Just what constitutes the "art of the short story"? After months I have finished one, and it is getting high ratings (this aspect always reminds me of grade school) except for the occasional newcomer who ends up in my port. I have another "short story" which would not stop writing itself, and it is not over 70 GBytes and I know it'll never be read.
I'm very discouraged. It's a dull Tuesday night and I could be creating something memorable, but here I am, being disturbed becomes some new member didn't like my otherwise perfect story and because the other story I worked and worked on and is now so long it's going to be impossible to to anything with it. Oh, dear, I forgot, we're not supposed to use words like can't, impossible, should, shouldn't, etc. It's a whole new world. Do those of you who have young teenagers, do those teenagers think it's a whole new world?

There seems to be a television program called "Everybody Loves Raymound" and it seems to be going off the air. All evening that's all that's been on, is how this program is going off. Now I know we can't watch the battlefield 24/7 or the depths of the sea or other educational programs, but please. I'm going to sell my TVs to the highest bigger. I know others who have done this. They tell me their nerves are far the better for it, and the get the news from the Net or from the radio.

Now this father in Illinois has killed his two little nine year old girls. He had beem in jail for various violent crimes before and had only been out of jail one week. He had been to anger management classes. In California this morning someone killed his entire family. When is this going to stop? Are these yet epidemic proportions, and is this only going on in America? Those of you who live in other countries, what say ye?

I'm going to go: I really want to meditate and try to get beyond the present limitations of thought.

Ciao






 

I've spent most of the time today in the bright sunlight covered with coconut oil and reading David Abram's The Spell of the Sensuous. This book deals primarily with man's loss of communication with nature, or as the cover says. "...the violent disconnection of the body from the natural world and what this means about how we live and die in it." Sounds heavy duty, but it's not really.

One prargraph toward the end I especially wanted to share with you because it has to do with stories, and how to tell a story "without forfeiting our animal kinship with the world around us, an attempt to think in accordance with our senses..." Later, Abram says: "There are good stories ad mediocre stories and downright bad stories. How are they to be judged?...The answer is this: a story must be judged according to whether it makes sense. And 'making sense' must here be understood in the most direct meaning: to make sense is to enliven the stirs the senses from their slumber, one that opens senses. A story that makes sense is one that the eyes and the ears to their real surroundings, turning the tongues to the actual taste of the air and sending chills of recognition along the surface
of the skin. To make sense is to release the body from the constraints imposed on it by outworn ways of speaking, and hence to rejuvenate one's felt awareness of the world. It is to make the senses wake up to there they are."

I would not have quoted this at such length if I had not been pondering the degree of veracity that it contains. How many stories or poems do you read that heighten you senses, that make you look at, smell, taste, hear and/or touch something in a new way? A way distinuishes from that influenced by the language that we speak (English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Italian, Svedish, German, Russian, etc. -- if any of you speak more than one language you will understand how different it is to think in any two of them)
we well as the part of the world we live in. New Yorkers and the Kentucky countyside have two ways of knowing things; as do those in the Colorado Mountains and the Sahara Desert. And Abrams adds, we have become transfixed by own own technologies. Earth space and cyberspace merge, but are we nearing becoming one or many? The written word, he argues, contains a pivotal magic (emphasis mine) the same magic that once sparkled in the eyes of an owl or an otter.

I shall end this blog entry, which may perhaps be in the wrong place but here it shall stay since I have come this far, with Abrams closing paragraph:

"An alder leaf, loosened by the wind, is drifting out with the tide. As it drifts, it bumps into the slender leg of a great blue heron staring intently through the rippled surface, then drifts on. The heron raises one leg out of the water and replaces it, in a single step. As I watch I, too, am drawn into the spread of silence. Slowly, a bank of cloud approaches, slipping its bulged and billowing texture over the earth, folding the heon and the alder trees and my grazing body into the depths of a vast breathing being, enfolding us all within a common flesh, a common story now bursting with!.
What say ye critics ~ 1.5 or 5.0?
 

It has been raining solid for two days. Not a light pleasant Spring rain but a heavy duty downpour. Good thing I have food in the house.

