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 |  "Putting on the Game Face" |
  This blog is a doorway into the mind of Percy Goodfellow. Don't be shocked at the lost boys of Namby-Pamby Land and the women they cavort with. Watch as his caricatures blunder about the space between audacious hope and the wake-up calls of tomorrow. Behold their scrawl on the CRT, like graffitti on a subway wall. Examine it through your own lens...Step up my friends, and separate the pepper from the rat poop. Welcome to my abode...the armpit of yesterday, the blinking of an eye and a plank to the edge of Eternity. Note: This blog is my journal. I've no interest in persuading anyone to adopt my views. What I write is whatever happens to interest me when I start pounding the keys. |
| Pleasant Dreams My grandfather was a minister. He was from Scotland and spoke in a Scottish brogue. His favorite saying, my Dad told me, (It referred to breaking wind) was, “Better vented to the wide world that shut up in a tight ass.” I am not sure just why this would be a Minister’s favorite saying but my Dad assured me it was. Now I know this might sound like a reach but maybe God uses some of us to help him give vent to some of the awful things that go on in this world. Here is my take… I might have told my reader‘s earlier that I have terrible dreams…nightmares is an understatement and the things that plague me as I sleep are things I have never done….indeed most often things I have never even thought about doing….except in my wildest dreams. Get it? “Wildest Dreams.” Now if God is using my sleeping mind as a sewer to release some of the bad recollections he is forced to forgive, then I can only say I am honored. As a matter of fact when I awaken from a particularly bad episode I take a deep breath and remark….I hope you’re feeling better God because I feel lower than whale poop and everybody knows that stuff is way down at the bottom of the ocean. Freud would have a field day with my dreams and I can see him trembling as I relate them, nervously scribbling in his pad. I can hear him say….“Percy my boy…. You’re filled with dark psychosis indeed and the best place for you is an asylum or under the jail. Tell me my lad, is there a history of mental illness or criminal behavior in your family? “ And I answer….“Where do you want me to start?” I'm very selective about who I talk to here at writing.com. I try and avoid young girls or boys under the age of forty (40) and seek out only those who are rock solid certifiably well adjusted and at peace with themselves and the world. Even to these I am very careful with what I share. How does the song go….If you could see my dreams…. Oh what a story I could tell…. Forget the home made movies or the face from a wishing well. Grim… that’s what my dreams are… Dark, malevolent and scary as hell. For some Halloween comes once a year…. For me it happens darn near every night. I'm tempted sometimes to write them down and enter them in one of these Horror Contests but it is only a fleeting thought. I don’t want my readers to have one of those incontinent senior moments. In Vietnam I had a religious experience. At length I quit making deals with Mr. Big (you know trying to establish a quid pro quo) and told her without quibble that I was his man. In that moment I felt an honest to God warm glow and I knew I was onto something. I expected her to tell me to go to Bombay India and live with the untouchables or at the very least to don the cloth….that really got a chuckle out of him….Get Real! the voice seemed to say, No way Hose‘ So I went on with my life waiting for a sign…. Then came a slowly dawning realization that my mission was to be a good fellow, an unpretentious and decent sort ot guy, and walk around talking to people and trying to bring out the best in those around me. Sometimes I liken it to "Talking to the Trees" which is a challenge only exceeded by talking to the rocks. There were never any fireworks to my "Born Again" experience just a sense an omnipotent presense was somewhere close around and looking out for me. So you see I have nothing to really complain about. Every night I don my C-pap mask and my wife waves nighty-night with her little fingers. As I sink into my slumbers a voice whispers….”Pleasant Dreams.” |
| Reading in What isn’t in an Email One of the pitfalls to being on the web and dealing with others in cyber space is getting a short or ambiguous message and reading into it things that are not intended. Emoticons help but a short answer in the form of a critique or email in response to a question are easily misinterpreted. This is a function of a lack of clarity on the part of the instructor or writer. Living in two worlds at once and trying to keep two balls juggled at the same time and the basic insecurity that we all have, sometimes leads to thinking that there is some kind of hidden text concealed in the message. Something that the writer won’t come right out and say and chooses instead the subtle approach. There is so much we take for granted in interpersonal contacts that happen in person or even telephone conversations. It is my theory that words form a weak link between two people and that link is enhanced by body language and almost a spiritual connection that flows over the fragile communication link that is verbally established between two people. We understand how face to face works and we know how the telephone works and both of these provide a flood of information that we just don’t receive on line. As a consequence we do as people have always done…. Fill in the voids with assumptions and rely more on reading into the voids using intuition and supposition we don’t need to in person or on the phone. In other modes there is body language, sound and eye to eye contact. We simply take for granted the huge amount of information this provides but even on the telephone there is the tone of voice that provides a conduit over which flows a gush of supplemental unspoken meaning. On line all we have is the word thread and we expect that to serve in ways it was never expected to stand alone and do. It is exceedingly exciting on the one hand to be able to communicate with a diversity of people from around the country and even the world…. It is so easy to craft some ambiguous and quickly crafted message and fire it off into the netherworld and have it appear magically on somebody’s CRT. I talked about the “Dumb Smart” Switch and the problem is further enhanced when you assume that someone understands the “drift” of your words or tongue in cheek comment and then puts an entirely wrong spin on them. Perhaps the person you are talking to has some personal issues and you blunder unknowingly into an area where angles fear to tread. Depending on words alone can get you in trouble in a big hurry. One of the first rules I made for myself, regarding emails was never send one that you would be uncomfortable seeing posted on the church bulletin board. But there is another one that is almost equally important. Do not write obliquely and in nuance. State things in plain English in a manner that leaves almost not room for misunderstanding for if you don’t… it‘s only a matter of time before you send a message that is totally misconstrued. Now the classic example of this is two people on the net and one says some things that get misinterpreted by another in an amorous sense. This is an example but what I’m referring to are other categories. For example suppose that an emailer makes some political comments not realizing that the recipient has the opposite political view. Or maybe a religious comment that someone takes as a shot at their core beliefs… Or maybe someone has a deep seated anxiety that gets rubbed the wrong way… Or maybe there is an area of literature the reader refuses to go and the writer makes flip comments about subjects that are strictly off limits. On the telephone or in face to face conversation there is feedback that we simply don’t get on line and writers need to realize this constantly and be on guard for foot in mouth syndrome. However readers also have a responsibility to not let their imaginations fill in the gaps with interpretations that are way beyond the scope of anything remotely intended. When in doubt confront the other and ask exactly what they mean…. In many instances that clears the air and dispels unwarranted conclusions… It also puts others on notice where the thin ice is. |
