Old Illustrations Enhanced

It's a Ninja, and It's a Scroll, but It's Not ...

Yad at Fifty

Yad, Koppa's foster-brother, at the time of the events of The Wizard, the Prince, the Warrior, and His Son.

 

The Saga of Mr. Chase Bellamy, Agent of the Bureau of Shadows

Journalist, Keeping Body and Soul Together

Missing, A Long Row to Hoe

Pa's Here, Fame and Fortune

We Now Return ...

My thoughts: I couldn't get Simon Horne's accent or his dry and dessicated tone just right; the 'Swamp Ape' seems a little tall and his tenrils not kinetic enough; but Henry Harris Byrd is just right.

Diary 2010: July Starts To Crank Up

7/1/2021: First day of July. Up at 5:30 AM. Prayers and Bible. Cartoons. Made an order to HEB. Called in some stuff for the pharmacy there. Saw Kelsey and Ryan about 3 PM; gave Kelsey $50 as a welcoming present to buy themselves supper. Made chili, corn, noodles. E-mailed John with a gentle hint about my appointment with Dan on the 6^th.

 

7/2/2021: Up about 5:30 AM after a restless night. Prayers and Bible. The cartoons today were all related to the Fourth of July in some way, including the old Porky learns the Pledge of Allegiance. Must stay till the groceries get delivered then get to HEB for my glucometer stuff. Somehow. Bus? As it turned out, my shopper was way late with the groceries, and it was very hot by then. (I was not well pleased with sitting on the bench, which was still wet after two days). I called Kelsey and she came and got me and we went to the pharmacy. I bought us some Whataburger afterward (a grilled chicken salad for me and a mushroom burger for her) and I sampled a peaches and cream milkshake.  Didn’t have to make supper as everyone was going to Freedom Fiesta food trucks in the park, including S&A&Co, J&A&Co., and Kelsey. But I made myself turkey soup with celery and onions. They came back about 9:30 PM and went swimming and John and I visited and yakked about our various aches and pains and philosophy and life. John gave me some tips about people he listened to on YouTube. Everybody left about 11:45 PM. I played DQ8 a while and then to bed.

 

7/3/2021: Grampa Alfred’s memorial service today (I’m not going but thought I should mention it). Up at 6 AM and started watching cartoons. Washed dishes, showered, dressed. Prayers, Bible. Not much doing as the family went to the parade and fireworks in the evening.

 

7/4/2021: The actual Independence Day. I think, but am not sure, the Shanafelts went to the Shanafelt get-together. Despite my fears of predicted thunderstorms and initial reluctance, I went to church and made it home without any mishaps; in fact, it scarcely dripped all day. In the evening I watched “1776” and the new Rick and Morty, which seems to address the dilemma of saving the environment vs. serving the needs of humanity. To bed without seeing or hearing from any of the family. Some desultory fireworks in the evening, but the city display was yesterday. Despite sticking to my diet, my numbers were in the 200s.

 

7/5/2021: Up at 6 AM. Cartoons (today’s batch were Warner’s made in the Eighties, so not good). So, prayers and Bible. No laundry today as it is a holiday and S&A are doing all their Sunday stuff today. Had eggs for breakfast; BS still in the 200’s. Washed dishes, made bed, and finally went through that pile of mail in the pencil drawer. Found a check for about $30! Straightened up the rest of the drawer. It’s now 11 AM, and I’ve arranged for Andy to take me to FamMedCen tomorrow (he’s doing a little mowing). The three cardinal eggs in the nest on the potted plant on the kitchen porch have hatched. It rained off and on afterwards through the day. Didn’t have to make supper but went in at 6:30 PM to boil eggs and make egg salad. Ordered stuff from HEB Pharmacy. Listened to Shippey on Tolkien and Beowulf. Got an e-mail from Kris Jerome saying he wasn’t going to publish me anymore because of his own limitations, and he wants to send me the files.

 

7/6/2021: Well. I got up at 6 AM and was halfways dressed at 7 AM when I thought to check my appointment card and found I wasn’t due till the 9^th! That pulled the rug out from under me especially as I didn’t sleep well last night in anticipation. Slumped down and just slept till almost 1 PM, when I went out and did a load of clothes and made cucumber salad. Rainy on and off. Rest of the day as usual, except I started reading Tolkien’s Beowulf again.