I've been sleeping, watching what happens to the Runaway
Bride, and the misadventures of Paul Abdul. That'll be my
immersion in pop American culture for a while. That'll
last me. I've been reading a book, Three Stories by Miguel de
Unamuno and I remember what good literature is like. I wonder why those of us who have such a great desire to write and write well, and who work at it, do not always make it. Some people become giants in the history of literature, some footnotes, and most of us are not mentioned at all. Same with visual artists, sculpters, and so on. Why do we have the desire but not always the talent? Maybe perseverance is the key. I think it was Woody Allen who said 90% of success in life is showing up.

The longer I'm a member of WDC, the more I enjoy it. I spend almost all my waking hours on here, and I think maybe some of the ones when I'm asleep, or pretending to be asleep. People, animals, various beings come in and out of my house and I will not be moved. Sometimes I don't answer the phone. Do you answer the phone when you're working on something? What is the proper PC etiquette?

Cinco de Mayo! I'm not sure what the day symbolizes, but I do know that it is a big deal in the Spanish community. Jacksonville is a blaze of activity and salza.

Why is "American Idol" so popular? Or "Fear Factor"?
Why don't they show good movies these days? When I was
in school, there were foreign films everywhere. My parents even were aghast at the idea of my going to see a foreign film. Now, you can't find one around in a hunfred mile radius. This is true in New York City also. Is this part of Bush's plan? Or have I been in Florida too long?


 

Helping others is a wonderful thing to do. May believe that it is the only way to have a truly satisfying life. From community service, to the Priesthood, it is the giving of one's self asking no return. Do we as writers do this? Do we pour everything we have into our work, thus giving all to others, and ask for little in return? Aye, there's the rub. What is it that we want? Fame? Fortune? Recognition? Love? Money? Someone asked me recently either in a poll or in a campfire, why do you write? I said to keep from going insane, and I still think that is why. But I think other factors come into play also. I did go on a ten year hiatus from daily writing, and I noticed and missed the loss. I kept journals all through that time, and I was travelling across the pond, not in the usual Western European places. Then all these problems started up in the Middle East (BIG problems!) and the State Department was asking all Americans to get out. Now I write again, almost full time, and feel a peace, and a stresslessness which I equate with sanity. I'm still out of my mind but I'm not frantic and about to bang my head on the wall and be put in a rubber room. Why do you write? Do you do some form of community service? When James Joyce was asked why he wrote he said, "Because I don't know how to do anything else."

Tonight I am helping a 40 year old man who is in college write a paper. He is taking a course in comparative religion. This should be interesting, since theology is one of my favorite subjects. I know it's a take home final, and one of the questions has to do with explaining the difference between Nirvana (Buddhism) and Heaven (Christianity). I don't even see the similarities.

Another question he read to me on the phone to prepare me for this evening's business asks that the student explain the phrase "The Mystical Body." I know what they mean, but I think they need some clarifying editing. I mean the universe is a mystical body isn't it? Where do these people get these ideas come from for these testbooks and take home finals?

Another was to explain Sufism. How can you explain mystics? They are beyond the concept of reason as we know it, whether they are Christian Mystics (St. Theresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, etc.), or Sufi mystics (Whirling Dervishes, Rumi). I do believe there is only one God, which makes me ineligible to talk knowledgably about Hinduism, but mystics -- nothing is more fascinating to me. They live in a bubble all their own. I think I live in a bubble all my own, but it's called a PC, and I would venture that most mystics do not use a PC. Sufi dancing was being taught at one of the local New Age "churches". I am trying very hard to not offend anyone, and yet express my confusion. Is that coming through?

Another question is "If you could change to any religion that you'd wish, which religion would it be? Why?" I wonder if the students are allowed to answer "None." If you answer Islam, given today's political climate in America, are you automatically put on a watch list? My paranoia runs high when it comes to these things. I've known Arabs that have been detained, and Puerto Ricas who look like they might be of Arabic descent who have been detained. Miami is a strange place. And, I have a feeling it doesn't happen only in Miami.

My overwhelming question of the moment is why is the Baptist Fundamentalist movement seemingly in charge of the government of the United States of America? Does anyone know the anwer to that?

