Splash du Jour: Monday

Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe.
-- Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore --

Have a great Monday!
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Splash du Jour: Friday

Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
-- A.S.A. Harrison, The Silent Wife --

Have a great Friday!
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Splash du Jour: Thursday

Have a great Thursday!

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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Every shrink knows that it's not the event itself but how you respond to it that tells the story. Take ten assorted individuals, expose them all to the same life trial, and they will each suffuse it with exquisite personal detail and meaning.
-- A.S.A. Harrison, The Silent Wife --

Have a great Wednesday!
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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

I do not believe that a man should be restrained in his daily actions by being afraid of punishment after death or that he should do things only because in this way he will be rewarded after he dies. This does not make sense. The proper guidance during the life of a man should be the weight that he puts upon ethics and the amount of consideration that he has for others.
-- Albert Einstein --

Have a great Tuesday!
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Splash du Jour: Monday

 I have never imputed to Nature a purpose or a goal, or anything that could be understood as anthropomorphic. What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility. This is a genuinely religious feeling that has nothing to do with mysticism.
-- Albert Einstein --

Have a great Monday!
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All Good Things Come To An End...

Well, it's been pretty much a very excellent four full days of fun and frolic.
Lots of calories. Lots of calories.
But all good things come back to reality, at some point.
Tomorrow morning we have to get up and get out of here, but wow, it has been grand.
This is the view -- a part of it, from here on the 27th floor of The Hilton in Toronto, just across from The Sheraton, yonder. Definitely this must remain an annual event in my calendar. So relaxing.
One thing different than other times I have taken a week off, I did not get a lot of reading done.
Hope you have all had a nice first day of spring. Will this winter ever finally now end?
I had breakfast today at a favourite Toronto restaurant called Fran's, across from Massey Hall. There was a countdown on a screen, heralding the arrival of spring, and I had my face half-buried in a 3-egg-omelette when the waiter came around and announced that it was officially spring. Which was at one o'clock.
Gives you an idea of when I woke up, in the first place. Ahhh, holidays!
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Splash du Jour: Monday

Life is difficult.
This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult -- once we truly understand and accept it -- then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.
-- M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled --

Have a great Monday!

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Let The Good Times Commence...

Friends, I've been waiting for this day to roll around ever since… well, ever since I got back from my last vacation in January. This time I won't be anywhere as tropical as Mexico, though. More like in the heart of Canada's biggest city, for my annual Drink Much Beer in Toronto© Week. The weather will not be nearly as warm as I'd like it to be, but who cares, I'll be full of anti-freeze!
And most importantly, NOT WORKING! Ya gotta just love it.
Day after day of lazing about, eating too much, the aforementioned imbibing of inebriates, sleeping-in until whenever -- oh yeah, and reading. I'll also drop in to my favourite bookstore just off of Yonge Street to nab a few gems -- as if I need yet more books! And I'm leaving right now for the first leg of it all, so I just wanted to drop in to say au revoir. At some point I will log in here to post some pics from my temporary lodgings at The Hilton. 
Have a great week, y'all.
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Roger's Version

John Updike is one of those authors who, when I read them, I find myself asking the question, "Dudes. Have your children read this?" Another John comes to mind… last name, Irving. These writers seem to be fearless regarding whichever reader's  sensitivities they may be over-activating. 
And I, for one, admire this.
Here in Roger's Version, published in 1986, Updike is true to form, every character having their demons loosened and running amok, it seems.
In this one, there is an added emphasis on that word "seems" though, because it's written in first-person by what can only be concluded to be a very unreliable narrator, a professor of church history, named Roger Lambert. The majority of the book is an account of stuff he cannot possibly know, for the most part.
You could say that the entire thing revolves around an imagined affair that his wife Esther is having with a young computer whiz kid -- a university student who approaches Roger hoping he can influence the tenured prof into negotiating a grant for him to fund a project wherein he is attempting to prove the existence of God.
Dale, the wannabe theological wunderkind, succeeds in getting the grant -- but at the expense of coming to loggerheads with Professor Lambert concerning the very goal of the project. Roger does not agree that the existence of God should become a proven fact. The reader begins to realize that Lambert's going-to-bat [as it were] for Dale, is a veiled desire to see the kid fail. And meanwhile, Roger concocts an elaborate and detailed affair between Dale and Esther. We are never sure if anything is really taking place as Roger imagines it to be. In a sense, everything within the book is Roger's "version" of it.
Even when he himself develops a lust-filled attraction to his highly promiscuous runaway niece, Verna. She is a mere 19 turning 20. This is the second inner stream of the story. Again, we are never really sure if we are getting an accurate record of what takes place. But if we are, then Roger is entertaining a roomful of demons moreso than everyone else combined, as they are, in his over-active imagination.
It is a well-written, well-conceived book.
I only wish I had read it earlier. As in, 26 years ago, when it was hot off the presses and I myself [in 1987] was entering a four-year course in theology. In and around the blatantly described sex scenes [imagined or not] the book raises a myriad of relevant questions about not only the existence of God, but existence itself. Reading it back then may have helped influence some of my own thoughts on these issues while I wrestled them to the ground for the next two decades. 
Then again, I still wrestle them today.
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.
-- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables --

