Showing posts with label balloon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label balloon. Show all posts

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Blog Rhymes With Slog


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As we entered a Tucson Safeway store . . .
at just after nine on Saturday morning -
a recreational balloon passed overhead.

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Q: What is a book good for?
A: A book...

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From: A.W.A.D

Expostulate
verb intr.:
To reason earnestly with someone in order to dissuade.

Wow! I had always thought the word meant 'to object loudly.' Now I see that I was wrong.


Another word with which I was mistaken about its meaning:

hegemony
the dominance or leadership of one social group or nation over others;

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With traditional soup, you make a big pot of it, and cook everything together, so the flavors of the vegetables/ beans/ meat/ whatnot all get blended into the broth.

But with this soup, it's exactly the opposite. You don't make a big pot of it at once; instead, you make just a bowl or two of it at a time, ad hoc. You cook your protein, you saute your veggies... and then, at the very last minute right before you're ready to eat, you put all the stuff in a bowl, and pour the hot broth/ stock over it.

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While conversing on the phone, a person all of a sudden speaks nonsensical words, such as, when intending to say, "Okay, see you when you get home" instead enunciates: "Ki say ya one jewgetum."

Is this a sign of senility? A simple form of forgetfulness? Or a physical disability (such as a brain malfunction) that comes and goes?

I question this because it's been happening to me lately.

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The Writer's Almanac
credits Aryn Kyle with saying: She loves the thrill of beginning a new story and she loves the glory of finishing a first draft. But all of that time writing in between can be difficult and discouraging, she said, like "digging through concrete with a salad fork"

Now that's a pretty good description of the process of writing fiction.

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To Kill A Mockingbird



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Regarding To Kill a Mockingbird: Flannery O'Connor said, "It's interesting that all the folks that are buying it don't know they are reading a children's book."

Friday, April 16, 2010

Meditation, Yellow Balloons, etc.

It has been nearly a full month since I arrived here in Arizona.

This morning early just as the sun had topped the peaks of the surrounding mountains I wandered repetitively around and around the pool's fenced perimeter sipping sustenance from a cup of hot black bitter tea while Eva snarled and growled and barked in canine joy as she energetically leapt about snapping at startled flies and instinctively chased the scurrying and obviously terrified lizards into patches of protective cactus plants.

A pair of faded turquoise sweat pants and a thin pullover white shirt labeled BUBBA Burgers with my feet encased within a pair of 20-year-old Florida deck shoes was sufficient for comfort in the warmth of the beginning day.

Above, an Air Force fighter jet arrowed through the upper atmosphere leaving behind a mere whisper of wartime warning. And then I saw in the distance a completely silent high-floating yellow balloon.


The silent balloon traversed the city of Tucson and I wondered if it was the same yellow balloon I'd seen previously when it landed at the base of one of the Santa Catalina mountains a short distance from where I stood among the landscaped cactus garden near the swimming pool.


I think that if someone were to offer me a free ride in the hurtling jet-plane or even in that huge meandering hot-air balloon I would with a painted-on smile graciously decline the invitation. Why would any thinking human being choose to drift above the relative safety of the surface of the Earth? To escape from what dreadful land-based threatening event or situation?

Additionally...

Why would a human being force one's self to exist within a narrow cone of safety to daily munch organic raisins and 100 percent natural pecans after a breakfast of a single Fresh California Navel Orange in place of Crispy Bacon and Sunny-Side-Up Butter-Fried Eggs and Hash Browns and Creamy-Golden-Slathered-Toast rather than face ALONE a hypothetically hostile and frighteningly unknown environment?

Why do we human animals do any of the curious things we do?

One could meditate endlessly on the various ramifications of such a conundrum without ever having reached a satisfactory conclusion


"They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude."
--William Wordsworth