Candid Interview

The Mountain Commonly Called the 'Ivran Temple'

2021 Diary: Lots o' Bookses!

2021 Diary

 

7/16/2021: Up at 5:30 AM. Prayers. Shower. Cartoons (which I think have gone into reruns). Scrambled eggs for breakfast. Medicine. At 9:30 AM went out and checked the mailbox and found “Duck and His Friends” had arrived 5 days early, but “More Fool Me” hadn’t come yet as more or less scheduled. A long boring day. Why must I always call everybody, but no-one ever calls me? Started frying taters at 2 PM. Listened to Verlyn Flieger lectures on YT. Went in to clean up at 9:40 PM. No new plug [adapter for the AC] yet, so another hot night.

 

7/17/2021: Up at 6 AM. Prayers and then Bible, moving kind of slow. Shower. Then cartoons. Had Earl Campbell sausages for breakfast. Dressed and at 9 AM headed for FD, only to run into S&A heading home just in front of the voting building. They stopped and offered me a ride, and after A dropped S off, he came back and took me. Got diet Dr. Pepper Cherry (2 jugs), 3 bags pork skins and 3 packs diet vanilla wafer cookies. About 11:05 AM Kelsey called me and asked if I wanted a breakfast taco as she and Ryan had a spare. I said yes but I couldn’t eat the tortilla, just the contents. They were already here so I went out and we talked a bit. Susan came out (they had just returned home again - from the shop?) and told me she had just put a couple of books in my house. She also warned me (‘twas superfluous) that I couldn’t have tortillas. I went in and ate my tortilla innards then opened my books: Bone Adventures (came early, cover slightly damaged) and Stephen Fry’s More Fool Me (one day late, ex-library book). The Bone book was very simple (simpler than I thought); then I started the Fry. Been reading it all day with only the occasional break and now (as of 10:45 PM) am almost done and shall not try to sleep until finished. It seems strangely familiar (even discounting the retelling he does of the back story already told in his other 2 autobiographies) and I wonder did I read it as a library book and then forget it? As Fry says, perhaps that is the charm of a poor memory: every time you read an old book it seems new again. In the evening (about 8 PM) I took a break to wash dishes, make bed, etc. Pains in the legs all day. Making room on shelves an interesting task so the new books will be near their companions and writing them up on NOT. Finished Fry about 11:20 PM, so took almost 12 hours (with breaks) to read.

 

7/18/2021: Kenny’s Birthday. Awake at 4 PM after a hard time sleeping (too warm and right leg hurting); leaning toward not going to church, but who knows as the hour approaches?  Searched my Diaries and found out I DID listen to “More Fool Me” on YT about 2 years ago. Did not go to church, but prayed and read missalette. Day was basically nothing but eating, drinking, and slouching in the heat. Kelsey and Ryan visited, and I saw Kelsey for a bit. Andy brought me a batch of leftovers (including Panda Express) some of which I could eat. Watched the premier of “Monk” on MeTV. Waiting for 10 PM and the new Rick & Morty. (Saw it. Rating: Meh.)

 

7/19/2021: Prayers. Bible. Shower. Cartoons. The first half of the day was rather busy, with wash started at 7:30 AM. Went out at 9 AM and Susan was still here because Ryan T was dropping off Jade (hooray). Clothes in dryer, then checked the porch for mail. Stuff for Susan and some stuff for me: That Reminds Me, Feast of Stephen, Tomcat Murr, Classic Cartoon Christmas Too, and Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell [DVD]. Groceries delivered while S still here. Ryan helped bring in. Nap over noon; at 1 PM went in and checked: no cucumber salad this week. Read much of Randall’s “That Reminds Me”. About 2 PM Kelsey came over, and along with Kameron we watched Ponyo, a bit of Princess Bride, and then Kam played an exhibition game of Sly Cooper 1. Quite the feel of old times. Dug out and showed Kam the old “Monster’s Manual”. At 4 went in to make supper. A&S home by a little after 5 PM. Kelsey went home at 7 PM, just as we had a bit of rain. Went in to wash about 7:45 PM. They’re still prepping for the trip to the beach house tomorrow. I’m to have Ginger again (yay). More reading, then laid down about 9 PM.

 

7/20/21: Awake at 12 and felt I couldn’t sleep. Drafted a review of “More Fool Me” trying to pin down my feelings about Fry. He is like a frustrating friend who likes many of the things you do but for all the wrong reasons. Then I washed dishes. Then straightened house. Then watched a bit of JS&MR. Then took a shower and caught up diary. It’s 3:45 AM now, and I think I might just go ahead and say my daily prayers and do my Bible readings. Maybe by then I can relax until 6 AM.

