Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
Coffee is a beverage that puts one to sleep when not drank.
~Alphonse Allais

I never drink coffee at lunch. I find it keeps me awake for the afternoon.
~Ronald Reagan

If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee.
~Abraham Lincoln

~~

Posted in the Grove:
November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write 50,000 words between 11/01 and 11/30. Writers tend to dawdle, are often afflicted with daydreams; those who don’t understand call it procrastinating. Want to get serious about that book that’s been nagging you? This exercise works wonderfully to focus the mind. You’ll be joining 400 – 500,000 writers of all ages from around the world. It’s what November is for. Interested? Contact Jessalee for details and encouragement, or go to: http://www.nanowrimo.org

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Steve Jobs Ten Rules for Success (as chosen and assembled by Evan Carmichael), is 40 minutes of Mr Jobs at various stages in his career talking about getting it right. Creatives in every field will recognize the process he talks about. Readers of this newsletter will recognize quotes from Mr Jobs in its opening Quoted section. This might be useful viewing for anyone thinking of NaNoWriMo as the first stage of something.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHzAtxW3TzY

~

Greenie’s Castle Darque has moved and now stands guard high on the southwestern bluff overlooking WeirdGrave. Castle Darque is grand and beautiful. It is a must see. Also, stop by WeirdGrave and Quill Point (clubhouse @ 005 Hermit) before all the fun stuff gets put away.

~

From the mother of one vampireling verbalizing for countless other sleepless parents, the following lullaby. A Halloween monster special … adorable, but not for the faint of heart:

Go The Fuck To Sleep Song
~Adam Mansbach; Samuel L Jackson reading

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFkd0e2IjnI

~

Prewritten for Thurs (10/29) @6pm PT/9 ET is: a picture

https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5694/22210692550_e20f447153.jpg

BOO!!

~~

@Writers Platform:
Glass Table

~Piffin:

“Hourglass”

Waxing and waning
The moon and their romance
She, an accountant
He, between jobs
She had that way
Of making him laugh
At himself
At the rainfall
At all of the should-haves
He brought her flowers
And sunlight
And daydreams
A week in New England
Cool nights on the town
She gave him hope
And shoestrings
And futures
He’d never imagined
Nor she, so she said
All of his wishes
Frail eggs in one basket
Candlelight
Kisses
An hourglass, full
Until something called her
A yearning
A pipedream
Her hand on his doorknob
A tearful goodbye
And now, all is silence
An egg basket, empty
Dried flowers
And bleach
And the sweat on his brow
In silence
The silence
The hourglass wrought
The blood
Was harder
To clean up than he thought

~~

Prewritten: conformity

~Greymane:

Silent Promises

She cast illusions in the wind and sent them on their way
The promises that laughed at her grew silent on display
Complacent in conformity she shuffles through the dream
The wisdom that had brought her here was too confused to scream
Distant in her memory she calls to nothing there
While silence whispers softly to the dreams of her despair
Alone she cried melodic in her lullaby of fear
She danced to near the jagged edge where reason disappears
Defeated by each enemy her twisted mind had fought
She leapt while laughing off the ledge and vanished into thought

~

~Piffin: haiku

Flogging weary muse
Squeeze out one more prewritten
Ah conformity

~

~BarTalk: Steve Jobs – May ’85

~~

Impromptu: frog whistle

~Greymane: haiku

Frog Whistle Roundup
In the middle of the pond
Meeting on the fly

~Piffin: haiku

Long-legged leap year
Lilly pad fashionistas
Frog whistles resound

~Jessalee: haiku

oops! long tongue retrieves
not a bug but falling reed
and gulp! frog whistles

~BarTalk: not-a-haiku

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Quoted in the Grove:
When I feed the hungry, they call me a saint. When I ask why people are hungry, they call me a communist.
~Helder Camara

The big thieves hang the little ones.
~Czech proverb

Laws are spider webs through which the big flies pass and the little ones get caught.
~Honore de Balzac

~~

Posted in the Grove:
Piffin is returned to us and is daily getting stronger; something to be grateful for now and to remember at Thanksgiving. Her celebration of life now includes a spacious dog park on an island in the waters near Faefyre Wharf. Got pooches and speak Woof? Need a place for yours to chase around and exercise while you chat with other pooch people? Follow a straight line off the point of the Wharf for a couple hundred yards to Puppy Island, and bring them out.

PS: Dogs must be dropped outside the park and enticed inside.

~

Prewritten for Thurs (10/22) @6pm PT/9 ET is: conformity

~~

@Writers Platform

Prewritten: finite, firefly

~MissMerry: Prewritten by MM

Stars, finite points. shine.
Fireflys dance between the trees-
crickets chirping time.

