A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life.
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes. |
I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
|Finished and posted:
"Spirit of the Big Orange Squash"
"PPC#19 As the sky lowers  (dream dust)"
"PPC#20 Anarchy  (Campfire)"
Since the prizes are great I really need to enter this:
"What a Character! : Official WDC Contest"
What would be the barrier? Language, custom, talking/miming in metaphor, is this a human, cat, alien, alien cat.
I need to check my lists and get a move on.
Castle Rock, Montana (postcard)
You invite me for dinner,
a table set for multitudes,
a mile high and draped in rainbows
of rock and scree.
A setting that changes with the seasons,
yet fit for eternity.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.259]
Sent to susanL in Minnesota.
The rock is biotite granodiorite.
Early Sunday Morning 1930 (Edward Hopper)
There comes a shortening...
...to the shadows
at the break of Sunday
as the shop still shut, waits
for the barber to show up
...and to our life
when our hair's been cut,
as our best suit's laid out
to prepare us for eternity.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.258]
A response to Cappucine who wrote "'Same fog, same conscious movements. Feeling fat, slow, slothy. Elderly, doddery, foggy.'
I have a bit of this. It makes me hesitant about travel, something I looked forward to a couple years ago.
At least I got out today. If I do that everyday my fog may lift (along with my depression). Now about my weight..."
To Tgifisher: "Wonderful memory.
I sat in the old drugstore downtown today (now Butterfly Herbs). It still has a counter and booths in back where I can get a milkshake (I like fire&ice = chocolate-cayenne). I was surprised when one kid ordered a raspberry Italian soda.
It's a tea and coffee and herbs and ... everything place with tin ceilings and high shelves with a rolling ladder. Awesome atmosphere.
They were playing the Tennessee Waltz today..."
I restrained myself and didn't add that I have no similar memories from my childhood. I had no allowance. I had no money. I do remember Kresge's. Root beer floats and comics were considered frivolous... and I had no money.
|Kindness? Really? Or are just saying/doing that to look good.
Posted on the Newsfeed [edited]:
There are words of kindness (an assertion said in a kind way... think 'tact'). There are kind actions (like opening a door for someone... think 'respect').
So there are many kind thoughts and deeds.
But there's toxic kindness too. The smile that covers up the lies, the 5-star reviews that won't point out flaws, the insincere pat on the back.
One can kindly disagree on social-media, here included, but many choose to play it safe and say nothing.
Elisa: Stik or Treat has written a blog entry about toxic kindness. She doesn't like it.
And then there are small gestures like a smile, a hearty hello, sharing your piece of pumpkin pie ... just saying. But even sincere gestures can have negative consequences. A smile may make someone watching jealous, pie isn't good for some diabetics. Still... don't overthink it. Be kind.
Kindness is a type of behavior marked by acts of generosity, consideration, or concern for others, without expecting praise or reward. – Wikipedia
"A kindly tongue is the lodestone of the hearts of men. It is the bread of the spirit, it clotheth the words with meaning, it is the fountain of the light of wisdom and understanding." – Baha’u’llah, Gleanings from the Writings of Baha’u’llah, p. 289.
Well, I have some work to do.
Further reading: https://bahaiteachings.org/not-so-random-practice-of-extreme-kindness/
A response to spidey [edited]:
Yes, it's important to be kind and in 16 years I've mostly been showered with kindness at WDC.
However... let's be real. A 5 star rating for a 2 star poem isn't being kind. Friends are willing to point out that your zipper is undone or slip is showing while others silently laugh. Are you laughing at me?
How to point out flaws, give it a 2.5 and still be kind is the question. If you can... it would be helpful to provide examples that are both honest and kind.
Being dishonest isn't kind.
posted in "Blogville "
|To ruwth: "This illustrates some of the issues we writers face (and not just on WDC).
I need to downsize here as I'm very close to my item limit. I've deleted before... because I needed the space for my blog. I think I made copies... somewhere.
