Blog Posts

THE ROAD TO SOMEWHERE

6/6/2020

THE ROAD

I’ve been watching for some time, a leader trash his country. I believe that De La Fontaine was correct when he wrote “We believe no evil until the evil’s done.”
Jean De La Fontaine, Fables. Book 1

HARSH REALITY

“Great men are they who see that the spiritual is stronger than any material force; that thoughts rule the world.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Progress of Culture

Yesterday I watched a Bible being used and abused in front of a church. It made me think of this quote.

“It is hard to think that men could from innocent motives thus punish their fellows, but such is, no doubt, the fact. They were conscientious, and felt that they were doing the righteous service unto the Lord. They believed literally in cutting off right hands and plucking out right eyes. Heaven and hell were alike under their control. They believed that they had the keys, and they lived up to their convictions. They could smile when they heard bones crack in the stocks and saw the maiden’s flesh torn from her bones. It is only the best things that serve the worst perversions. Many pious souls today hate the negro while they think they love the Lord.”
Life and Times of Frederick Douglas, Frederick Douglas

FROM ON HIGH

It helps me feel a little better when I read about all the authors who had to deal with crap-loads of rejection slips before their books were published. Misery loves company.

J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” (1997) was rejected by twelve presses.

The rejection letter for F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” said, ”You’d have a decent book if you’d get rid of that Gatsby character.”

William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” was rejected twenty-one times. One rejection letter read that it was “an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.”

OCEAN, ROCK AND SKY

The book “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” was rejected 121 times.

Stephen King, who had plenty of rejection letters wrote, “—-impale the rejection letter on a spike and keep writing—.”

BRAVERY

And what about editors who will publish your book, but want lots of changes? Editors are extremely important and most published books have had good editors. However, when does a writer risk having an editor force changes which don’t come close to the writer’s vision?

LAUGHING

Or what about when the editors decide how they think the novel could be improved? Then the writer changes the novel to satisfy the publisher and BANG! Incoming rejection letter.

I personally was told by a publisher that my novel was too dark and too angry. I’m thinking that maybe it wasn’t angry enough, but I whitened it up a tad, gave it an anti-depressant and re-wrote it. Didn’t matter. I got the rejection letter.

IS THIS A PAINTING?

Now I just need 121 publishers’ names and addresses so I can receive my allotted number of rejection slips for my new blockbuster “Zen and the Art of Ego Maintenance”.

ABUNDANCE. ALL BY HERSELF

Like everyone else, I’ve been hearing plenty about this virus. Yes sir, we have a tiger by the tail and it ain’t going to be easy to let it go.

LAYERS ON LAYERS

And, not only that, but we have ticked off the environment and it’s, I believe, playing a part in this corona virus saga.

FOLLOW THE FENCE

One of the comments I’ve heard is that this pandemic didn’t have to happen. That if the government and other ruler types had done their job, we wouldn’t be in this lock-down situation.

WOOD DUCK FLOATING ON OUR POND

However, although I’m sad that people are dying, in another way, I think this pandemic had to happen. The human race had to, at some point, take its knee off the environment’s neck and allow it time to clean up and regain its health.

MALLARDS??

I hope when this virus is beaten we don’t, once again, jump full bore into abusing, taking for granted and raping the natural world.

WORTH PROTECTING

An example is the clear-cutting of forests during song bird nesting season. Such a small thing in the overall operation of the universe and yet the corona virus is so tiny it’s invisible to the naked eye. I guess the natural world has some testy little treats who can punch way beyond their weight class.

HIKING BUDDY ENJOYING RED ISLAND BEACH

“Continue to contaminate your own bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.”
Chief Seattle

ON RED ISLAND BEACH

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LINE-UPS

6/5/2020

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BLACK RIVER FEN PRESERVE NEAR INVERNESS

I was sitting on a Baddeck park bench by the Bras D’or Lake shoreline waiting for Blaze’s summer tires to be put on. As I hugged the new deluxe mop that I’d bought for Sue, I couldn’t help but notice how blue the sky looked. I could believe that nature was cleaning itself because we were, for the most part, leaving it alone.

I worry that when the economy gets rolling again, the world will go back to their dirty economical tricks and blind financial dogma and not nuance their way to a solution where we can live with the environment and not against it.

HEADING OUT TO SEA

I’ve been noticing that lining up for entry to stores is a good way to meet people outside my six-foot protection zone. I’ve had quite a few corona chats.

Last week I was lined up at the hardware store. People were coming out of the store loaded with goodies. Some of them had helpers waiting for them outside so they could unload their haul and go inside to get more.

ICE. WATCH YOUR STEP

The lady standing in front of me told me that people were phoning ahead and putting in their orders. The woman then went into the store and came out with pipes and dampers and paint and mysterious gadgets. She unloaded it all on the ground so she could go in and get more.

WALKING TO LINE-UP FREE STORE

The person behind me asked me if I’d ordered ahead. I said no.

