Blogging, to take over the world.
The object is to teach an old dog new tricks. (not much hope ... )|
stalks the port - wearing slippers - softly - he seeks
The return of the hound from Bassetville:
As the sun went down, he appeared out of the west, the land of the Basset hound.
Sloppy, floppy, and drooling, as only a Basset can.
And was he glad to see us all.
The bitch called Bitch, snarled and lightly bit at him, telling him in no uncertain terms, his attentions were not welcome and there was no benefits from her to him.
No Sirree, not a sniff more or less.
He didn't care, he was happy to be back here in Dogmore land. (Dogmor is a trade name of a brand of dogfood, and as such, no reference is intended)
I looked at him, as one would look at ones pet rat at the height of the plague season - - -
who has the greater 'right'
» the individual or the protectors of that individual
» as the government tend to forget
» they are the protectors of all right
anyways. so we are told
» anyone for a soap box .. ?
Monday - a week later 17th June, the day after the public holiday is also a public holiday.
Because the 16th was on a Sunday.
I have nothing against holidays in general, as they are good for the economy in some ways.
In another view, public holidays are counter productive.
At its height, the Roman Empire's citizens were working four days a week and less, and then they folded.
When the holidays are more than the workdays, an Empire folds.
The Basset was returned to his owners - so far so good.
|For those who care; this is Friday, the end of the month of May, and the beginning of a new era.
I have started this new habit of jotting down notes on which to expound and or build a new story line.
And then the last few entries went away ~ gone ~ astray ~ and a few more synonyms ...
Now I have to search my mind what the 'notes' were about (there is no appropriate punctuation for this situation)
Recalls something about old age, and, and, there, I remembered one ...
The hounds from hell ...
now for the other -
The Basset, called Dirk:
He came back; like a hound from hell, he spent the first day spying, laying low, looking at the lay of the land, and then he settled in and down.
The first night, not a peep from Dirk, the Basset - then - night two; he started early; sniffing and baying the soil's aromas.
Telling us about the colors which flowed out into his mind, visions imprinted by generations of breeding, the supreme stalker.
It is said that a dog relates to scent as a human would see color.
They, the breeders, added the ability for the basset hound to advertise his great feat, very loud and clear, and for a very long period - such as all night long.
And deep down in my primal brain, the baying registers and wakes the primitive hunter in me.
How must I sleep ?
The one wants to run along the beast and join in the hunt, and the civil man screams out about tomorrow being a day for work, and the call of the wild wins the day.
Sleep passes the mind, a dull person starts the next day.
Dark thoughts see the hound the next day, and him - why - he is as pleased as can be, he did all night that which he has been bred to do.
He is so pleased, and I know, another night of this, and the hound might not see the next day.
Off to his owners he goes, and he sees me as the traitor I am, for he has tried his best to please me, and I turn my back on his best, and I feel like the rats he seeks.
If one has not followed the thread, this Basset belongs to my neighbor and the dog decided to adopt me ...
And those eyes, adoring, looking at me and begging, and there is no way I can reciprocate.
Dirk was returned to his owner, and his future is a question as the owner is not the most responsible person, and I still feel like a heel.
I keep adding more, how can I say 'no' to such treasures as those which feed my vice, books and more books.
I trimmed the latest set off with their own bookcase, and then for good measure, balanced the set with a set of Kipling by its side. Both sets may need a few stragglers, maybe that set of Dickens would round this off so well ... maybe - resists, bites the pencil(bullet), goes for cold turkey - Dickens calls to me ~
Nappies and such like:
The riddle starts something like this;
It starts on its back, then on fours, then two, then fours again, and back on its back.
What is it ?
It is the cycle of man.
There are other forms of this riddle from way back, and some even mention 'nappies' and 'three'.
Be it as it may, the cycle starts and ends, man's fate is in the hands of whatever force he believes in.
“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man.”
― Mark Twain
and I have bitten the DOG, and I feel less of a creature for that - and I acted within the law - (in my own defence ...)
Shots in the dark ...
Start of quote -
A hopeful attempt.
The term 'shot' has been slang for an attempt since the middle of the 19th century; for example, this piece from Joseph Hewlett's comic work Peter Priggins, the college scout, 1841:
"After waiting for a little while, Ninny... made a shot, and went so near the mark."
'A shot in the dark' is simply a hopeful attempt to hit an enemy that you can't see.
George Bernard Shaw seems to have been the first to use it metaphorically, in The Saturday Review, February 1895:
"1 Never did man make a worse shot in the dark."
Phrasefinder is also on Facebook & Follow aphraseaweek on Twitter
About the author... About the author - Gary Martin
Copyright © Gary Martin, 1996 - 2013
- End quote.
