I
have written before about how, when I was but a tiny child, I would watch old (well,
they weren’t so old then) Japanese animated movies sometimes during the long
weekend afternoons. They would, of course, be cut and dubbed for Western
audiences, and thus lost some of their art and charm when adapted by the
distributers to what they considered something more appealing (and
understandable) to American kids. I may have only watched Alakazam the Great
or Panda and the Magic Serpent once or twice, but they sank deep into my
mind, emerging now and then as fugitive, brightly-colored memories. I was able
eventually to track them down and obtain copies; copies, of course, of the
edited and dubbed versions I had watched in the old days, Panda in a
copy that showed considerable wear of the print they were using. Recently there
have been restorations of the original films, and now they are on Youtube. I
can finally watch these old classics in the form they were designed to be seen.
This includes an introduction in a completely different animation style to Hakujaden
(Panda and the White Serpent) that I have never seen before. I include a
link to Magic Boy (The Boy Sarutobi Sasuke) which, though I only
found out about it lately, I consider a natural partner to these movies, almost
the third in a trilogy. I am glad I now have the patience for subtitles, or
even (knowing the gist of the tale) following along with the story as the
original Japanese flows like water over my head.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydgTTsBixh4 Alakazam the Great
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4ytPE0o28Q Saiyuki
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBa2RRGDCg0 Hakujaden; or, The White Snake
Enchantress (Panda and the White Serpent)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwbOjyhFOSc Magic Boy (Original)
After
Thrand had gone to his chambers to stow away his new mourning cloak and change
his smeared tunic, he took Kettle to the Communal Lavatory, where he introduced
the young Morg to the hitherto unfamiliar mysteries of washing up. With
scrubbed hands and face (and rags somewhat freshened with healthy doses of
sweetgrass water), Kettle was now ready to appear in the Judicial Refectory. They
entered the room, and a long speculative buzz went around the tables, only
hushed when Thrand cast a stern eye around the eaters. The two grabbed plates
and forks and got in line along the long rows of food-laden tables. Thrand,
mindful of the Healer’s new injunctions, ended up with somewhat smaller portions
than usual, but Kettle, who seemed to have decided to get while the getting was
good, had an absolutely mountainous pile, including three different meats and
at least five different desserts. They sat at Thrand’s private table, and a
waiter brought them two mugs and a pitcher of small ale.
They
tucked in with no further ceremony than “Shall we?” “Let’s!” The older Morg,
though ravenous from the unusual exertions of the day, tried to slow himself
down and really enjoy what short commons he had. This gave him time to observe
with envy and astonishment Kettle’s truly amazing and heroic efforts to cram
the mountain of food down in one setting, washed down with noisy gulps of
waterish ale from an ever-refilled cup. When the young Morg finally seemed to
be slowing down, and Thrand’s plate was already long empty, the old Morg
thought it was at last time to get to business. He cleared his throat. Kettle
cocked a wary eye up at him, like a cautious dog interrupted at his bone.
“You
don’t have to stop eating,” the High Justice said. “But start listening to my
offer. I’ve said I want you to be my page. I want you to know I’ve never had a
page before. But not only am I facing a serious judicial crisis, I’ve just
suffered a mild heart attack …”
“I’m
sorry to hear that, Sir.” Kettle interjected quickly.
“Thank
you; but never mind that for now, child.” Thrand tugged his beard. “Just
listen. So I need a helper, to take some of the load of ordinary chores off of
me, but most of all, I need somebody to be my conscience.”
“Your
conscience, boss?” The young Morg asked cheerfully, stuffing a huge wad of cake
in. “Far as I can tell, Chief Justice, you’re the conscience of the whole city.
What could you possibly need me for?”
“Not
for the City, lad, but for me. I’m going to be busy thinking about the City,
and I won’t have time to think about myself, see? I’ve got to lose weight and
watch my health or I’m dead. I’m going to be under a lot of pressure, and no
doubt I’ll try to take any opportunity to ‘forget’ my walks or eat more than I
should. That’s why I want to hire you. You will keep me on track; that’ll be
part of your job.”
“So
I’m supposed to boss you around, boss? Go on with you then. And you’ll listen
to me?”
“I’ll
write it into your Articles, Kettle. That’ll make it legal, you see, and as
Chief Justice, I wouldn’t dare to break the Law. It would be too shameful. Then
you could actually sue me, and that would destroy my reputation.”
Kettle
whistled at the thought.
“And
you’d really do that to yourself?”
Thrand
sighed.
“I
really must, son. I know myself too well. I need it for a safeguard, a
guarantee. I’d rather not die, you see. I’ve cared for myself for over a
century now and look where it’s got me.”
Kettle
grinned.
“And
you want me to be your nursemaid, eh? Will I tan your hide if you don’t obey?”
A candied plum was popped into the already grinding muzzle, juices pouring
between the threshing teeth.
