throwaway

(a) How and Why, Day by Day
(b) Sharing Joy with Seventeeners
(c) Were it Not for the Horse

(a) How and Why, Day by Day
I
Don’t think
I could write
A story worth
Sharing with readers
As patient and thoughtful
As you, and I worry my chance
To lean on you will soon expire and
I will be berift, all alone without
Either fear or favor and must face
Each day as if I were without
A sun or more likely the
Sun became two or three
Flickering in the
Sky and I must
Choose which one
Without
You

(b) Sharing Joy with Seventeeners

Franz
Kafka
awoke with
the morning sun
and rubbing his eyes
and slipping out of his
pajamas, shaking his six legs
and flexed his new wings for he was
Seventeen years awaiting this day
And there wasn’t a moment to lose: craaaaaak!
For my part my day began later:
I had rubbed water on my hair
Dripped water drops to my eyes
That had given me pause;
Off to the grocer.
Franz and cohort
Rubbed wings and
Loudly
Craaaaaaaak!

(c) Were it Not for the Horse

Throw
Away
Like most of
Ulysses is
A trumpet sounding
That most of human speech
Is cycling through, confounding,
Obstreperous that ingrates
Some of speeching without giving
Any benefit to common people;
Throwaway the horse is a dodge at
The people that transfer money
From the poorest to the rich;
Gambling, any gambling,
Is a transfer from
Poor to the rich
Were it not
For the
Horse.

For you who don’t read Joyce, Throwaway, the horse that won the Gold Cup that day, is my favorite, and the only one that had drawn my attention. Bloomsday is Wednesday and the sketch today is of Throwaway. Thank you for following along.

from Ulysses

what about bloomsday?

What about bloomsday?

I am a sometimes observer of bloomsday and I can often, after Easter, plow my way through much of James Joyce’s Ulysses. I found last year that I am not a faithful reader and I read faster than I understand and so last year I found surprising meaning is much I have skimmed before. This year I had thought to make a good-faith effort – conscious exertion of power – but (1) I became entrapped in this caring bridge commitment where the mental energy consumed every day leaves little left over, and (2) while I claim my reading is much better I realize my reading has shifted and I feel that while I have gained expression I have lost other talents in exchange. Bloomsday 2021 is Wednesday I hope to have something bloom’s-like in these journals, I am taking (making?) something of a hedge today: my picture of today is of a pub in Dublin at Temple Bar. Ulysses opens with a focus on Buck Mulligan and I have never taken the time to track that character down. I learned recently that Oliver St. John Gogarty (the cast of Buck Mulligan) has a real identity. He (Oliver St. John Gogarty) lived a long full life independent of James Joyce’s caricature of him, and I wonder how my father and my grandfather came to have that name: Oliver (and I wonder how many of my readers know my middle name is Oliver to). Oliver St. John Gogarty had many talents and wrote poetry, including a book “Elbow Room”; can someone tell me is there a Elbow Room (along Ellsworth near the rail/bus line?) in Pittsburgh?

a poet: “elbow room”?

North Hero

roadside shop in Vermont not far from the border

It may rain again here today; it rained yesterday and the rain caught me off guard. There were periods of heavy rain as we drove back from Vermont on Tuesday. Is is a curious thing rain. The sketch today is a general story where we stopped in Vermont in Lake Champlain.

20210610 eating food

At roadside Vermont “Sugar and Spice” US 4 north of Rutland south of Killington Mendon township at former home of Genenal Edward Hastings Ripley; good food; pleasant service; wait-staff wearing masks as of 8 June; menu features the “General Ripley” pancakes and poached eggs; behind the parking lot lies the resting place of General Ripley’s horse Old John.

dedication of roadside historical marker 2016

what is life like? what is it like making friends?

(1) a program
(2) step by step
(3) no advancement to the head of the class
(4) a gate
(5) envisioning the future
(6) moving forward, stasis, pause, letting go

I am back from vacation. We had a good time. There was some rain driving home. I have anxiety (unpleasant state of inner turmoil) that my connection with my laptop to a public address was not best hygiene; life goes on; I have much larger fish to fry.

(2) I planned a seven-step program to make use of; I was bogged down and planned poorly; and I forgot to bring my mouse; I didn’t want to buy/get a substitute; some of my bad habits interfered with my train-of-thought; what I planned step-by-step is not (is not step-by-step).

(3) As a result there is for me no advancement to the head of the class (and for you these notes will continue in a scattered fashion).

(4) A gate at the question how is life: What is life like? What is it like to make friends? I understand some of you haven’t met me; some of you knew me long ago; I have been posting journal entries for seven (?) weeks and it still seems fresh to me. For three years I didn’t have anywhere near my current capacity for speech, or memory, or understanding, or ability to express. Thank you for following along. Making friends has never been my “go to” strength and I have much of my life let sleeping dogs lie. These last five days have been days of reflection (but not quite maturation, not quite the process of becoming mature). I had great expectations but spent too much time walking in the woods (and I did almost no reading save for maps and map-like promotions). And, in a pivot back to my intended question. How Is Life? Life is like a multi-petaled flower that unfolds with the rising of the sun. Making friends has much the same character, and for many years I have left the field that is friends lay fallow. I am not sure what comes next; thank you for following along.

(5) Envisioning the future: I don’t remember whether I have expressed it here but I have anxiety about chaining thought from one day to the next; whether memory is (or my memory is) a chain of memories formed in the past that carry forward, or memory is an artifact who’s defining attibute is not found but is “lost”.

