Thoughts

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Wednesday Winks*

* I know, I know. Pretty sad but it’s all about the alliteration isn’t it?

OK then, off we go with a hope and a prayer for the days to come filled with wit and shine, not to be mistaken for Wittgenstein! See, this is why some people should be given tranquilizers. Or gummies. And yet I often wonder why we do not, in some corners of the literary world, celebrate verbal wit. Alas, likely the same corner as the lost Salons.

—It occured to me (as I checked the time on Facebook for a response) that because three o’clock is written as 1500 in military time, many things are explained about the military and the military relationship to the public. This is funny. Then it gets sad.

—Someone got caught plagiarizing The Great Gatsby for god’s sake. Now that puts stupid right at the very top of appropriate comments. You might as well claim credit for The Bible. It isn’t a matter of breaking copyright however. “Gatsby” entered the public domain in 2021. It still will be a matter of claiming credit for something you didn’t do though. Always.

Posted by Poetic Outlaws:

“The Christians stole the winter solstice from the pagans, and capitalism stole it from the Christians.”

—George Monbiot

I’m all ready for Christmas and the girls are coming Christmas Eve (oyster stew) or Christmas day (chili and chocolate chip cookies). It depends upon the weather and if the storm warnings are true. They may be true for those issuing the warnings but not likely to be true for those of us on the ground around here. If the streets are plowed it’s not going to make much of a difference.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, ALL

And may all of your Christmas dreams come true.

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Thursday Thoughts

  • The problem with living in the now and with releasing the past (meditation, blank state and all that) is being a Reader. Reader, Writer, either—both. There it is in front of you, those dates, those times, those revolutions, those disappointments. Those misunderstandings. Those uglinesses and judgments (of self). And of course those flights when living inches off the ground, and equally the longing for them.
  • To say nothing of seeing again the raising of the flag of protest and reaching for the wine bottle. Or vodka when all of it is considered.
  • We found that if you don’t kneel to sacred cows you’ll be wiped out by them. We also found out the joke’s on us. That is, when it ends and you look around and no one’s there. There’s no one left standing as everyone grew up at the same time as they got older and then they became middle America.
  • Terrible is an adjective that has become so limited by its use in the negative when it should not be so. Think of a terrible love, think of a belief of terrible strength. Think Terrible Glory! No, it should not be limited to the anthem of negativity. The same with awful—as in an Awful Beauty.
  • The saddest thing about growing up is losing the dragons and angels and goldfish and secondary teeth without pay.
  • Certain expressions are so lovely that it’s a pleasure to work them in. To put a fine point on it we could say somethings are worth repeating even though we could become a walking cliche of ourselves in the process.
  • I personally wish people would stop saying they will give me a free gift for something. Number one and most egregious, that’s redundant. A gift is free by its very nature. Number two, we all know (or should) that it’s not free. The price is built into the cost of the item.
  • Those giants of passion, of terrible knowledge or ability, so caught in the web of their visions, never stop. Never quit. Never say “my work is over.” Einstein was working out an equation on his deathbed, and so died. Schiele was making a drawing of his wife Edith Schiele on the day she died, October 28, 1918. He passed away three days later.

  • Edith Schiele
    Posted by Modern Art Twentieth Century

But isn’t it also glorious that there are those whose work is finished when it is finished? That there are those whose work in factories builds our cars, as well the butchers who carve our meat, the drivers who bring the buses through our streets—all of value. All of need. All of it to be mastered and answered the same: to what purpose am I?