| The Good Shepard This blog is a "... lamp onto my feet." It is a reminder that everybody is not the same and like a shepard I need to be ready to leave the flock and attend a lost sheep. In my professional life I was employed in a vocation where I was almost continuously over committed and under resourced. This is to say that what was expected of me went far beyond what I was budgeted in people equipment and money. In order to survive in this environment I developed a management philosophy that I sometimes refer to (under my breath) as “How bad can I let bad get…” (before they fire me) Now this is an absolutely horrible management philosophy, however, nobody wants to get fired and so I found myself continuously putting the grease to the squeaks that could lead to an organizational meltdown. I not only survived but was promoted to my level of competency and some might say beyond… But none can dispute that when the smoke cleared some weaker souls were no longer beside me in the ring. It was only when I digressed from this time tested formula and decided to stand on principle that I was brushed aside and put to pasture. Now I share this with you not out of any great sense of pride but to explain to my “Army of Readers” how the “How Bad is Bad” philosophy works. Just as many are appalled by my management philosophy there are those who will deem me aloof and snobbish for even discussing this next politically sensitive issue. What it comes down to is that I see fundamentally two kinds of writers here at writing.com. Those who are primarily interested in becoming better writers and those who are looking for a social or emotional connection… By social connection I mean folks who might be under skilled but who still share a love for writing and are looking for like minded people. .. Who feel a compelling need to abide with intelligent spirits… who might otherwise be absent from their lives. For many inclined to the social side of membership the skill ,talent and educational index is not as high as what I see in some serious writers, and as I became more “socialized” I began approaching interactions with these two types differently. What I am trying to say is that once I make a distinction, I apply a different standard of support and encouragement. What I often see in the writing of many who have had little opportunity in life, are glaring deficiencies in their writing skills and I often find their experiences poignant and gut wrenching. Most members of writing.com have education, skill and talent or they would not gravitate to this site, however there is no denying the presence of those who can barely punch a key board and yet find our group a haven in a sea of chaos and turmoil. These members are more numerous than one might suspect and you have only to go to the port of someone who speaks and writes on the border line of incoherency to identify who they are. Should you encounter someone who qualifies, I recommend you read their port from start to finish to get an appreciation for how truly blessed you are and how generous your creator has been in giving you the gifts and education you enjoy. I guarantee it will be a humbling experience and lead to a greater sense of humility. How does the saying go…..? “I despaired that I had no shoes until I saw somebody who had no feet.“ What this means, and this is the lamp onto my feet part....a realization that I have come to slowly around here, is that when I do a critique or have a class standard... that I need to know individually who I 'm dealing with. One size doesn't fit all. If the person is a strong and experienced writer I don't have to worry quite so much in administering a little tough love. On the other hand if they are up to it in alligators and and struggling to just stay afloat, I have to use a different standard or take another approach. My goal in life has shifted from survival to trying to bring out the best in those around me and I no longer have to worry about serving just the squeaky wheels. Amen. |
| The Dumb-Smart Switch, Everybody has a “Dumb-Smart” stitch. I’m convinced of it…. No, not everybody… Some people have a “Dumb-Dumb” switch but nobody has a “Smart-Smart” switch. I know this because my wife explained it to me and if every there was somebody who should know it’s her. Linda is one of those people who got straight A’s in school and never cracked a book…My daughters are just like her except for a warped sense of humor that the got from me. They know they’re anal but have learned to laugh about it. My grandson’s definitely have the warped humor gene… don’t know yet about the anal part. Now I know most of you are thinking that I’m rambling on as usual about matters I don’t have a clue about but that’s only because your switch is in the wrong position. Perhaps I need to explain. Every now and then I awaken a tree. “Awaken a tree you say…what kind of nonsense it that? Nobody can awaken a tree.” Radagast could, and I have it on good account from JRR Tolkien that he went about talking to them and many he awoke from their slumbers. I think “Many” is an overstatement…. A few might be a more accurate. Treebeard, he definitely woke up. Then the male and female trees had some kind of falling out and the females packed up and left… and ever since the males have been wondering where they went off to…. So you see the trees aren’t sleeping they are pondering and have their switch in a mode that only makes it appear they’re standing about like bumps on a log. Linda says that there are nurses that turn on the smart switch when they come to work and turn it off when they go home. These nurse colleagues of hers are brilliant on the job and only become totally retarded after returning home to their families. My wife has a litany of examples to prove her thesis and I won’t waste my time recounting them because I’m sure everyone has seen their own evidence. It begs the question why supposedly smart people wind up doing the dumb things that they do. Why smart people can excel on the job and be utter failures as role models, for their churches, communities families and children. It’s one thing if the switch is shorted out or connects to two ends of a dead wire, but when half the circuit is alive and the other half is brain dead why do people choose to live in Nambe Pamby land? Why can’t they apply the same successful principles and experiences learned on the job to the rest of their lives? I wish I could say that only women have the “Dumb-Smart” switch but it seems to be the norm in both sexes. I can even bring to mind several personal examples. I mean, it’s all so clear looking from the outside in… Why is it so murky and obscure looking from the inside out? Then, and this is the sad part… once we define the problem and see the solution, that’s no guarantee we’ll do anything about it. Humanity is fraught with ambivalence, ambiguity and a misdirected sense of values. It’s a wonder we ever climbed down out of the trees. Perhaps we fell down….on our heads. |
