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Rated: 13+ · Book · Opinion · #2003271
Now a residence for BC and BCOF items. Random bloggisness wil apear in POTPOURRI.
Hello!? Is anyone there?? Knock if you want in!


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This blog contains only items derived from specific prompts. I'm too stubborn to take the time to post the prompt that the entry is based on. So if you don't understand whats going on - well, I dunno - I guess that just means you don't understand.


I would also like to invite you to take a look at my other blog:
 
BOOK
POTPOURRI AND OTHER RANK ESOTERICA  (18+)
My now and again blog of ideas, notifications, and superfluous randomness.
#2040797 by Geoff
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August 25, 2016 at 9:46am
August 25, 2016 at 9:46am
#890766
BC and BCOF

People volunteer to do things and then blow it off because they are goodhearted and lazy, or arrogant and lazy, or a number of other personality traits and lazy. Let's just say lazy.

What do I like to blog about? Real life or made up things? Usually they are one and the same to me. Doesn't everyone make up their real life?


Relativism: Everything is true but there are no absolutes.

Dimensionality, as observed from the viewpoint of a three dimensional being:
What is seen as one dimensional is actually the infinitely high dimension. Two dimensions contain infinity. A line can continue infinitely in both directions. As can a plane in four. In three dimensions, the ends and edges meet and a solid is formed. This creates three dimensional reality. Higher dimensions compress the observable reality into smaller and smaller distortions of three dimensional reality, until we arrive at a point which three dimensional reality sees as a point, one dimension. Back to the singularity.
August 24, 2016 at 9:39am
August 24, 2016 at 9:39am
#890703
BC

"But why did you go there in the first place?"
I don't know. I really don't know. I remember walking down the path to I don't know where. Maybe I thought it was the path to nowhere? Maybe I didn't really want to continue living? All I know for certain is walking, trembling, trying to remember and failing. Failing and flailing in my mind and memory. Wishing I was some place else but having no idea where. Then I felt my Tuataran Pineal eye looking at me, questioningly. Speaking. My reality reflecting back at me.
"But why did you go there in the first place?"
August 23, 2016 at 10:03am
August 23, 2016 at 10:03am
#890634
Blog City:

Being grateful for what we have and accepting things as they are, I believe, is essential for human happiness. We can't do anything about the reality of the moment. But if we are truly happy and accepting, we CAN create an atmosphere which is conducive to change in both ourselves and others.
June 14, 2016 at 9:27am
June 14, 2016 at 9:27am
#884615
Perfection is impossible to define.
A perfect door never reveals what is inside the house.
A hearth filled with warmth, like the heart of a lover?
Or dread and fear that the next moment may bring disaster.
A perfect face? A perfect body? If there is such a thing,
Cannot display the heart which lies within.
Always remember that first impressions are meaningless.
A perfect life? What do you mean?
If there were such a thing and was filed with perfection
To me at least, it would not be perfection
I would search eternally for some detection
Of something wild to offset all the boring perfection.
If I set out to paint the perfect painting
It would change for eternity,
Just as the egg changes to a worm,
The worm to a cocoon,
The cocoon to a butterfly.
Watch the beauty as she lays her eggs
And flies away.
June 13, 2016 at 10:13am
June 13, 2016 at 10:13am
#884519
Sights Sounds and Smells
Senses, serene and sensual
Perceptions of pleasure and pain of horror and love
As cruel as the Jay and as pure as the Dove.

From the delicate aroma of the babies first fart,
to the stench of grandpas,
which he turned into an art.

Sibilant flapping,
flaming flatulence.
Excruciating pain in my ears and my nose!
I wish that Ass Hole would just shut up.

The sweet smell of sweat
telling of exercise and sex.
dripping from my brow.
my whole body is wet
as I lunge and luxuriate in the essence of wetness.

The cacophony of Rails as I stroll by their pond
or slowly progress down the meandering trail
or listen from the boxcar as I'm riding the rails.

Memories of perceptions.
I could go on and on.
Crying or cheering as they compete for attention.
There will allows be many which I fear to mention.


June 12, 2016 at 12:00pm
June 12, 2016 at 12:00pm
#884454
When the torch burst into flame
They were scrabbling in the dirt.
Looking for the metaphore.
The poem of life,
A comparison of dirt to the flame.

The crumbling bones of ancestors
Sifting between gnarled digits,
Pithicanthropine eyes
Squinting.

Wondering.
Seeing.
Thinking?

Ignoring the smell of torch inflamed sizzling hair.
Whose mind contains the flame?
Not yours.

You who spurn the pull of animalia inteligentsia,
Preferring the tug of human ignorance.
Ignoring the fact that sentience is where you find it.
June 11, 2016 at 12:41pm
June 11, 2016 at 12:41pm
#884320
BCOF

I couldn't possibly, in good conscience, reply to today's blog prompt, for, like Vladimir Nabokov, I adore insects. However, unlike Nabokov, I do not dote on the lepidoptera. My taste seems to run more to the grotesque than the sublime. I have spent many years in entemological study and have an extensive collection.


BC

I believe I am much less competitive as an adult than I was as a child. This would be due in great part to the fact that my overbearing mother insisted that I always be the best at everything and encouraged ruthlessness. I rebelled at an early age.
June 10, 2016 at 12:37pm
June 10, 2016 at 12:37pm
#884272
Fish - Flowers - Flames.
Yes. Alliterative isn't it?
Lettuce see if we can make it
as illustrative as possible,
possibly literate rather than
illiterate even.

Frequently I find it fun to forage in the forest of my feeble mind
for facts or phrases that please me when fitting them together.
Everything is relative you know.

Speaking of foraging in the forest
in Alaska
this is the season of Salmon Berries!
One of the bears favorite food this time of year!

A salmon is a fish, you know.
Some of the Salmon Berry bushes have flaming red berries.
Not the kind of flames that burn you, just real bright red.
Most of the berries are salmon colored though.

Funny isn't it? I've never seen a salmon colored as the so-called
salmon color is described. But lots of 'em are red as flame,
skin and meat.

The bears love 'em all.
Fruit and fish. (alliteration)

Postum Scriptum: Flowers.
Some of the Salmon Berry bushes,
this time of year still have flowers
as well as berries.
The flowers turn into berries like raspberries.
Hey! I just figured it out !
The little clumps of pulpy seeds that go to make up
the big juicy berries
look exactly like salmon eggs!
So the bears must think the red berries
are the fish
and the salmon colored ones are
the yummy eggs that they find when they rip open the
fish the color of flames.
oh, yeah, flowers.

THE END!

May 17, 2016 at 9:58am
May 17, 2016 at 9:58am
#882324
I'm very emotional. I usually consider it a gift. Although sometimes, if certain emotions become too severe it can feel like a temporary curse. I don't consider a book to be really worth reading unless it makes me laugh, cry and furious - all in the same book. And often all at the same time in the same book. A recent book that stimulated a great amount of emotion was, "The High Mountains Of Portugal" by Jann Martel.
February 25, 2016 at 8:51am
February 25, 2016 at 8:51am
#874916
BCOF:


Can a writer create a bad story? If he does can he change it into a good story?

A story is a story, is a story. Is your little boy a good boy or a bad boy? Snipes and snails and puppy dog tails. A rose is a rose, is a rose: Is that a question or a statement? If you prick yourself on a rose and the red blood begins to flow, does that make it a bad rose? BAD ROSE!! FOR SHAME!! Take out clippers. Clip clip - remove the thorns. Does the rose become good? Or should it be abandoned on the dung heap of rosedom? Is ANYTHING ever good or bad?

Does that answer the question? *Confused*

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