Thursday, September 29, 2011

It’s late.

I mean, I’ve been putzing for four hours now, it’s 0800 hours, and done interesting things like watching the sun come up; feeding the dog, and trying to come up with a blog subject.


The dog got fed and the sun came up.

To further my cause I, 1) turned on the TV; and, 2) went internet surfing.  By the way, re-reading a recent post I see the word “Surfing” where I meant “Serf”. Another of those mistakes, like the time MS spell checker word complete placed “Sorted” where I wanted “Sordid”, and I didn’t proof read the post.

Happens many times.

I know, lazy.

Still, one would think the program could do better than that. It does point out all of those ‘partial’ sentences and ‘fragments’ after all.

But like I was saying, I went surfing for inspiration. The news didn’t interest me today. Sports didn’t interest me today. Se . . , well, maybe, but that isn’t available. The dictionary is the bottom book in a stack of six, and it is just over there – about three inches beyond my finger tips.

One inspiration tip said, Emily Dickinson wrote a poem. One such poem had a line “Bring me the sunset in a cup”, write a story based on that line.


My first thought was “What the hell are they talking about?” My first impulse was to look up the expression, in context. The third was why look it up, the assignment was to write a story based on the line.

Refining the thought then, I came to the conclusion I had two choices. Use only the words and write the inspiration they brought me; or, go find the words in context and, having done so, whatever I wrote would then become a critique of the words – almost inevitably.

photoshare Black Swallowtail Memphis TN WeatherRose

So I wrote the words above the picture and then went searching for the poem, which I found was named from the first line of the poem; and the first verse of which I include below, in case you haven’t read it:

Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps—
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!

Which has traces of ancient legends all over it, with some relative (to her life) thought to up grade it to that time (see what I mean about critique?).

It does, however, allow me to point out that you now know why I’m late posting. What with mulling words; watching the sun come up; and listening to the TV tell me why the political polls mean what they mean, however, If you think of it that way, it could be the other way.


From the reaches,

Ten Mile

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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