Posts tagged with Unsolved
Take away modern technology: house, car, microwave, cordless phone, newspapers, radio, television, computers, but don't take my iPhone since it allows me to take pictures and utilize it as many of the other convenience functions as soon as civilization is within reach.
I had the opportunity recently to be stripped of many 'necessities' when I went on a camping trip with a friend, his mother, and my son. We decided to camp in a spot where one, as a seasoned camper, had gone for several decades - we went to Timber Creek, Colorado.
Timber Creek is one of several campsites available to the public at Rocky Mountain National Park, located in the Kawuneeche Valley and surrounded by the Never Summer Mountains. (Boy, did they have the latter right!)
We arrived late Sunday afternoon (July 26th) and were greeted with a solemn reminder of how ravaged this area has become by pine beetles.
Timber Creek, a once forested campground, had been stripped of its ambiance and left a wasteland.
Machines had arrived on site as soon as snowfall ended in early summer and removal of the aftermath of the devastation had begun. Everywhere around our site were huge piles of pine carcasses - some in small pieces usable for firewood, but most were simply saw dust.
Sky-reaching centenarian pine trees, which previously directed eyes upwards to stars, heavens, and mountains, were now gone - the campsite was barren and battle scarred. One lone tree, silhouetted against the descending darkness, held the promise of a quarter moon waning from behind.
Cold rain fell as three pods for tents were secured and we moved quickly, in silence, to build a fire. (watch for "Running Naked With iPhone: A New Day" tomorrow)
On Feb. 5th, as people turned excitedly to the news, or filed slowly to form lines to participate in the political caucus system of our great nation, clouds carrying killer storms formed quickly and wrecked havoc in several states. Many people were killed and numerous more were injured. The following is a tribute to those who lost someone they knew and loved:
Snow flakes, falling fluffy and light,
Strike upon my heart as weights
Each one heavy and hard.
Blood drips from my soul
As tears from eyes should fall
These other storms,
Darkness swirling on the horizon
Too early to be night,
Contrast sharply with
The layering of white
Across our land.
People weep, mourning
Loved ones who disappeared
Too quickly from their sight,
Now awakening to the light of morning
And a plight an entire nation shares
Good night, my friends, good night
Go ahead, you know you want to, you know you need to, you know you can't stop yourself, you know you can't live without it.
People are uniquely different - I have a girl friend who years back would take one photograph each day that she felt best captured her feelings for that day. These days she is writing a daily haiku - what a thing to do!
Some people take a daily shower or bath, others fit in a daily routine of exercise or a walk with their doggy. Still others take the time to read their favorite daily newspaper (mine is the Lawrence Journal World), or to watch that favorite television show.
One of the things I have been most surprised about while writing blogs is how popular anything about poetry seems to be. People whom I would never have thought of having poetic minds or thoughts have surprised me with intricate, beautiful, soulful poetry.
So here goes - a living, ongoing, changing forum. Give us this day my daily haiku......please come on daily and post a haiku that best describes your emotional state, your day at work, your romantic life, an interaction with the world around you, or a snuggle with your child.
Waking up to a crystal clear morning in the Rockies - it doesn't get any better. The devastation of the campsite by pine beetles seemed less foreboding than it had appeared in the cold rain of the previous evening. Although the first words out of my mouth, "I'm not leaving the tent until the sun is up and the temperature is 70 degrees. No, make that 80 degrees", the thought of campfire coffee, bacon and eggs, and a roaring fire enticed me to exit the comfort of the queen-sized bed with overlaid sleeping bags.
Once the sun came over the mountains, the cool night air warmed immediately. So much so, that we discarded layers of clothing to begin exploring the area surrounding the campsite.
We noticed many small signs of life: a new beginning that provided not only hope that in time this site would return to the beauty of the past (knowing that probably wouldn't happen in our lifetime), but also a gentle reminder of the cycle of life. The knowledge that nature has a way of regenerating and doesn't require much in the way of help from mankind.
The lure of wildflowers, a mountain stream, and the instinctual use of our senses enabled us to first 'trip' across a mother moose with her calf, enabling us to see sights to which I previously would have been oblivious.
Once we spotted the moose, we began circling around her to position ourselves closer, but with an awareness not to come between her and her calf.
As we circled, we became aware of what would have been signs, or clues, if we had known what to watch for. These included fresh moose and/or elk scat (poo by any other name), and an area of grass that had been a recent nesting place for a mother and her calf.