Which gets to the issue of decluttering and rearranging my port.
But as for a will... I spoke to a friend Saturday and he has agreed to be my lawyer. So "Call Nick" will simplify matters here and elsewhere.
Of course... that still means making decisions and lists. "
It's noon and I've made coffee, although I haven't drank it all.
There comes a puncture ...
...to false pride
when treasured words
once cast like pearls
land before the swine
as they squeal in sheer delight
then turn their snouts
to root out other garbage
hidden in the slime.
© Kåre Enga 2021 [178.252] (20.oktober.2021)
Also to ruwth: "Daily struggles remain one's own until you share them. Then you find out that you're not alone!
Not all life is an edited essay or an award winning movie. The mundane, by definition, is what we face every day. It's messy and oft-times frustrating."
There comes a tumbling...
...when autumn comes and roots break off
from dried out weeds,
now driven 'cross the prairie
by the wind
and to the wash
as water sloshes
cleaning coats and woollen sweaters
just in time for winter.
© Kåre Enga 2021 [178.253] (20.oktober.2021)
There come a hush...
...to the public square
as the bell tower tolls
while the full moon glares
behind a cloud of smoke;
but, from my secret place I watch
two goblins prance and joke,
a werewolf with its eyes aglow,
the vampires stalking both.
© Kåre Enga 2021 [178.254] (20.oktober.2021)
"Thank you ever-so-much for many reasons:
1. I counted 1... 2... 4... as a child. I never cared much for the number 3. This of course makes no sense. However, I was at 399 and now I'm 400. The 300s are history!
2. I entered these and mostly forgot about them, then time passed and I was busy doing other things.
3. I used one for Shadows&Light (S4) but I was disappointed in the results. But... the other poems were awesome.
4. I need to edit these and find the originals as well and add those written since then and recently.
5. I need to review, edit and basically delve into my portfolio to see what's hiding in there. Some I've quite forgot. Others I need to consolidate into a single entry. My unread or unloved flash fictions come to mind. I'm near my limit of allowed items. I need to do some house-cleaning. Items with lots of views or lots of reviews or high ratings will be kept. The others? Depends.
Thanks for the encouraging cattle prod. "
This was what she sent me:
For a breathtaking and evocative compilation of themed poems
There comes a fattening
...to the crab
before we free it from our traps
to boil then crack
and to our flesh
as fashioned shells
begin to grunt and groan
and outfits split.
© Kåre Enga 2021 [178.255] (20.oktober.2021)
To Kit re families: "It's helpful to read and watch depictions of family in other cultures. In Thai TV series the strangling, supportive and/or toxic roles of the parents can be in-your-face. Westerners might think parents are controlling, and even some Thais may agree; but, when I visit, their cultural concepts of respect given and received is not up to me."
|A Newsfeed response to Samberine Everose:
Something I've noticed in the comment sections of romcoms (like Thai TV BL) is that many watch for 'the kiss' (which is usually in the last episode as a resolution of 'tragedy' in the episode before it) and the happy ending. Imho, neither are necessary and at times too cliche. But apparently that formula works for consumers and producers of this genre.
Length? If it's emotionally satisfying readers want part 27 whether it's "Game of Thrones" or "Halloween" And if it's commercially successful it never ends...
A short story can have a greater impact than a novel and become a classic but whether it 'sells' or not may determine its 'success'.
*sigh* I'm not motivated by money. I write for myself as it helps me emotionally but I also write for others as a gift.
I had a flurry of over 30 emails. This unnerves me as it triggers the 'what did I do wrong' response. But... there was no reason to be concerned. Still, it illustrates how no news is better than good news at times.
I manage depression better than anxiety.
I told Harlow Flick: "Much is taught and not innate.
When I visit Thailand I have to remember to not be angry, to use words and not intonations (the languages are tonal), to learn the proper pronouns that depend on situation and relationship, to learn how to eat with fingers and spoons (forks are not put in the mouth, knives are not present, chopsticks only used for noodles).