Have a great Friday!
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Splash du Jour: Thursday

Writing criticism is to writing fiction and poetry as hugging the shore is to sailing in the open sea.
-- John Updike --

Have a great Thursday!
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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Dave Letterman's

Top 10 Questions on the Easier SAT

10. A meatloaf is a loaf comprised of what?

9. What time is it? (You may use your watch)

8. Where you at dawg?

7. What city is not the capital of Kentucky?

6. Belch the alphabet -- check this box when finished [  ]

5. Is your name Duane?

4. Complete this People Magazine crossword puzzle.

3. Spell SAT.

2. Write anything in this blank: ________.

1. Using both hands and this map, find your ass.

Have a great Wednesday!

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Have a great Tuesday!

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Splash du Jour: Monday

If our brains were simple enough to be understood, we wouldn't be smart enough to understand them.
-- Anonymous --

Have a great Monday!
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The Power of Place

I hate filling out forms, of any kind. Absolutely hate it.
Recently, I had to fill out some rather lengthy forms for a top-level security clearance, for where I work. The thing had to be sent in to the government, and it has to be renewed every decade. I just handed the new one in, last week. Thankfully, this time around they sent along a transcript of my previous application, so I could just transcribe most of it onto the new one. But I noticed, from looking through the old one -- how many different places I had lived, on my way to here. Last time around, I had to do some research to recall all of my former addresses.
But this time?
Nope.
Just the one place.
Here.
Some people need a house. A backyard. A lawn to mow. Trees to trim. Eaves to un-clutter. A fence to keep re-staining. Etc.
I don't.
When my toilet malfunctions, I just make a phone call, and when I get home from work, a new toilet is there, and stuff. A handyman, I am NOT.
It's like living in a hotel.
When my stove decided it was time to die, next day I had a new one.
Do I scrape ice off my car in the morning ever? No -- it sleeps in an underground heated garage.
Just today, a friend said to me, "I'm re-evaluating all sorts of things right now so I tend to feel most people should too, I suppose.  If you're comfortable, content... dare I say happy, then you are exactly where you should be."
Often when people say this kind of thing, they are not speaking of just "location". 
I understand that.
But tonight I am thinking of "location". Narrowing it down to that.
I'm not an adventurous person, really. I do not need "change" a lot. Fact is, I hate change -- even more than filling out forms!
Prior to living right here, in this particular downtown apartment, I lived in a large house, with a couple of great room-mates. Upstairs, downstairs, backyard, deck, fireplace. And they were great people to live with.
But then one of them got married, and we sort of… disbanded.
I drove around randomly in my car, looking for a new place to live, on my own.
As I drove through the downtown, I found myself pulling in to the parking lot of what I considered to be the ultimate SUPREME-O place I would like to live. And I rang up the superintendent. He told me that none of the apartments were available at the time, but he took down my name and number and said he would call if anything turned up.
I had little time to wait. My pal was getting married and all.
But I'll never forget when I got the call on my work cell-phone. Someone wanted out of their lease, right here in my preferred building. I immediately said, "I'll be right there!"
An hour later I walked into the elevator with him, and I remember thinking "Oh my God, I hope he presses the number to the top floor."
He did.
We exited the elevator.
And I remember then thinking, "Holy cripes! I hope he walks to one of the corner units."
And he did.
The place was still furnished, the previous tenant not at all out yet.
The entire front of it was window, looking out onto the city, from the top [14th, in actuality, the 13th, due to superstition] floor. Massive full-length balcony.
I tried to mask my excitement with a mild, "Yes, this might do the trick."
But I must admit, inside I felt as though I had hit the jackpot. I remember thinking, "Hell, I wish ALL my friends would get married!" [And they pretty much did!]
I had moments of doubt, after signing the agreement and prior to moving in.  
Would I really be able to live in such a small space? It's only a one-bedroom place.
Now, more than 17 years later, I am not wondering anything.
The question does arise, though:
Will I live here until I cease to….. live, anywhere?
My answer to my friend's question today is, "Well, I think I happily, could."
I'm "happy".  
Still.
I'm exactly where I should be.
And I think that is a powerful thing to be able to say.
There is a book by Winifred Gallagher, called The Power of Place -- and I've always wanted to read it. But I haven't done so, yet.
Maybe I will yet do so, one day.
Nestled here, on top of the city. Cat purring, yonder. 
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see.
-- Arthur Schopenhauer --