Then I said, to all the line-uppers behind me, “All I’m lining up for is to buy this.” I then reached into my pocket and pulled out a very tiny night-light lamp bulb.

The line-uppers did the chuckle wave until it got to the last person in the lineup who was having a getting-into-the-store dream dancing in her head.

SNOW SPIDER

Last Friday it became apparent to me that a person can, over time, build up some rather interesting relationships with servers in different establishments.

For example, every Friday I buy a healthy Iced Cap at a local coffee shop. The staff has got to know me. They’ll often say, “Two Iced Caps, right?” before I even order.

DISAPPOINTED HAWK AFTER MISSING A ROBIN BY A FEATHER

One day I responded with, “Yes, that’s what I want, but maybe, some day, I might want to buy something else.”

The young female server brandished her fist at me and said, “You better not!”

BADDECK HARBOUR CROW

Another day, just before they had decided to close up the inside of the store and resort to drive-through only, I went to grab a straw for my precious Iced Cap and there weren’t any. The manager told me they’d hidden them away because of the virus.

A young server stepped to the counter and said, “Don’t you worry! We’ll look after you!”

COLTS FOOT

Last Friday, after dancing my way through this store and that store and after helping an elderly woman find help to get her keys out of her car, I went through the coffee shop vehicle pick-up.

When I got to the ordering picture place where you can see what you’ve ordered, so you can remember what you’ve ordered, I said, “One Iced Cap please.”

I SEE YOU

The faceless voice replied, “Two Iced Caps.”

I said, “No, just one Iced Cap.”

The faceless voice, who obviously knew me, actually had the gall to question my order.

WOLF WOMAN'S HOUSE AND BARN

She said, “What about your wife?”

Well that shocked me and I quickly replied, “She doesn’t like them as well as I do.”

EIGHT AM BREAKFAST

That’s all I had and I felt rather guilty and sad and derelict in my duties as a good partner. I was torn. One reason I didn’t buy Sue one was because I worry about the residual viruses that might be on the cups. Who knows? More nuance and to be truthful about it, Sue and I often go through the drive-through where I buy two Iced Caps.

GOOSE

Anyway, this faceless voice was defending Sue and as I slowly pulled away from the speaker, I heard her shout into her mouthpiece, “Buy her a donut!”

Am I too sensitive? Who knows?

However, remember I told you, in another blog, that the Co-op doesn’t take our returnable bottles anymore. Well, we’ve made a good thing out of that. We are using the bottles and filling them with clean spring water. It’s probably healthier.

LIGHT IT UP, WOULD YOU?

On Sunday, after we got our spring water, I drove to that coffee shop and went through the drive-through and ordered two Iced Caps. Part of the reason was because I wanted the faceless voice to see that I was a good partner who was buying two Iced Caps.

Alas, she wasn’t there and I’ll have to order two for sure next Friday.

BLACK RIVER FEN PRESERVE

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SMOKING OUT THE VIRUS

21/4/2020

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BADDECK RIVER

Humans are scared. Many are suffering and some even dying. This is tragic and the news never lets us get it out of our minds. And we have to socially isolate on top of this. Parks and trails are closed and we’re all trying not to mentally, physically and socially rust.

MOUNTAIN CORONA VIRUS BURST ASUNDER

So, most of us are staying home. That leads to plenty of folks watching a lot of television. They see commercials like, “Sitting is the new smoking.” What the hell has smoking become? Worry, worry, worry. As if we don’t have enough to chew on.

CORONA VIRUS SLAYER

Meanwhile, nature is relieved. Ecstatic. It’s getting a chance to clean up at this sudden lack of exploitation. It’s as if the world has said, “You go to your room, stuff yourself with visual, virtual, plastic crap, if you really need to, but don’t come out until you’ve cleaned up your mess.”

PESKY

I carry a tape measure. Whenever I meet somebody, I pull it out, extend it to the requisite two metres and then do my dance steps.

It’s tricky, because there are so many different dance steps. Individuals, for example, when they’re attempting to socially distance from others are tripping over themselves as they try to do their avoidance dance in a polite way without appearing as if they’re attempting to avoid you. And what dance is it? The waltz, the mumbo, the klutz, the twist?

SOCIAL DISTANCING FROM BUSTER

I might be doing the mumbo in the Co-op and discover that these dance steps only apply to the liquor store.

Walmart’s dance is smoother, like a waltz. Two steps back and wait while the flow of traffic passes as they follow the %^&* arrows. No reverse.

The scariest place is the drugstore. It’s insides are wrapped in police tape. The steps to their dance are very complicated. I believe it’s a type of voodoo dance. Two steps forward. Three steps to the left. Two steps to the right. Four steps to the counter and doe-se-doe to the corner. One two three, one two three and then run like hell.

MOUNTAIN CORONA VIRUS HOUSE

After each dance, it’s sanitize time. Rub a dub, dub and jump in the tub and then stick a pin into my corona virus doll.

