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I've just edited an item in my portfolio:
Every once in awhile I stumble across something in the dark, something I didn't even know was there. And after the typical (%$#T^+_!! of a stubbed toe, when I've calmed down and I'm over it, well then, comes the question what to do with it? Burnt offerings! To the comedy gods! (Or whoever it is who wishes to take responsibility for the darned thing...) |
| Followers? I don't have any followers! I don't even have any Leaders. But I'm not entirely unconvinced that this particular topic doesn't touch a nerve, spread a little salt upon a wound, invite a wince, a grimace, a groan, a moan, or any other human response in relation to the idea of somebody somewhere reading something you've written, for some reason. Beyond that, it's all as profound as Samuel Clemons' chosen pen name: Mark Twain. Which means in Mississippi Riverboat parlance - "deep enough." I've just edited an item in my portfolio:
Read it and weep, or laugh, or throw it a Bronx cheer, as the case may be. I leave you with an astonishing question: Can a review be reviewed? Cap |
| ..........and the walks off mumbling to herself bit was truly priceless. Best laugh of the day, so far. |
2 reactions Like
| I'll review this review question and get back to you, but not in a review. |
1 reaction Like| I'm having a deja vu moment, sort of. But actually more of what happens when you play with language and it bites you back. Like when a review turns into a rear view. |
Like| Thanks for telling me happy birthday from last year. I can't believe I just saw it today. Although setting it now may seem kind of late, it really made my day. Thanks a lot |
| A captain's hat turned slightly sideways, the clump of longjohn Silver boots, a portside shiffle shuffling stage left into a moonlight spotlight... while careworn valentines shift into dogeared forgetfulness, inside drawers and clipped up on bulletin boards..... A little late, with this one:
climbs out the basement window, heading for the nearest seashore....... |
| Well, it's a lot like a shuffle, but done to a six-eight beat just outside of waltz time, often attempted after a third glass of whiskey, and is known to mix real well with rice crackers and brie. Though some think it looks hilarious, it is known as the customary response on certain south sea islands....after losing one's balance 60 feet up a coconut palm. I wouldn't try this at home.....[wink] |
| Better late than never-- that's what has happened. Dreams finding new doors, grizzlies waking up from long sleep! The heart that thought it would stop or suffer more blows all accepted being late. Late is the culture though, across the globe, raising West's brow, but for once late is good, that's all we could--- be late than never. |
| A little bird lands in a faraway place all the wings folded in a feathered embrace while Freedom sings in jetstreams and dreams lie in foreign lands safe and sound the languages of love reside like scattered seeds within the ground to flyaway once more one day... to distant shores all in seasons' glad good time.... |
| There's the promise of warmth and burst of colours on the other side of Terra. A old Nightingale singing blues for hundred of eras For one who heard that music can distant be a villain? Dreams weaved in the words setting off a spell The journey back home is only to begin the journey to a new one she wants to call her home. |
Here's my answer to your question
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| On why I chose Liberty as my new dressup (upon achieving a new jacket color.) Well, at first I was going to throw a Jolly Roger on my traveliin' case - went and had a look, decided not, then figured I'd just use my flag. All well and good, seeing as I'm a proud Canadian. Then I got to figurin' again....on how, since I was a boy, I've also been a proud North American. Then I got to fiigurin', how would the two most powerful and iconic images in my life....look, together? Not too shabby, I'd say. Lady Liberty, with all due respect, ma'am......you are one fine statue to look up to. You see, I was born a Libra, and Freedom has been the sustenance of my life. When I was a kid, I dreamed of freedom. When I was 16, I attained it.....and so became free to dream of something else. To forever after look up, and never down. Whether it's heaven, a flag, or a proud statue, my eyes are still clear. As Woody said, "These lands are our lands." |
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