Have a great Friday!
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Splash du Jour: Thursday

The brain is wider than the sky
For, put them side by side
The one the other will contain
With ease, and you beside.
-- Emily Dickinson --

Have a great Thursday!
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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

When I was a young man, I was hurt by criticism. Now, when I am melancholy, I reread unpleasant words written about my work and am immediately cheered up. I tell my colleagues, "Always remember, there is no city in the world which has erected a statue to a critic."
-- From The Silence, a short story by Julian Barnes --

Have a great Tuesday!
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The Lemon Table

Lately I've had a bit of a renewal of interest in short stories. 
For the most part, I prefer novels. But just tonight I finished The Lemon Table by Julian Barnes -- a collection of eleven short stories, published in 2004.
Barnes writes with great wisdom and wit, and this is the third book of his I have read. I've never been disappointed with him. He's the caliber of writer I've learned to trust with my time. 
Know what I mean?
If not, indulge me while I explain such a statement.
Some writers have a natural gift of hmm… knowledge of the human condition. Honesty in expression. They are able to look fearlessly at despair and write about it without forgetting that humor yet has a part to play in the telling. Despair? Who wants to read about that? 
Well -- in the hands of an author like Julian Barnes -- I do.
In one way or another, each of these stories is an examination of our own mortality -- of course, as experienced in the characters. Yet, at no point did I find the book to be depressing. These stories, in their various scenarios, deal with loss, regret, descent into dementia and incontinence, loves realized too late in life, separation, problems in communication, selfishness.
Here's an example of the beginning of one of the stories:
He has his good days. Of course, he has his bad days, too, but let's not think about them for the moment.
And yet, Barnes goes on to think about those bad days quite a bit.
I'm making it sound so dismal -- the opposite of my intention.
If you are the type of person that cannot for more than a minute fathom the fact that one day a eulogy will be spoken about you while you are the only one in the room not hearing it -- then yeah, this book may not be your cup of tea.
For me, though, it served to help me realize that there is yet [knock wood and watch for buses] time to alter, in a positive way, what might be said about me that inevitable day.
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

A book has got smell. A new book smells great. An old book smells even better. An old book smells like ancient Egypt.
-- Ray Bradbury --

Have a great Monday!
*****

The World: Pre-Vowels

The World: Pre-Vowels

Jm Stgsrs stumbled on the horizontal tree, knocked over last night by Tm Rx.
"Mthr f gd" he roared, falling to his front two knees.
What?
Dinosaurs do not have names? Who is writing this? You?
Whip out your iPhone and rip off a shot of a pre-human ape laughing, three trees over. It would go viral on YouTube. And do it quick, because already, Jm has moved on, banging the side of a cave entrance with his nose-horn. Diverting pain a prehistoric concept, as viable then, as now.
The ensuing racket awakened the tiger within. Again, what's with the dental problems?
Yawning until both hemispheres of her head nearly snapped apart, Srh leaned against her mailbox, a paw to her muzzle. "Jm! t's Sndy! Lng wknd! M hsbnd's stll slpng!"
And with this, she coughed into a blackened sky, falling down.
  
Last night there was a party. Look at the dusty beer bottles strewn about if you doubt it. A rumour was making the rounds. An entirely new geological age was about to commence. A prophet had predicted that when the Great Glacier made it past Pleistocene Point [known then as Plstcn Pnt] new cranial developments would render current understandings obsolete. 
"...bslt", the prophet intoned.
The chunk of ice rounded the foretold corner, just shy of midnight.
Every beast, nodding, thought it a reason to celebrate.
Wine flowed, among the ladies. The boys were cracking open beer caps with their eye sockets. Popping them off horns and backplates.
And then the meteorite struck.
At one point Jm, on the last night of the then-known world, climbed onto a picnic table, shouting many vowelless profanities, with joy in his heart.
But this morning he stumbled, and was the penultimate one to die.
Srh, the next to succumb.
Only the ape and his girlfriend, clinging to a branch, stuffing leaves before their noses and scrambling for cover, survived.
None of this was mentioned later, in the Bible or elsewhere.
But then again, who is writing this? You?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --
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