As I sit here working on a new novel, two of the main characters find themselves floundering in a life-and-death, watery situation. The water, having nothing to do with their deadly conundrum, revolved around a fish. Now, the fact that this large disgusting fish was something they were actually attempting to catch set my mind working. You see, I love to fish and have been doing so most of my life. As a kid, and I mean a kid of 14, possibly 15, I found myself standing in the Chickahominy river from April until October.
The river was a short walk of probably three quarters of a mile from my back door til I could get a line wet. This in turn, lent itself to an amazing amount of fodder I could use in writing sessions, especially short stories.
Many smaller backwater tributaries flowed from the main river. I frequented these when I wanted to fish by walking down the middle of one of these canals casting to each side. In this way, I missed nothing due to brush along the bank. The down side came one day after I caught a Pike (Chain Pickerel). I ran this string with a sharpened metal end through the fish’s gills and out its mouth, pushing it through a ring attached to the other end of the stringer.
With the fish secured, I tied it to my belt loop and continued my angling adventure. Several minutes later, I felt a subtle bump on my rear end. I paid no attention until this continued with more repetitions. Turning to see what had the audacity to interfere with my concentrated attempt to procure my quarry; boy, did I see it. The one who dare mess with me while fishing, was the fish I had just caught. I figuratively jumped out of my skin, afraid I was being attacked by something new to this world.
There is one other scenario worth mentioning. I was standing ankle deep in a similar scenario, working my way to deeper water. A small head breaking the surface, flicked a forked tongue at me, waylaying my journey. I fled to the bank, happy I was not chest deep and noticed the serpent followed me to the bank. Upset with this creature interrupting my angling, I found a tree limb; brought it down across his head numerous times until at last my hunting knife removed his slippery head. This in turned allowed me to resume my trip into the river and complete my day of fishing. As you have probably noticed, neither man, beast, or serpent interrupts the time I allot to fishing.
So goes my antics as a young lad. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed sharing.
Take good care of yourself. May God bless you; keep you in his grace and may his countenance shine down upon you! Have a great week!
Every now and then, a word comes along that is used repeatedly. Eventually that word will hit the airwaves and begin to grind against my sense of right and wrong. The latest utterance to have this effect on me is “application,” which has been conveniently condensed to ‘app.’ The abbreviation app, in and of itself is not a problem; however, when delving into technology as most of us are likely to do, everything we encounter likely requires an app.
Apps allow us to navigate without having to go to the internet each time we want to access a particular program. An app for this and an app for that, here an app, there an app, everywhere an app, app is pretty much how I perceive the world of applications.
The next saying that has come up on the world of most everything in one form or the other is ‘game-changer.’ Everywhere in the world of television commercials, these two words are sure to pop up. I first heard this phrase uttered concerning a hand-ailment known as Dupuytren’s contracture. From then on the phrase game-changer has been used to describe everything from vitamins to athletic socks and prostate treatments to copper underwear. Some things tend to be over used and I guess that’s just me rambling on . . . then again maybe not.
Perhaps, this is one of those times, I should stay in my writer’s room not concerning myself with superfluous things or at least keep them to myself.
Have a great week and may God richly bless you and yours.
Once again, I find myself forging through another bout of wondering. If you remember in a blog post not so long ago, I was caught in the dilemma of archaic typewriters. This time I seem focused on things I did as a young adult, some good, some not so good, and some not so good, good. I do believe, my mind’s eye, ear, nose, and throat are pulling me toward the days I spent at the bowling alley.
At one time, I bowled on a league. Our team consisted of me, my girlfriend, her brother, and another gentlemen from her work. We accessed this league through her employer.
One night a week, we bowled three games with all the included teams placed by rank based on their weekly scores. We usually hovered somewhere around last place knowing that if we strove for mediocrity, there would be nowhere to go but up.
At this particular time in my life, I was known to diligently search for the bottom of a beer bottle. Of course, being a young man in my early 20’s, I was not opposed to saving a buck wherever possible.
Now, what could be better than knocking down a few cold brews while enjoying one’s favorite pass time? Therein lies the problem.
Dumb kid, who likes to drink but isn’t endowed with an overabundance of cash.
Bowling alley where the dumb kid bowls sells beer out of the dumb kid’s price range.
The beer that the Bowling alley sells is the brand sold in local convenience and grocery stores.
Dumb kid owns bowling ball and a bowling bag with enough space for ball and 6 bottles of said favorite beer.
Problem solved. All dumb kid has to do is purchase one beer at the beginning of the night, store empties in bowling ball bag, and walk softly to prevent clinking and/or breakage.
I believe we captured sole possession of last place that year. That was quite a while ago and I do not recommend attempting to copy my shenanigans. For one, it was dishonest, and two, no one needs to drink that much – period.
Have a great Monday, a fantastic Tuesday, a wonderful Wednesday, a stupendous Thursday, a marvelous Friday, and a great weekend.
May God keep you and bless you. May God shine his countenance upon you!
I do believe it seems the past two weeks have been slow as far as writing, rewriting, editing or further changing the present story line in my latest novel are concerned. Of course, I know that’s not true for I have enough work to keep me busy for quite a while. Maybe, I feel as though the thoughts I wish to convey to the readers of my blog are too important to pass by . . . yeah, that’s the ticket. That’s the pretense I’ll use to publish this post on useless information . . . and they’ll be none the wiser.
Do you realize that the fruit enjoyed by nearly everyone come summertime is not the fruit we all think it to be? Attempting to pass itself off as cantaloupe, the muskmelon worked its way into our hearts via the taste bud.
Allow me several seconds to sneeze . . . . . . Thanks, as you well know, no one can sneeze just once. It’s those multiple sneezes that get me, knowing my heart stops with each swoosh of air . . . or not. Once again, we are led down a road of deception. Contrary to popular belief, the heart continues to pump blood through our circulatory system when sneezing.
Guess what other ploys of deceit have been thrust down the paths we trod? You do know that a frog will jump from a boiling pot of water, but a frog placed in tepid water and slowly brought to 212° will cook to death in his own stupid.?Slow down a moment, even the tiny-brained, web-footed, amphibian has more sense than that. C’mon, give a guy a little credit. (This was so important; it held ground in an earlier blog.)
Last but not least, the iconic Hollywood sign is something we have all seen. Whether from a movie theater, the television screen, or an airplane window, the verbiage making up the image at one time read, “Hollywoodland.”
Thank you, for allowing me several minutes of your day. I do so hope you were able to glean a bit of information or enjoyment from my humorous brain blast. As always, have the best week you’ve had in your time on this Earth, and may God bless you and yours richly!