Sometimes Sue, Buster and I come home, start the wood-stove, leave the stove door open and smoke ourselves. We don’t think the virus likes smoke. It’s a theory.

GOLD BROOK KITTY CAT GANG

Another thing. I’ve spent years trying to learn how to properly socialize. Trying to learn how to have proper manners and a cool politeness that adds a syrupy atmosphere to the air around me. A sort of deep-voiced Gregory Peck effect.

“Hi Larry. How are you doing?”

“Good.”

Back step, one, two, three. Stop. Side step off the curve and one, two, three forward. Watch for cars.

WAITING IT OUT

And the plastic screens that protect the servers in the stores distort my vision. It feels like I’m looking through a hockey visor.

Not only that. When I was in the liquor store in Port Hawkesbury, I heard a server ask for an air miles card. I just stood there. I heard it again. I looked at my cashier. She was moving her lips. So, I figured she must’ve wanted my card.

BACK HOME

What happened was that the plastic barrier made it sound like the cashier behind me wanted an air miles card. I’m now surrounded by ventriloquists.

I eventually dug out my air miles card.

“Thank-you,” she said.

“Pretty good,” I replied, as I fingered the tape measure in my left hand pocket.

“Have yourself a nice day, sir.”

“Go Leafs go.”

“Security!”

EXACTLY TWO METRES APART

And I’m now peroxiding every knob I see. And handles, buttons, clamps, tins of food, Buster’s choke chain, Sue’s gorgeous watch, my hands, the bird feeder, the birds, if I can catch them, the tap, bottoms of my boots, the tops of my socks, the hand sanitizer bottles, etc..

PEACEFUL WALK

Now I’ve heard that even Buster is a threat. He has to be sanitized. Really? Is Buster our new unhealthy eating habits?

But, I’m doing good. I feel good. I feel wonderful. I’m baby-stepping. I’m sanitizing.

“How long is this going to last?” I’m asked.

“Pretty good. Go Leafs go.” One, two, three.

Pull out my tape measure. Measure. Measure. Sanitize. Sanitize.

BADDECK RIVER

Gotta go and learn a new dance.

“Line up and stomp your feet.
Move forward, step to the beat.
Shuffle forward, one, two, three.
Not so good, I need to pee.”
Larry Gibbons, The Grocery Store Shuffle

SEE YOU NEXT BLOG

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I FEEL GOOD. I FEEL WONDERFUL.

1/4/2020

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OH NO! A MONSTER VIRUS!

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

MONSTER VIRUS

This positive mantra reminds me of the words in the movie ‘What About Bob?’ Poor Bob Wiley was paranoid about almost everything and he was, in this movie, really funny as he baby- stepped through his scary world.

Lately, I’ve felt that way.

I often use humour to get through rough times. I also can understand that saying ‘I feel good, I feel wonderful’ might not be a bad idea. Because this virus outbreak can wear on a person’s sense of security.

HOME SWEET HOME

Take the post office. I went there to get some stamps. That’s all I wanted. Stamps. Ten of them. A rather mundane request.

I walked into the post office after reading the warning sign, and I heard,

“Have you been out of the country in the last—?” I forget how long it was.

“No.” I started walking towards the counter.

“No! No sir! Go around the other side of the display counters.”

“Yes mam.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’d like ten stamps.”

“Stay there. Don’t get close.”

“Okay, come here and pick up the stamps.” Etc. Etc.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

SOMETHING INTERESTING ON NICHOLSON TRAIL

I went through the Timmy’s drive-through. When I paid, I told her to keep the corona virus change. She looked mystified. I didn’t blame her. I’d used my weird humour.

“You can keep the change because of the virus. It’s a virus tip,” I explained.

She smiled. I think she might have got it. Don’t blame her if she didn’t.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

BELLE COTE BEACH

I sterilized the plastic cup by cleansing it with hydrogen peroxide.

SEAGULLS RELAXING ON BEACH

At the co-op, I went to exchange an empty bottle for a full water bottle.

“We’re not taking exchanges at the moment,” the woman said.

I said. “I guess I’m going to see the empty plastic bottles as big investments for the future.”

She looked at me as she disinfected a bottle of disinfectant.

“In Ontario I turned in a hundred dollars worth of plastic bottles before we took off for Nova Scotia,” I explained.

She thought that was interesting. I’d clarified.

 feel good. I feel wonderful. I baby-stepped.

BELLE COTE BEACH

At the beer store I told the clerks that my hands were going to fall off from all the hand sterilizer stuff I’d been putting on them. Not a glimmer of a ha-ha.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

Oh, and I’ve had to take my ring off. All the virus killer has made it so my ring keeps slipping off my finger. The last time it fell into the bottom of my grocery bag.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

AN INADVERTENT SCULPTURE

The drugstore was a crap show. I asked the woman why were only two people allowed in and why all the police tape and such. Is there some news I haven’t heard about? Ha,ha,ha.

