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.
I wonder - did that jar of Shillings sometimes just seem a little lighter than expected? You thought those paws could not in fact reach into it along with wallet and purse and umm, appropriate some small tax for tolerating the existence of humans in his domain? "Pffft"
Mine wouldn't last a day out in the wild. She loves her heating pad and eating plastic, is afraid of her own shadow, and must be on my lap at all times.
Ooh, Kåre เลียม Enga Pugs are my favorite! Beholden, I have that tendency as well with cats; I've always been an expert on dogs and a little blurry on cats. I had stuffed The Dogs and The Cats (Artlist International) as a kid in the early aughts; the cats were: a Maine Coon, a Russian Blue, an American Shorthair, a Scottish Fold, and a Somali.
I like cats and have had quite a few up until I became allergic to them, breaking out in hives and shortness of breath. Thankfully, I can still read about them without any reaction.
I actually caught up to the Promptly Poetry Challenge today. A poem intended to be read as a chant, meter all-important, meaning merely incidental and vague. I write more chants as time goes on.
Anyway, when I’d finished, I read through the new poem and several of the ones I’d written to catch up. And realised that they were all about the same thing, in spite of the different prompts. I was reminded of Claude Monet, who spent his last few years painting endless pictures of the waterlilies on his pond.
I’ve never understood how people can get stuck on one subject (or job) like that but I think I get it now. Old age has a lot to do with it.
In the end, we write or paint what we’re thinking about.
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