“Let’s
hope it never comes to that,” Thrand chuckled. “Wipe your chin, lad; that’s
what the napkin is for.” He took a swig of ale. “Now to further sweeten the
deal. Your meals (good meals like this one, child) and clothes will be totally
provided for, and you’ll get a silver mark every month to spend as you will,
and a free day every two weeks to spend it in. Your own room next to mine. You’ll
be doing a lot of basic work, of course, but as I said before, you’ll be around
the Courts, and if you find any affinity for the work, I’ll put you on the
legal track. And after a year, you can leave the contract and go your merry
way. You can’t ask fairer than that.”
Notes
I have the Morgs drinking small ale, which is a type of ale with very low alcohol content. It was widely drunk during the Middle Ages as it had just enough alcohol to kill whatever bugs were constantly contaminating the water, and so was a safer drink than 'pure' water. Of course, neither the Middle Ages nor the Morgs had any real idea about germs.
After a quick glance at my notes, I was referring to Kettle as 'Kettil' half the time, which was my original spelling. I also found in doing rewrites that I have Kettle whistling. That was purely accidental.
Here is the first paragraph I ever wrote about the character that would become Kettle (never used, as it turned out): Kettle woke with the early morning sun in his eyes. There was also the odor of nightly manure in his nose, a not unusual occurrence these days. The proximity of a nice steaming dunghill on a cold early spring morning had its comforts and its drawbacks. A layer of rank winter grass clippings and a spreading tarp helped accentuate the first and alleviate the second. There is an old Morg saying that ‘needs must’, and young Kettle was a Morg who had many needs. Right now, the need was getting a bit of breakfast. His stomach was already kicking him to get up.
6/26/2019: Up at 5 AM, ready to start the day. A trip to
DG is on the agenda later this morning.
Let me describe a typical summer morning right now.
Whenever I get up (usually pretty early), the first thing is a trip to the
bathroom. Then I take an aspirin with a gulp of tea. I might do a quick run
through the TV channels, not to really watch anything but to see if anything is on that will help
me ‘float along’, carried by the force of its narrative and the awareness of
time passing as its story unfolds. Or a quick run through my usual computer
sites. After (or sometimes before, if there is nothing compelling on the air
waves) I say my morning prayers, read 2 chapters in the Bible, and say a rosary
if I feel up to it (I ‘tell my beads’ sometime later in the day, if not). I
record any dreams that stick with me, then update my diary. I get dressed, after
a night usually skinned down to my underwear. There is no set order to these
activities (except the bathroom visit); they occur as I feel up to them.
At 9 AM when Susan leaves, I go in to get a cup of
noodles and a pack of ramen and two slices of bread to make my morning meal. Usually,
I’ve gone back in the house to boil my noodles when Kameron calls me to grass
the dogs and make his breakfast, which can be scrambled eggs, French toast,
pancakes, or a combo of these elements. After I finish making his meal and
cleaning up, I can continue with my own. It’s after 10 AM when I can finally do
so.
In the morning hours, if I feel so inspired, I can get
some writing done before I run out of ‘juice’ for the day. But more often I
watch Boston Legal (when it’s on) or podcasts or just play Words With Friends
or other time fillers, or even nap if I woke up particularly early. By 1 PM
it’s time to make lunch (2 packs of ramen, sans bread), and if it’s a Monday
make the weekly salad about 2 PM. At 4 PM it’s time to grass dogs again and
start supper; by 5 PM take my share and come back to the guest house; by 8 PM
go in, clear away supper, and wash dishes. I try to sneak in some writing past
watchful dragons at various times of the day, more and more as the story
progress. If it’s close to a Friday ‘payday’ I may pour on more serious
sessions, in order to earn John’s much needed $20 for the weekend. Otherwise,
if it’s right at the end of the story, I really give it all I’ve got, carried
on by the momentum and the urge to cross the finish line. I typically do this
last burst of effort in one day, that can last for up to 10 hours or more and
can produce fifteen pages or so.
I lay down at 10 PM (and this is every day) and try to
get to sleep, reading, or if there is something good on, watching TV. I get up
during the night every two hours or so for urination, until sometime in the
morning (4-6 AM) I decide I’m awake for the day, and the cycle starts all over
again. Oh, and when I write down times in my diary, all times are general
unless written down specifically.
Now, today I’m going to head for D(ollar) G(eneral) about
7:30 AM. I need soap and artificial sweetener for sure. I want to pick up a
Texas Lotto at the convenience store. Most hold back $10 for Stewart family
spaghetti dinner on Sunday. But I do feel I must get at least one indulgent
item, if only to sellybrate the proofs going on.
Finished Bible, prayers, and rosary at 7 AM. Am now
loaded up and ready to head for DG at 7:30 AM, and not a moment before, as I
have no desire to have to wait around much for the store to open. Cloudy right
now, with thunderstorms predicted for the afternoon.