The woman did squeeze out a grin. She was the one who told me to stay where I was and asked me where I thought I was going.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

GOT ME THINKING

A few days ago I woke up with my stomach full of bees when I thought about the world and the virus. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel wonderful.

So, I climbed a mountain. I sat on a log and listened to the absolute silence, except for the wind which had just begun to bring in a snow storm. I did feel good and I did feel wonderful. The silence of the wind, the snow, fresh air, the forest, it couldn’t help but make me feel wonderful.

MOUNTAIN FOREST

And you know what. Remember when I told you that they wouldn’t take my empty water bottle for a deposit. That did, at a later date, make me feel good and wonderful.

You see, I was sitting on the couch drinking tea, eating a tuna sandwich and watching Trudeau trying to do his very difficult job. I didn’t watch the other channel because I can’t stand watching the orange clown bragging about how well he is doing his job. Too not feeling good. Too not feeling wonderful.

Sue was also doing a difficult job. She was wiping water up off the floor. She’d dry it and it would be wet again. She’d dry it some more and it would be wet again. She was definitely not feeling good or wonderful.

ME ON MOUNTAIN BY MY LONESOME

I jumped off the couch and checked out the problem. There was, not far away, the new water bottle that I’d bought that morning. I picked it up. It’s heavy. Water was leaking out of a crack at the bottom of the bottle.

Guess what? I had an empty bottle to empty the water into because the store had refused to take it because of the corona virus. Wasn’t that handy? Wasn’t that good and wonderful and coincidental?

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

Hopefully, we all will, at some point.

TREES REACHING OUT

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APOCALYPSE?

22/3/2020

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THEY POSED THEMSELVES

The bad news is everywhere and the virus is in some places, but not yet everywhere. I don’t think there is any use of my overloading my anxiety system with too much bad news. I believe in good information. Constant bad news is bad news.

BUSTER CALMS US

Some folks think this is the end of the world. I have to disagree. Life the way we know it, good chance. However, having spent a fair amount of time in nature, I can’t see that the non-human life forms, that are everywhere, are going to be greatly disturbed by what happens to the human race nor do I think they will have much to do with a human-centric apocalypse.

BUSTER FINISHES FLOSSING

I know the blue jay, which for some reason was in our woodshed and who was above me, dropping bits of wood and stuff down on my head while I held my hand over the beer glass so nothing got into the elixir, doesn’t give much of a hoot about this particular virus. I wonder if she is building a nest? She seems reluctant to leave the woodpile.

FOLLOWING THE FOOD

“Perhaps the greatest achievement of man is his ability to die, and his ability to disregard it. Certainly poetry and paint are no deterrent, nor the high hurdles of the mind over the skulls of realism. Let us say, finally, that truth is not all that matters—often, it is the putting aside of a truth.”
Charles Bukoski, Portions From a Wine-StainedNotebook

SALMON POOL'S TRAIL

Sue and I have always figured that being in a quieter, less populated area is physically and spiritually healthier, even if it may be a more difficult environment to live and function in. It has it’s disadvantages, but the advantages over-rule the negatives. Just ask one of my Kingston cab drivers.

LEAVING SALMON POOL'S CABIN

This reminded me of something Emily Carr wrote

“That miserable chalky lifelessness that had seized me in London overtook me again. The life-class rooms were hot and airless. Mr. Gibb told me of a large studio run by a young couple who employed the best critics in Paris. Mr. Gibb himself criticized there. Students said he was dour and very severe, but that he was an exceedingly good teacher. I would also have the advantage of getting criticism in my own language.
I studied in this studio only a few weeks and, before Mr Gibb’s month of criticism came, I was flat in hospital where I lay for three hellish months and came out a wreck. The Paris doctor said, as had the London one. I must keep out of big cities or die. My sister and I decided to go to Sweden.”
Emily Carr, Growing Pains

INSPECTING A DEAD BARRED OWL PROBABLY KILLED BY HIGH WINDS

“When I’m in a big city or even a smaller city, I find my body capable of handling the noise, rush and concrete for only a few days. However, I have found that alcohol and a clove of garlic, sliced or crushed and put into a BLT is a great help.”
Larry Gibbons, Blog 105

ICE BALLERINA

I’ve got some bird cafe’ information for you. You may not know this, but blue jays are rather aggressive and if they find your bird feeder they will very likely take it over. They eat and squawk and screech. They like to screech by stretching up on their feet while twisting their necks up towards the sky.

NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING

The last few years the blue jay patrons have increased in number to the point where we now have, some days, over thirty blue jays. The poor juncos, chickadees, grosbeaks, etc. just have to humbly peck where they can, never getting even close to the best tables.

