Please Remind Me?

I have a confession to make.
I have made it before, at various and sundry times, on this blog.
→ I love children’s books.
I do.
I don’t read them enough, I really don’t.
I get too weighed down by being an adult, and just focusing on adulterish books.
I am not sure if that is the right word, but you know what I mean, right? I should clarify that when I say “children’s” books I most often mean those books that have a sort of universal appeal, to young and old alike.
Books like The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, or, The Wind In The Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, along with the follow-up sequels, written by William Horwood.
I LOVE these!
And sometimes yes, I read the big huge total flat-out KIDS' books!

So, this confession brings me to yet another confession.
I have had a few certain books on my shelf for eons of time, and for some reason I just have not read them yet. As in, ever! The guilt of neglect is killing me.
One is called The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
Is there even a need to provide a synopsis of the thing here?
I mean, 98% of you people hearing my confession have read the book! I could read it in the space of a coffee or two! So why haven’t I done it?
It is a mystery to me!
Secondly, Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.
I have the most gorgeous Folio edition books, in a slipcase.
← These are the very ones, here!
With the original John Tenniel illustrations.
What is WRONG with me?
Please…. will someone out there remind me from time to time that these classics are not meant to sit on a shelf, unread?
Before I die of old age, remind me?

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Splash du Jour: Friday

I think it's wrong that only one company makes the game Monopoly.
-- Steven Wright –

Have a great Friday!

Starbucks Loves Me

You know that Starbucks loves you when…. when you get free stuff in the mail, and you did not ever ask for it!
← See this bag of coffee here?
When I got home from work today, there in my mailbox was a little brown package.
Hmmm….
I looked at the return address. STARBUCKS?
I didn’t order anything from Starbucks.
I almost tore the thing open in the elevator on the way up to Bookpuddle Headquarters© , so intrigued was I.
Inside was a half pound of Guatemala Antigua coffee, in whole-bean format.
And a lovely card, which read:

SURPRISE – AND HAPPY SECOND ANNIVERSARY!
This gift marks the second anniversary of your Starbucks Duetto Card.
Because your enthusiasm and support mean so much to us,
we just had to say, “Thanks.”

Then there was this pile of descriptive information about this particular style of coffee, and then a bunch more stuff about how much of an awesome person I am, basically.
It gets pretty mushy, so I am going to leave those parts out. It’s between me and…. the God of Starbucks! Sacred stuff!
But at first, I must admit… it freaked me out, reading about the “Second Anniversary” and all. Because see, it was just recently my second BLOGIVERSARY, and my first thoughts were…. “How did they know?”

I just thought that this was a real classy thing to do.
Would Tim Horton’s do this? COME ON! Be serious!
Only Starbucks© is this wonderfully importunate about promoting coffee-addiction!
And so once again… I declare Starbucks to be the world’s best coffee, and also the world’s most friendliest and thoughtful ummm…. coffee magnate! May they continue to monopolize the entire surface of the earth with their inviting green signs…. the siren calling us hither!

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Splash du Jour: Thursday

I was at this restaurant. The sign said "Breakfast Anytime."
So I ordered French Toast in the Renaissance.
-- Steven Wright –

Have a great Thursday!

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

I was at this casino minding my own business, and this guy came up to me and said, "Hey, buddy. You're gonna have to move, you're blocking a fire exit."
As though if there was a fire, I wasn't gonna run. If you're flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.

-- Mitch Hedberg –

Have a great Wednesday!

Out of The Silent Planet

My reading partner and I have just finished reading our 128th book together, C.S. Lewis’s [1956] novel, Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold.
My next little literary project will be to write a review of this excellent book, which I have now read for the third time. We both enjoyed it.
It continues to provoke much discussion fodder.
We’ve since moved onto something more modern [yet set a half-century ago], The Night Watch by Sarah Waters.
It's a dandy! Meanwhile, I have been trying to hornswaggle [← is that a word?] her into committing to read C.S. Lewis’s science-fiction trilogy with me.
So far, no success.
I can’t help it though. I love C.S. Lewis.
And of the trilogy, I think the first one, Out Of The Silent Planet is the best!

This is the great lay-theologian's foray into sci-fi, first published in 1938.
I mention that date, because this book does not resemble much current "science fiction." It's definitely fiction... but not very scientific.
For instance, Lewis avoids explaining any technical problems in how these characters actually leave Earth's atmosphere (or return). What is the source of propulsion? Nowadays, a 7-year-old reader would get bogged down in the first few pages, realizing that everyone would be burnt to a crisp in the homemade space-contraption Lewis blithely hurtles them off in.
That being said... the book is still a gem.