 

7/7/2021: Up at 6 AM, got ready, and caught the bus at 7 AM. Went to HEB, did a little shopping (folders, Underwood Deviled Liverwurst, paper towels, a stiff spatula), then at 8 AM got my pharmacy stuff, including insulin. Caught bus and back home a little after 9 AM. At 10 AM went out and waited for grocery delivery which I then brought in. Turned the AC on only at 1 PM, as it had been a very moderate morning. Went in at 3:30 PM and started supper (the displaced sausage and cabbage usually had on Tuesday). Wrote a respectful and grateful e-mail back to Kris Jerome. Now it’s 7:20 and I’m making one of my big burger patties for supper.

Notes

"Nothing puzzles me more than time and space; and yet nothing troubles me less, as I never think about them." - Charles Lamb. Wish I could be as care-free as old Charlie, but I'm always unclear about what happened when and I do think about it. Many things that happened five years ago seem to have happened 'just now,' at most three years ago; most things are 'just a while ago.'

HELEN: Is that the time?

MIKE: No, time is an abstract concept. This is a wristwatch. 

- The Young Ones.

Ubi sunt and Carpe diem and all that rot, kiddies.

Well, That Was a Thing

As an experiment, I ran the last blogpost through ChatGPT, chose a meter and rhyme scheme, and asked the AI to turn it into a poem. Here is the result.

Being Self-Ish

Within myself there dwell seven different men,
Who take the reins by turns and call me "I."
The sages gave such riders names divine;
I only know they seldom pass me by.

The first is Boredom, heavy-limbed and still.
He bids me linger where no labor lies,
To waste the golden hours in vacant thought,
And watch dead embers with unseeing eyes.

He asks no feast of triumph or delight,
No noble quest to stir the heart or hand;
To drift, to yawn, to idle through the day—
That is the kingdom where he loves to stand.

The Earthy follows, sturdier by far.
He keeps one foot upon the solid sod.
He dreams of suppers, budgets, roofs, and tools,
Content with things beneath the vault of God.

He prizes clean-swept floors and mended gates,
Good barbecue—or hot dogs, if they must—
The body's needs, the household's daily cares,
The honest claims of appetite and dust.

Above him stands the Family in me,
Who longs to shelter all within his reach;
He cannot heal the world's enormous wounds,
Yet serves with needle, skillet, word, and speech.

He seeks no glory in his little works,
But only that his loved ones safely thrive;
A peaceful home is victory enough,
Where thankful hearts and humble joys survive.

Then Nerdy comes with lifted brow and grin,
Defender of each truth he counts as dear.
He tilts at error like a knight of old,
Though knowing well his blind spots still are near.

His pride is checked by many a foolish slip,
Yet still he'll plant his banner where he's sure;
He loves an argument for truth itself,
A hopeless cause can make him more secure.

Behind thick walls another captive waits,
The Bawdy, laughing, restless, horned one.
I thought the stones had made a prison strong—
Perhaps instead they built a bastion.

For now and then he sallies from the gate
To raid the quiet provinces within;
He plants strange gardens where I least expect,
And mocks the watchmen with a knowing grin.

Then rises Piety with folded hands,
Who fears to wound the grace he longs to keep;
He hastens toward the altar and the cross,
Yet trusts God's mercy deeper than the deep.

He knows beloved sins are still but sins,
However warmly they may plead their cause;
He prays for all he loves with steadfast hope,
And rests beneath his Father's wiser laws.

Last comes the Maker, whom I love the best,
Who gathers every other self as one;
He takes their wheat and chaff into his mill,
Then laughs to see what unexpected's done.

He asks no fame, nor riches, nor applause,
But loses self within the work's delight.
When he steps down, I marvel at the thing
That somehow came from darkness into light.

It still needs polishing; the Nerd agrees.
The flaws remain for later hands to mend.
Yet every honest work that comes to birth
Feels like a gift no labor could pretend.

Perhaps when all the clamor has grown still,
And every lesser ruler yields his claim,

The Maker bears me nearest to the One

Whose image first imagined whence I came.

I think it came out pretty good. It sounds like me, like something I would write. In fact I did produce the content; the program patted it into form.What status do such twi-formed, amphibious works have? Can I really claim it as mine?