I left about 7:40 AM, and met Andy on his way in. Said he'd been mouthed by a raccoon this morning (didn’t break the skin) but they’re
getting so bold they’ll have to be trapped and removed. Walked to town and
there was a homeless man sitting to the side of DG when I went to get a lottery
ticket at Lone Star. Then, even though it was past 8 AM, had to wait a few
minutes for them to open DG. Did my shopping (still no corn chips!); got 4
boxes of pasta salad mix, a bottle of DG Ranch, 5-pack of ramen, artificial
sweetener, soap, two cans of cheese Pringles, and an apple pie. When I left and
went to sit and repack at my usual seat the beggar passed me again on his way
into town. Although he took another way, we crossed paths in the park. Three
times is fate, so I gave him a dollar for Jesus’ sake and went on home.
Once home I ate the pie and started on the chips. Then
Kam called me, and it was grass dogs [let them out to relieve themselves] and make French toast AND a pancake. We
hung out together and watched the last half of Diabolik MST3K, and D(ragon)Q(uest)8
Longplay. He went in when S&A were here for lunch at noon. I took a nap
until about 3 PM. Grassed dogs and started supper at 4 PM. Salmon patties and
couscous. I took my couscous and added a ramen (I hadn’t had a formal lunch,
because I had eaten both tubes of Pringles as well as the pie and ramen!). John
was hinting at the dedication, what I’d already settled on for him, but I
teased him about it a bit.
Didn’t do a darn thing all evening but watch DQ8.Went in
at 8 PM to clear up; Andy hadn’t eaten because he was hauling cars all evening,
but Susan put his food on a plate in the microwave. Checked TX Lotto at 11:30
PM, but no go again. Didn’t rain much either; nothing like the promised
thunderstorms in the weather report. Tried to settle me down, but here it is
1:30 AM and I’m still awake. Listening to TV music channels to stun my mind to
sleep.
6/27/2019: It was just a typical day. Calculated that if
I got all the books and DVDs on my wish list it would cost about $12,000, and
that’s not counting shipping (and about $2000 of that was for rare out of print
volumes). I did tell Susan about the spaghetti dinner on Sunday, and she’s
seeing if Fred might spring for that for 4 plates or so. Rosary at 10 PM. Late
evening started to watch the English Dragon Quest 11 Longplay.
6/28/2019: A typical Friday, but with a few chips and
some deer sausage and a cheese sandwich for lunch, which was a bit of a
departure. Having freed myself from watching DQ8, I now enslaved myself to
watching DQ11, which now has an English version. Bible and prayers in the
morning, rosary at 19 PM, brought S’s latest packages in in the morning, Kam
joined me most of the day. He fell asleep at 4 PM and wouldn’t get up till 7
PM, and then went in the house when I went out to throw the old cabbage away.
Not a jot of writing done all day and no e-mail from John yesterday or today.
It unexpectedly rained in the evening, with thunder, after a clear blue day all
day. Went to bed about midnight.
6/29/2019: Got up 5:30 AM after interesting dreams and
morning thoughts that vanished away as I got up. I should really visit my mind
someday; it must be a fascinating place. What I call me appears to be a little
skittering spot that during my waking hours runs from room to room, not really
looking around itself but trying to get business done; or like a drop of water
dashing around on top of a hot skillet. During the day, the mind seems kind of
hypnotized by the world around it; at night while it dreams it seems just as
accepting as what it’s presented there. Perhaps the trick while awake as well
as when you’re asleep is to keep being aware of your own power and free will
instead of slumping into acceptance and going with the flow. Not to say that it
is magical (like Laura Ridings believed) and can affect reality other than
yourself, but closer to what Colin Wilson has speculated about the more
integrated alert self. The difference between hoping the elves will come in the
night and straighten up or that you’ll win the lottery, and actually doing
something that will help bring the hoped for change about. I say this under the
influence of my renewed morning dose of “brain juice”, the rejuvenated creative
and thinking power that flows most freely in the morning, though not only in
the morning; I only seem to have so much of it in a day to use, and a lot of
non-creative stuff can fritter it away. How will I use it today?
Andy
brought over $20 for spaghetti plates tomorrow and some leftover taco salad
with chicken about 5:30 PM. I did manage to write a page of JABS at 10:30 PM. I
must try to get to bed not too long after midnight now, but I feel dreadfully
awake.
6/30/2019: Last day of June. Some rain and thunder last
night, and possibly throughout the day; just when I’m walking later in the
morning, for once! Woke up about 5:30 AM. Showered, dressed, prayed, Bible,
rosary. Connectivity poor as I try to look at my usual sites. I did manage to
write one page: Bazz meets Stella. I’m going to leave about 9:20 AM, weather
permitting; that’s kind of early for a 10:15 Mass but it’ll give me some leeway
in walking time and time to sit and pray, not to mention good pew pickings!