Here I am, and I still ass-u-me, I assume that I know what I am doing.
As far as is known, most of the paperwork is done.
Now it up to the system to start the 'due process of law'.
Now I start to worry, for this I cannot control, and from what I have experienced to date, worrying will be a wasted effort, yet - this I will do, I will worry.
Hence, the shot in the dark, and it may cost a pretty penny.
The middle -
Where is the middle ?
We are born, then we depart, and somewhere in-between is the middle.
The proof thereof is quite elementary - ask anyone who is busy with something, and the answer might well be;
"I am in the middle of something ..."
Now that is where the middle is, in the middle of something.
I am still in the middle of what I am busy with.
"Assume the position"
Immediately many people will know what to do;
tr.v. as·sumed, as·sum·ing, as·sumes
1. To take upon oneself: assume responsibility; assume another's debts.
2. To undertake the duties of (an office): assumed the presidency.
3. To take on; adopt: "The god assumes a human form" (John Ruskin).
4. To put on; don: The queen assumed a velvet robe.
5. To affect the appearance or possession of; feign.
6. To take for granted; suppose: assumed that prices would rise. See Synonyms at presume.
7. To take over without justification; seize: assume control.
8. To take up or receive into heaven.
I am guilty as charged; I assume - as in the verb - "He assumed; again !"
And does that land me in a lot of mire; why, only the other day; again !
It happens when a person tends to be in a position of authority.
One has to make decisions at all levels when one is the final voice, well, that is what I think.
Then there are those who would disagree, and as Dickens said through the mouth of Mr. Bumble:
" ...the law is a ass — a idiot. ... "
for even the law assumes, one is innocent till proven guilty.
tbc - to be continued
|Notebook: This came about because of the week we had.
School friends -
Dogs - I have to note here, before the details are lost in the doldrums of my mind.
The Basset, named Dirk, the Sheepdog called Dog, the other Sheepdog; Dolf, and the Jack Russell bitch
with the unlikely name of Teeth.
General - Doldrums:
Colloquially, the "doldrums" are a state of inactivity, mild depression, listlessness or stagnation.
The word is derived from dold (an archaic term meaning "stupid") and -rum(s), a noun suffix found in
such words as "tantrum".(Wiki)
laatlammetjie (laart-lum-et-chie) – The youngest child of a family, born (mostly by accident) to older parents
and many years younger than its siblings. The word means "late lamb" in Afrikaans.
These will be the headings to be expounded on.
For those who do not know, or have forgotten, I am currently involved in an argument about the 'right of way' to my property.
This has been an interesting, tiring, and telling time.
Apply pressure to anything, and the results may be quite revealing, especially the character of the characters involved.
This we will not delve in too deeply at this stage.
Although, as I said to someone yesterday, this is like those movies - there's the brave, righteous, all-round-nice-guy hero, the damsel in distress, the villainous villain and his ever-present henchmen, and all the other extras.
Action - roll cameras (is this correct? never-mind, we got it.)
My worlds are not round, as would normally be expected, they are square boxes.
In this world called 'school' there are twelve years worth of memories.
Most of these memories are gone, as one cannot account for each day which has passed, still, there are many instances which are as clear as if it had just happened.
And the characters; which are still as clear as can be.
One of these came into my world this week.
The last time I saw him, he was sitting in a glass of drink, lamenting about the drought, and the fact that he has a 'laatlammetjie'. The rest is not to be recorded as it is not E-rated.
Our paths crossed this week, he has technically become my neighbor.
We were together in the 'koshuis', which means 'foodhouse' directly translated.
It is a boarding school which is more clearly discussed in my item http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1560767-WEEKEND
Friends is not a word we could use, we were in rooms adjacent, and he belonged to the other group.
The other group is what one would call in the 'Jocks' in US nomenclature.
'Geeks' was not my group either.
Anyway, we are now neighbors, and the first thing he said to his son was, "This is the bloke I told you about."
He has leased the game farm next to me, the game section only, he wants to house game here.
It was still good to see an old school mate.
Those which is the closest to us, family.
One can choose ones friends, only friends and enemies are there, like a mole on a body-part, going nowhere, just there.
Now, enemies you can fight with, ignore, win, lose to - with family - you are stuck.
It is better to have family as friends, rather than enemies.
It just makes good sense.
The Wdc's chat room is like the tv sit-com, Cheers - where every one knows your name.
And then only what you allow them to know. or so we think.
Still, it is a place to be.
Home is where the heart is, goes the saying.
Where we are now, is where home was for many years. Then we moved.
Now home is somewhere else, and we had to return, to clean up, and sell this place.
We are selling a part of us.
The Basset does not belong to me, neither do any of the other dogs.