EVENING GROSBEAKS TAKE OVER

However, last week, the grosbeaks, who usually only numbered around two to six, had had enough. They brought their friends and relatives. They took over the feeder. They flew in, in mass. Forty or more and it was humorous to watch. I saw one blue jay sitting on a branch, his head twisting this way and that way as he tried to keep track of all the grosbeaks who were flitting around in every direction and who had taken over all the good tables.

BLUE JAY AT BAD TABLE

Way to go Grosbeaks.

EARLY MORNING ICE COVERED TREES

SUE RESTING ON A BIG SNOWBALL

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THANKS FOR THE HELP

28/2/2020

2 Comments

VIEW ON WAY HOME FROM SHOPPING

Our bird feeder restaurant must be highly rated. Whenever we count the different kinds of birds, the sum almost always comes out to an even number. Which to us, says that the birds are bringing a date to our eatery.

OUTSIDE OUR LIVING ROOM WINDOW

On Sunday, a friend and I snowshoed. This episode reinforced my idea that we all have an angel or angels looking after us.

I’ve also heard, from an intelligent person, that some people need angels more than others. I think my hiker friend and I rely heavily on our angels.

The weather forecast was for above zero temperatures. I therefore sprayed silicone on my large pair and my small pair of snowshoes. The silicone helps prevent wet snow from sticking to the metal teeth. I wear different sized snowshoes depending upon the depth and state of the snow.

TWO SNOW STORMS AGO

Later on, I pulled into my friend’s driveway. I think I may have been whistling a tune, but I’m not sure. I jumped out of the truck, possibly still whistling, walked to the door, grabbed the door knocker and gave the door some hefty knocks.

That’s when I stopped whistling. Had I remembered my snowshoes? I couldn’t have been that stupid. I rushed to the truck, opened the tail-gate. I was that stupid! &*(!!

My friend told me she’d borrowed a pair from the library. Ipso facto, she had two pairs. Her own pair had been slightly injured, but was still useable.

Thank-you angel or angels.

SUE'S CAR

My friend told me while we were inside her closed-in porch that she had a ski pole I could use. However, would I be so kind as to loosen the poles’ connections so they could be stretched out and made longer?

I quickly and carelessly grabbed one pole and began to tug and turn. My hand slipped, the pole shot out to my right and bang, it smacked heavily into the window. An expensive window located on the inside inner door.

It was close, but it didn’t break. It could have been, relatively speaking, a rather expensive and catastrophic inconvenience?

Thank-you angel.

PAPER DELIVERY DOG FOR SALE

Then we were off. My friend wanted to ski along Bras D’or Lake. The trail-head begins off the road and is a straight pathway which leads to the water. It ends at a boat house. Another trail runs along the shoreline. It’s a great pathway for getting a chance to see all the rich folks’ cottages and boat houses. It also offers hikers a wonderful view of the wide, snow-covered lake.

Oh, oh! My friend informed me she didn’t know exactly where the trail-head was. I didn’t either.

So, we cruised along the tall snow banks until we saw a trail. We weren’t sure if it was the right one, but it was a trail.

PAPER DELIVERY DOG ON DOWN TIME

I donned her small pink snowshoes. I felt like a he-man as I strapped them on.

We began the trek by climbing over a large snow bank and then we began hiking through the untouched snow.

We quickly came to suspect that this wasn’t the trail we’d been on last year. Last year’s trail didn’t run through a marsh. We slogged through the snow while staying close to the tree line so we would have a better chance of not going through the ice and water that we sometimes noticed after we’d lifted our feet.

The lake was supposed to be in front of us, but we saw no sign of it.

RUNNING OUT OF ROOM

Suddenly, up ahead, I saw a white pick-up drive by. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The trail was supposed to end at a boathouse and the lake. Not a road. My friend asked me if I might have been hallucinating. Was it a cold weather mirage? I said I didn’t think so.

We finally arrived at the end of the trail without falling into the water. Should we thank one of our angels for this? Don’t know, but just in case,

"Thank-you, angel.”

HEAVY WITH SNOW

There was the road and no lake. Where the heck was the lake?

We spotted a cottage. It was to the left of us. Surprising, because the cottages were supposed to be on the right side. And, voila, there was the lake, right in front of the cottage. The lake was also in the wrong place. Who moved everything?

ANY ONE FOR BASKETBALL

We trespassed. Broke the law. Cut through the cottage lot and found the lake-side trail. On our illegal trespass route we passed a beautiful little cottage. It reminded me of an angel’s bungalow.

TAKING A SHORT CUT

When we got to the shoreline trail I saw the boat house. It was a way down the trail and to our left. It was supposed to have been at the end of the correct trail.

ANGELS'S HOUSE

Because the slogging on the wrong trail had been so strenuous we decided to head to the boat house and then take the proper trail back to the road. Where we suspected we’d have to climb over a large snowbank, remove our snowshoes and then walk about quarter of a K or so down the road so we could get back to my truck.

Anyway, we hiked to the boat house, and then hiked back to the road.