It's the biginning of May. Thoughts should be turning to spring flowers, beautiful weather, birds singing their little hearts out, and balmy nights of love. This will be my first summer at Writing.com. I wonder if things get more active, calm down a little, or stay the same. I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Suddenly, I'm too tired to think about all the different possible roads to a possible God. Maybe somebody out there could help me?
 

I posted a poem this morning and then I took a three hour
nap. When I got up and checked my email, there was a rave
review from some I do not know, but the reviewer loved it!
I had no idea how the poem would be accepted. I'd worked on it till the wee hours, and could hardly read my rewrites this morning. Gee, this made my day...err, evening. I just wanted to share the joys of life here on WDC with you, and that was sure one of them!

Another is the beautiful acrostic skyisfalling02 has written for me. She wrote it as a contest entry and as I told her, she'd better win or else I'll git 'em for her. If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend a view not only of that particular item but her port. It is, ummm, unusual to say the least. Join in the Pot Luck Contest while you're
there! It is more fun that Taco Bell!!

It's been a while since I've blogged. Contests abound. Groups are all about. GPs slip through my hands like money if you have generous nature. Ah, Writing.com is wonderful and I love it. I think most of us do. That's why we have all these neat sigs.

Meanwhile Spring is trying to make it but the only thing I can see or hear or feel is the GD amplifiers from the stereo from from the young people next door. I thought they had I-Pods and things now that prevented one from annoying the old and cranky neighbors, but NIMBY! That's for
sure. Sometimes they sit out in their back yard, which is ten feet from my screened in porch, and drink beer or whatever and whoop and holler. I wait patiently for l0:00 at night to come because that when St. Augustine's downtown noise ordinance takes effect, but they must know this, for they always stop at 9:59 p.m. Drats. I even tried to talk to them nicely, but they see through me. If they didn't, they'd turn it down wouldn't they? I blocked my IM's one day and a friend of mine who was trying to get in touch with me said, "What is this? Am I disturbing a genius at ork?" I should introduce him to the people next door. They seem to me, in my tunnel vision mind, to have a lot in common.

I was all ready to stop smoking -- had my quittin' pack, had gotten rid of lighters, bought Tootsie Pops (that's how I quit the last time, for two years plus) and then was reading around the site and came upon the blog entry of 4-17-05 of Cappucine and she presents a compelling, compelling argument about the comparison between smoking and the insanity of driving cars. It's a gem! I'm going to join her in an anti-cars campaign. The Sierra Club did that a few years ago, and judging by the congestion on our highways, I don't think it's taking off. Maybe I'll write to Laura Bush, but that would only cover the United States.

Even the outrageous gas prices won't keep Americans from going on vacation in their SUVs and HUGE motor homes that pull cars, motorcycles, and whose roofs are covered with other forms of ransportation/entertainment like bicycles and pop up satellite dishes for the (I'm sure) plasma-high
definition TVs. I wish I could understand this materialistic compulsion. It took me years to buy a PC and amicrowave, and I still don't have a cell phone. What kind of an American am I? I'm also sure this fervor is limited to America, although I must say I did rarely see such avaricious display of wealth across the pond. If and when I did it was an American at the wheel. And then people wonder why other countries find us less than wonderful. Good
grief.

My %$%^@! telephone won't stop ringing. I have to answer it. What is this sudden popularity.

In the words of that famous Governor of California,
before he was Governor of California, "I'll be back."

Ciao







 

I've been kinda sorta out of touch with WDC here ~ see, I think if I am not glued to the screen at least 10 hours a day something is definitely wrong. Well, some friends from Cleveland were here for four days and three nights. Apparently I fell asleep in the middle of Saturday Night Live last night and was sound asleep with the TV blaring and the light on. They were all highly insulted for some reason I didn't quite get. Oh yes, and they said I was eating waffles with butter and syrup at Midnight. I even offered them some. Now, you understand I neither remember nor am I sure I believe any of this. Except I do frequently watch SNL because I like the political parodies. I don't remember watching it last night though, so maybe I was asleep. but I don't remember eating waffles either, especially at Midnight. They're not on the South Beach Diet.