The Basset has adopted me, as if I was a stray, and he the master.
No other dog is allowed near me, and should one try, it gets a growl and even a bit of bashing.
This Basset belongs to my neighbor, who is also my son-in-law's brother, and the Basset's boss is supposed to be Dirk.
It follows then, the Basset is Dirk.
The same goes for Dolf, who is part sheep dog, he has also adopted me.
He belongs to my other neighbor who is involved in the 'road' story.
Dog, who is supposed to be a full-blooded sheep dog, has moved in as well.
Who told them, this is a holiday resort ?
Maybe it was Teeth, the bitch.
No, she is not on heat.
Now, where I walk, there the five of us walk, one man owned by four dogs.
Between of all of these elements mentioned here, and a few others not mentioned, life goes on.
These keep me busy, not like I have nothing better to do with my time.
I would still prefer to do nothing.
tbc (to be continued) Life goes on ...
|Now it is 4am,
Thoughts awoke me, again.
Got up, made a mug of coffee, and cranked up the old PC.
Yes, I still own an old PC. It is ancient as models go, it has been face-lifted quite a bit.
When I was young (really, I was once) the talk went something like this;
It has a double lift cam, polished valves, chrome dipstick, with dual carburetors, over-sized pistons, and high compression rings ... there was more.
I did not know then, and I still do not know now.
Rams, bytes, mother-boards, and many more ... there is more.
The geeks look different now, imagine John Travolta as a geek, (well, you had to see GREASE to know!)
Anyway, I sat down with my thoughts, and the 'marble in the box' idea started, which was a spinoff from the 'an ounce of prevention ... ', which in turn started with something, someone said, a while back.
Marble in the box
One has a box which is sealed, it contains a marble on the inside, with a small hole in the box where the marble is supposed to get out.
(Okay, it is not my box, I did not start this story, some one else did - who - I do not know, i do not know the color or colors of the box or marble, neither the sizes involved.)
Can we now stick to the problem at hand ? Thank you !
Before we can do this, we need to set the correct 'scene':
Venue: Underneath a fig tree in Greece (that is where all the old thinkers sat)
Method: A lazy-boy recliner and laptop (we have evolved a bit)
Reason: Do we need one ?(it was a good idea at the time ?)
Refreshments: Coffee for me, and you ? (Turkish coffee will be nice, thank you - btw, where and when did the Turks invent coffee ? - just thinking)
Etc, etc, etc ...
What were we talking about, oh yes - thoughts.
An ounce of prevention ...
Oogling this old adage, I found it was attributed to Benjamin Franklin -no - not the rock star, the US Statesman !
People who know me, (there are a few) know that I spend a lot of time thinking, so much so that much of my writing involves 'thinking' as a subject, and as an abstract exercise, which proves - I know little about 'thinking'.
People who can think for themselves do not waste time 'thinking', they get down to 'doing'.
I aim to get there eventually - for now - I'll stick to 'thinking'.
First this 'ounce of prevention ...' has to be studied.
Add break - to be con't
|this is a notepad at the moment - @ 1.45am - 14th May 2013
Reading about Napoleon, Abba, and others, all who met their Waterloo ...
Napoleon got Elba, Abba got filthy rich, and moi ~ all I want is peace.
Then I can retire too ...
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
(W B Yeats 1865 - 1939)
I'll skip on the honey bee as allergic reactions are not fun. I do like honey, tho!
off to bed now ~ 2.05 --- till later 'gators ...
14th of the same;
There I was, surrounded by all that beauty, all colors, every shade possible, thin ones, thick ones, big and small, even the shapes a treat, each one a story on its own.
Did I mention the bookstore - oi ?
This is at the university town next door and the store is within spitting distance from the place of learning.
It has a special second hand book section with a large selection classic research books, mainly on the Boer War and concentration camps.
Imagine the offering ...
And I did not buy a single item -
Again a bookstore;
This store is a second hand bookstore, any thing and every thing is available.
Browsing at leisure through the available offers, and not one book bought.
I must be getting a serious attack of something or other.
Thinks of bird-flu, swine-flu, or maybe Oriental-flu ?
Is there such a thing as Book-flu ?
“Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?”
― Henry Ward Beecher
♫ ♪ My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to say
My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to do ♫♪♪
It is a known fact, and this remedy only works for a few non-drinkers, should you have troubles, if life is getting you down, the end seems near - get drunk !
I mean - only if it is allowed, legal, and logical to do such.
The next day, the troubles will have a new hue, and you will have such a head-ache, you will know there are worse things in life - than those tiny troubles which irked you.
This does not work for anyone who already has 'drink' as a problem.