~

~BarTalk: not-a-haiku

~~

Impromptu: verbosity, etiquette

~TommyO:

Take Down

I was still wasn’t able to catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest and hop on down the street only to fall into a gutter and never be seen again. I was laying on top of the suspect and it was my weight that kept the little hellion in place until my partner caught up.

“Jesus Frankie, you got him!” my partner said. He wasn’t winded at all thanks to being smart enough to take the squad while I ran the alleyways. I hadn’t had time to catch my breath so I just nodded, hoping it was true. I didn’t feel alright. Too much adrenalin and dinner. I was afraid I might disgorge myself if either I or the suspect twitched. I urped once but was able to keep it all down.

From beneath me I could sense life, but the suspect had mentally given up and I no longer felt the tense muscles underneath my own. My partner leaned over and I could smell the carry out Mexican dinner on his breath as he recited the Miranda rights … “You have the right to remain silent? yada, yada, yada.”

“Ok Frankie, you can release the suspect now.” Hearing the cue I let go, got to my feet and stepped back. I was still weary, but knew the fight had gone out of the suspect. I felt the satisfaction of a job well done. I saw the flash of chrome plated cuffs out of the corner of my eye. My partner had a practiced way with the cuffs. It was like watching Bruce Lee with numchucks. Economy in motion that you only get after hundreds of arrests. It was my partner’s signature move, like Zorro’s Z, or the Lone Ranger’s mask. No one did it better.

The paddy wagon pulled up as did a couple of other patrol cars. About 6 cops in all were milling around talking to witnesses and other cops. They were making sure that it was a clean bust, that protocol was followed; basically that I didn’t screw anything up with my leaping take down of the suspect. You couldn’t blame if after the chase I had, over fences, dodging garbage can lids and whatever the suspect could throw at me to slow me down. Not that it worked. It never works. It slows them down and spurs me on. The flying takedown from behind is MY signature move. Bruce Lee be damned.

Eventually the suspect was placed in the paddy wagon and everyone drifted away. My partner and I were the last to leave. We climbed into our squad to leave.

“You know Frankie,” my partner said as he smoothed the fur between my ears, “Having a dog as a partner is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You never sass back.”

~

BarTalk: not-a-haiku

~~

Writers in Residence:
Listed below, in alphabetical order, recent pazs brought out by Nutters to celebrate Halloween in the Grave. Hop one of the Bacios near the Platform for a quick look around, or tour on foot at your leisure. The visit is worth it.

~DarlaDharma @Wordhome (West End)
Colorful, quiet retreat, designed for the Zen moment

~Greenie @Castle Darque WeirdGrave 2015 (NW Corner on the greenway)
Grand in scope, vast in scape, magnificent in concept and structure, Greenie’s Castle Darque beggars the imagination while it promises protection from … YIKES!! There’s one now!

~Greymane @Boooness, Dammit! (East End)
The ubiquitous crypt that waits for everyone, a suspiciously friendly Pumpkin Man, and among the rows of lately departed, three tombstones that speak their truth with a lipless grin:

1) Permanent Graveyard Shift
2) This wasn’t on my To Do list
3) If you’re reading this, you need to get a life

~MissMerry @Move Already, It’s Your Turn (East End)
A fully manned game of chess is just beginning, one pawn is already a casualty and off the board; a sitting area to one side provides spectators a safe distance from which to kibbitz and lob insults at the players.

~ . ~

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Quoted in the Grove:

The reading of all good books is like a conversation with the finest men of past centuries.
~Rene Descartes

When you sell a man a book you don’t sell him just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue–you sell him a whole new life.
~Christopher Morley

I do not read for
I have renounced life,
I read because one life is just not enough for me.
~Abbas Al-Akkad

~~

Posted from the Grove:
Coming Soon ~ Greenie’s Giant Castle:* The Big Reveal

Major projects often experience delays with unavoidable setbacks traumatizing plans that include a deadline. It has been a long time keeping excitement in check waiting for Greenie’s unveiling of her Castle, but the time has arrived … for the announcement. The inaugural invitation will come from Greenie, the Castle’s creator, in her own time. Tentative plans call for completion in the wee hours this Monday AM.

For those yearning to re-experience their days of medieval court-life, Greenie is offering the chance to claim a corner of the Castle to decorate as once remembered or dreamt about. Contact Greenie to drop a 16 x 16 paz at the base of a corner tower to make it happen.

Look for it soon on the greenway NW of WeirdGrave, near Black’s Gallery.