Well, they're all gone now. Oh, I forgot something: I asked them why they didn't turn the TV off, and the husband said rather snarily, "I was afraid I'd disturb your sleep vibrations or something!". That was a reference, and a nasty one, to something I said earlier: they were going out and I said "When do you think you'll be back?" being pleasant, and they said "Why? What difference does it make? and I replied somewhat meekly, "Well, I was going to try and revise a couple of poems and a short story I've been working on but if you're just going to MacDonalds or something I won't bother." "Why can't you work when we're here?" was the horrified reply. I explained that I was used to having the house to myself and that when they were here I felt I wanted to be a good hostess, blah blah blah, and they stayed out until it was time for SNL to come on. That's how the entire evening was spent.

They left this morning.

Then I took a nap for 6 hours.

Now I'm up till all hours of the night...wondering what everyone else is doing. There are 170 members on line. My we are a bunch of nightowls aren't we? Maybe now I can revise. T.S.Eliot said something about "visions and revisions" but I can't remember the rest of it. "Which the universe will reverse"? I don't have a copy of Eliot around either. Not since my water heater blew up and all my books got wet when I owned this stupid house at the beach. The house wasn't stupid...it was a nice house, but I was stupid for thinking I could ever bear up under the responsibilities of being a home owner by myself! Who was I kidding? I'm used to maintenence men who fix things for free when they don't work correctly, and not having to call here for this, and there for that, and then pay them on top of it, after you almost have to beg them to come over and fix whatever is broken. This is Florida you know. Yankees like me come down here with the somewhat ridiculous notions that (a)people want to work and not go fishing; (b) that they will show up when they say they will; and (c) that if they cannot show up at the agreed upon time they will call and make other arrangements and not just arrive three days later and say "Hi! I'm here to fix the electricity!"

It's really much easier to live in a country where you don't have expectations of things like electricity and running water and working phones and roofs that don't leak and faucets that don't drip, etc. Then you don't get upset over such trivia. I'd better brush up on my Espanol. Je parle francais bien, mais Espanol, non. Nada. Nyet. Bessa may mucho. Wasn't that a song? And kay sera, sera? Por Favor...Oh I know, Cervesa, por favor! But I don't like cervesa anymore.

I think I'll go make some waffles. Wanna join me?

Adios. Bon nuit!
 

It's Friday afternoon. I still have house guests, and can
get nothing done except clean up after them, especially in
the kitchen. They want to go here, go there, and I want to
be on my PC. They are not computer literate, and the PC infuriates them. How dare I take time away from them? I have other friends who feel the same way. And no matter where I live, probably because I always live in places tourists like to go or be, they visit me. In New York I got so I would hand them a map, point out the Empire State Building or the World Trade Center (before 9/11, obviously) and say, always look for that and you know which way is which. I'm a terrible hostess. No, I take that back. I am a very good hostess, but a terrible tourist guide.

Anyway, I have many things up in the air, and many things to
do.Contests to enter, poems to write, short stories to rewrite, etc., plus keeping up with emails non-WDC blogs.

Which reminds me, I want to clarify something from an earlier entry in here -- the one about the missing finger in the Wendy's chili. Well, apparently the woman who was suing (or threatening to sue) Wendys was not only known for suing fast food companies (remember the McDonald's hot coffee suit?) but today she was arrested for some kind of larceny charges. As I recall it was Nada who commented that she had heard that the story wasn't true. Anyway, now those of you who go to Wendy's may do so again without fear of contamination. Dave Thomas must be very happy. My apologies for misreporting.

When will sorry no longer cut it? I know I have myself gotten to upset with someone (usually one of my children) who repeats the same action over and over, and when they are called on it they say "I'm sorry." I happen to be very quick to forgive, in fact I really want to forgive, but I want the action in question to cease to happen also. Eventually I will, given enough repetitions, say "Sorry doesn't cut it! Just STOP IT!". Then I hate myself for a while, but the person usually stops it. At least, as in the case of my darling children, mostly my son, they stop letting me find out about it. My son is firmly of the opinion that it doesn't matter what you do as long as you don't get caught. He learned this in one of the best military schools in the country (not West Point). What happened to God, and conscience, ethics and just plain decency. Why is America known as a faith-based country? I know, the Constitution, and all, but Bush has a direct line. I've gotta stop. You've all heard this from be before.