BOAT HOUSE

It was heavy going. However, we finally made it to the road, climbed over a snowbank and there was my truck. Parked fifty feet away. We had hiked on a trail that was only about fifty feet from the correct one.

Thank-you angel or angels. I think.

Write to me and I’ll send you a topographical map of our Sunday route. Ha.

RATTY AND SNIFFLES

I hope, when I’ve passed on, that folks will think of me the way Thomas Hardy expressed it in his poem:

“When the present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
“He was a man who used to notice such things?”
Thomas Hardy, Afterwards

SUE AND BUSTER ON OUR LANE

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BEING TOUGH

3/2/2020

1 Comment

GORGEOUS SNOWSHOE TRAIL

This morning I’m sitting in my yellow chair. I’m thinking about writing, writers, rejection slips, the occasional acceptance slip and all that goes with being a wordsmith and just how damn tough you have to be to be a writer.
Because, if you’re a masochist, don’t mind being uncompensated for most of your work and enjoy rejection, then do I have the job for you.

DARN BRANCHES

Recently, a friend suggested my writing was similar to Charles Bukowski’s, so I’m going to quote Charles more than once.

Charles Bukowski received an extremely interesting rejection slip.

“Dear Mr. Bukowski:

Again, this is a conglomeration of extremely good stuff so full of idolized prostitutes, morning-after vomiting scenes, misanthropy, praise for suicide etc. that it is not quite for magazines of any circulation at all. This is, however, pretty much a saga of a certain type of person and in it I think you’ve done an honest job. Possibly we will print you sometime, but I don’t know exactly when. That depends on you.
Sincerely yours—-“
Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

SQUIRREL'S NEST ON SNOWSHOE

I said to a friend who has published a novel and is working on another one that many writers are very sensitive and yet are as tough as nails. They have to be.

For one thing, there are so many temptations to knock writers off their true path. However, because many writers are tough, they put up a gritty fight. Their dukes are up against the rigid existential explanations many people intrinsically accept as beyond criticism. These soulful questions do not sleep for the true artist.

SNOWSHOE NEST SUSPECT

Stephen King wrote that before he submits a novel to his publisher he gives it to some folks to read and then they give him suggestions on how to improve it and on whether they enjoyed it or not.

For the average writers, who are almost all struggling, it can be excruciatingly humbling and nerve-wracking to be laying your novel out there. To go from the quietness of your writing room and to plunk the novel down in the public arena, before you have even had a publisher reject or accept the novel. One thing for sure, you should trust the people who you ask to read your unpublished novel.

COWS TREES AND ICE

And what about all the writing contests where the judges can be as fickle as a hen in a seed factory?

I remember reading the guidelines for one writing contest. It’s demanding wordiness made me think, how can I possibly enter my story when everything has to be so perfect? The entry needed a certain font, particular margins, with no margins for error, we had to use the Voodoo special submission format, it should have absolutely no spelling errors, be grammar error free, we could only use certain paper of a specific size, no lines, be mailed only when the moon was as full as it could possibly be and on and on and so much on and on that I declined to submit. I mean, would they turf a Tolstoy story if it were written on a paper bag?

But, do you know what the greatest irony was about this call to submit guidelines? In their document was a glaring grammatical error. Find Waldo. It wasn’t that hard.

FARM HOUSE

It’s a jungle out there and the only thing that keeps a person like me writing is that I love writing and I’ll be darned if I’m going to stop writing because a publisher was rude, or a judge doesn’t see my story as being worth a vote or what I write isn’t the in thing, or I write like a working class writer who seldom uses the gold star words the so called cultured folks consider essential.

SUE TEACHING BUSTER HOW TO START A FIRE

Here’s something that not everyone sees. I was in an Ontario library. I looked up my book in their computer system. I found me. And at the top was written, ‘Larry Gibbons, 1947-.

There’s no way I want to fill in the blank at this time.

BEAUTY IN FRONT OF MY NOSE

It’s ironic, but being unsuccessful in life can be advantageous to your writing. This is one of the koans I’ve been wrestling with since my brain’s first synapse fired off its fledgling electrical impulse.

Here’s another Bukowski quote.

“Pain doesn’t make anything, nor does poverty. The artist is there first. What becomes of him depends upon his luck. If his luck is good (worldly-speaking) he becomes a bad artist. If his luck is bad, he becomes a good one. In relation to the substance involved.”

Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

ONE OF THE CULPRITS WHO IS EATING OUR MOBILE HOME

What the heck. One more Bukowski quote.

“And the trick is to stay propped up for 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or 90 years yes eyes open while the flies get stuck in the paper and the great paintings are stolen and the faithful wives run off with unfaithful lovers, all to die in the morning, unclasped and cold and kissless.”

Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

I always like to end my blogs on a positive note.

GEOMETRIC SNOW

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ROBERT FROST'S STORM FEAR

21/1/2020

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WONDERLAND

Last week, Sue, Buster and I decided to luxuriate. We had our
driveway cleared of snow and just in time for another snow dump.

