2024.08
Morning journal posts from August 2024
BOP
2024.08.20
2024.08.20
Good morning that wonderful way.
Abe barks at eagles in the sky.
Feel that ought to be the whole entry.
A cryptic one liner masked in direct observation.
But he really does.
Birds of prey go away?
Or a hello?
There's a little growl to it. Maybe he doesn't want them chasing his fun away or eating his fun.
All the small woodland creatures Abe chases are food for the Great Plucker Uppers of the sky, also known as: Birds of Prey.
Wonder if birders call them BOPs.
If I were a birder, I'd most definitely call them BOPs.
Another BOP in the sky.
Oh, what kind of BOP?
(I'd use the word BOP as often as I could, if I were a birder.)
There's a name for birders, a scientifically important sounding one. Maybe something with the aviary prefix to it. I'll look it up later.
An Ornithologist is the professional name.
Lots of other fun slang versions... search, if you'd like.
Sometimes he barks at the sky for no apparent reason.
I, too, can spot a BOP high up as a BOP can go.
But what about birder dogs? How high can they see?
Perhaps it's a satellite.
Now that's a good start to a story, a dog that can spot satellites in the sky.
That raises a lot of questions.
Any time you can start a story with a dog, or a cat, you should. You're guaranteed a reader for at least a few more paragraphs.
So, Abe the Dog
(I'll specify in case you're not familiar with the site and don't know. Abe is the hound I rescued from Texas. Longview, Texas ironically. Which ironically, ironically fits with the blog. Which, if you read you already know, and have no purpose for reading this parenthetical. Which, I not ironically, most unfortunately, should have mentioned in the first sentence of it. Precious time presses for time! Onto the next!)
How to bring this entry around to make some profound poetical insight into the world?
Something about friends sometimes being able to see what we can't?
Something about the soul matched with the knowledge of dogs and cats and why would they ever choose to come live with us?
That's another route to take towards purpose: Talk about, what we've so sonorously unfortunately started calling 'fur-babies'.
The Institution of Fur Babies.
(Probably the Title) ^
That's a great saying: "The lunatics are running the asylum."
It means: Watch the nightly news after you've looked up synonyms for birders.
Synonyms for Birders
(Another good title.) ^
"He's not really saying much this entry, but I keep reading. Not quite sure why. It's not the pictures. That's just a quick scroll to see fur babies."
I ought to say something to help your day.
Perhaps I'll just work here in the sanctuary of pretty prose and keep it to myself.
Pregnant potential! That's a way to end. A Great Phrase.
Or I'll just leave it open for you to infer what it all means.
Afterall the best way to say something, sometimes, is to say
Nothing at all.
(A much better title) ^
+he Ghos+
Wynn
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 💇haircut
Dog's Got to be Fed Moment
2024.08.06
2024.08.06
Good morning, that wonderful way.
And here we are again. Angels in the outfield and sup on the table gonna write this long long fable.
Light spring rain in the summertime ain't no reason ain't no rhyme.
Though, maybe it's time for some rhyme.
All the following post pics are courtesy of MS. Copilot, 2024. Hairy Doggish Puns courtesy of The Author.
There's Abe again, talking about Abe, that babe that dog on the loveseat while the birds go cheep cheep cheap there's a sale at some store somewhere, setting up the displays for market days in some small town, doin its best to impersonate the big town blockbusters, all in a fluster how do you set this sign straight, where best to put it to get the most attention?
Sleep came and went.
Long hard easy on the eyes sleep.
Dreams for supper time.
Schemes for other rhymes.
The words...
I wrote months ago on that violinist who wakes and waxes her bow and strums the strings with no intent other than to hear the potential of music, just to hear the notes.
And here I am with words for notes, tip tap typing my delight to set them down, set them right.
Writing something to you.
What would I say to you today but good morning and take it from there?
There are checklists, itineraries made days earlier, agreed upon ways to enjoy this day.
But that was yesterday.
What's today want to do?
Perhaps some coffee and smiles at sunrise will disagree.
Perhaps there's just you and me.
Perhaps it's only pressing down keys all day to see where they take you.
Perhaps the day is full of perhaps.
Perhaps Summer is the full stretch for the Sun and the Fall is a letting go.
You got to let go to drop down.
Each leaf is dressed in its Sunday best to return to the floor of the church called Mother Earth.
We all share a church called life; walls made of time to bust out our rhymes.
There he goes again bringing up the divine again.
Yesterday went well.
Frustrated in the vacuum I live in, but small accomplishments for a greater goal were made.
So call it a good day.
I don't know that each day will make it to the blog, each entry I mean.
Sometimes the words are just words, just a soothing serum to set me right by writing.
Words pressed, a lot of pressing to punch out some stability of breath to see the next moment through.
The dog's got to be fed moments.
The words ought to be read moments.
It used to be I'd tell you I'm always doing two things, writing or not writing.
Used to be I'd tell you the same thing right now.
So, I do.
Time for a bit of not writing.
Think I'll do an afternoon, too.
+he Ghos+
~ Wynn ~