I did go out with my "guests" for lunch. Then they wanted to go to the thrift shops. I was so freaked out by the traffic on the U.S. 1 that I had to come home and take a valium. The idea of thousands of people driving around in metal boxes at 85 miles an hour while they are talking on cell phones is real; it is not just grist for the Late Night Comedy Shows' mills. I do long for dirt roads, lamplight, the sound of crickets in the night...it's all true. It comes out in my writing, but I just really realized it today. That stuff about reading between the lines is also true. It was like a small ephiphany for me.
Beats the Blessed Virgin Mary on the wall where the salt water eroded some concrete. IMHO.

I'm babbling, so cio.




 

I've house guests again, I think for just one night ~ I've
not asked yet ~ but I've been thinking why some people are lucky and some are not. I never win anything, nor have I ever won anything, maybe 3 out of 6 numbers in the Lottery and I get at the most $4.50 for a $1 ticket. My ex-husband had gamblers' luck. He'd buy scratch offs lottery tickets, and win $500, $1,000 frequently. I never win raffles on here no matter how many tickets I buy, and I don't win contests.

I was born on a Saturday, my astrologists tell me, under a disseminating moon (I've always been afraid to ask what that means), but I remember the children's rhyme, and "Saturdays Child works hard for a living." I guess that's why I never win anything. I must have done something awful in a past life, I mean really really bad.

I know others who've had worse luck than I have had, but I know many who have had better too. I've worked hard when I've had to. I work hard at my writing now that I have this time. I am very (underlined) serious about it, and mostly do less and less that does not have to do with this profession. The harder I work, the less I achieve. Maybe I need a vacation. From what? From my PC, from WDC, from books of fiction and poetry? Not on your life. I'm going to take this time that I have now and try my best to do what I believe I was meant to do in the first place. I just got sidetracked there for a while. I was unlucky there too ~ or weak. I'm not sure which.

There's almost a full moon and is it ever beautiful tonight. The sky is filled with stars. Florida seems so close to the sky at times. I've never seen that anyplace else. I've been in Mexico too, and that's further South than here, so it's something about Florida. Didn't look this way in Southern California either. I like nature best at night. From dusk till dawn. They are doing so much building in this coastal town that they start in at 7 a.m. with the hammers, and the big machines. The world is not geared to let you sleep during the day. I remember when I worked midnight to eight for a while; I never got a straight eight hours sleep.

Have I been unlucky at love? Well, that's a subject I shall leave for another entry. I've been very fortunate to have loved so many people, and have such wonderful friends. I believe I have a Guardian Angel or two watching out for me, so that I don't get mugged or shot on the street or anything like that. Even when I lived in NYC for so many years. Not even close, and I took a lot of chances.

I sure don't have gamblers' luck though. It's probably just as well. I wouldn't want to spend my life in Vegas or Atlantic City. Now Biloxi has casinos. So do Indian Reservations. I used to go to the race track some when I was in my early 20's. Was never lucky there either. Nope, I just ain't got it. Better stop hoping. NOW!

Ciao.
 

This'll be short entry (I think). I have been up for two hours. I get out of bed, click on the TV, turn on the PC, turn on the coffee, and then get showered and dressed. By the time I've made it full circle through the house CNN is informing me, the computer is ready to go, and the coffee is done. Okay. Today this all worked. Great.

Then CNN says the stock market is way down AGAIN, there will be two -- not one but two -- executions in Texas today for death row inmates, one white, one black. Texas, as we all know, has the highest rate of executions of all 50 states. Guess who lives in Texas; Crawford, to be exact.