| Rixy Those who read my blog know I am a “Connectional Thinker.” That is the only way I can describe it. I see connections not only in my writing but all the things an A.D.D candidate stumbles upon and becomes involved in. Recently I have been trying to connect my auto restoration hobby with my class, The One Act Play. In the midst of this came Rixy’s passing and I was struck by what Karen printed regarding Missy’s interest in Math and her love of the English Language. At the time I was doing an analogy between my installing a Speedometer and my student’s coming up with the Comprehensive Outline, required in lesson 1. Rixy’s comment on math said words to the effect…. “I know exactly why I love math…it’s because there is only one right or wrong answer.” Then in the next breath she talked about the a litany of double meanings in English that make the language so difficult to master. When I read this I slammed on the breaks. It was almost that in her passing Rixy left me a message regarding the struggle I was involved in. To me it dealt with the question… is writing an Art or a Science? The answer is clearly BOTH. As I experienced the pain in hooking up my Speedo and the pain of the students struggling with the outline, the answer became suddenly self evident. Writing in some regards is like math. It requires the time tested structure of an equation and certain tried and true formulas or rules of thumb to make it work. In this sense it's like restoring a car. There's a science side as well as the more obvious art side. On the science side is all the physics necessary under the hood. Like the speedo, a piece of literature either works or it doesn’t. I see that in the Comprehensive Outline. I can look at one and tell you if the drama is going to rumble to life when the first scene begins. It quickly reveals itself in a "go no go" sense just like a light bulb on a test light. Many writers don’t understand this. They think they can just start pushing the pencil or pounding the keys and the science of the story is just going to materialize out of thin air. Forget that! However the science, by itself, is not enough. A car or pick-up, old or new needs beauty in its form. Most cars operate after a fashion, but all vehicles are not beautiful. Some are downright ugly and there are some who claim that only the function is truly important. There have been many car companies which have failed on form just as there have been others that failed on function. This is an aspect of writing that aspiring authors need to understand. Great literature, like a classic car needs to have both. Missy understood this. She loved the math of literature but she also understood the beauty in all its nuance, diversity and contradiction. I’m glad I got to know her at a stage in life when her understanding was fully illuminated and she communicated it to me, like all those she touched. I’ll miss her occasional comment when she popped into my blog and offered some encouraging words. I appreciated her help as I struggled to put together my course pages and how she encouraged me to explore possibilities that were both exciting and substantive. I’ll miss her, as we all will…, but for the period she shared, she bought a bright light to the table and her experience and love was felt by everyone. |
| A Glass Half Full Well, I have two student outlines now that I think will fly and one student that dropped out. I know what a struggle it is to develop a good outline that has the potential for a viable stage play. In order to better feel my student’s pain I’m being subjected to a measure of it myself as I discover that installing a speedometer is much like the hurdles to writing a stage play. Huh? You wonder…what could the two ever have in common.? First of all I had to find a good source of power. Like a speedo a stage play needs energy. There was something squirrelly with the first wire I chose, so I went to the battery and got a stable source that quit blowing my fuses. Still I couldn’t get the darn thing to work. So I called the Tech-Help line and talked to a technician. Now I am sure my conversation with this gentleman was analogous to the conversations I have been having with my students. I was caught up in what I was doing and the TECHREP was trying to take what I was telling him and explain what I had to do to correct the situation. It was sort of like we were on different wavelengths which is exactly what was happening with my students. Finally I understood where he was coming from. There were two different diagrams and I was reading from the wrong one and in the process was sending power to the sensor. Instead I should have been sending power to the appliance (Speedometer), attaching a ground to the appliance and hooking the sensor to the appliance signal terminal. Ah Hah! I thought once that was sorted out and hooked things up exactly as instructed. Now here is the frustrating part. The sensor I located on the transmission and thought was the sending unit for the speedometer was actually a pressure switch for the shift light and the sending unit sensor was at the very back of the transmission almost obscured in grease and oil… both had two wires. I hear you chuckling….it wasn’t funny….three wasted days trying to hook to the wrong sensor and make the speedometer work. This was pain and similar in many ways to the frustrations my students were facing as they tried to get all the ingredients and rules of thumb into their outlines. Anyway the way I discovered my dumb-assed mistake was I removed the pressure sensor and took it into the parts store. The owner took one look and told me I was trying to hook to the wrong sensor and showed me what the part should look like. That was when I went back and found the proper sensor. In frustration I came in the house where Linda had a good dinner waiting. After supper I asked her to come out to the shop and pump the brakes while I bled them. While I was occupied with the Speedo I noticed that the rear break line was leaking and decided to fix that as long as I had the truck on the hoist. I told Linda to get in, slammed the door and sent the truck towards the ceiling. She wasn’t expecting a lift ride and became indignant sending some harsh words in my direction. Anyway the brakes work now and tomorrow I’ll take another run at the Speedo….oh the silver lining to that whole dark cloud is that the TECHREP said I had probably fried the sending unit by sending power to it…. Since power to a pressure sensor is supposedly no big thing, I saved myself some cash by not destroying the speed sender. Is that a glass half full or what? |
| A Living Trust Last week we had a bad storm… Sixty mile an hour straight line winds. There are trees blown down all over the place. There were three ways out of the Farm and all three roads were blocked by fallen trees. It took all morning to just clear the roads so things could get moving once more. Then we went 36 hours with no electricity. The food defrosted in the freezer and most of it had to be disposed of. The lesson learned is to have a generator to plug into the refrigerator and freezer. It was quite a soaking we got and for the next three days that followed. I saw a cartoon of two dinosaurs on a little peak watching Noah’s Arc float off… The caption read…. “Wasn’t there something important we had scheduled for today?