          Did so and did not in fact wake up until 6:30 AM, having forgotten to set alarm. Andy brought Ginger over about 7:30 AM, and by 8 AM they were gone. Went down to take some recyclables to the bin and was just in time to catch the ordinary garbagemen emptying the other bin, so took it back. Made big patty (with 3 eggs) for breakfast. At 9 AM I went into the house and was just in time to see the mailman delivering another batch of books, this time “The Lore of Love” (which puts me one volume away from finally completing my ‘Enchanted World’ series), Padre Porko (an ex-library book of indescribable juvenile charm), Dear Me by Ustinov, a new Robertson Davies as Diarist, and “America at Last” being the diary of T. H. White’s visit to America the year before he died. A garner of riches, much of it unfamiliar work to solace my solitary sojourn. Finished viewing the first episode of JS&MN, read a bit in White, then took a nap. Ginger quite content in a patch of sunlight by the door. Awake again and went out to get the recycle bin at 11:30 AM.

          Find to my interest that both the White and Davies book cover an overlapping period: Davies ’59 – ’63 and White mostly ’63. Coincidentally, my birth year. White would soon be dead, and Davies continue until 1995. Looking into Padre Porko, I find that there is a bit of stunning parallelism: the fantastic Padre has an escaped bear with a collar scar raid his beehives at his hidden home! Shades of Elf and Bear, although the bear here is a ruffian. Now I am sure I’ve never even heard of this book until a year or two ago, and yet there are similarities enough to give me a decidedly strange feeling. It’s an odd thing to once again, as it were, have laser-guided books and not just whatever random approximations I can pick up here and there. I intend to get at least a couple of books a month now, depending on cost and availability. Took the Rotts in about 3 PM and will let them out at 8:30 PM or so.

 

          Read up to about half of White’s book. I can see why it’s not spoken of much; it has some very odd ‘race theories’ about the USA (c.1963). At 4 PM fed the pets. At 5:30 PM I buzzed my beard. That’s a little cooler. Let the Rotts out and a bit later turned the lights on. Finished reading White about 10 PM and then bed.

 

7/21/2021: Up about 5:30 AM; prayers and Bible. Cartoons. Turned off house lights, fed pets, checked pool. About 8:30 AM went out and picked up paper and a few bits of trash on the lawn. Waited on the porch and mail came a little after 9 AM. It included one book, The Elizabethans by A. N. Wilson. Watched Episode 2 of JS&MN. Ginger finally made her lemonade: an enormous pool in the bathroom. No poo as yet. Watched some Corey Olsen Signum University on the book JS&MN. Called Kelsey at 11:30 AM, no answer. Might just walk over to FD at 1 PM.

          John came over about 1 PM. He brought me a new phone, and he set it up. We had a good visit and talk, and I showed off my new books.  It rained briefly about 2 PM. He left about 3:30 PM or so. Kelsey hadn’t answered because she was mowing for Fred; she is mowing tomorrow as well but intends to come over and take me to town when done. Spent the evening watching JS&MN; it is so good! Better than when I saw it on YT. Magic with heart, and not a bad adaptation. Not in bed until after midnight.

 

7/22/2021: Up at 6 AM after a night interrupted with pain. Prayers and Bible. Cartoons. Checked porch for mail at 8:30 AM and it already came: for me , “Incidents in the Life of My Uncle Arly” and TLB “Gods and Goddesses”, which completes my Enchanted World series. Spent a lot of time writing a review of “America At Last”. Kelsey finished her mowing and came over at 2 PM and we went to Walmart. Just as we were checking out an enormous summer storm (totally unanticipated by me) broke out, with the worst lightning I’ve seen for years. Huge downpour. We made it back home and maneuvered her car into the carport and moved the stuff into the big house first. I bought her some soda, a DVD, deodorant, and now I fed her a couple of sandwiches as she hadn’t had lunch. She left to get Ryan about 5:20 PM; by then the rain had gone enough to move my stuff (which included new shorts) into the guest house. Slumped down in a haze of snacks and TV. 

Notes

What can I say. It was my birthday month, and I had a lot of 'wish list' to catch up on.

Let Sleeping Ogres Lie

An illustration from Episode Eight: Ravenglast, a script for my proposed series, The Wizard, the Prince, the Warrior, and His Son. Hakul and Lem try to kidnap Kwee.

