A Bowl Of Soup, A Crust Of Bread
Year of The Rat 4706
October 3, 2008 AD
2138 hrs, CST
Stormcrow Ranch
Boone, IA USA
"Squirrel Corn Capital Of The World"
Ah, yet again way-laid by life. I have been gone far too long, as I was recently reminded by one of my most ardent fans. (Counting her, that makes uh, hang on... let me do the math.... one). Like anything good, it takes a certain adherent to discipline to be good at anything. I regret--and revel in--the fact that I am NOT disciplined. There are no limits aside from dealing with the moronic machinations of so-called polite society, and even in that I can say without a doubt that I am on very few Christmas card lists. ( I get one from my parents, The Arbor Day Foundation, Marlboro cigarettes, The NRA, and what's left of the Republican Party--inclusively, not exactly the best company to keep in this day and age).
It is said a bowl of soup fulfills its purpose by being empty. I believe this. The soup has purpose, the bowl has purpose, and this is where I find myself in just beginning the second third of my life--good soup, empty bowl--looking for the next course, if there is one.
My latest projects have kept me busy in the shop, at the keyboard, and on-line.
The last first: I have been in contact with a gentleman on the East Coast who seems to think I have a way with words. We are working on something I cannot divulge as of yet--actually several somethings. To date, my work is not available, but you may check out his by going to YouTube and searching for 'artist064.' This guy does all this stuff himself! It is amazing. Truly. My aspect of these projects comes later, but it is an endeavor I believe in, and therefore has merit. I do many, many things half-assed--I am the first to admit it--but these will not be one of them. I'm pretty sure this is not wherein I garner my brief 'fifteen minutes of fame;' I don't take much truck in that concept. Fame is fame, but only the coin of the realm while there are those who are interested. After that, it is history, a tiny spot on the Map of Ages( 'Fame, USA; one gas station, four taverns, two churches, on the road to 'Someplace Else' Caution: Paparazzi Crossing--Keep private life inside vehicle(s) at all times').
{Sorry. Here's a story I harp on, and one that has disappeared, magically apparently: Back in the 80's there was the Congressional Banking Scandal, wherein members of both the House and Senate wrote bad checks against accounts held by the Bank of Congress. Now, any bad check over $10,000 is considered a felony, and by Constititional Law no one with a felony can hold public office. And yet, individuals with 'issues' still retain their public offices, individuals who are guaranteed a raise every year that they voted for themselves. This tale is no longer reported, nor even prosecuted. Is that fame, or is that infamy? (although here it must be noted that 'flammable' and 'inflammable' do mean the same thing, and I have the scars to prove it). If you doubt my word(s) and the veracity of my claims, please do some research and get back to me. I would truly enjoy being wrong about people who just crushed a global economy through malfeasence and greed).
My short stories, and e-mails take up the middle, the brunt of my available time. I am not good at sound bites or quick text messages. I was trained to write, to communicate in a rich and diverse language. I am not limited by 'LOL' or 'OICU812' (translation of the latter: 'Oh, I see; you ate one too'). Well, that's bullshit to my mind. Talk or write; practice with elan and passion those tiny letters who struggled so hard the scrawl in kindergarten, those words you failed on the the 6th grade spelling test. I do it every day in literal word and deed. Therefore. I am often away from this particular outlet because I am busy elsewhere. It is nothing against those of you who happen to have my screed cross your desk--I just believe that communication can be better than than C U @ X('see you at 10 o'clock'). And to pay $0.15 for every message.
Finally, in my wood-shop--aside from refinishing and furniture commissions--I have created a thing I call WishBoxes.
They are simple brass-bound cubes of wood which are designed to fulfill and hold wishes. I like them, and truly enjoy creating them. As yet, they are not for sale. I am still practicing before they are released to the general market. I have two to finish and send: one goes to New Jersey and one goes to TA in Florida. I will offer no more information unless there is interest. Otherwise, once they show up on the Web, all parties pay the full price of materials plus labor plus a stipend for the artist. (It works out to about $55; shipping is half the usual price, and regrettably, additional. Honestly, I would love these things to take off and sell, but grits ain't groceries, and just because there's soap in the pantry doesn't mean it's food).
This is not an advertisement; I could care one whit whether you buy one or not--I'll build the bastards anyway.
But here is part of the copy:
"If it does not touch you, then walk away, and spend your money elsewhere and more wisely..."
Mostly, I just want to to write, and to read, and to cook and to work in my shop Seems simple enough.
I will try to get back here more often so that I might.
~~Hob/Bone
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