“ I can’t complain…we always need rain in this part of the country. My parents set up a living trust before they passed away. I don’t know what possessed them to do that….My dad didn’t trust anybody… Why anyone would establish a living trust when they don’t trust anybody is totally beyond me. Then he made me the trustee… My older brother would normally be appointed such a task but my father appointed me. I think the reason he did was because I lived next door and didn’t need his money. Linda and I are not exactly loaded, but we were able to tell my Dad he could take his money and shove it when he got belligerent and threatened to disinherit us. They say you are never a hero in your home town and that holds true for when your parents insist on moving in next door to you. Familiarity must breed contempt because the more Linda and I tried to please them the more futile our efforts became. I mean we still loved them and took care of them but they became obsessively compulsive and jealous of our friends and became angry when we did things on our own that didn’t include them. It was a sobering and not so pleasant experience. Like I said my Father set up this document call a living Trust and I must say it turned out to be very useful. When my Dad’s Parkinson’s disease became increasing debilitating and my mother’s mental illness began asserting itself, the trust enabled Linda and I to step in and become caregivers without going through the probate type process of having a judge appoint us guardians. All it took was two physicians to declare them incapable of managing their affairs and we became empowered under provisions of the Trust to become their caregivers. For those who have never faced such a situation let me say that things have to get pretty bad before this happens. A crisis has to take place where it is demonstrated that they have reached a point where they are no longer capable of managing their lives. As you can imagine nobody wants to ever admit that such a time has come and having a living trust makes the process easier. While my Dad and mother were in the hospital that time had come. The first doctor came in and asked my father what the day was, where he was born and what street he lived on. Dad could not answer the questions. The second doctor asked Dad what his wife’s name was and he couldn’t remember that either. Once the doctors signed the certificate contained in the trust, that my parents were no longer competent to manage their affairs, control of their estate passed to the trustee, myself, who became the executor. There was no need for a lawyer or a judge to become involved and when my parents passed away no need for a probate process. I was impressed with how seamless the document made things and set one up for Linda and I. Now the point is that if you want to set up a Living Trust it is important that you trust the person you appoint as trustee. If you don’t trust anybody then let the probate process work. Let the courts appoint a guardian and get involved in settling the estate. Sure the lawyers and judges will get a big chunk but by then, you’ll be dead and beyond caring. On the other hand if there is somebody you trust, by all means set one up. It will certainly make matters much easier for your loved ones to cope with an extremely difficult situation. |
| One cog off the reel… This was one of those days where I couldn’t catch a break to save my butt. Sometimes when I watch a football game I see that happen to one team or the other. I like to see a game where the turnovers, breaks and penalties split down the middle and the players decide the game by their overall performance. The fact is that today I didn’t do well on getting my Speedometer to work. To begin with I started with a wire that had continuous power intending to put a switch into the circuit to make it switched power. When I tested the wire with my test light it shone exceptionally bright but I decided to use it anyway. I think this might have been a mistake because I kept blowing fuses all day with the power that emanated from that little orange wire. Tomorrow I intend to run a line from the battery into a power strip and see if that makes a difference. Everything was hooked up according to the instructions and still I kept blowing fuses from one to three to ten amp. Maybe the wire I used was tied into the alternator circuit and upon starting up carried more amperage than usual. Anyway I kept blowing fuses…I suppose there could also be a short somewhere in the circuit. Imagine wasting a whole day on a Speedometer…duh! My Labrador retriever is breaking wind tonight and the smell is noxious. The doodle must like the smell because she has been laying next to Chloe all evening. Linda says the only thing more disgusting than a dog is a man. I wonder where she comes up with all these absurd notions? Three of my six students have posted their outlines. Being able to see an outline before they start writing has been a great idea. I can tell by the outline if the drama is going to work or not. I can also tell who has read the handout materials and who didn’t. Some of my best writers are often the biggest culprits. Then I have to tell them that I don’t think their outline is working so good and is careening towards the cliff. Inexperienced writers, who have a modicum of talent ,are the most fragile and I try hard to be sensitive while trying to get them onto a path that has an outside chance at success. Several in the past became indignant and dropped the course and I take these failures as evidence I might not be the greatest of teachers. Then again I try and be positive but one can only go so far before raising false hopes that lead to dashed expectations. If I see a student, regardless of how talented, going astray I have an obligation to point it out even though I know it will be difficult to deal with. If I can get a student to emerge with a half decent outline chances are they will wind up with a half decent play. So, I set the standard high on the Comprehensive Outline and hope when the smoke clears, I still have a few occupied seats in the classroom. Not getting the speedo installed really bugs me and no doubt I’ll have some sort of bad dream tonight related to it. There is a part of me that likes to inflict pain on myself when I dream at night. All the bad things I have done get recycled periodically when I slumber and often I wake up in a sweat saying “Awh, Shucks!” to myself. |
| Getting off on the Right Foot. I have had two students so far take a swing at Lesson 1. Both got off to a good start and with each I suggested some ideas that merit further consideration. It is so much easier to write a good stage play if you have all the right ingredients in place. That is why this outline in Lesson 1 is so important. It provides students with some rules of thumb that get then on a fast track to success. Believe me, that after writing half a dozen anemic plays only to discover some major shortcomings near the middle or end is discouraging and not something I recommend. My mentor for the course is a guy named Buzz McLaughlin who wrote a book called the “Playwright’s Process.” He has been an Icon in the trade for a long time and has read many plays looking for theater worthy material. This is what he had to say about struggling playwrights. “…I’ve read hundreds of plays, many by extremely gifted writers, that do not work. In almost every case it’s clear the writer did not conduct some sort of preliminary analysis of the central idea. It’s as if the entire script had been written blindly without regard to basic dramatic principles… Perhaps in the hope that in some mysterious way, everything would simply fall into place. The sad truth is that this rarely, if ever, happens. People spend hundreds of hours, often slaving a year or more, over a manuscript, which having little chance of coming to life on the stage, is doomed to sit on a shelf. Like the carpenter who builds a house on sand, many writers build their plays with little or no regard to the essential dramatic underpinnings that plays need in order to work…” This is the reason that lesson 1 is so important. This is why I will be hammering students on their outlines to insure they get off to a good start on writing a successful drama. |