Respect is paramount. As is a smile.
I have much to learn."
To Neva: "Tolerance may seem lukewarm but it's a virtue we need to learn unless we are eager to live in a hot/cold hell."
"Space Cadet" quote?
We sat there staring at the emeralds dissolving before our eyes. The Vulch consoled me. "There's a lot of stardust out there that needs to get a life. You have one. The Void be jealous."
"Jack has payed us a visit. I collect dead and wilting marigolds and snip the petals off with scissors. They are drying now. In the Season of the Snow Queen that Jack heralds I will add some color and flavor to rice. I wonder whether red roses and peach carnations will also suffice."
...building bridges between mountains, the isolated peaks of our existence, the valley slumbering, dreaming of visions, never opening curtains nor looking up towards the sky...
Posted in "Blogville "
|Prompt from "Space Blog" .
The captain here, popping in with a prompt. I'm still typing one-handed, but...
Writing intentionally bad poetry is difficult as Brooke - lurking can tell you. Check out
and write about intentionally bad poetry.
I responded to a posted response by Snow Vampire: Why do it intentionally? Half of what folks consider poetry here is bad, real bad, as in 19th century uber uber baaaad.
The cure is learning how to use the poetic tools (and not just their names). Reading a wide range of old and new poetry can open the mind to more than "roses are red" or Shakespeare (most of his sonnets are dreary).
There is this notion that poetry is easy because it's 'short'. But finding the right word to fit the intonation, rhythm, rhyme, or 'heaven-forbid' evoke an emotion? Not so easy. Even free verse isn't easy.
Your 'bad poetry' entry by-the-way was far more poetic than much of what tries to pass as poetry here.
I look forward to locking antlers with fellow poets who can fashion diamonds out of crap. And yes, we all write crap.
If the contest includes entries by Beholden, 🌜 Howling @ HuntersMoon, Roseille ♥, Brian K Compton I'm usually humbled. And that's good. If they don't enter any win by me may be a pyrrhic victory.
I'm hoping to see their terrifying (as in instilling terror in me!) entries this week for "Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest" or in some other contest.
I miss Tinker as she may be the best poet on site.
But... newer members like Adherennium are challenging us!
And this is great. I rather lose to poems worthy of Pushcart Awards than "roses bleed red" any day.
Rose bleeds red.
Violet bleeds blue.
Are there aliens among us?
Hey, get a clue!
So this week I placed 3rd in Darleen's Dark Dreamscapes... which out of 20 entries is no small feat. Last year I won twice and bombed twice. But 'crap with a ribbon is still crap'. So... I was happy with this poem... not ecstatic... just happy (it's not crap; it's just that I know I can do better).
And 2nd the week before:
I have high hopes for one poem entered in a contest that's not judged yet.
But that's up to judges. In the past I've flopped in one contest to resubmit and win 1st in another.
Those who want to write daily might try "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" . I love geology so the prompts this past weekend led to four (now edited) poems:
"Don't take me for granite "
"Scar tissue "
"Continental drift "
"Weather or not "
|flash's comment is excellent. Once one knows/sees the face/name/sprit of a being (be it a tree, a monster, your neighbor, an alien) it's much harder to kill/muder/exterminate. That's why Jackson's story "The Lottery" is so horrifying; it breaks that rule. And why dehumanizing dead civilians, referring to them as 'collateral damage', allowed the War in Iraq to not evoke as emotional response (in the US) as the American hostages held by Iran in '80. Much easier to care about missing famous people than the girl down the street you never spoke to. So yes, a ghoul may have the same response. Never look at dinner's face; never give breakfast a name. Much harder to eat Piglet than pigs raised on a factory farm.