Eventually, with much trepidation, we made our way close enough to the female to get these two pictures. The awareness of her odor, her closeness, her sheer size, brought an excitement and understanding of why people hunt - whether that be with camera or weapon. I felt more alive than I had in a long time, scarcely noticing how soaked we were from lightly falling rain, and the dampness of the tall grasses as we made our way through them and back to the bleakness of the campsite.
Within less than a 24-hour period, we had witnessed what many people go their whole lives without seeing. And, we had adapted to our climate enough to have steaks on our plates in time to retreat into the warmth of our vehicle as evening rain fell once more.
(Stay tuned for: "Running Naked With iPhone: Day Three - Letting the Cosmos Decide"
So we're stuck inside; that's if we're one of the lucky ones. For those who are forced to work outside on a day such as this, you have my deepest sympathies. Lemonade stand anyone?
Word spread through the Internet grapevine of a 'cool' game being played at one of the campus buildings yesterday and it sounded like a fun way to beat the heat and keep our brains from frying.
Post a sentence or paragraph of at least twenty words that are e free. Yes, leave out the E words and go for the other vowels. A I O U and sometimes Y. Y not? Have fun!
Local artist Stan Herd and son Evan Herd will be hosting a pre 4th of July party Saturday evening from five to midnight and you're invited. Only one problem, it's so large they're holding it at Abe and Jake's Landing - 8 E 6th St.
The event, which is from five to midnight, July 3rd, (tickets are five dollars - with one dollar from each ticket going to the Lawrence Community Shelter) will showcase a multitude of area bands including: Michael Paull - Big Stack Daddy, Frut Snaxx, Forest of Luxury, Yeti Speak, Atomic Blues, Quiet Corral, Katlyn Conroy, Yes 'ir, Rachel Black, and Elevator Action.
It sounds like there will be something for everyone! So my question: (since I'll be helping with tickets and juice bar) which bands should I be sure to catch? Remember, my tastes run the gamut from Beatles, blues and I love the poetry of rap music.
So, if any of the reading audience has any positive words about the bands, now is your chance to speak up! I hope to see you there - the event will be hotter than an exploding fire cracker, so beware!
Whether they're large, small, black and white, or in color, we all have them - dreams. They're what a large part of our waking and sleeping lives are about. They keep us going in the bleakest of times and give us something to focus and strive towards. Some people simply dream, never taking the smallest of baby steps towards making their dream(s) materialize. Others create through their dreams - allowing and encouraging themselves the ability to let the subconscious slip over them; envelope them, understanding that we can trust ourselves to know what is right for us. Still others deny any dreams.
I met Carol the Coach, as she's referred to in the Indianapolis area, when I began flying to and from Chicago to pursue my dream of becoming a Life Coach. (I wanted to work with people who had lost someone to suicide or homicide by helping them stay connected with their loved one by fulfilling that individual's dream.)
Carol Juergensen Sheets (LCSW PCC CSAT Motivation Speaker) is a mighty name for a woman of such small stature, but it suits her powerful spirit and her ability to dream large. Carol has already accomplished more than most of us hope to dream for. She is a columnist for Indy Metro Woman, The Daily Journal, Indy Sports-The Men's Magazine and Healthy Living with Teresa Tanoose, and she hosted a weekly hour talk show from 2007-2009 "Sex, Love, and Relationships". But Carol has a new 'old' dream. She has been contacting Oprah to no avail for eight years in an attempt to promote, "Group Work for Woman" which is Carol's dream to change the lives of women one step and one woman at a time.
I found out about Carol's dream a few days ago and thought it'd be fun to help her achieve her dream. You can help too! Carol will be coming on throughout the day and evening (between client sessions) to explain more and to answer any questions. Carol says it's been implied that since she is no "Barbie Doll" she doesn't stand a chance. Carol's response, "Dr. Phil is no Ken!" Let's prove 'them' wrong and give Carol our support. Carol has until the end of July 3rd to make her dream come true.
What are your dreams and which ones have come true? What is the most extreme thing you've been willing to do to make them come true?
"Lattw Niwamh moved smoothly and confidently to the front of the packed auditorium. The poetess had given readings of her poetry so many times previously that it caused as much excitement as her morning cup of caffeine free tea. She didn't begin to realize until hours later, having removed her dramatic bright red lipstick, sheer foundation and deep magenta eye liner with matching mascara, as she climbed into bed that evening, that the poetry she had read that day was not her own.
