing walks. The song’s beat and lyrics are marvelous complements to my natural stride.

Here’s Alice Merton with “No Roots” (2016).

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