It begins with Dr. Elwin Ransom (a middle-aged Philologist from Cambridge University) being kidnapped by two men, Dick Devine and Dr. Weston, the latter being a mad physicist who wants to extend humanity to other planets.
At first, Ransom is excited with this journey to Malacandra (Mars)... until he overhears that he is going to be offered as a sacrifice to the space-creatures called "sorns."
Devine and Weston have been to Malacandra before, and have convinced themselves that a human sacrifice is recquired by the sorns, in return for the right to exploit the planet's gold deposits.
Upon arrival, Ransom escapes, beginning a conflict that lasts the length of the book and extends to its sequel "Perelandra."
In Silent Planet, Lewis explores many deep themes... the primary one being that, if there is life on another planet, there is no need for us to assume that it is in a "fallen" state, or filled with wickedness, or in need of redemption, as our own is.
If we reached other planets we might find a race which was, like us, rational, but, unlike us, innocent → i.e., having no wars in their history, nor any other wickedness among them.
If this were so, we would have much to learn from such creatures, and have nothing to teach them. But, because of our own "bentness" we would probably find some reason for exterminating them.
This is what happens here in Out Of The Silent Planet.

Lewis was inspired to write this book after finding that many of his own students held to beliefs in interplanetary colonization and the scientific hope of defeating physical death. Out Of The Silent Planet is an attack on the belief that the supreme moral end of mankind is the perpetuation of our own species.
The book is so rich in invention, so broad in scope, so sensuously perceptive in descriptive detail that, after reading it, it's difficult to view the Cosmos through any but Lewis' eyes. Seriously, after my first reading, I walked outside and looked up into the night sky and wondered... "What if?"

I encourage you to try and get your reading partner to read it along with you!
If you succeed, please let me know which bribery tactics worked best!

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

An escalator can never break.
It can only become stairs.
You would never see an "Escalator temporarily out of order" sign, just "Escalator temporarily stairs. Sorry for the convenience."
-- Mitch Hedberg –

Have a great Tuesday!

Splash du Jour: Monday

Well friends, today is the 2nd Blogiversary of Bookpuddle!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
Two years of bloggitry.
Has it really been that long?
Wow! It seems like just yesterday I looked over at my roomate [we were living in an old fridge-box under the overpass] and said, “A blog? What’s a BLOG?”
And now look! I’m totally off crack! I have my own apartment, and a cat with severe gastro-intestinal problems [He pukes in my shoes on a daily basis!]
And, perhaps best of all, I’m famous.
I’ve been asked to star in a movie opposite Nicole Kidman! ← Actually that’s not true.
I’ve appeared on Oprah! ← Umm…. not really true.
I’ve been cited by Harold Bloom in his most recent book on….. ← So way not true that the sentence is not worthy of completion.

In all seriousness though, I have posted 965 blogs in this past two years.
I have had 32,300 hits at my site.
These 32,300 hits are all coming from about 15 devoted Puddlers, one of which is me. And my cat!
So to my devotees, The Wonderful Baker’s Dozen©, I thank you all for clicking on Bookpuddle from time to time.
All 13 of you!
If you are here right now, for instance, reading this, I have two final things to say:

1) I like you! 2) Have a great Monday!

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Pferfectly Pforty-Nine

Today She turns a pfabulous, pferfect, pforty-nine!
A pfascinating phenomenon becomes apparent if you do the slightest research on Her. Many many websites, and even one magazine I read, will say that She is turning pfifty!
But no. Do not rush the old Girl.
She’s turning pforty-nine today. Next year, pfifty.
That’s how it works. One year at a time!
Really, it is true. Somewhere, someone [obviously possessed of the Devil] published Michelle’s birthdate as being April 29th, 1957. And the false information has spread far and wide until now there is about an equal amount of places that will tell you She is an entire half-century old.
Trust me on this one, → the year in which She came to earth was 1958.

I should know.
I was once married to her.
But I do not have time really, [today] to get into the reasons that we parted ways. Perhaps one day I will be able to speak of it, but the pain of my loss is still too….pfresh!

I could go on an on about how much I am still in love with Her.
But I won’t.
Suffice it to say, here are two scenes from her work that are especially memorable to me.
Firstly, a scene from The Pfabulous Baker Boys, which TOOK MY BREATH AWAY!
Secondly, a scene from What Lies Beneath, wherein I HELD MY BREATH!
And prayed for Her.

Michelle!
Happy Birthday to you!
Your pface is still as symmetrically pferfect as when I pfirst pfell pfor you!
We all love you Michelle Pfeiffer.
[NOTE: All comments to the contrary will be summarily deleted!]

