Crabby (above) is lying down because I can’t figure out how to heist him (he’s currently unattached to anything but gravity). Suggestions welcome. I found him dead and de-gutted him myself in 2019…
If there should be a good God: “please protect the no fly zone in Washington, D.C. better than you did on 9/11…”
While housecleaning I had the horrible thought that I might live another 10 years and suffer from having discarded the many droppings from my past in an anti-hoarding activity. (Smile)
P.S. And by the bye, when I searched Webster’s for the spelling of horde…hoard?…, I saw that the word traces back to the word vulva…And when I first looked up horde it was across the page from the picture of horse, with 35 places on a horse numbered and named…
It’s 2021 now and I’m still dealing with “things.” In fact, earlier this month I added a 6 ft x 4 ft painting from the Recycle store down the street, plus purchased a 4-drawer legal size filing cabinet. One of my daughters caught the –quirk…defense…habit…addiction…affliction…from me.
I suspect it relates back to a problem with transitional objects*. For much of my life my transitional objects have been books after the baby blankets disappeared. Hunger, depression, loneliness, a longing to be validated and changing schools all along before I could really practice making friends (11 schools in 12 years prior to 2 universities). The result has been too much of a me-me-me focus. I never heard of a support group for hoarders, but I suspect the world could use one. No, not the world–there are many more refugees with bare bones belongings than self-centered hoarders, or maybe it should be hungry and lonely hoarders.
I don’t think being incested as a child (grammarians would shudder at that misuse of the word) is pertinent to my hoarding. I do suspect that my feelings and thoughts being discounted by my parents is probably the primary culprit. I recall as a very young child cutting a hole in the skirt of my dress. When someone asked me why I did it I said that I didn’t have anything else to do. Then, somewhere I wrote Say It Aint So! (Maybe I blogged it here, too):
Here’s the thing:
I’ve been talking
through this
loudspeaker I
found in my crib
80 years ago and
just now notice
it’s not plugged in!
The old Christmas cards, letters and especially valued articles (on consciousness, imaging, evolution, dreaming, nature, etc.) and even more especially old photos of my immediate family and genealogy on both my parents’ sides and other genealogical records and shells and driftwood, fossils and puppets and 10 shoeboxes of big old-oversized dvds leftover from my volunteer days at Public Access television, plus journals and dreams…you get the idea…
Actually I feel kind of scared at the thought of discarding evidence from my life. I’m scared of depression and boredom, I guess…And perhaps surrounding myself with things is a form of escape from acknowledgement of the inevitable end of things and me.
Since I seem to recall swearing off snarking some time ago, I’m reduced to snarking via reblogging or partially snitching. Since jill dennison (Filosofa’s world) is fairly reliable for snark, I thought I’d share a bite of hers’:
She describes several irritants, closing with a favorite of mine:
“Software, websites and browsers that make sudden unwanted changes. Most of you here on WordPress can relate, for WordPress has made numerous changes over the past six months that most of us hate, but they seem not to care about the opinions of their customers. Microsoft Office continually makes small changes, or what they call ‘improvements’ that require us to do something differently, generally requiring extra time. And the two browsers I use, FireFox and Opera, have recently made changes that, at least in my view, are not welcome! It seems we just get used to something, figure out how to work with it, and then it’s changed for no apparent reason. (Italics are Nan’s)
I have more pet peeves, but these are the ones that are bugging me most at the moment. What are some of yours?”
Nan responds, “In my senior moments I suspect it’s a ploy to steer bloggers on to the more expensive .org than our .com” P.S. I love our wp.com, fellas!
I confess I like excitement, but of the curious kind—the true kind.
I don’t make this material up…it worms its way to end in my lap. I don’t subscribe to the New Yorker–but the May 24th issue, from the sister of a friend who passed it on to me–gave me quite a bone to gnaw on, about Francis Bacon. No, not the earlier Francis; this one was an artist (1909-1992). Unbelievable, but I believe the New Yorker, so it must be true. Read the article by Joan Acocella based on the new book The Life of Francis Bacon by Mark Stevens and Annalyn Swan and tell me what you think.