*Yet to be named

~

Already the fall blossoming of pazs has begun for Halloween. WeirdGrave Pictures (formerly Wordgrove Pictures), is a new drop near the clubhouse. The Halloween table is out below Writers Platform. You are encouraged to bring out your own paz, leave a Scrolled link behind at the Halloween table, or contact BarTalk with link for listing in the blue Script.

~

Prewritten for Thurs (10/15) @6pm PT/9 ET is: finite, firefly

~~

@Writers Platform

Glass Table:

~Margalo: A Letter from a Daughter to Her Mother

Dear Babe…Lynne…known as Bettina or Bets in There,
You left such a deep impression on my soul. It’s as if you’ve left your fingerprints all over my brain, and I’m trying to play detective. Where did that laugh go? Why were you taken from me? How can I make my way back to you?

I use a magnifying glass to examine the situation. Next October 17 will be your 10th anniversary of passing. Your death was shocking to us all. I cannot believe it’s been 9 years. October 17, 2006 your heart stopped beating. My heart continues to beat with the memories of your love for me, as well as the pain you endured. And the pain that I feel having lost you continues to be raw and exposed.

I will keep playing detective until I find the answers, unravel the mystery, put together the puzzle pieces. You left so many questions unanswered. I am struggling still to accept that I will never know. I will never know how much you loved me, how much you needed me to stay, how much you loved your friends. I need your voice to reassure me that it will all be okay. And that it’s time for bed.

Good night my wonderful mom and Babe Lynne…
Good night mystery…
Good night.
Love,
Your daughter and little babe,
Margalo

~

Prewritten: synthesis, symbiosis

~MissMerry: Prewritten by MM

She awoke from the dream… foggy wisps of memory linger with twisted bits of a time and place that is real, and imaginary.
A side effect of years in psychology labs studying and learning lucid dream control, now, a side effect is the dreams have become so much …more.
Being aware and in control, her dreams become another life lived in symbiosis with “real” life. She often remembers conversations and events that happened in her own inner world – outside of time and reality.
Some nights are filled with fantastic imaginary constructs that are beyond explanation, and sanity.
Listening to the gurgle of the coffee maker she yawns and puts a slice of bread in the toaster.
Smiling, she pours her coffee and munches her toast.
“I had better get going, farm life starts early!” she remarks to the house elf who is washing dishes as she heads off to get dressed, draining the last of her coffee as she walks to her castle tower dressing room.
Just another day… wolverines to be fed, aurochs to be milked, dragon eggs to be collected.

~

~Greymane:

Miles From My Bed

I woke up late one Autumn eve miles from my bed
Entranced in walking sleep I followed voices in my head
Somewhere deep where shadows play, a clearing in the trees
A cottage warm inviting me with whispered guarantees

She motioned me to take my ease and laughed a quiet song
The fire glow hissed handsomely and tried to hum along
She bade me gracious autumn eve while offering some mead
concoction quite intoxicating synthesis indeed

I realized my mind was just the reason of my soul,
A neural symbiosis to the macro cosmic whole
A blur of laughing lady dancing spirals in the light
I took another sip of mead and lost another night

In dreams of wandered visions cast unwilling on the way
I found myself in darkness silent drunk on the bouquet
Drifting spirit captivated lost inside my head
Alone again I wake again
Miles from my bed

~

~BarTalk: Venus & Mars Rampant

~~

Impromptu:

~MissMerry: Impromptu by MM

Trying to live
living to be
not sure who you are
just an analogy

Purple hair
and gold lame’
Raving androgeny
Queen for a day.

It’s all twisted and fine
A beautiful Star
As long as you’re happy,
who cares what you are?

~

Greymane:

The Switch

Anonymous androgynous strapped to never been
The doctor throws the massive switch and cackles with a grin
Illuminating blinding light electric from the skies
The creature lurches heavily and opens vacant eyes
Constructed from cadavers with no soul and many flaws
The doctor bowed conceitedly to waves of forced applause
He plugged the creature’s hard drive in and told him what to do
he made him dance like Fred Astaire but heavy on the shoe
Sometime in the final act he stumbled on his coat
His giant body falling hard and smashing the remote
The rest you’ll guess was quite a mess he killed them every one
He should have made him analog powered by the sun

~

~Odin: Impromptu words

Ymir, the androgynous was a waste of good stuff.
It needed slaying, but most jotnar might say that was a bit rough.

Without the redistribution of his corpse way back then,
Seven other realms would have never been.

Ymir was the “analog” dusk before the digital dawn.
Think on this when you see a new life spawn.

~

BarTalk: haiku

~ . ~

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