Also, did you know that the blue jays snack on our trailer while they are waiting for their breakfast. The blue jays are eroding away our trailer. No guff.

AFTERNOON RUSH HOUR

Here’s one of my favourite Robert Frost poems. It’s called, “STORM FEAR”.

HERMIT'S CABIN

“When the wind works against us in the dark

And pelts with snow

The lower chamber window on the east,

ICY WOODS

And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,

The beast,

“Come out! Come out!”-

It costs no inward struggle not to go,

Ah, no!

I count our strength,

BLINDING SNOW

Two and a child,

Those of us not asleep subdued to mark

MYSTERIOUS WOODS

How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-

How drifts are piled,

EVER VIGILANT GUARD RAT

WHY WOULD WE WANT TO GO SOUTH WITH ALL THIS

Dooryard and road upgraded,

SUE SWEEPING AWAY STORM

Till even the comforting barn grows far away

And my heart owns a doubt

TREE LOVE NOTE

Whether ’tis in us to arise with day

And save ourselves unaided.”

MIDDLE RIVER WILDERNESS TRAIL

ME BY TRAIL SIGN

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LARGE AND SMALL

9/1/2020

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GUARD RAT IN SNOW

The other day, I read an Alexander Pope quote, and wow, did he nail it. It seemed so relevant, what with all the nasty social media pollution, anger, aggression, blatant lies, ridiculous and dangerous hyperbole, immoral behaviour, so-called Christians who espouse morality and then ignore or accept immorality, because they believe by doing so their agenda will be achieved. Well, enough, I’ll let Alexander Pope say it. He does a much better job.

MIDDLE RIVER WILDERNESS AREA

“The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,
Are what ten thousand envy and adore:
All, all lookup, with reverential awe,
At crimes that ‘scape, or triumph o’er the law:
While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-
‘Nothing is sacred now but villainy.”

BUSTER

I find it hard to read the news. Continuous reports about climate change disasters. It’s like the earth is attempting to projectile vomit out our toxic behaviour.

It’s difficult to hear of the earth being destroyed by the need to accumulate. By those who believe the earth is as disposable as a plastic grocery bag and is only here for them to earn their way to heaven. Many of our political and spiritual leaders being blinded by their ideology.

AN INVISIBLE BEAUTY

FRIEND OF INVISIBLE ONE

They miss so much, small and big, as they use up the earth’s beauty.

HIDDEN IN THE WILDERNESS AREA

Other cultures have much to teach us about morality and our authentic connection to the earth and its inhabitants.

“Long Before I ever heard of Christ, or saw a White man, I had learned from an untutored woman the essence of morality. With the help of dear Nature herself, she taught me things simple but of mighty import. I knew God. I perceived what goodness is. I saw and loved what is really beautiful. Civilization has not taught me anything better!”
Charles A. Eastman, The Soul of the Indian”

INVISIBLE'S NEIGHBOUR

They are countless and everywhere.

EARTH CLOUDS

Sue, Buster and I are happy to report that we’re still alive. Mind you, we’ve had some bumps along the way, but we’ve survived them and here we are, ready or not, to live another year of life.

My son’s family had quite the health scare in late 2019, but thankfully that situation seems to be working out. Great doctors are still working in our hospitals.

TOUCHING AND FEELING

Sue has battled some mighty fine diseases. Some years ago she was stricken with severe Rheumatoid Arthritis. Things looked dire for some time, but nowadays she’s walking two to five K per day. Partially, I must say, because of Buster’s constant demands for treats and walks. And here we thought poor Sue was going to end up crippled and in a wheel chair.

BUSTER ON SMOKE BREAK

Her latest battle has been rather jarring for both of us. However, we’re hoping that the future isn’t as horrible as some might think.

One thing going for us is that we live in a quiet place where a Christmas shopping traffic jam can be less than twenty cars on the road during an eighteen K drive to the store.

DRIVING BACK FROM A SHOPPING TRIP

Here there is time to hear your thoughts and although nature is unpredictable and has its own ways, it also allows a person space to contemplate and smell the roses, so to speak.

“A man must have a certain amount of intelligent ignorance to get anywhere.”
Charles Francis Kettering

STUMPY

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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CHAOTIC EFFICIENCY

17/12/2019

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We have a deck. It is screened in to keep out the bugs. The last two winters we’ve put plastic and plywood over the screen to keep out the snow and rain. This year we didn’t. I didn’t feel like it.

Yesterday, I watched Sue sweep snow off the deck floor. I thought to myself, Sue loves sweeping. If there were no snow on the floor that would cut out her winter fun sport. Some people might think that’s a weird way of thinking.

I’m saying that what appears inefficient and archaic may not be.

WHY DID THE GROUSE CROSS THE ROAD?

You see, I’ve been spending plenty of time dealing with so called efficient companies online and offline.