I’ve been coming across other pieces of writing such as the above recently. This week my excitement was additionally ignited by a couple of shorter pieces in the June 4 The Week magazine. Both were on the Health & Science page, 23.
The first was headlined “Writing by Thought Alone,” and described an experimental neural interface that has “allowed a man paralyzed from the neck up to compose sentences on a computer simply by imagining himself writing on a piece of paper.”
The second article in The Week was equally startling. Since the intestines of mammals are capable of absorbing oxygen, it was found that oxygen deprived mice and pigs completely recovered after the insertion of a doctored oxygen compound via the anus. They “completely recovered from very, very severe hypoxia.” (A medical researcher from a Tokyo university plans to begin clinical trials on humans as early as next year.
Perhaps it was the mental images that formed after reading all three articles that made an impact–on me, at least.
And oh, also the statement that Ohio was once below the equator also made an impression… (GeoFacts No. 17, Ohio Department of Natural Resources-Division of Geological Survey).
Honestly, my world has ended so many times that when people speak of such things I tend to just roll my eyes. Been there, done that, and I have the tee-shirt, or at least, I havethe scars.
Once some people came to my door selling the end of the world and I was ready to buy, too! I’ll take three. Bring it on. Can’t get here fast enough as far as I’m concerned. I’m out in the middle of the street looking for the delivery truck.
The last time my world ended I was filled with regret, like I’m not finished yet. I’m like a pot roast that has not yet been tenderized. All we have here is a low grade cut of meat and some crunchy potatoes. I need time to slow cook, to infuse those spices, to spoon myself off the bone.
I haven’t been a newbie on Word Press for 5 years, but while I should be getting more familiar with its challenges I have been having my own, as each year passes. So although I read some of the “One Day” invitations to write and post on a topic, the struggle to accomplish the goal usually proves too much. In this posting I started to respond to the word diligent, then gave up and hours later (I’ve been at this computer for a long time) gave up on submitting it to the joint enterprise, and this is what I am left with:
Don’t know how this works, but I’ll put my toes in, responding to “diligence.” I looked it up in Roget’s Original International Thesaurus--great deal at Thriftbooks– and was led into a garden overflowing with what we ourselves are told not to use when writing–cliches. It was such fun I’ll share a few suggestions, under a sub-meaning of voluntary action:
Dealing; done deal; do one’s stuff; swing into action; run with it; get off the dime or one’s dead ass; fish or cut bait; shit or get off the pot and put up or shut up and put one’s money where one’s mouth is; lift a finger; get a life; do the trick; cut the mustard; carry the ball; rise to the occasion; have a go at; in harness…
And going from diligence in action to activity, we’re told about pep and moxie and oomph and pizzazz and piss and vinegar; hubbub; hullabaloo; hoo-ha and foofaraw and flap; many irons in the fire; much on one’s plate; get-up-and get; eager beaver; wheeler-dealer; finger in every pie…have other fish to fry.
So–a thesaurus could come in handy in character development dialog when writing fiction, even though we are cautioned not for us authors to use cliches (which I often ignore when blogging– I think it’s fun) which brings to mind something I read yesterday, in The Julian Jaynes Collection, edited by Marcel Kuijsten, p 86: “Every word we use to refer to mental events is a metaphor of something in the behavioral world.” (I see I just used “brings to mind,” above).
Why was I reading Julian Jaynes? I often sit in a comfy chair next to my bookcase when drinking coffee, and pull out a book to look at while relaxing. I had bought the book about Jaynes’ theories because in 1985 I had heard Jaynes speak at a 6-day gathering of the Association for the Study of Dreams and the International Dream Conference II at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, and had been duly excited when during the discussion period he stepped down from the podium while speaking and into the aisle while another dream expert in the audience left his seat to join Jaynes in the aisle while the two experts politely though energetically offered their conflicting views, waving their arms in the energetic exchange of ideas. That small drama was quite exciting to observe. I wasn’t that young, but still impressionable. Actually, I still am, more than 35 years later.