At the exact same instant, another poet, Lyiem Kensocdin, crossed and uncrossed his legs impatiently. He was old fashioned. He was as computer savvy as any of the upcoming poets of the day, but he preferred to sit with his bottle of scotch on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where women and girls in multicolored skirts and peasant tops sashayed far below. Sometimes he could catch the faint odor of their perfumes as they mingled together and made their way to where he sat.
He felt frustrated; he'd been trying to write a poem that he couldn't seem to push out of his mind all day. It wasn't until he closed his eyes for a brief moment that it became clear what he was going to write. He was delighted with the final product - it had flowed out of him as a vessel; the way poetry is supposed to come. It was good, really good and he was excited to share it with his mistress of the past six months - Lyiem went through women like most men consume wine or cigars.
He rang Lattw on his iPhone. No sooner did he begin to recite his poem when she joined in, completing word for word everything he had just written.
What they didn't know, but were about to find out, was that every poet in the world had just written the same poem. There would be many more to come, but where were they coming from. Were they a message from God delivered through the poet to the masses in order to save humanity, or were they something more sinister? Perhaps, they were simply another sign of the poet - that madman."
The previous paragraphs are from my science fiction piece, "The Poet - That Madman"
Rules for the contest:
Submit your original science fiction short by August 1st to firstname.lastname@example.org (or via ljworld at random)
Your submission must not be longer than 999 words, but it can be shorter.
There will be a panel of five judges from varied backgrounds. Please submit one story only.
Prizes include gift certificate to Borders (supplied by our Fiction 500 winner Roe), and a $50.00 gift certificate to your favorite restaurant.
Top winning stories, along with names of the author, will be published online during the month of September.
Have fun - make it 'unreal'!
We've been playing solos from our favorite performers and songs. So far, we have had the guitar string us along and we've had the doldrums beaten out of us by the old drums. Today, sit back, smile and show your ivory! We're going to share our favorite songs that include a piano solo - it might even be an instrumental.
There are a lot of fabulous performers with multiple talents - some play all the instruments we've discussed, but there are several who really stand out as stand up piano players.
Please list one song choice per post and do include the performer's name, link for easy listening and any memorable experiences you have to share about your choice of performer or song.
Did you grow up with a piano in your home? Were you forced to practice?
It seems many performers got their first love for music seated on a piano bench surrounded by family. Who is your favorite piano player?
So I'm sitting in R bar (Treasure Island, Florida) a couple of weeks ago and I'm with my cousin Janelle. I've mentioned her before - she's the Angie Dickinson blond who has men approach her and ask if they can buy her dessert if she'll dance with them.
She's a natural beauty, vivacious and lots of fun. She doesn't have to resort to fluffing long auburn hair and propping her breasts up in catchy low cut, red t-shirts. We order our favorite - which has switched from crunchy grouper to crunchy catfish - and we decide to split it since we always know she'll be bribed with dessert later.
The entertainment for the evening is Mike Calzone. I'd heard him play a couple of years previously at the same location and am happy because he's good, real good. Not only does he play other people's material nicely, but he interacts well with the audience and writes his own material. It isn't long before I notice the black t-shirts hanging close to where he performs on a make-shift stage.
The shirts have the eye catching (and self identifying phrase), "I Love You...But Not Enough To Ruin My Life". I realize that not only must I own one of those shirts - I also wish I'd written the saying.
Here's what Mike has to say about his catchy phrase - "One night as I'm getting ready to start performing,... the owner of the bar asks me how 'we're' doing. I said, 'I love her, but not enough to ruin my life'. The light goes on in my head and I keep hearing it over and over. I sat down and wrote the song in 5 minutes."
The song he is talking about has the title I'm referring to and is a catchy, bluesy number. Mike had a chance to visit with us during break, but he had a rough break recently, literally. He was hit by a car while riding his bike and had surgery the Monday following the performance I saw.
Here's where the blog topic comes in. What sayings have you heard that you identified enough with that your eyes turned green with jealousy and you said to yourself, "Damn, I wish I would have written that line!"
Thanks, Mike, for letting me share your great line. We wish you a speedy recovery and hope you're writing plenty of new material to perform once you're back on your feet.