For Friday's QotD: "Talking to my friend who has agreed to be my lawyer lifted a burden and put a smile on my face. Since I don't trust anyone it was important to cross that bridge. It's a load off my mind. Because I've stepped over the threshold of old age I need to have a will, health and financial proxies, someone on my side. I really needed that years ago, but that's history. Looking forward, aging isn't guaranteed to be easy."
I was in deep anguish at a school in the Great Lakes. I will not mention which one. I despised my dorm and my roommate; the feeling was mutual. I couldn't drop out unless I wanted a one-way ticket to Viet Nam. My draft number was #49. I was a goner. I decided to switch schools.
Excerpt from Road Trip 1872 (plus 100 years) [ASR] from On The Write Path
Third Place in Week 2 of Octoberfest 2021
Award by 🌑 Octoberfest's QoD
I wrote and posted 4 poems today the 17th.
On to the 18th.
I told Viv: "I felt at home when I lived in Kansas in a way that I didn't where I grew up. I moved to different places to grow but they were never home. Oklahoma was enticingly alien, but not home. Kansas part deux wasn't as easy after 40 years; we both had changed. Montana can be comfortable in some ways but it isn't 'home'.
To an extent we are like turtles, we take our home with us. I felt perfectly safe in Japan and Taiwan but could they be home? The Balkans would take some adjustment, but I feel good there. Norway is extremely safe and pleasant but it's hard to make friends. Portugal is closer to where I'm at ... but I will change as will the Portuguese.
I adjust. Or I leave. I should never have moved back 'home' years ago. The price I paid was too high."
|Ask me whether I care.
Part of me doesn't. I'm up earlier than usual and need to head out. I took a bath last night but a shower may be a good idea. Off I go.
Is this the season of dry skin? 2 solutions: 1. use lotion. 2. travel to a moist climate.
I went to market and bought hargisa and a blueberry pastry from Irina. At Butterfly Herbs I got a mint oreo milkshake with Irish creme. A goo combo.
Saw Nancy Rishoff. She'd look good in my alpaca turtle neck.
Sacramento State is in town for a game against the Grizz. I had a chance to go but without glasses what would I have seen?
I'm fading. I worked again on my poems and ended up writing four instead of two. Now to choose. I also will write a poem to a postcard of Montana. Who will be the victim? No clue.
What the meek inherit
postcard of the Boston and Montana Copper Smelter
Copper came. And copper went.
What remains but toxic tailings.
The land once rent
must be cleansed;
more money spent,
while sons and daughters
of copper barons went —
Slash and burn.
Dig deep and leave the mess.
No thoughts for the wounded Earth
that the meek inherit.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.248] (16.oktober.2021)
Sent to Pat.
71 degrees at 4:20. Barely a cloud in the sky. The Grizz fans weep. 27-28.
Nick caught up with me and we spoke about him being my lawyer and getting my affairs in order, will, etc. About time. I'm not getting any younger.
Ate pumpkin pie, drank the devil's brew ... black.
Feeling a bit better.
Spoke with Jackie Smartt outside of the Wilma. I told her I was jealous of her walking stick and then her son Kent showed up (he gave it to her).
"Things like Texas’ declaration of secession in 1861, which, in part, stated: “We hold as undeniable truths that the governments of the various States, and of the confederacy itself, were established exclusively by the white race, for themselves and their posterity; that the African race had no agency in their establishment; that they were rightfully held and regarded as an inferior and dependent race, and in that condition only could their existence in this country be rendered beneficial or tolerable."
Texas succession 1861: https://avalon.law.yale.edu/19th_century/csa_texsec.asp
Halfway through the month and I feel like my wheels are spinning as I sit here in bed contemplating The Void (a.k.a. my future).
Merry's call interrupted my thoughts. I got to see her on Messenger and she got to see my awesome hair (uncut for two years). She wasn't scared .
I'm 'sunken' and my skin isn't good and ... no use looking in mirrors.
My father and uncle lived to age 82. My grandfathers 73 and 75. I'm aiming low.