| More on Hooking up the Gages Today my paint came in to the parts store in Westfield along with the bucket that will hold my speedometer. I planed to mount that on the dash board and was eager to read the instructions. The instructions called for me to use the wires on the sending unit. This created several problems. First I had no idea what the sending unit looked like or where it was located. Fortunately I had a Haynes Tech Book for the S-10 and it told me the sending unit was located on the transmission and a little bit about how it functioned. So, I raised the Stude on the lift and looked at the Transmission and sure enough there was a plug with two wires coming out. I called the tech line for the gage manufacturer and he told me he had no idea what they went to but suspected that one was the power and the other was the ground. That I should tie into them and run them up into the cab and hook them to the gage and see which one was which. Further he informed me that he suspected that the green wire was the power and the dark wire was the ground. Now this was useful information but I just don’t want to cut and splice into the wires at the tranny connector because what if one goes to the computer and from there to the old Speedo.? Instead I decided to look at the plug that had connected the old instrument cluster of the S-10 and see if I could find a green one. Well there are several green ones and so tomorrow I will cut into them one by one and see what I can find out. What I’ll be looking for is a green wire with switched power. If it is a ground wire it won’t have power and if it is continuously hot it can’t be that one either… So I have a color and a power condition to start with. Then I will assume that the harness grounded the original speedo and hook the green one to the new unit. Maybe I’ll get lucky. It is amazing the complexity of the electrical circuits in modern auto’s and they get more so every year. If you look at the wiring diagram of an early auto you would be amazed at it’s simplicity. You had a coil, battery and a set of points and that was about it except for the lights. That got me to wondering if you could have an auto without any electricity at all. I know what you’re thinking…The spark plugs need electricity to fire the fuel air mixture in the cylinders…but not if you had a diesel. Diesels don’t have spark plugs….However, you reply, but a diesel needs a fuel pump and a starter. Well, what if you parked it on a hill and put the fuel tank higher than the engine and let the fuel gravity feed. Hmmmm…theoretically possible but hardly practical. Anyway I was just thinking… It is hot tonight and even though a breeze is blowing I am sweating. Think I’ll take a shower and have a cool drink of water |
| Story Line and Characters Often my students and other writers I have known have difficulty finding something to write about. In order to help them out I tell them to write about something they want to write about and not worry so much about whether or not it has dramatic potential. Then I go to their port and find some ideas in their previous writings that would be useful in the stuggle to find some good material. What I’m saying is that often a great story is not one that comes readily to mind on a single thread but a synthesis of several different things that have been mulling about in their minds over the past week or month. This happened with one of my students recently and when I read her Comprehensive Outline it sounded sort of like my Example Outline with a unique spin of her own….Still, it didn’t have the power of some of her other writings so I borrowed from one of them, combining it with her submission and came up with the story line of a pretty good drama. Of course it will remain for her to decide to use it, but the point is that as a dramaturge I used my perogative to take some of her materials and characters in helping come up with an interesting story line that has strong and compelling characters. It remains for her to write the drama but the materials are straight from her writings and contain people and situations she is very familiar with. Shakespeare often used borrowed story lines and stereotypical characters but it was his rendering of these that showed where his genius was. Still, a good story and riveting characters that are believable, is an important part of a literary work and this is particularly true of a drama. So if you are having trouble deciding what to write about then write something that interests you, regardless of where you think it's heading. Then go back into other things you have written recently for the story line and characters. I won’t be long before you have a hum-dinger of a story with characters the readers or audience will know are authentic… about real people and a subject you know something about. |
| Quality Time Together For the past couple of days Linda and I have been on the road enjoying ourselves and taking it easy. On Monday was Labor Day and we went shopping to give Linda a chance to decompress. On Tuesday I worked on the Studebaker. I discovered that the gage fixture I had constructed was too heavy. The sheet metal I used was too thick and by the time I finished with the BONDO it weighted close to five lbs. So I decided to use it as a mold for a fiberglass one. To do this I smeared it with grease, cut out patterns of the parts, cut out fiberglass cloth, mixed the resin and applied the first layer. In the process I didn’t add enough hardener and it was a cool night and the initial application did not harden like I hoped. So I painted on pure catalyst to the soft parts and put it out in the sun. This worked and I then added a second coat. After taking it off the mold I had a part that was much lighter and better suited to the job. Now I need to sand it smooth and cut out the gage holes and fit it to the dash. Then comes the fun part of hooking up the gages. Before I could finish however it was time to go to the Town Hall and do the voting on a referendum that would give the School Board more latitude on how it spends our tax dollars. The community was fairly evenly split on that one. Then on Wednesday morning we dropped the dogs off at the kennel and set forth on our adventure. As we drove north Linda told me about a place called “Garmish” where there was supposed to be a great place to eat outside the town of Cable. We arrived late in the afternoon and discovered that they had rooms and decided to spend the night. We had a lovely room overlooking lake Namekagon. It worked out great and we had a wonderful evening. The next morning we set off for Bayfield where we had reservations at the Rittenhouse. We arrived at 10 AM just in time to catch the cruise boat for a tour of the Apostle Islands… There are actually 22 Islands and at last count 12 Apostles and nobody knows for sure how they came up with "Apostles." I didn’t have trouble with the name, however Linda contended that the early fur traders/missionaries/settlers certainy knew how to count and this was a "Stupid Mistake." Then to discover that there wasn't even someone to pin it on made matters even worse.  After the cruise we walked all over, bought T-Shirts and finally got checked into our Bed and Breakfast. That night we spent a half hour trying to figure out how to get the shower to work. There is usually a pull knob or a turn switch to activate after you turn on the knobs... but there was no such device. Finally we discovered that the lip to the nozzle, where the bath water came out, performed this function and at last got the shower head to working. Other than that the room was lovely and the mansion was nothing short of awesome. In the morning we had breakfast and decided to go and see the Eagles. We arrived this evening and checked into a nice motel that finally had internet access. Tomorrow we go to the Eagle Center in Wabasha Minnesota where they have some live bald eagles that are part of the demonstration. I’ll let you know how that goes later on. Anyway, we're having fun and I wish you were here.to enjoy the beautiul scenery and weather. |