6) I suspect you can find me here tomorrow; but I cannot foretell whether my tomorrow will be moving forward, or stasis, or pause, or letting go?

who’s woods these are


How much do I use a car? Well that varies with the doctor (and with the physical condition of course.) On Saturday and Monday I did too much walking: on Saturday walking up the Bolton Valley ski slope trying to get to the top and I spent about ninety minutes going up and about one-hundred minutes coming down which surprised me, even startled me and gave me pause. Yesterday I found a map or pamphlet with Long Trail marking near our lodging so I set out to find it or them but not before searching for and getting advice. There were more bugs than before and I moderated my up-down and finished sooner but not attaining my goal (and I have bug bites.) Somewhere during the day I found notice of Robert Frost and thought of walking in snowy woods with my brother-in-law more than twenty years ago. He could recite the last four lines of Frost’s poem (and I couldn’t). Last night playing suggestions from the world-wide-web I heard a talker wondering what happened the idea of remembering poems. He seemed to thing that idea is gone, gone, and it’s never coming back. My brother-in-law can recite as many grateful dead lyrics as anyone I know.

remembering dante

20210607 monday
using a computer as a crutch
who is the guy who invented the world-wide-web? I don’t remember lee neilson of bookers-lee? I will get back to you on that? what did he invent the world-wide-web for? What was the hope for “personal” computers? How can I use a personal computer to satisfy my needs and guide me away from zuttenburgs’ traps? (it is too late? abandon all hope ye who enter here?) Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate I cannot maintain focus: in the span of three minutes I have looked for – and found – the original by Dante of something that was “in my brain” but I “didn’t remember” and now “have de-cluttered” and taken me off of my path? Resolved this morning 20210607: abandon all hope for using a computer, and use pen and notebook for organizing thought, and transcribe notebook scribbing to proper “poems” only after review and evaluation (throwing away most) and only convert with a personal “computer” something that can stand strict scuteny of ten minutes from now, or tomorrow. Pricked this day on my finger 20210607?

20210607 bolton valley

near smugglers notch

what does it mean to say: “I didn’t bring a mouse”? Let me see if I can find out. It is maddening. Many of the most basic actions are “not remembered” without a mouse. I when hiking on a “mountain” for lack of a mouse. Or, more tellingly, the mouse actions that I depend upon are not automatic: I have to recover my mind memory to recreate the actions that are automatic with the use of a mouse. (and don’t think I am to cheap to my a loaner mouse from the from desk of from my wife . . . (1) mice are intensely personal and shifting to another mouse design may unravel weeks of “memory” although that feels like a miss-use if that word, and (2) imagine, if you will, how disruptive it might be for me to go into a Vermont store and try to find something like a mouse. There is a deli at Bolton Valley that is in the midst of restocking after change of ownership and so I went in to check if they stock Ben & Jerry’s? They do – of course – at 3:45, just before closing time, but they didn’t have it at 9am when my wife got a french pastry and waffle and the waffle maker had to go to the pantry reserve for maple reserve: it Vermont maple syrup is kept in kegs and was still in the storehouse for re-design new ownership and take some muscling to get to the front counter and mounted with a spigot. This may seem like a minor distraction but think of it my perspective: there may be a walmart in Rutland, Vermont but we were an hour away and I am typing away without a mouse.

20210605 in vermont

mansfield mountain (or maybe obverse)

20210605 saturday
Remembering vacations – – – how do we use vacations? – – – how do I use vacations? – – – is there an ebb and flow? – – – do I sleep late or do I get up early? – – – do I take advantage of my surroundings or do I let my brain releive herself from overwork and too much challenge? – – – Too much challenge is a good place to start: what is too much challange and how can I (1) chain accomplishments from one day to another, (2) memorialize events that are worthy of memorial and discard what is fluff, and (3) what is the nature, content, and meaning of fluff. This is not a very good beginning (foot-note). How might I memorialize mental value and sleep? I think lots of waken life is miss-guided and put to poor use; how much of sleep in ineffective? If I slept better would my waken life be better, or worse, or notably different? If I slept worse would I (or those in my life) know or care? Who is to say what of woken life is miss-guided? I don’t think that is an idle question? And it is a question fraught with difficult and should perhaps be set aside for the moment. If I back up: How might I memorial mental value? That is something of a trick question, isn’t it? Isn’t “mental value” void, expressly void of value? I think I need to think on that, I think I think a think a thing.

(1) fluff and its content
5 hours 13 minutes remaining
3 hours 59 minutes remaining (70%)
3 hours 42 minutes remaining (62%)
2 hours 55 minutes remaining (57%)
using a computer as a crutch
how do words work and how can I use them to my benefit and to my advantage?
what do I want do accomplish these days for my benefit?
can I leverage my readers to attain my goals?
what does it mean to say: “I didn’t bring a mouse”? Let me see if I can find out
More pressing: that steps required to “send”
hang on and thank you
skipping pictures or not (they are a crutch, can I leave them aside? can I use them to my advantage? tacos dinner?)

there are towns all over the nation but …

please tell my if you’ve been to Oblong (or can tell of knowing)

there are cities all over the nation but . . .
. . . but I have my standards and my reputation to maintain (and I don’t want to call out residents of Oblong; (my difficultly in processing visual information is not aimed at them (when I talk of “my standards” and “my reputation” I hope most of you remember I don’t have “standards”; I don’t have “reputation” (and my memory has entered a mode that I don’t quite understand but suspect the most rebutable doctors will have a diagnosis (and a prescripition; (and part of the reason I dig these rabbit holes is to delay taking my morning pills (and is in no way to be taken personally by fans or residents of Oblong (or Illinois))))))). My sketch of Oblong is not the sketch I am most proud of; (I have only driven I-90 back and forth to Nebraska; (and I like Nebraska; (and I like Iowa; (I say I like them only by comparison to Chicago; (there is a huge hole (gravel?) just west of Chicago that I should make a sketch of ))))). Thank you for following along; please add a comment as you wish.

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