The weather was very good: cool, cloudy. On my walk over
I passed several old friends: a bat that’s been drying up on the sidewalk next
to the Wells-Fargo Bank since before my baptism and some full cartridges in the
old cable car tracks between that bank and Starcke’s furniture. Today Ginger
led the rosary and I saw many of my old RCIA mates, including the other Amy and
the other Mike and his Wife and the older lady [Joanna] – my goodness, I’m
forgetting their names already. After mass went over and picked up the
spaghetti dinners; saw Mike Stewart and family. I had luckily supplied myself
with a bag to carry S&A’s plates home, as they didn’t have any there. I ate
mine on site. Walked home, put plates in fridge. I had forgotten to turn my
phone up again, though, and A came out at about 1 PM to check on me; apparently
Kam had been trying to call me all morning. Did nothing all day but watched
DQ11 on YouTube until 11:30 PM. Tomorrow it’s July, with all that entails; I
must really work on buckling down and progressing, as I was doing with cleaning
the house. If I do nothing, I’m going backwards; tomorrow I must apply myself
to projects. Remember stupid joke I told Fr. Greg. [What was it? – 2024]
7/1/2019: The first day of July, the long month of heat
and birthdays. Woke up at about 5:30 AM, almost the first thing I did was start
a project of 25 Haiku, autobiographical in nature, one a day leading up to my
birthday, in which I hope to encapsulate my life experience so far. After I
finish BAPS [which I never have] I really must take a break over the rest of July and take the time
to really work on thinking combined with some real organization. Projects:
Scrapbook my scraps, at least in some order; organize my papers, both writing
and drawing; maybe organize the Family Files of photos, etc.; get the ‘attic’
sorted out; see about new clothes, shoes, belt. Always much to do, not all of
it necessary or compelling, but it would be nice to have it done. Watched some
of “For the Love of Spock” on Netflix. On to Bible, prayers, and Rosary. Think
about how I present myself. Be upbeat or be beat up.
By 11:10 AM I had finished my morning devotions, made Kam
French toast, started my wash, grassed the dogs, got in the daily cookie jar
packages from the mailman, listened to
GGACP[Gilbert Gottfried’s Amazing Colossal Podcast], changed the wash, and
written a page on JABS and four haiku. Feeling a little sleepy but will make
Kam lunch and prepare broccoli salad at 1 PM.
All right! A&S came by early, and between 12 noon and
1:30 PM I managed to write another haiku [Never did manage 25; what I did has now been posted here on Niche of Time], make Kam biscuits, prepare the broccoli
salad, and finish my wash. The big projects of the day are fulfilled.
Everything else done is gravy.
Went in and grassed dogs and started supper at 4 PM. Went
in at 5 PM. Washed dishes at 8 PM and Susan cautioned me about the frying
smells from the French toast. Outside, it’s getting cloudy again; we have rain
scheduled for tomorrow. Watched documentaries on C. S. Lewis and Pamela
Travers. Played much WWF. At 9:40 PM got this Messenger message from Kris
Jerome:
The e-book [of A Grave on Deacon's Peak] is finished, and the print files are at the
printer. Once they sign off on the formatting proofs will get sent out.
(I wrote: Oh, my. I’m started to get excited again!)
I’m excited too! Once I have proofs in hand, I’ll send
pictures (and then the physical copies). If everything goes well it will be out
by your birthday!
Sorry it’s been such a long process. Next time it will go
faster.
I wrote back: Well, NOW how I supposed to get to sleep?
With many smiley face icons.
Called John and told him the news. They are on vacation to Carlsbad Caverns.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AobrKFsvznY
Greedy Humpty Dumpty
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbD1RoGvscE
The Fresh Vegetable Mystery
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1QUUmShhMM
Tulips Shall Grow
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZZNi9vypyI
The Sleeping Princess
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LNiFGvIwag
The Chinese Nightingale
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2frLZ9VLZg
The Calico Dragon
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSwz-aoZJLw
The Field Mouse
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sj17GeJYXZY
The Little Mole
A batch of old cartoons that are not often (if ever) played on TV these days, but which haunted my childhood. They seem to come from the Thirties and Forties, and veer from the sentimental to the nightmarish, often in the same picture. They also tend to be a little longer than later theatrical cartoons. And now you can be traumatized, too. The already posted 'To Spring' should really be listed with these.
The Tale
Frodo is already lying on
the ground, bound in Shelob’s webs from shoulder to foot, face up, his elven
blade Sting dropped useless by his side. Shelob is already starting to drag him
away. She is so busy with her prey she doesn’t even notice Sam until he’s
almost on her.
‘Sam did not wait to wonder
what was to be done, or whether he was brave, or loyal, or filled with rage.’
He jumps forward with a yell and scoops up Sting in his left hand and charges. ‘No
onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world of beasts, where some
desperate small creature armed with little teeth alone, will spring upon a
tower of horn and hide that stands above its fallen mate.’
Disturbed out her gloating
over Frodo, Shelob turns her malicious stare to Samwise, but before she knows it
the hobbit shears away a claw from one of her feet and getting under the arches
of her legs, stabs upward, putting out one of her eyes.
Now right under her and out
of the reach of her ‘sting’ and her claws, Sam stands under her putrid,
stinking stomach. He slashes at her underbelly, but his strength cannot
penetrate to anything vital underneath her ‘knobbed and pitted hide.’ No blade
could, ‘not though Elf or Dwarf should forge the steel or the hand of Beren or
of Turin wielded it.’ Poison froths from the wound and the stench makes Sam
dizzy. Shelob splays her legs, raising up, ready to crush Sam under her huge
bulk. But Sam is still standing.