| Weight: 1.4 Spelling: 2 Resonance in Expository Writing. A great monologue has a certain resonance. That is a rhythm, a lyrical quality a certain musicality. It might be written in a manner that makes it look "prosey" but the resonance is wired in there. It’s like the signature of a rapper’s chant being expressed over and over again in the beat of his composition. When you read it the work sounds so effortless but it's hard to achieve because it's elusive and the writer needs to find the mood and revel in the ambience necessary to coax it from the darkness and summon it to mind. It’s an exercise in joyful expression and a liberating and fulfilling literary experience. To imbue resonance into a monologue you begin just as you begin most writing by introducing what you want to say, saying it and summarizing what you said. Sounds easier than it is. For openers you take an idea and break it down into parts and begin ordering them into a logical sequence… one that leads a reader or audience down the pathway to understanding. Along the path are the thoughts that give meaning and credibility to your thesis. So when you finish you have a paragraph that expresses an idea and supporting information that convinces a reader you actually know what you’re talking about. Once you have the monologue written in expository prose you are ready to add the resonance. Begin by stating the premise or problem or whatever the central concept of the paragraph is. Then list the supporting points. Finally, how the conclusion can be transitioned into meaningful action. Now this gives you the thread of a clear and logical thought process that ties things neatly together. Poetry resonates! It comes into the world as prose and somewhere along the line gets, "born again." Some define it as prose chopped up in little pieces but it is so much more. You begin by dicing up the prose and putting the central thought on the first line. Then list the supporting points in subsequent lines. Finally have a line for the wrap-up. Once this is accomplished take a poetic form and use it to convert the expository prose into a poetic monologue. If it helps, think of this as turning the monologue into a song. What this means is you take the material and turn the prose into poetry. Now there is a final step once this is accomplished. You then take the poetry (song) and without losing the musicality, convert it back into poetic prose. Granted the process is a bit convoluted but when you hear it read, the words now seem to flow with an almost fluid and effortless grace. That is the product you want a monologue in a stage play to resonate with… effortless, lyrical, lucid, prose, disguised as exposition. |
| Weight: 2.5 Spelling: 4 Musicals The time is close at hand for the new semester to begin here at New Horizon’s Academy. I can’t wait to get started. Last night I was thinking about some of the spin-offs of Greek Drama and thought about the Screen Play and Musical. Screen Plays are a different subject and something I might get more involved in in the future. It was Musicals that really caught my interest as I pondered in bed between articles in my Hot Rod Magazines. Have you ever wondered where the songs come from in a musical. You have. I thought so… what a smart group this is. Yes they come from the monologues. Someone takes a monologue and turns it into a song. However, why do you suppose that monologues lend themselves to song writing? The answer to me appears to be that great monologues have a rhythm, a musicality, a poetry and they flow along. In Shakespeare’s time many were written in Iambic Pentameter. To take this thought further, when a person thinks out loud, as in a monologue, those thoughts tend to be expressed poetically more than dialogues that tend to be more crisp and prosy. This is something to keep in mind as you write a drama… that the monologues need to have more of a poetic quality. So how does that work….I mean how does the playwright shape the development of a monologue and how is that process different from the process of exposition or dialogue. It all starts out as a clump of words designed to deliver a message. The difference is that in a monologue the clump is directed down the poetic conveyor of the writers mind. Words are hugely important to the audience of a drama and the way they sound is a trademark of the quality of the work. If the actor says “These lines suck,“ that is not a good sign. The actors might not even realize in an initial reading or sense why they like the words but you can bet it has something to do with the musicality. In a screen play lines are also important but the visualization is what captures the audiences attention. In a stage play both the words and the sound are important but in a movie you can’t close your eyes and see the drama unfolding where in a good drama the words alone can illuminate your imagination. In a screen play the magic of the resonating words is lost to the wonder of seeing, while in a stage play the poetry remains a central part of the auditory aspect of the drama. In a musical this is particularly evident but musicals are basically dramas taken to the next level of poetic expression. It is more than just the music which is nice, it is the lyrical expression of the words. In Shakesphere’s day standing room was sold in the courtyard of the Globe Theater where the less affluent theater goes could only listen and had no way of actually seeing what was happening on the stage. That is the power of the “WORD.” We forget that sometimes but it should come as no surprise…after all in the beginning that was where it is all supposed to have started. Tomorrow, I think I’ll discuss the process of converting a monologue into what I term poetic prose. It is fun to do and I enjoy thinking about how the actor must feel to suddenly realize that the prose he thinks he/she’s reciting is actually poetry in disguise. |
| Weight: 1.8 Spelling: 1 The Hupmobile. I’m not sure I know what a Hupmobile looks like but my Dad told me once his father had one. Anyway my parents moved in next to Linda and I when we retired and they built a Wausau Home on a forty next door. In the first few years they were in good shape and except for some idiosyncrasies were able to take care of themselves. However my wife and I were the “entertainment” and more and more they insisted we become the center of their lives. As time went on they became more and more dependent. My father had always handled the finances in his family and as he began to slip he tried to hand that duty off to my mother. What he didn’t realize was that she was in even worse shape and wanted nothing to do with the books. As a consequence Linda took over the job and would go down and make out the checks every month and my mother would sign them. My Dad thought Mom was handling the chore and became angry when he discovered how things were really being managed. As his condition worsened he became sort of mean spirited and nothing Linda and I could do seemed to suit him, especially me. Both my parents were controlling types and Dad tried to use inheritance as leverage to get us to do more and more. They really needed to be in assisted living but when we tried to tell them, they became even more indignant. Finally my father began having trouble separating dreams from reality and one morning confronted me with a dream he had the night before. This is what he said, Son, I just called your Brother and told him everything that is going on… He knows what Linda and your mother are doing with the check book and is driving up here in his Hupmobile. The Highway Patrol is escorting him from Janesville and he wants to meet us in the bank. Now my Dad loved going to the bank and when a CD rolled over could not wait to get there and talk the pretty young bank manager into shaving him a percentage point. He always loved playing the “Big Shot” and in his younger days, his charismatic manner made him quite a hit with the ladies. Anyway