And no... that's not being negative. The reality is that I'm slipping in so many ways. Do I really want to outlive myself?
I need to do that WDC Will, need to talk to Nick, need to get a grip and salvage what I can before the lights go out.
Saturday: farmers market winding down until the 30th. Check mail.
Sunday: wash clothes every three to four weeks. I might not go out.
Monday: see friends if I get out of bed.
Tuesday: see Monday.
Wednesday: regular market.
Thursday: Billi Jo's worker Angie stops by and we chat. I might see friends.
Friday: see Monday.
I used to have a different rhythm. I used to have a life.
Yeah... I need to ramp up my writing. Contest entries are due and I'd love to enter "Poetry Song Contest" as it's only twice a year.
Need to have a more disciplined approach to learning Thai, but reading and watching TV series are helping me understand the cadence of the language and the culture.
1. You defer to your parent's wishes; thou shall not whine.
2. You defer to class, age, power and money.
3. You never show anger. It doesn't end well. This is a passive/aggressive culture.
4. I'm not sure what I can eat as I don't do spicy. I'm left-handed.
5. I need to make up some itineraries to calm me down. I'm good at that type of planning.
I'm dreaming of meeting people and the stories I will share.
Certain aspects of my life are on hold and therefore a disaster. I need to deal with my depression before it's replaced with anxiety.
I do eat. Today I had rice mixed with lemon, mackerel and yellow marigold petals. I've been eating cashews. I'm keeping up with my caffeine. I ought to drink more tea. I 'processed' petals I'll dry and add to my food: marigold (yellow, orange, red), carnation (peach and red), calendula (yellow).
I'm going to take a soak now (because I can) in hope that I steam away the ennui.
Posted in "Blogville "
|21 degrees and no wind. Cold in the hallway this past day (as if windows were open).
Warm and windy where hurricane Pamela lands in Mexico.
34 at 11. Above freezing and reasonably calm = I can go out without putting on my bear-suit.
Saw a few flakes and my friends today ...
Excellent macaroni salad.
Bought bread and bologna. Cashews! Not much on sale.
Visited Travis for a short visit... 3 hours later... I read him my slightly-edited and contest-entered poem from 2014 "There comes a softening — to cantucci "
I wrote the following tonight thinking that 8 lines would be perfect length for this type of poem. Many do have 8 lines; only a few have more. I have written over 100. Wrote one earlier this year for Express it in 8.
There comes a stillness — to my dismay
There comes a stillness...
...to my dismay
as the last leaves flutter
then fall away
as geese fly overhead.
...and to my bones
as muscles stiffen
and my sighs and moans
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.242] (13.oktober.2021)
Snow on the morning's mountains. Cold.
Had a cheese-bologna-peanutbutter sandwich. Cooking up marigold petals with rice. I can smell it.
There comes a reckoning — to the mountains
There comes a reckoning...
...to the mountains
when October snows lace the pine
a gift of Jack Frost
and the Queen of Northern climes
...and to a waft of marigolds,
in autumn's garden,
flush with yellow blooms,
their leaves now frozen.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.244] (14.oktober.2021)
|Winter's Coming... 23 frosty degrees at 08:30 in Missoula in Western Montana. Not quite as cold to the east.
78 degrees in Maha Sarakham Thailand at 21:30... but stormy week forecast. Would like to visit next month if I can, next year if I can't.
Now 46 degrees at 4 pm.
This weekend should be nice. Calm, warm 60s. Indian summer cometh.
Gleaned frosted flowers today. Straw flowers and edibles: carnation, calendula, marigold. Also salvaged a geranium.
Tonight is supposed to go down near 20 so very little will survive.
Almost 9 pm and 40 degrees. Going to be another frosty morning.
I got the fan out of the window without killing it or me. I should rearrange the plants by weekend. Their needs are different going into winter.
I'm not feeling well. Nothing major. Just blah blah blah.