I mean, for one thing, why don’t they hire more people for their call centres?

TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE

For example, take my attempts to order cheques. I still write cheques to pay for some of my bills. I’m a sweeper at heart.

First off, I phoned the local bank and was told that the number didn’t exist. So, I swept through the internet and found another phone number.

The number was valid and after punching in a whack of numbers, I was sent to a call centre. The call centre told me there would be a wait of from twenty to forty minutes before I could talk to an actual human. I hung up.

I decided to order cheques online. I have a password which I used to sign in. I clicked on the ‘Help’ button and learned how to order cheques. I clicked on the order cheques icon and then signed out.

OUR POND

One week, two weeks, three weeks. Still no cheques so I drove to where one of these banks lives. It takes nearly an hour and a half to get to this bank, but I had other business.

I lined up. I waited. I watched a teller work the line while others did other non-line related chores.

I finally got to the teller and told her I had ordered cheques online and they still hadn’t arrived. She cheerfully told me it can take a long time to get the cheques delivered. She comforted me with her professional smile.

I waited another week. No cheques.

TRAIL THROUGH GHOST WOODS

I tried phoning this bank’s branch in another province. No human being answered. Instead, a loud voiced man shipped me off to a call centre. I hung up. Decided to try, once again, the online pathway to success and easy living.

I used my magic password and I once again used the help box and was given instructions. I tried to follow the instructions, but was suddenly told I had to sign in. But, but, hadn’t I already signed in?

I whipped out my magic password and was told, in so many words, that I had dallied too long in the other room in their website and my signing in wasn’t going to be accepted.

So, I grabbed a broom and helped Sue sweep and then I walked to the woodshed and split some wood, after removing a squirrel’s nest from one of my skates.

BROOK CREATURE

The next day, I thought maybe if I phoned earlier in the morning I’d get faster service. So, I did and followed to a T all the instructions the robo-woman gave to me.

And then, suddenly, I heard the phone ring in the kind of way that would make a person think, “By gumbo, I think I’ve snagged a live one.”

No, just another computer woman informing me that the waiting time was between five and twenty minutes. Better than the last call.

I have to admit that I envied Sue who was outside brushing the snow off our old, unpainted wooden steps while the polite computer woman with a hint in her voice that she was fighting a bad cold told me I could select the kind of music I would like to hear while I waited. Wow! That’s service for you.

BUSTER IN CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

I pushed the correct number and nice music came on. Everything was so damn efficient it made me want to choke myself.

Every minute the computer woman would interrupt the music to introduce me to a new online feature that was sure to make my banking experiences heavenly. Special this and thats which would turn my world into a beautiful enclosed screen porch where the brooms would run themselves. Where the firewood would let itself in. Where the river would flood our flood plain, but would leave us in a bubble of peaceful and organized total efficiency. God love us.

MORNING MOON

And this woman, who chose my music, was very, very polite. She’d even, from time to time, thank me for using up MY TIME.

DECEASED NEIGHBOUR'S YARD

Almost twenty minutes later, I got a human being. A woman with a heavy accent.

She asked me how she could help me. I told her. She told me I had to answer some questions. I hadn’t studied.

My birth date question was a piece of cake. Then they got more difficult. She started asking me specific questions about my bank account. What day had I paid this and what did I pay another company. Those sorts of things.

CAVE SHARK

Well, shoot me dead. I had, stupidly, been having my statements sent to me only online.

 had to excuse myself and get my computer and sign in and then we spent ten minutes while I bungled and bumbled around looking for my e-statement.

8AM RUSH HOUR

I finally found it and was able to answer her questions. I knew she was getting impatient because she was politely but occasionally doing some heavy breathing and sighing.

When this interrogation was finished and she wasn’t suspicious anymore, she asked how she could help me.

“Have my cheques been ordered?” I wearily asked.

“It doesn’t look like they have been ordered.” she replied. “Would you like me to order some for you?”

“Yes please.”

TREE WEARING DENTURES

“Would you like your name and address on the cheques?”

“Yes please.”

“You should get them in four to five days.”

That was last week. I walked to the mail box this morning to see if they were there. They weren’t, but I did notice that our mailbox had been ripped off the tree and was lying injured on the lane-way. So I grabbed the poor thing and carried it to the house while, with the other hand, I picked up some damp branches. I carried the branches into the trailer and gently laid them down by our wood stove where they will soon be cooked long enough to start a wee blaze in our little stove which heats our energy inefficient home.

FROZEN LEAF

FROZEN RAIN DROPS

Then I put on some music and listened without any interruptions, except by Buster who seems to need a treat as often as the computer woman needed to interrupt me to apologize for wasting my time.

Where have the days gone when you could phone a bank and hear a live person on the other end within two to five rings?

“How can I help you?”

“I’d like to order some cheques.”

“No problem. Just give me a minute while I pour some hot water on a tea bag and I’ll be right with you? I hate lukewarm tea.”