He drops his barrow-blade
and holding Sting in both hands pointing upward, he braces himself to ‘fend off
that ghastly roof.’ Shelob ‘with the
driving force of her own cruel will, with strength greater than any warrior’s
hand,’ impales herself upon Sam’s upthrust blade, even as her bulk starts to
crush him to the ground.
‘[I]n all her long world of
wickedness’ Shelob has never known such pain and none of her victims, human
warrior or Orc, has ever lasted so long against her attack. She heaves herself
up and springs away from ‘the bitter spike.’ She stands a few paces away, green
ooze dripping from her damaged eye, and contemplates her attacker.
Sam has fallen on his knees
next to Frodo, head reeling with the foul stench, and tries to focus. Just a
few paces from him his enemy crouches, ‘beak dribbling a spittle of venom,’
gathering for another leap, ‘this time to crush and sting to death.’ Sam sees
his death in that gaze. He has little strength left for another defense.
But a thought comes to Sam, ‘as
if some remote voice had spoken,’ and he reaches in and pulls out the Phial of
Galadriel with his left hand. He murmurs ‘Galadriel!’, and then he remembers
Elvish singing under the stars in his own beloved Shire and in the halls of
Rivendell, calling to Elbereth. ‘And then his tongue was loosed and his voice
cried in a language he did not know:
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
A menel palan-diriel,
Le nallon si di’nguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!
And with that he staggered
to his feet and was Samwise the hobbit, Hamfast’s son, again.’
With renewed spirit Sam
yells at Shelob, calling her filth, and saying that they’re going on, but not
before settling with her first. ‘Come on, and taste it again!’ ‘As if his
indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly
like a white torch in his hand.’
It is too much for Shelob.
The light enters her shattered eyes like lighting, filling the head of the
beast of darkness with blasting fire. She has never known such pain, such an
attack of light. She falls back, uselessly beating the air with her forelegs,
turning her head and beginning to crawl away, back to her dark hole.
Sam follows, ‘reeling like a
drunken man’ from dizziness, but Shelob is finally cowed. She flees jerking and
quivering from Sam’s attack. As she finally slips her oozing, wounded belly
back into her lair, Sam cuts a last stroke at her retreating legs.
‘Shelob was gone, and
whether she lay long in her lair, nursing her malice and her misery, and in
slow years of darkness healed herself from within, rebuilding her clustered
eyes, until with hunger like death she spun once more her dreadful snares in
the glens of the Mountains of Shadow, this tale does not tell.’
Bits and Bobs
I had hoped to cover this
entire chapter this week, but that ain’t happening. Though I still hope to
conclude it before June is over, perhaps posting on it more frequently in this
last week. But again, we shall see.
Sam is likened, in a rather
Homeric simile (“The typical Homeric simile makes a comparison to some kind of
event, in the form "like a ____ when it ______."), in his ferocity to
an animal defending its mate. This is a gift to the ‘shippers’ who want to make
‘Frodo+Sam’ a romantic item, but the phrase simply conveys to them (in their
biased ignorance) the wrong cultural interpretation.
Beren and Turin are the two
human heroes par excellence of The Silmarillion, tales of the First Age
of Middle-earth. Beren faced many evil creatures of Morgoth, the first Dark
Lord, as well as spiders akin to Shelob. Turin killed a dragon, Glaurung. It is
noted that Shelob has no ‘vulnerable spot’ like a dragon; even these two heroes
could not have penetrated her hide with the best of weapons. Again, ‘oft does
hatred hurt itself.’
Shelob’s ‘beak’ is likely a
reference to her mandibles, ‘commonly referred to as "jaws",
chelicerae may be shaped as either articulated fangs, or as a type of pincers.’
– Wikipedia. In common British parlance ‘beak’ can refer to any beaklike protuberance
from the face. The fact that it’s frothing with poison suggests the ‘fangs’
interpretation. My brother John pointed out to me that many of these illustrations do show Shelob's horns, after I said that many don't.
As Tolkien notes in The
Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle, Sam’s inspired invocation in Sindarin
Elvish can be translated thusly:
O! Queen who kindled star on
star
White-robed from heaven
gazing far,
Here overwhelmed in dread of
Death
I cry: O guard me, Elbereth!
The words are strange to
him. Inspired by those memories of Elvish singing? Given to him by one of the
Valar, perhaps Elbereth herself? Who can say? Sam apparently didn’t know. To
emphasize the descent from this exalted state he is called Samwise (‘half-wise’)
son of Hamfast (‘home-fast’ or ‘stay-at-home’) the next minute. But (in
universe) he must have remembered the words and had someone translate them for
him.
And of course ‘in universe’
nobody can say whether Shelob died of her wounds or lived to weave another day.
Although later Sam, his senses enhanced by wearing the Ring, hears her ‘bubbling
in her misery’ somewhere far away in her lair.
BIRTHDAY WISHES
For
Kameron, On His Seventeenth
Since
I have no cash to give away,
Some
wishes for your birthday day:
Made
with all my hope and power,
Such
as it is at this late hour:
No
rain or lightning harm you!