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Just Listening

I am having one of those mellow Saturdays, where I hit the Jazz folder in my iTunes and sit back and sip coffee... and relax.
Think.
Chill.
Think some more. Fall in love, all over again, with Life© .

I look over at Jack [my cat] and see that he uncannily opens one eye, somehow aware I was asking for his opinion on the subject, and I can see in that moment that he agrees with me.
"Life is pretty damn good," he says with a big yawn.

I'm just listening.
In some way, the quietness of today has made me think of a poem I once wrote.

Just Listening

For hours now, you’ve told me how
your life has been so rough…
And it’s been draining, and maintaining
silence has been tough.

I want to get involved and get it solved
and see you freed…
But I sense my advice, though nice
is not quite what you need.

No, I believe that sharing is repairing
you in a way…
That my words merely, though sincerely
chosen, fail to say.

For sometimes listening is the glistening
thread we can extend…
There love is known, and hurt is sewn
and friend is bound to friend.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

Wishing you all a peaceful, attentive, weekend!
-- Cip

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S.T.A.N.G.

I have always loved the work of Graham Greene, and tonight I was browsing through some old notebooks and spotted a few pages where I had jotted down a few things while reading his 1961 novel, A Burnt-Out Case.
This is my [current] favorite Greene novel. I have not read all of his stuff.
I have a beautiful 1962 hardcover edition.

OK, so this blog will be for only those die-hard lovers of S.T.A.N.G.
[Sentences That Aren’t Not Good!]
In other words, I loved these… I am a lover of simile/metaphor:

At the end a half-sentence had been thrust out into into the void – “I will do anything for you in reason, but don’t ask me to revive…” like a plank from a ship’s deck off which a victim has been thrust. [p.52]

He thought, “I was too late,” and an obsessional phrase bobbed up again, like a cork attached to some invisible fishing-net below the water, “Who cares?” “Who cares?” [p.54]

A small black child hardly more than two feet high walked into the room without knocking, coming in like a scrap of shadow from the noonday glare outside. He was quite naked and his little tassel hung like a bean-pod below the pot-belly. [p.74-75]

The superior opened the door, and there the girl was on the threshold, like someone surprised by a camera in a night-club, looking up at the flash, with an ungainly grimace of pain. [p.78]

Father Jean was tall, pale, and concave with a beard which struggled like an unpruned hedge. [p.88]

“I have heard differently from Deo Gratias,” Father Thomas said, fetching up a smile like a liquorice-stick, dark and sweet and prehensible. [p.98]

The fathers in their white soutanes gathered on the veranda like moths round a treacle jar… [p.100]

His eyes were heavy and bloodshot; he pushed his shoulders forward on either side of his shrunken chest as though they were the corners of a book he was trying to close. [p.109]

The Remington portable had been set up on Father Thomas’s table beside the crucifix. On the other side of the cricifix, like the second thief, the Rolleiflex hung by its strap from a nail. [p.111]

The bed bent below Parkinson’s weight as he shifted his buttocks like sacks. [p.115]

But Rycker was like a wall so plastered over with church announcements that you couldn’t even see the brickwork behind. [p.151]

The whisky was finished and the equatorial sky broke outside the window like something smashed suddenly on the curb of the sky, flowing in a stream of pale green and pale yellow and flamingo pink along the horizon, leaving it afterwards just the plain grey colour of any other Thursday. [p.166]

The thunder came nearer, and then the rain: first, it was like skirmishes rustling furtively among the palm-tree fans, creeping through the grass; then it was the confident tread of a great watery host beating a way from across the river to sweep up the veranda steps. The drums of the lepers were extinguished like flames; even the thunder could be heard only faintly behind the great charge of rain. [p.185]

Somewhere a telephone began to ring – a trivial human sound persisting like an infant’s cry through the rain. [p.185]

He put the receiver down and stood bent like a question-mark over the telephone. [p.187]

Well, if you have read this far, then you officially qualify as a Bookpuddle-Approved Luster of Sentences© .
I have written a brief review of A Burnt-Out Case, HERE.

Cheers!
-- Cip

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Splash du Jour: Friday

If art teaches anything… it is the privateness of the human condition.
Being the most ancient as well as the most literal form of private enterprise, it fosters in a man, knowingly or unwittingly, a sense of his uniqueness, of individuality, of separateness - thus turning him from a social animal to an autonomous "I".
-- Joseph Brodsky, Nobel speech –

Have a great Friday!
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The Atrium

Today I had occasion to work offsite.
In other words, spent the whole day in a building entirely foreign to me.
It was a beautiful, immense place.
So sprawling that the grounds can only be described as a “campus” and the buildings themselves, a “complex".