This remedy is highly recommended by our local witchdoctors; i.e. getting filthy, stinking high.
I must confess, it has been a while since my last blog.
It is not as if nothing has happened, quite the contrary, I am very busy with various worlds.
Most of my days are spent hunting the elusive evidence which will help in closing a water-tight case.
Slowly a few facts are becoming clear - the law is not an ass.
The people who abuse it, they are the asses, for they are eventually brought to book, and then they sound like Charlie Brown:
♫♪ He's a clown, that Charlie Brown
He's gonna get caught
Just you wait and see
(Why's everybody always pickin' on me) ♪♫♫♪
There is the world of writing - this is always there, it is there when I walk, when I talk, and when I think - it is always there, always looking and listening for stories, and there are many stories.
These have to be written, that is also another story!
The world of books is doing well, a few new books have filled the bookshelf.
"New" is always relative to me, as new means any book which interests me.
There is the set of 'The Great Writers Library' which is almost complete and in near mint condition. It is a set of 55 books, and there are a few short.
Another aim in life - to complete the set. (Do I really need another aim?)
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't.
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act V, Scene I, ll. 203–206
Now there are two copies of 'Brave New World' Aldous Huxley 1931 - one in the Great Writers and the other a Penguin issue - this is what is meant by 'new'.
Another year has gone, and a new year is ahead.
In my world, the new year starts on a different date than the other worlds, the new year starts on the day after the other year ended.
It could be anytime - as I have many worlds.
This year, the year of the 'rat', things are going well. Slow and sure, forward we go, to a logical conclusion which will be reached. The right of way is the right of way, it will take many a true man to prove one man wrong.The system calls for twelve of ones peers, I need only one, then it must be the correct one, the true one, else I will be back where I started. The law is a strange world, where right and wrong have the same color, yet, not the same value, the truth is very expensive.
I was thinking about a friend of mine yesterday, and today he phoned me.
Who do we call friends ?
I suppose the definition of 'friend' differs widely.
One will gently place a knife in your back, and sometimes we never even know about it, and another will, with a smile, kick one in the sensitive areas of ones soul.
Another will be a friend in need, and a helping hand, whenever called upon.
The other we will know, and that will be it !
Which friend are you ?
“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
I have many friends; those I would forgive, and the others.
It is Friday, and the week is done.
Lately I have not achieved my aims, that is in the world of writing.
I did try to reduce that infernal new tool which crept into my life, that Reviews Pending thing!
Surprising to see the turnover of members, members who just disappear into nothingness, some never to be seen again, and then other who return as if nothing happened.
Should one answer a shadow of the past, a review received long ago and not known about?
A new line to use - rather late than never - righting the wrongs of the past, or is it better to let sleeping dogs lie?
The battle of the road ~ something which a lot of time is spent on, and little is said about it.
Lawyers have now moved into a new slot in my life, lower on the food chain, as even bottom feeders can be considered as high up in the food chain.
Maybe only their clients can be seen as lower - oh ratzz - I am one!
I know there are lawyers who are human, as there are dogs which are close as well.
The defendant who pleads their own case has a fool for a client, but at least there will be no problem with fee-splitting.
I must say; this I have noticed - whether one defends oneself, or get a lawyer to do it, one still feel like a fool, only the price differs.
The comments today about blogging and bloggers were ...
I would like to disagree. (Then I would disagree about almost anything - one fifth Irish.)
Blogging is a personal journey into an area which interests the blogger, or an universe into which to vent - whatever.
The reading of blogs have aided me more than many would appreciate, as others have the same malady, madness, or misery, and then it makes a bit more sense, if there is sense to be made - why ?
We are all humans and we all share the same earth - in each his/her own way.
Blogging is almost writing, as free-verse is almost poetry.
The discussion about Playboy and renowned authors brought back a little story from way back. This story should be on its own, as it about my own son, and he deserves his own spot in the sun.
The subject of writing came up again in another forum.
This subject has a habit of popping up every now and then.
Some seem to be born as writers, the novelist - long and short, poets, lyric writers.
A few achieve fame by name or by effort, others fill the shelves of libraries, or dustbins, with their efforts.
Then a few develop writing as a means of expressing their trade, expertise, or ideas.
This way we keep an industry going, the industry of the written word.
We all (who wants to) need to find our place in it, our private or public corner, our niche.
There is only one way - do it!
One catches no fish as an armchair fisherman, yet one could send out for fish.
Not quite the same is it ?
When I am asked, What was it like living with your father? My tongue swells up and I squeak out words like, thrilling or complicated. I've given the question a lot of serious thought and I have a good answer: It was like living with an elephant for 15 years that was trying to give birth to something twice its size.
Some give birth, and so many carry the baby to their grave.