Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
In the USA political scene there is a tendency to focus on what doesn't matter. I really don't care about hair-don'ts and what a family member three times removed did or didn't do in 1992.
Same as pop music, sir… usually written in the first person to an imaginary “you…” in my childhood and my early years of learning to appreciate music, I applied all the “yous” to myself
My father, a history professor used to say a board of regents could spend $10 million on a building in a matter of minutes with no real discussion. If you wanted to tie them up all day just ask if they wanted bar or liquid soap in the bathrooms. So yes, I think you may be on to something!
Beholden: going to the core of life's musings. Not a question I ever contemplated and I ask, why? Or Why not get stuck in the second web, unless that is physically impossible unless the first spider is washed there by rain being already stuck on its own web. Call me in the morning and I may have a more contemplative answer.
It’s not the limitless expanse of the universe that makes us aware of our insignificance. It’s the vast, incomprehensible number of all the people who have ever lived and those who now inhabit the planet Earth. Each of us is a single grain of sand on a beach that goes on forever. And our only hope for being noticed amongst the myriads of our fellow creatures is that some day we might be driven by the wind from the beach to the sea and so to the depths where we might fall into the mouth of some oyster that then gets irritated enough to begin covering us with a coating of some smooth substance that hardens and eventually makes us into a pearl.
Even then we have to depend on the chance of being found and included in a cosmic string of pearls to grace some infinite neck. Kinda puts us into perspective, doesn’t it?
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