No
bee or wasp will swarm you!
No
troll or ogre grind you!
No
witch or wizard find you!
No
thief or thug will beat you!
No
beast will ever eat you!
No
evil ghost will haunt you!
No
on-line bully taunt you!
No
flood will overtake you!
No
cyber scammer fake you!
Please
hear my words and grant my wish,
You
genie, well, or magic fish!
Give
all that I hope and pray
To
Kameron on his birthday day!
--Love, Uncle BB
Finding Sparrow in the Treetop the other day sent me down a side quest: to find the other yellow Golden Record 78’s we had from Mom’s childhood. These came out in 1953 with the release of Walt Disney’s Peter Pan. Mom must have been around 11. The only one I couldn’t find on YouTube was with the flipside You Can Fly of the Peter Pan Theme Song (“The Second Star on the Right”). Mom also had a red record Peter Pan (the record company, not the movie) 78 with The Blue Tail Fly and Skip to My Lou on it. I’m putting two links to that; one is more complete than the other. More childhood memories recovered and noted.
Anne Lloyd & Dan Ocko - Second Star to the Right - YouTubeAnne Lloyd & Dan Ocko - Your Mother and Mine - YouTube
Anne Lloyd, Dan Ocko and David Anderson - March of the Lost Boys - YouTube
Anne Lloyd, Dan Ocko and David Anderson - What Made the Red Man Red - YouTube
Blue Tail Fly / Skip To My Lou - YouTube
[What Has Gone Before: Chief Justice Thrand of Morg City
has been summoned to the palace to bear witness to the passing of the human
King Taryn. On the way back to the Courts of Justice he has been rescued from a
couple of street toughs by the small but wily Kettle.]
High Secretary Gawnich kept vigil near the private
entrance at the rear of the Halls of Justice. Thrand should have returned; it was nearly lunchtime, and
the Tower wasn’t that far away. He could only imagine that the Chief Justice
had been delayed by petitioners. They would have started thronging him by now,
surely. The thought gnawed at the skinny Morg. After all, he had a
candidate that he meant to put forward, a client who would be sure to pay him
back for such a favor, and he didn’t need anyone influencing Thrand before he
could. That just wouldn’t be fair.
Suddenly a black-robed figure broke away from the river
of similarly clad traffic passing by the Halls' back gates, and Gawnich immediately
recognized the twisted walking stick and protruding paunch. He hastened to meet
Thrand with relief.
“Chief Justice! Thank goodness you’re back!” He laid a
solicitous hand on Thrand’s shoulder and looked searchingly into his hooded
face. “Are you well? What took you so long? The Crownhelm was delivered an hour
ago already; I locked it up safely in your apartments.” He started to draw the
older Morg forward as if to herd him safely back into the fold. “Do you want to
check on it?”
Thrand shrugged the patronizing claw off his shoulder.
“No, I don’t want to check on the Crownhelm; I am sure it
is perfectly safe. I am perfectly fine myself, thank you, and what I mean to do
first is to go get me some lunch.”
“Of course, of course, Chief Justice.” The skinny Morg hastily and humbly drew
himself away and fell back a step behind Thrand, who began striding to the
entrance with exaggerated vigor. “Dinner is almost ready. I …” He looked down.
“Here, what are you up to?” he asked sharply. “You’re not needed here. Go on,
hop it!”
Kettle, who had been following discreetly and cautiously
in Thrand’s shadow as they approached the imposing building, flinched at
Gawnich’s upraised bony hand, but the older Morg stopped the Secretary with a
sharp bark.
“Here now! That’s no way to treat a lad that just saved
me from a thrashing! Young Kettle here is my guest for lunch today. In fact…,”
he looked down sideways at the grubby child. “Maybe longer than that.”
“High Secretary, I’m considering getting myself a page.
If he wants the job. I thought we’d discuss it over a meal.” Thrand turned and
looked the surprised Kettle in the face. “Would you like to be a page, eh? And
maybe even an apprentice, if you show an aptitude for the work. Page work isn’t
the most exciting, but there’s a future to it, which is more than I can say for
guttersniping. And I really could use some help right now.”
The young Morg’s brow furrowed a moment in thought,
cracking dirty cheeks screwed up in thought. Kettle looked up at last and
smiled.
“I tell you what, chief. Let’s have lunch like you said
and talk about it a bit first.”
“Very wise.” The old Morg was solemn. “That’s a good way
to start the job.” He turned to Gawnich briskly. “Have an Articles of Employ
drawn up for me right away. Leave the usual spaces and enough room for three or
four special clauses.” He reached down and took Kettle’s hand and headed for
the door to the Courthouse.
‘But … but, Lord Thrand!” Gawnich spluttered. “Do you
really think this is wise? You can know nothing of this child!”
“I know enough.” Thrand grinned reassuringly down at
Kettle. “And, yes, I do think it is wise. You’ve been saying yourself for years
that I should have a page, if only to take some of the pressure off of you.