he made me mad, flying off at Linda, and finally all the manipulating, threatening and hatefulness got to me. “OK Dad,” I told him, “I’m glad Norman is on his way up here. Let’s go to the bank right away so we can be there when he arrives.” So we hopped in the car and drove to the bank. As we pulled into the parking lot I said…“I don’t see the Hupmobile, you think maybe the State Patrol got lost? Maybe they parked around the corner. Let’s see if they’re waiting inside.” In the lobby, I said in a loud voice… “Has anyone seen my brother Norman? He’s driven up from Virginia Beach in his Hupmobile… he’s being escorted by the Wisconsin State Patrol…. Not here yet huh? Well lets take a seat. Dad, I sure hope the Hupmobile didn’t break down….” Everyone got real quiet, like there was a bank robbery in progress, or something like that. People cast us furtive glances and looked away. My father set his jaw, with a hard sullen look. After about half an hour he said, ”Maybe I dreamed it all up… you think that’s possible?” By that time I had cooled down and was feeling a bit ashamed of myself. “You know Dad, I think you might be onto something,” Without question there are those who will judge my behavior as harsh and insensitive….I can only say that when my patience pegged, the Devil made me do it. It wasn’t because I’m a jerk, ( Percy makes the cross sign gesture) was all the Devil’s doing. |
| The Riding Lawnmower Weight: .4 Spelling: 1 My wife accuses me of being just like my father. That is not true…actually we have little in common except for some little nuggets of similarity. One is being a Scotsman (cheap) and interested in how economics works. Another is mulling over things and getting even. That second trait is evil and I fight hard to resist it and put it out of my mind. Forgiveness is Devine, so saith the Lord As my readers know I like to write about financial things and all these experts on the media who think they know everything tend to get me worked up. My Dad was a great saver and had the “Cheap” gene big time. Once to avoid the $25 pick up fee he drove twelve miles into town and aback on his riding mower to avoid paying it. Everybody is still talking about that one…. Some things we do define us for the community and that was one of his defining moments. I bought a new bicycle a few years back for exercise and to pay for it I rode around and picked up aluminum cans. That helped define me as a cheapskate and my friend Henry told me my neighbors were laughing. It seemed so reasonable to me… losing weight and picking up cans at the same time to pay for the bike….duh! There is a difference between how we see things and how others see us. My mothers defining moment was after church one day she went outside with my father and got in a car that was similar to hers but belonged to someone else. On the seat was the key “right where she had thrown it.“ When I got outside my friend was scratching his head looking for his car. I looked over and saw my parent’s vehicle still parked outside. He was about to call the sheriff when I said I think I know what happened and took him in my car to my parents. We found them walking around trying to figure out the situation. After an exchange everybody was happy … except my father that is. He was embarrassed because he knew what folks were going to say… that he was getting senile. My mother however blamed the driver who left his keys on the seat. My mom was a great blamer of others. Nothing was ever her fault. My dad went and bought a new car. That was his answer… It was a self inflicted punishment of sorts and this new one looked nothing like the Taurus involved in the mistaken exchange. I shouldn’t chuckle because I know dementia is not funny and it is waiting just down the road. However, I chuckle none-the-less when Linda and I take life too seriously. Remind me to tell the story about the Hut-Mobile in a future blog. It was amusing and another of those cases where I try to stifle my mirth. |
| Inflation Weight today: plus .2 Spelling Index: 1 Around the start of the month I will take a weight measure and that will be the “baseline” for the month. A plus is bad… a minus is good. The spelling index is how many misspelled words I had. On Fox, Neil Cavuto asked one of the “Titans” of Wall Street today if he though gold was a “Bubble.” The sage replied, “ For it to be a bubble, investors have to believe it’s a commodity…that is a good or service…. I don’t see gold as a commodity… I see it as a currency.” Is anybody out there listening? Does any of this sound familiar? Yesterday I asked my financial advisor if he considered gold a commodity. He said that he did…. That anytime there was a sharp rise in a commodity it was being driven by speculators and what goes up must certainly come down. He believes that gold is a bubble that will pop. I told him politely that he was incorrect. I explained that one day the world woke up and the dollar no longer defined gold… gold, defined the dollar. Soooooo, you might be thinking? Who cares what people think? The answer is that perceptions in a global market are hugely important. What is happening is that a growing number of investors no longer trust the United States to slow down the printing presses. As they perceive it, this perception grows and nothing is done to correct it, more and more money will be converted to gold which is essentially the new international currency. In the future all currencies will be pegged to gold. It is spiking now because investors are realizing the dollar isn’t worth what it’s cracked up to be. The world no longer trusts the United States Government. This is because we have gone overboard on printing currency and if there is a bubble out there it’s the value of the dollar. It’s currently over valued and the consequences of our fiscal policy, our President’s world view, the apathy of the Congress and the ambivalence of the Federal Reserve have set us on a course for which the reckoning is coming due. Soon, eliminating a couple of onerous statistics will no longer conceal how inflated the dollar has actually become. Juggling or just ignoring a growing number of worrisome criteria will not work forever. The full effects of the unbridled printing of money have yet to be felt but they cannot be delayed indefinitely… Inflation devalues. First a persons savings, next their purchasing power and finally everything they own. My home was devalued by nine percent this year. The government essentially taxed me nine percent to have the money to spend on other “important” things. This is after they floated three trillion in bonds to cover the gap between taxes and revenues. Regardless of the promises you hear from political leaders your taxes have gone up about ten percent through under reported inflation. Forget that $250,000 nonsense you’ve been hearing. The president promised a redistribution and all Americans are the recipients. Inflation is the most equitable and insidious form of taxation there is. |
