And, now, for some stream of consciousness. I must be conscious, because I am putting words on a “page”…
Ever since I started this blog—because someone suggested that a blog would help sell my trash fiction, which it hasn’t—I have felt obligated to post something each day, in case somewhere in the world, some poor soul with nothing better to do might want to read something witty or worthless, to take his or her mind off all the troubles of the day, big or small, at home or abroad. Some days, I offer a link to something worthwhile—of course, written by someone talented. There are a few regular favorites, some humorous, some intelligent, and some both: Borowitz, Collins, Jenkins, Non Sequitur, and so on. If I like and respect them, then everyone should. Duh!
Today, when thinking about what to write, I could find nothing to offer the world…except my thoughts, as I was trying to take a nap. I have found that a nap is a good way to waste time, when I can think of nothing better to do or as an excuse to avoid things I could do. Ronald Reagan took naps and look at all the damage he did. This line of thinking led me to consider what I should be doing. At the highest level of consciousness, I realised that the only thing required of me—as a human being—is to eat and sleep. I have fulfilled my purpose on this earth by reproducing two fine children, who are attractive, intelligent, and good humans. I have no other purpose.
Because of that, there is no crime in taking a nap…whenever I want. As far as the eating part goes, I am lucky. When I consider the fate of overweight Americans, I know that there but a good metabolism go I. At times, I will eat an entire bag of potato chips or a pint of ice cream. The appealing flavor helps me to understand why folks put on pounds: it tastes good, therefore I eat. Self-discipline—which I have—is not at issue, it’s metabolism. Either one puts on weight or one does not. I am lucky.
So, I can eat and sleep all I like, being content that I am harming no one and not avoiding any useful purpose. That’s what I call a good life. The only aggravation comes at the times when I am foolish enough to flip through the news channels and pause at Fox News or glance at the headlines on Salon, which scream about the idiots on the right side of the political spectrum. And, believe me, these people are evil idiots.
Which reminds me to finalize my next trash novel, in which some bad folks play a role. I have written a rough draft, but can’t find the needed motivation to finish the damn thing and share it with the world…which is not interested in another trash novel…
There is more than one way to learn if the seasons change. One could consult a calendar. Or, one could watch the weather. In some latitudes, the amount of daylight gives a clue.
For sharp-eyed followers of this worthless blog, a new photo on the title page pays tribute to the current season. Fall has arrived. (Duh).
This is self-evident in Vermont, where the photo was taken by a fool standing on a hill many years ago, because the foliage sends a colorful seasonal greeting.
I decided to be more worthless than usual today. I am not properly motivated for a number of reason. The weather is uninspiring. The lingering remnants of a cold let me feel sorry for myself.
I cannot promise improvement tomorrow, but inspiration might arrive...
Once again, the sharper knives in the drawer will notice that something has changed.
Because I can.
Because it’s easy.
Because I want to put to use a few of the thousands of photos I have taken and don’t know what else to do with them.
Really sharp observers, who take the time to flip through the pages, will notice that each page has a different photo. Some even include some old fool at various stages in life. Each photo is supposed to contain a bit of metaphor, which no one will be able to decifer.
Again, because I can.
Because this website is all about me...
For some with computers from the last century or internet connections featuring pony-express speed, pages might load slowly. If you want full color, you gotta pay the price...
Anybody miss me yesterday?
Sorry, but the day was a bit hectic, and I have a flu, something rare for me. None of that provides a suitable excuse for not posting on this unnecessary blog, but does explain the reason. Last night, when I finally returned home, I felt feverish and not like writing garbage. I took two aspirin and climbed into to bed to sweat.
This week has been the week of cars. We returned one leased car, picked up a new one, and had three cars professionally cleaned (necessary with women drivers). I rushed from one appointment to another, exchanging cars.
Next, I am in therapy from a muscle problem caused by a recent operation. This also takes time out of a day, which I can usually waste any way I choose. Therapy is a bit like sport, but it does keep me from the gym.
On top of that, I have been spending a lot of time with a one-year old kid. His mother works evenings, the babysitter is sick, and his father now commutes on the weekend from London (where the money is).
This is not as bad as some might think. Kids at that age do not talk back, are easy to carry, and can be--I repeat--can be easy to please. Although he does not speak (talking has been proven to come later to children exposed to more than one language), he can communicate with hand motions, facial expressions, and sounds. He already understands bits of three languages, which is obvious from how he responds to prods.
This is not as bad as some might think. Kids at that age do not talk back, are easy to carry, and can be--I repeat--can be easy to please. Although he does not speak (talking has been proven to come later to children exposed to more than one language), he can communicate with hand motions, facial expressions, and sounds. He already understands bits of three languages, which is obvious from how he responds to prods. And, I get to control someone, something I can no longer do with my children, and introduce him the world.
Any returning visitor, with even minimal grasp of the obvious, will note that something changed.
I needed something to distract me from working on my latest "ouevre", so I decided to play around with a new design. Once done, I felt that it's not "it", but did not feel like playing any longer. Don't get too used to this layout, because I will probably try again to find something more to my liking.
That said, the content is far more important and compelling than the design....
If anyone missed me yesterday, I was clued to my computer finalizing the next novel. I know many can't hardly wait...
Having written and re-written the bloody thing so many times, I have almost memorized all 300 pages. Proof-reading is always difficult, because you do not notice minor mistakes. The only way to successfully (hopefully) complete this task is to read the damn thing from back to front. This process is slow, but that’s the purpose of the exercise: to focus on each word and every bit of punctuation.
Sorry, but I do not have time for this worthless blog...
I watched the beginning of the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour, which I missed the first time around in 1967. I’m not sure if this film made it to US theaters, but it certainly did not reach Vermont.
I watched long enough to learn that the film includes the song Fool on the Hill, which is significant for me: being a fool, having spent time on hills, nobody seems to like (or is it the other way around?), appreciating sunsets, and being usually ignored.
From the little I watched, it seems like this film, besides showcasing the Beatles and featuring their faces a number of times, shows how sad life was in England. Of course, little has changed outside the wealthy sections of London (plumbing certainly has not improved), despite having access to some modern inventions.
Even those with a minimum grasp of the obvious will notice that I have change the layout of this awesome website (see, I have paying attention to the latest vernacular).
First, because I can and at no costs to me.
Second, because summer is over and no one needs a summer read or needs to be reminded of how lovely a loll on the beach can be.
And, I needed distraction from completing my next novel. I'm getting sick of the bloody thing (which does not mean that others will not enjoy the story...if I ever stop procrastinating and finish the damn thing.) I have set a goal for myself of one novel a year, so I have until December 31...
This is the dumbest photo I have ever taken...
Can you guess the motif?
Don't even try.
This is a photo of the inside of my pocket!
Have you ever heard anything so absurd?
I put my iPhone in my pocket, after taking a real photo. Because I had not switched off the bloody thing and touched the shutter release, the damn thing made a photo of my pocket.
Sorry, but I felt compelled to share my foolishness. I would have preferred to add something interesting to the "Artsy Craftsy" category, but there is no "art" and no "craft".
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.