Painting “Splitting Space and Time”: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Laura asked us to look at the use of repetition in our poetry. Epiphora, from the Greek means ‘to turn about/upon’… and is used to drive in a point through poetic repetition. I am using the word time in my poem to show how we flow and change in time itself.
The painting is an abstract that I did a number of years ago. I thought it fit well with my theme!
I got lost in my search for truth this week. I trace my Alice in Wonderland experience back to two different sources. The first topple was when I looked up “civet” on Google and was taken to the www.britannica site…
Civet, also called civet cat, any of a number of long-bodied, short-legged carnivores of the family Viverridae. There are about 15 to 20 species, placed in 10 to 12 genera. Civets are found in Africa, southern Europe, and Asia. Rather catlike in appearance, they have a thickly furred tail, small ears, and a pointed snout. The coloration varies widely among the species but commonly is buff or grayish with a pattern of black spots or stripes or both. Length ranges from about 40 to 85 cm (16 to 34 inches), with the tail accounting for another 13 to 66 cm (5 to 26 inches), and weight ranges from 1.5 to 11 kg (3.3 to 24 pounds).
African palm civet (Nandinia binotata). Robert C. Hermes from the National Audubon Society Collection/Photo Researchers
Civets are usually solitary and live in tree hollows, among rocks, and in similar places, coming out to forage at night. Except for the arboreal palm civets, such as Paradoxurus (also known as toddy cat because of its fondness for palm juice, or “toddy”) and Nandinia, civets are mainly terrestrial. The Sunda otter civet (Cynogale bennetti), the African civet (Civettictis civetta), and the rare Congo water civet (Genetta piscivora) are semiaquatic. Civets feed on small animals and on vegetable matter. Their litters usually consist of two or three young.
The anal glands of civets open under the tail into a large pouch in which a greasy, musklike secretion accumulates. This secretion, known as civet, is used by the animals in marking territories. The secretion of the small Indian civet, or rasse (Viverricula indica), and of the Oriental civets (Viverra) is employed commercially in the manufacture of perfume. In addition, coffee beans fermented within and excreted from the digestive tracts of civets in the Philippines and Indonesia are sometimes used to enhance the taste of coffee.
This article was most recently revised and updated by John P. Rafferty, Editor. Encyclopaedia Britannica’s editors oversee subject areas in which they have extensive knowledge, whether from years of experience gained by working on that content or via study for an advanced degree….
Already off-center after reading how civet excretion adds pleasure to our lives, I began surreptitiously reading in Colin Wilson’s Alien Dawn–surreptitiously so as not to model questionable behavior for my children. On page 233 I came across a description of Ebe, the extraterrestrial biological entity. “They have been visiting Earth for 25,000 years…They have been manipulating DNA, and aiding human evolution. It was also stated that Jesus was an extraterrestrial, created by the aliens, placed on earth to teach men about love and nonviolence.”
I had quit believing in UFOs after Trump said they were real… But I reckon we need all the help we can get, especially now…
Remember in Home Alone 2, when the family lands in Miami and they are passing everyones luggage down the line – “Give this to Kevin” – only to find out that, “Kevin’s not here”? And then Catherine O’Hara finds out and is like, “Kevin’s not here lolz” before screaming, “KEVIN!” and faints?
Remember that hullabaloo?
Well, take the essence of that scene, apply it to the Toronto Maple Leafs, and congratulations! You’re now fully caught up on the last six playoff exits, dating back to 2013.
It’s the slow realizaton that you don’t actually have what you thought you did, and you’re about to boomerang yourself back into a horrible situation.
Now then, let’s get the official police statement – if you will – out of the way before I go any further.
Ahem.
The Toronto Maple Leafs were leading their first round playoff series, 3-1, against the Montreal…
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