At lunchtime I wandered up to the fully-staffed cafeteria. There was a great assortment of fresh food to choose from, and a Menu to please just about anyone other than Gandhi! [You gotta admit. That guy was a bit picky!]
There is even a full-out bakery in this place, behind the counter of which, a guy was walking around with one of those big hats on.
Question: Why do bakers even NEED those hats?
Name one thing more superfluous in this world than the big enormous hat of a baker!

So I got some stuff and sat at a far-off table, so as not to be too distracted by all these people congregated in one area, chattering like a herd of chipmunks.
Opened my book.
Munched on my carrot cake and sipped coffee that was profoundly NOT Starbucks.
Afterwards, I got up and walked to the edge of the cafeteria level and looked out over the sprawling atrium of the place. The inner court, down below and up above.
Immense.
I instantly felt quieted. At peace.
There are trees down there, and all manner of [real] plant-life. Flowers. Rocks. A bubbling fountain. Just a real lot of air… empty space. I would not have been surprised to see a monkey swing by on a vine.
Windowed offices towering high on all sides, up, up, up.
And I found myself thinking how fun it would be to have wings.
The atrium achieved what is was DESIGNED to achieve, before my analytical mind kicked in and realized that it had done so.

The atrium is a wonderful phenomenon, I think.
Look at the amount of SPACE that architects are “building” into today’s mega-structures.
It is amazing how much we need, and want to see, and feel → space.

Shopping malls → museums → libraries → galleries → office buildings.
Even some mega-bookstores.
Even the hotel resort I stayed at, in Puerta Vallarta. It had a gorgeous atrium, viewable from all floors. And there, the atrium was even truer to its original definition, being “open-roofed.”
When one considers the cost per square foot of realtor-controlled commercial space, it boggles the mind how impractical the best architects can be!
But it amounts to impractical wizardry.
Because it works.
It amounts to art, because it is embellishment.
Beyond the necessary, yet there.
Like a baker’s big huge, space-filled hat.

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Splash du Jour: Thursday

Have a great Thursday!
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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

“From every book invisible threads reach out to other books; and as the mind comes to use and control those threads the whole panorama of the world’s life, past and present, becomes constantly more varied and interesting, while at the same time the mind’s own powers of reflection and judgment are exercised and strengthened.”
-- Helen E. Haines (1872-1961) –

Have a great Wednesday!
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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

People always think something's all true.
-- Holden Caulfield, ch.2 of Catcher In The Rye –

Have a great Tuesday!

Shakespeare & Jesus

Well, it is wrong to say that Shakespeare is my “favorite” author.
It is much more correct to say that I think he is the “BEST” author ever.
For me to say he is my “favorite”… it just doesn’t seem right.
But he is definitely the Reigning King of my Literary Affections.
Who could ever dethrone him. Come on, now. Who?
Dan Brown?
See?
Exactly!
It’s like saying…… who is going to make a better coffee than Starbucks?
You know?
There are some things, about which, we must forever remain gravely serious.
One of these is coffee.
Is like…. is GOD going to open a coffee place and put Starbucks out of business?
See what I mean? See how quickly the whole argument caves in on itself?
Shakespeare is the best.
And today is his birthday.
So I did a little dance with Jack [my cat], sipped some Shiraz with him over on the couch… then, [while he puked up a wine-soaked hairball into my shoes] I thought I’d saunter over here to the laptop and say a few words about my Willy!

The Bard is 443 years old today.
That’s a bit old.
I remember wandering through Cathedral Grove© , on Vancouver Island once.
Cathedral Grove has these trees in there and they are like [honestly]... almost a millennium old!
You cannot see the tops of them. 'Specially if you forgot your glasses back there in the car. You're not going to even see those tops!
I have hugged some of the elderly trees, while thinking in my mind, “Oh, Tree. You were totally well into being a tree while Shakespeare wrote every one of his plays. I love you, Mr. Tree.”
Call the loony-wagon, I know. [I’ve got the number right here on a fridge-magnet if you need it. And my phone is set on re-dial anyway!]

I’m just telling you stuff.
I don’t ever recall making any sort of promise that it was supposed to "make sense."
Oh… but I did promise once, recently, to be "relevant."
I am still violently breaking that promise, with tonight’s posting.

What can I say?
Cut my Willy in half and count the rings.
443!
That is a LOT!