Well, the time has come. Things are going to be pretty busy around here for a
while.” He looked up again, muzzle in the air, breathing in deeply as if to
scent the future from afar. “Ah-h-h. I hope we have fried pork today.”
The bewildered Gawnich watched the two disappear into the shadows of the portico, then gathered his wits about him and headed towards the corner for the Scriptorium, the proper forms for the Articles of Employ already dancing in his head with all the possible outcomes of this latest whim of the Chief Justice’s. Had Thrand’s latest attack addled his brains? It was quite a left turn, and totally out of the High Secretary’s expectations. Gawnich liked to know where things were headed. He took a left turn and was gone around the corner.
Notes
Here we are back at last with Thrand, the first new entry since the end of October 2023. How did half a year go by so quickly? This section is graced, you will notice, with a little rough sketch I have done of Kettle. I'm afraid I don't do a lot of drawing these days, and this is the first new picture I have drawn of a Morg (and a 'new' Morg at that) for quite a while. The first new picture in a while, period. I don't know why I don't draw more, except I seldom have pencil and paper at hand, and the height of my desk does not lend itself to such activity. You can see that half the lines on the left look lighter; that's because the silvery pencil lines are lit up by my desk lamp.
6/15/2019:
Woke up at 4:30 AM and decided, yep, I’m awake. Decided what I needed to do was
take some phone picture of my new arrangements, and so I did [lost now, on my old phone], then went online,
looked at my sites, and caught up diary; ‘tis now 5:40. Relented about tossing
my red British literature textbooks but still determined to dispose of Nanny’s
Webster’s dictionary; but how? The easiest would be to toss it in the recycling
bin, but part of me wants to lug it to the library or the park and abandon it
on a bench for the next finder, with a note saying, “Free to a Good Home”.
Shall I write today? Can I write today? Well, yes, technically, but one
lets temperament decide all too often. Relenting on those tatty books is a bad
sign, I think, showing I’m wavering in determination; I’ve already decided to
keep the McKillip books. The longer I
have to have ‘garage sale stuff’ hanging around, the more complacent I become about it.
Grr. Say prayers, read Bible, and have breakfast.
Did
so, then from 10 AM to 11:30 AM laid down in a doze. Got up and parsed through PoB [Power
of Babel] looking at the lists of my old books to find titles I no longer have;
then remembered my old fancy of “Dead Ready” back in September 2015, before I
even had my toe/TIA trouble, in which I hoped to be ready by 2019 (this year!)
to pass away with least trouble. Now I’ve joined the Church, written a book due
for publication, and just recently finished another purge of the house, so I
guess in many ways (except for the most practical ways) I am Dead Ready, and it
is 2019! Shall I prove prophet? Or am I just ready for a new life? The Hobbit:
An Unexpected Journey on right now; started at noon. Until about 2:30 PM worked
on a new project: extracting biographical detail from PoB and putting it into
year-by-year files; finished 2008. Taking a break. Haven’t heard from anybody
on any media today.
Worked
on PoB up until 2012. It’s now 7:44 PM. Still heard from no-one.
Said
Rosary at about 11 PM. Worked on getting the extracts until 1 AM. Went to bed.
6/16/2019:
Father’s Day. Woke up at 6 AM. Made one document out of extracts. Took shower,
dressed. Ready to head on out.
Got
to church in time to say Rosary with others. A Father’s Day sermon, as well as
Holy Trinity Sunday. But when it came time for the Eucharist, Father Greg had
to excuse himself; he was feeling poorly. A rather subdued and improvised
conclusion. Got home. Finished up Extract and e-mailed it
to myself and put it on Finder’s Keep.
In
the afternoon I heard from Tom on Messenger and the book drop goes ahead.
Messaged Kenny and everything’s set. About 5 PM took some garbage out and
noticed that the gate was open; checked in with S&A to make sure the Rotts
were inside. Told Susan about the pick-up tomorrow, so now everything is really
set up. Now what to do with that #@%$& dictionary? This evening John and
Amy came over to listen to the symphony in the park and the kids are swimming.
We looked through the ape-box with the old nostalgia (Morgandy was with us) and afterwards went in to look at the new batch of Muppet figures (like our old ones; M is on kind of a Muppet kick).
Woke
up sometime in the night to a thunderstorm – not the worst kind, but still, -
and unplugged the computer and the AC. Hard getting back to sleep in the quiet
and warmth, so after a hard night I ...
6/17/2019:
Got up about 6 AM, got dressed, and opened the house up. The skies seem quiet
and clear, but there’s a new batch of mud, of course, to get that heavy bin of
books to the front porch through, and dirty up me shoes. Will start at 7:15 AM,
though. Meanwhiles, Bible and prayers.
So I
trudged out, pausing at the driveway, because an 18 gallon tub of books is no
light load and my trollish strength is gone. Sat on the porch from about 7:20
AM to a little after 8:30 AM, when Tom came and picked up the books.