The Boar Hunt: A Confessional Penitence

THE BOAR HUNT

 

A glory falls on castle walls,

A fair white tower afar descrying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear the tower loud replying.

 

We come from a far-off land.

Coming from hunt we're homeward hying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear the tower loud replying!

 

For there came a wild mad boar

And left our wheat downward lying.

Blew we then our hunting horns,

And heard the boar's voice replying!

 

Long we sought the roaring boar

Till we left it wounded, dying.

Blew we then our hunting horns,

And heard the echoes loud replying.

 

Tired we now are coming home

The castle walls espying.

Blow we now our hunting horns

And hear our home replying!

 

--from external evidence, about 1976-77.

Okay, I wrote this in middle school, when I was besotted with Mediavelism, or rather the strange Victorian take on the period, here especially Lord Tennyson. I have only made one or two 'corrections': I mainly wished to preserve the cringey feeling of it as looked back upon. The slight icing of AI generated illustration might be the most appealing aspect of this time-hardened cow pie. A roaring bore, indeed. But as a very wise magical dog once said, "Sucking at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something."

On A Wonderful Trip To An Unusual Angle

 Yesterday I went on an unusual, unexpected trip to the floor. All had been going okay, if not wonderfully well, when I got up from my desk, turned, and suddenly found that my left leg was locked and unresponsive. After a moment or two of struggling to make a movement, I found myself slowly but inexorably headed to the floor, where I landed with a sickening shock right on my ass. 

Luckily my nephew Kameron was in the house with me, so I did not have to summon help. Not that he could help me physically (his strength is no match for my weight) but he could, in the best Lassie tradition, go for help. Unluckily his parents weren't at home. While we waited for one or the other to arrive, he kept me company and did what he could to keep me comfortable and run little chores.

Eventually my sister Susan got home, and together she and I managed to wrangle my inert corpse up onto the bed (which is not far from the desk), from where I was able to once more gain control of the puppet strings. Andy (having just got home from being on a job) stuck his head in, ready to help, only to find to his relief that I was doing alright, Kameron hung around another hour to make sure all was well.

One thing being on the floor reminded me of, was how much a part of my life was lived down there when I was little. A part that now in normal circumstances is another world. I was somehow reminded of how, when I was little, I could sit on the floor, bow my legs apart, and put the soles of my feet together, a feat that is now unthinkable in my condition. I thought of how little kids exist on this different plane, which is like another world, and how when adults descend to this level they are meeting them in their own world. I thought sadly how I would never meet our little ones in this parralel province, but remain like a distant gray promentary, a being that could never descend into epiphany in their youthful eyes.

My little trip to the floor was a bugger in more than obvious ways. It got me thinking, and that is rarely a comfortable thing. As it is, it also put me a little behind schedule in my blogging goal, so I thought it could make up a little bit for its unpleasantness as grist for a post.

On Gorb and Gorbos

Feckless Gorb

While most scholars agree that Gorb (or Feckless Gorb, as he is popularly known) was a real historical figure, living sometime in the uneventful years between the Settling and Berek and the Ogre Invasion, though it is sometimes jestingly asserted that it must have been his grandfather who kept the pilot logs during the Migration.

He is hard to pin down to a definite date, though, because Gorb has become a byword for a clumsy or thoughtless person. While some of the anecdotes connected to him are possibly actual incidents in his life, it would be hard to say which, as many tales and jokes became attached to him over time.

As a character, Gorb is never described as feeble-minded or crazy, but thoughtless, careless, or foolish in the extreme. He could be wise if he was paying attention or applying himself, but he never does. A gorb is inexperienced or unskilled; the term is applied to beginners or novices.

Gorb also gave rise to at least two popular sayings. One goes “Well, Gorb’s madra loved him.” The story goes that he was accidentally responsible for his mother’s death, and that with her last words she forgave him. The colloquial meaning implies that one may be enamored with one’s foolish actions, but they could lead to disaster. The other says that “Gorb is the only one remembered from his time,” meaning both that fame is not necessarily good, but also that it is anyway a form of immortality.

There is also a light form of comic poetry, called ‘gorbos’. The verses are short, seldom more than four lines long, with a loose but definite form. They purport to recount Gorb’s amusing adventures. The following is a typical example:

Feckless Gorb milked a billy,

Put the squeezings in his tea.

Took a sip, frowned, and grumbled,

“This tastes rather odd to me!”