Here is a poem I once wrote, at least over a decade ago, about Shakespeare:

Shakespeare And Jesus
(A Summary Of Perspective)

Shakespeare said our last scene would be
A type of “second childishness,” senility
Or Futility personified... And to oblivion
“sans everything”
we’d go.

“Not so,”

Said another Man (more distinguished than he)
Who spoke of a “second birth,” immortality
Or Purpose glorified... And of a kingdom
where everything
was so.

Said one, the world’s a stage
On which we slowly die...
And One, the world’s a cage
From which we soon... fly.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

In summation?
I love Shakespeare.
And I love Jesus, too.

No matter what fans of Dan Brown [and their ilk] may say, Shakespeare is still the best author, way better than Jesus, even.
And Jesus is still the best……. Jesus-figure ever!
Way better than Shakespeare!

Cheers!
-- Cip

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Splash du Jour: Monday

"What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief."
-- The Winter's Tale (III, ii, 223-224) --

The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he is really very good - in spite of all the people who say he is very good.
-- Robert Graves (1895 - 1985) --
The Bard turns a ripe 443 years old today! Happy Birthday, William!

Have a great Monday!

Minor Non-Relevance

I know I promised that my next posting would be something relevant about…. BOOKS!
But please.
Forgive me for what I am about to do.
→ Talk about just whatever! ←

Thing is…. I am TOTALLY lazy!
I had the most laziest day ever. It was grand.
I was ensconsed with much coffee at a wonderful Starbucks and I read books, revised some of my own poetry-work, which, by the way, you can READ OVER HERE if you are ever so bored!
I had a great day, really I did.
I was at the Chapters, the very one that you see here in the photo, above.
At one point, I think it was in the nineteenth hour, one of the Chapters-wenches came over to my table in the Starbucks area and said, “You’re still here?”
I replied, “Oh yeah! I’m hardcore!”

I finished the Shakespeare, and opened up C.S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces.
This will be my third reading of this amazing novel, subtitled “A Myth Retold.”
The “myth” being retold is that of Cupid and Psyche.
Here is an early line in the book → I was Orual the eldest daughter of Trom, King of Glome.
I love that! I do.
Do you know that I have FIVE different copies of this book, on my shelf, on my desgnated C.S. Lewis Shelf©?
I am sort of a collector. One of my treasures is a pristine 1956 Geoffrey Bles hardcover edition that I found at an Antiquarian Book Fair.

All these books shown above? That is ALL C.S. Lewis stuff.

Remember Zeus?
The orange cat at Ace High Acres that is determined to eat the young ducklings of The Duckmistress© ?
I cannot resist showing a few shots of today’s attempts:

"ME WANTS DUCKLING!"

"I SAID, ME WANTS DUCKLING!"

[The above footage was sent to me, by a very distraught Duckling that recorded it on her cell-phone, and escaped via a back door in between the repeated attacks.....!]

I promise you.
Tomorrow I will be relevant.
I promise you.
I will be relevant as soon as my brother straightens out.
[He's a hunchback….]

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New Coffeemaker

Yesterday I got a new coffeemaker.
← This one, right here.
It rocks.
My last coffeemaker was faithful. Gotta admit, the thing had some life in it yet.
But it was drooling.
Going senile, basically. Sometimes it wandered. And mumbled. Grabbed the remote and flicked to the Lawrence Welk show!
I was finding little pools of water leaking out of it, onto the countertop. I did not even want to FIND the source. Just kept putting paper towels under the thing.
Confession: In my entire lifetime I have only bought three coffeemakers. First a Melitta© . We had a wonderful relationship, me and my Melitta. Over a decade. All through college, she served me a fine brew.
Then I had a Braun© . We were together for about 12 years. But like I was saying above, the Braun went senile.
Last night, buying groceries at the Supermarket, I was just about to leave the place. Pushing my bachelor-cart stacked high with future microwavable-meals, [and melting fast]….. I yet paused at the home appliances section.
There, a host of coffeemakers showed me their ankle!
Did you know that Betty Crocker© has a coffeemaker?
There was the Black and Decker© . And the Sunbeam© .
And the Braun© . Fancy carafes and all. So many choices.
This one [above] caught my eye. The President’s Choice© brand.
Cheap.
Sexy.
I’m all over it.
Threw one on my cart, atop the mountain of Swanson© products!

And this morning?
OK, I have never made a finer java!
I’m impressed. It has a special feature. If you hit this one button, it will make a more robust brew for just one to four cups.
I love that word.... ROBUST!

OK, I PROMISE, next time I write on this blog I will try and say something about BOOKS, instead of….. PUDDLES….. caused by ancient coffeemakers!
-- Cip!

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