Next, there was a sheriff on a horse moving inmates of his jail from one place to the other (I did not hear where this was but sheriff's only ride horses in a few places)' actually he was herding them, shackled together, and dressed in pink shorts, and pink flipflops. Then, I learn that due to a computer glitch one of the airlines was offering round trip tickets to anywhere for one dollar and eighty six cents for an hour or so yesterday. $1.86!!! to fly to India and back. Or anywhere (I'm in Florida). I could go see AL in Sweden, although now that she's working I'm sure she doesn't want company. Next I went through my email; meanwhile all channels are singing the national anthem because it's the tenth anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. I just got up and put the TV on VH1. God forbid I turn the TV off. Then I find out that there are now many people with the same name, or slight variations thereof, on this site. Pretty soon we'll all be assigned a number. Like social security.

Next I get an email from a fairly new member who joined a group whose job it is this week to review my port. I'm portfolio-of-the-week in this group. He writes that he read a few poems, and he is simply not qualified to review my poetry because it is so deep and meaningful, not just light and playful, and he's way in over his head. I think I'll send him that article that's somewhere about "So you think you are not Qualified to Review..." I don't know what else to do to help him. So, I've been up two hours and I can feel my blood pressure rise with the temperature (Ah-ha, a metaphor pops out). Is WDC a refuge or not? Maybe I should just turn off the TV. I've things to do...contests to enter,revisions to make, letters to answer, submissions to send out. Oh me. I gotta more firmly resolve to keep the TV off. Then maybe I can handle my beefs with WDC, which are few and usually easily resolved. Now, let's see? Which Al
do I owe an email to?

Ciao for now.
 

I'm sitting here watching EASY RIDER, which came out about 1969 or 1970, and it sure takes me back to my youth and then some. When I was a teenager and first in college it was still THE rage. Jack Nicholsen looks just like Jack Nicholsen, only a little younger. Makes me remember, fondly, my youth.

Meanwhile, I haven't seen any notices in my inbox that I won anything in the raffle, so that's that. It's okay; all the GPs go for a good cause. The weekend was slow but beautiful. Last part of April, all of May until Memorial Day is the best there is. No tourists, comparatively speaking, until after Memorial Day.

So, I was outdoors a lot. I have a screened in porch that faces East and it gets all the morning sun. I keep my plants out there, and tend them every now and then. Was pruning them today, while marvelling at their durability and determination to grow. Also planted in earth (well, potting soil) all the ones that I'd rooted in water. I love to do this stuff. I love to go in greenhouses where they mist the young, tender plants every now and then so they will grow. See, there's another instance of a spoiled childhood. Humans even do it to young plants. Especially to young pretty plants, or plants that will yield harvest for food. Why do we spoil children in childhood?

I don't want to go into my Santa Claus rant again, but I know I sure wasn't ready for the big world when I got there, and what I learned I learned from other kids who had older brothers and sisters that paid attention to them. My parents never told me anything...well, I take that back. My father taught me how to paint (houses, not still lifes or modern masterpieces), and taught me how to cut the grass (so he would't have to do it) and he taught me a little bit about tending the garden; he did teach me a lot about geography because he was a philatelist, and I knew all about places like Monaco and Lichtenstein before I was five. Maybe that's why I went to some of those less traveled-by-Americans places.

Mother taught me how to knit; that is the only thing I can remember that she taught me; and my sister taught me how to read before I went to school. So I skipped two grades, and was 7 in the 4th grade or something. I think I never caught up with myself. That's probably part of the problem.You know that song "Mothers, don't let your children grow up to be cowboys"? Well, I'm here to tell you "Mothers, don't let your little ones skip grades in school." It does something strange like warping the learning curve or something. Graduated from high school at 15, and went to college at 15. Was 16 that October. Still and all, I remember I felt like I was in a big big world, alone, with no map or instructions.

I'm over that now, with all my traveling in strange countries...not Western Europe for me. Just Spain and a little in France. I sought out other sights. And now in neon Florida I spend a lot of time wondering just why I did all that, and why any of us do anything. It is all God's will? Could He have stopped 9/11, the Holocaust? I wonder, ponder, discuss and read. No definitive answer comes. Oh, I believe He's there all right, or around here and there in the wind and the waves, but I wonder just how much power He does have. Can he stop Dubya?

Can He make my new orchid bloom?

Ciao.