Criteria for Goals Weight Index... Plus 1.8 Spelling index... Plus 3 I have these 55 gallon drums under the downspouts behind the house and shop. Linda won’t let me put them in the front… She thinks they look “Tacky” Anyway I can always tell if it rained in the night if they are full to overflowing. I take the water and use it to wet down the shrubs and tomatoes planted around the house. I also have a hundred gallon plastic tank that can be pulled around to where the hose won’t reach. I have these electric pumps that transfer the water to the tank and a power sprayer with a gas motor that I take to the field. That is useful when trying to get transplants to survive the first year… The attrition is high on trees here at “Sahara Acres.“ Last night my friend Gary dropped by. We were watching the football game. I was glad to see him actually because it wasn’t a very good game. We went out to the shop and discussed some issues with his 36 Ford Pickup. I promised to come over this morning a 9 O’clock. This afternoon we have to take the dogs to the Vet for their distemper shots in order to get the checked into the “Pet Spa” where they will be staying when Linda and I go on our little get-away. The Lab hates the vet’s office and digs in her feet and won’t get out of the car. The Doodle likes to visit anywhere and likes all the new faces and smells… dogs and cats. I have developed a goal of sorts and that is to get through this blog without making a spelling error. When I finish I run the spell check to see if I have any errors and if I don’t, give myself an “Atta-boy.” My spelling was horrible when I first came to this site and I have seen steady improvement the more writing I do. That should come as no surprise but it does after all these years of having errors littered throughout my work. Another thing I try and do is not use the same word or expression twice in close proximity. What I mean is that some of the more common words are unavoidable but words that are not, I try and find substitutes. For example when I was talking about my dray I tried to find different ways to describe it like log loader or forwarder or “Tree Picker-Upper.” I didn’t actually use all these synonyms but you get the idea. Sometimes I read material that uses the same word five or six times in the course of a couple sentences and get the impression that the writer is getting lazy…. On the other hand I also read examples where a writer has stretched or gone to the thesaurus and would have been better served just using the word over again. I need to take some pictures and use them in my blog. The reason I don’t is because I’m lazy. I write my blogs in bed in the morning and the lap-tops upstairs are not programmed for e-mail. If I want to email I go downstairs into the basement and use the “Gamester” computer. It used to be top of the line but that was five years ago and today it is considered not so very powerful. Sometimes I go downstairs and play an action game like “Half-Life.” I really liked that one and used to play it a lot. Well as much as I enjoy talking about nothing and rambleing along, it’s time to get up and go do something useful. My daughter used to say… “See you later on.“ |
| Busy Day Yesterday was a busy day. In the morning we went to Brooks and picked up the tractor and dray. I decided to take the back roads to Harrisville where Lake Side Farm and Implement is located. I had never taken the dirt road route but had been on parts of it over the years. It was almost a strait shot for about fifteen miles on the tractor at twenty MPH. Linda followed in the car. The log loader (dray) is now on consignment. When we got home I BONDOed the speedometer fixture I had welded out of the thick sheet metal I mentioned several blogs ago. Today I sanded it smooth. The project turned out fairly well and I expect the gages… A speedometer, clock and Tachometer will fit nicely therein. Then I went to work on the ’40 Ford. I did some more work on the floor and some body work on the cowl and doors. Getting that body whipped into shape is going to be a major undertaking. First the floor, then the roof and then fitting it to the chassis. There will still be plenty to do after that but that is as far ahead as I care to think right now. There is an area behind the house that I tilled up and planted grass in today. I thought about a water feature….a small pond with a little waterfall and babbling brook (I always liked that descriptive term…“Babbling Book”) These water features are very popular here in Wisconsin and I guess they are everywhere these days. People put gold fish in them and plant ferns and grasses around and usually a stone bench of some sort. I think that would be very placid to have a little pond behind my hedge and wrought iron archway. Linda bought me some of those crème wafers that have the sweet vanilla frosting sandwiched in-between. I am totally addicted to those things. This morning I finally got my diet under 180 lbs again and my wife buys me a pack of my favorite snacks. We have quit sodas and have never been much of alcohol drinkers. That is surprising because I come from a long line of beer drinkers and boozers. Linda doesn’t drink either not because we consider it evil but because we prefer to drink other things. Right now those other things include a whole lot of water. My Doctor has been harping on that… told me the soda’s and juices I was drinking were probably the cause of my kidney stones…OUCH! Karen gave me some options for a weekend Blog… They were write about an object, a beautiful scene or a trip back through time. Hmmmm I’ll have to give that one some thought. Linda is getting excited about our trip in September. We have an evening booked at the Ritten House which is a bed and Breakfast located in Bayfield WI. It is a quaint little town on the Great lakes (Lake Superior.) It will be nice for the two of us to get away. Have no fear about my classes…. They have Wifi as do most of the McDonalds so it should be no problem keeping in touch. In a worst case I will have most everything front end loaded and don’t anticipate anything going wrong. Famous last words |
| Linda, episode 4 What goes Around When Linda and I first got married we were Juniors in College in Dahlonega Ga. We knew we would get married eventually and thought what the heck, why put it off. It was a great decision. Anyway we had an apartment across from the church where we held the ceremony and reception and when it was over we walked across the street for our honeymoon. (Old lyrics come back to me) Those were the days my friend I thought they’d never end We’d sing and dance and laugh the night away There was another line That has slipped my mine(d)…. Those were the days Oh yes those were the days. In the living room was a gas furnace and one Fall day I asked my bride how one went about lighting the darn thing. She said, “you open the little door, turn on the valve and hold a match under the burner eyes.” I turned on the valve and looked around for some matches and saw some on the end table. I got up and walked over…”So I turn on the valve and light the bank of gas ports….right?“ Returning I squatted down and struck the match…. GABOOM! went the furnace and sure enough it lit, but so did my eyebrows and the hair on my forehead. Linda hollered…. “Oh my Gawd!” and rushed out from the kitchen. When she saw I wasn’t dead and only a bit singed she began laughing hysterically and called me a “dumb-ass.” She told all our friends in class later that day and everyone teased and gave me a hard time. Now Linda had gotten into a bad habit that fall. She sat on the furnace after a shower and dried her hair. When it wasn’t running a person could sit on the grate withoutsuffering any ill effects. However the next morning after her shower the thing had been running a couple of hours. When she flopped her butt unsuspectingly down, it was really hot and she let out a holler. On her fanny was the imprint of the grill etched like a branding iron. The burn was not sever, but blistered and painful and I had to go to the drug store to get her some salve. Then I had to help her apply it… Woe is me That day I told everyone in class about Linda’s new blister grid… She was really embarrassed and wasted little time in getting back at me. “Not tonight Bob…That burn you’ve been telling everybody hurts like the dickens.” Now the point of this is that one should never laugh too hard, even in jest, at the misfortune of another…..because what goes around comes around. We figured out what that meant before the term became popular and it served our marriage well. |
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Love it! Especially the safety measures for us homo sapiens...