About
8 PM go in to clean up and Susan tells me about the exterminators coming
tomorrow and that they found another scorpion. Apparently, Amy was talking to
her about my offering books on Facebook and I explained to her that it was not
particularly a quest for money as a way of clearing stuff out with first offer
to friends and family. Told her the joke (I have been eagerly waiting to tell
somebody) that I had wanted to offer Kaitlyn Nanny’s Bible; as it was Nanny’s,
I could pretty much guarantee it was barely used. I invited her and Andy out
and she looked through the sale bins and got out a few things for Kameron; I
showed her where there is a cookie jar for sale on Seguin sales on Facebook.
Reading some Robertson Davies.
6/18/2019:
Got up about 6 AM. While looking at JABS [Junior Agent, Bureau of Shadows], I
groaned and said to myself aloud, “Action, thy name is not Brer!” and I
suddenly realized that I seldom refer to myself as Brer, either in my head or
just to myself.
Went
in and made toasted cheese and a jelly sandwich for lunch, saw that they HAD
gotten the Mr. Peanut cookie jar. Read in more Davies and then in the Verlyn
Flieger-augmented Smith of Wootton Major, and I realized that my problem
was not just summer doldrums but the need to fill up my ‘reservoir’ for writing
again. Once I finish JABS [which I never did] I’m taking a break until my birthday at the latest.
Kenny
messaged me about 8:30 PM that they had the books. He said: We drove out to the place they are staying in
Kissimmee and met them as they were coming back from Walmart. Tom was super
nice, and his family was as well. They seem to really adore you as well and
told me they call you Balrog.
6/20/2019:
Woke up about 6 AM from dreams and sat thinking about stuff. A bit about Haff and the Haunting [future elements for JABS] occurred to me. Got up and wrote stuff
down.
6/19/2019:
Up about 5 AM; more writing, bringing it up to ten more pages; need to do 10
more this week. A dab of writing. My left big toe keeps stabbing me with pain:
a pox on this gout! To quote Falstaff.
6/20/2019:
Woke up 6 AM. Bible, prayers. Knocked down wasp nest at back door. Writing on
and off all day. Reading Davies on and off all day, mainly letters.
E-mail
to John: Not a lot to say, just that writing progresses. I've been reading a
lot of Robertson Davies the last few days; I had been reading "The
Possessed" (or The Devils, or however you translate it), but it seems to
have got to a point where it’s just too crazily Russian subtle for me at the
moment, so I've laid it down for now. With feelings of some guilt, knocked down
a little wasp nest high up off the back door where it was doing no harm except
for making Kameron nervous about going in and out. Wasps are bastards, all
right, but should be tolerated and respected for the minute 'good' they do if
they're not completely in your face.
6/21/2019:
Up at 5:30 AM and decided to get moving and really do something, after laying
around a bit with ‘what-if past fantasies.’ Bible, prayers, and rosary. Swept
up. Got dressed. Cleaned up cat barf down the wall [Socks still alive at this point]. Washed dishes. Decks all
cleared to write and bring tally up to 40 pages. We shall see.
By
11 AM I had reached the 40-page mark and brought Bazzell to the steps of
Billy’s Place.
No
word from John; I had thought he was bringing $20 today, but maybe when we
gather tomorrow for Kameron’s birthday? No message on e-mail, either. Got a
huge load of Trollope on Kindle. Read more Davies and a pinch of ‘The
Possessed’. What a weird experience, rambling around the old neighborhood [of
Loop Drive] in fictional form today!
6/22/2019:
Woke up about 5:30 AM from a dream that gave me the idea for a story called
GOLLUM’S BOOK, being his tale told from his point of view, rather like John
Gardner’s GRENDEL. Everybody misunderstands him, even Gandalf, whom he talks
about like the wizard was his psychiatrist. He was actually happy to get rid of
the Ring and left the Misty Mountains to start a new life, but everybody
(Sauron, Gandalf, Frodo) kept pulling him back in and tempting him, if only in
the form of making him remember and think about it. He actually liked Bilbo and
had a kind of crush on him and comes to be grateful to him for taking the Ring;
Frodo reminds him of Bilbo, which is why he agrees to help him. He wants to
free Frodo from Ring-addiction, which is why he’s always trying to take the
Ring away. This would be exactly the kind of book I hate, but the exercise of
writing it seems fascinating. Last words: “Some people you just can’t help.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtZ8pFCwMn4 He is Jehovah, Bill and Gloria Gaither
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8txqw-u4V78 El Shaddai, Amy Grant
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nt3Ggo1CE3g Shepherd Me Oh God; Marty Haugen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHPewvg7ZqI Johnny Kay, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
He is Jehovah has nothing to do with the Jehovah's Witnesses; Jehovah was a rather poorly transliterated name for God centuries before they were a thing and latched onto it. El Shaddai is another song making use of other ancient titles and names of God. The important thing is that they are both working on the Christian understanding of the Old Testament. Shepherd Me Oh God is basically an adaptation of Psalm 23 (The Lord is My Shepherd). I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day was originally a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, written during our other time of Civil War. It was a sustaining note during my own period of an eclipse of faith; this line still gives me goosebumps: "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep." Amen, and amen.
