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Happy Thanksgiving to my American Friends, and to all who sre gratefully here!
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Mercy and Breakfast
Here are two vessels that I made, some coffee in the smaller one, and “The Original Decadent Salted Caramel Bar,” which is only 210 calories per bar, but 1,680 calories if you have all 8, which I did, in a mere 9-1/2 hours, mostly last evening, with the last one left over for breakfast.
“Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.” That is what is inscribed on the larger vessel. I am practicing ersatz stonecutting for the sake of the urn I will make that will house my late brother Brian’s ashes. When I read from the New Testament at the urging of a college roommate of mine more than 40 years ago, the story of the bigshot who thought he was praying but instead was bragging about his accomplishments, compared to a truly humbled and penitent soul TRULY praying by saying these simple words. struck me as the heart of the matter. I have said this prayer dozens of times, fingers interlaced, in the last 40 years, though to me it’s a “message in a bottle” prayer that may not be heard. And “Lord” seems to be shorthand for “Whatever makes and sustains us.”
But to my brother Brian the words needed no analogizing. He was a Christian through and through, including humility. The words fit him.
Most likely, though, other words will be on Brian’s urn– something like WITHIN◇THIS◇VESSEL◇ARE◇THE◇EARTHLY◇REMAINS◇OF◇BRIAN◇CLEMENS◇BOWERS◇1957-2018◇BELOVÉD SON◇BROTHER◇UNCLE◇HUSBAND◇NEPHEW◇COUSIN◇OUTLAW◇REQUIESCAT◇IN◇PACE. As I imagine it, these words will wrap around and around the vessel, which will be placed on a rotatable platform. Of course I will ask my family to review and evaluate a prototype before I proceed.
Sincere and humble thanks to whatever creates and sustains us.
Terry Carter Irwin, my Forever Friend
In December of 1967 Terry Carter, my classmate, was at the school dance wearing a shimmery silver dress. We danced either once, twice, or three times–I have memory issues now. The important thing is, we danced.
J.R.R. Tolkien, author of THE LORD OF THE RINGS, also wrote “Smith of Wootten Major.” His protagonist, a blacksmith with an enchanted star on his brow, made a journey through the land of Faery. Along the way he met a delightful, young-yet-ageless woman who ended up dancing with him. Before they parted company she told him to convey a message to Alf the Prentice: “The time has come. Let him choose.” Only after Smith, also known as Starbrow, completed his journey and delivered the message did he learn with whom he had danced.
So it is with Terry, so similar to the Faery girl. She hides her light under a bushel. She would rather I didn’t sing her praises. Yet I must.
Terry Irwin
TERRIFIC as a pre-dawn’s Hi
ENGAGING as a 3rd-act Sigh–her
Righteous WISDOM’s clear–and how
Refreshing as is Maui–Wow–I
Y•o•d•e•l as she earns Renown
Blast from the Past: 22 September 2007
It’s been a long time since I posted, and I have many things that I’m working on, but nothing current suitable to publish. But going over REALLY OLD files, back in 2007 when I was doing Journal Pages faithfully every day, with not much regard for calligraphy but some for inked color, and I ran across this fable about a meet-cute with a short guitar-playing guy and a really tall girl…
I remember that I was using the finest-point pen I could find–might have been a Rollerball or a Razor–and a set of Faber-Castell ink markers for the color. I also had a thing about presenting the date a different way every day, sort of like Will Eisner did with his SPIRIT logos.
And I remember yearning.
Operations
Of music, sacred smiles, and nagging doubt:
Pitch-perfect was the Evening. And the Girl:
Enchanting, very tall, she was about
Revealing hidden Power. Glide, and Whirl,
Allay the fear a young heart has, of Breaking,
Tend to her own as well. She Bends. They Kiss.
In no time her in height he’s overtaking,
Obverted through the Atmosphere, he’ll miss
Near-Parity. He slides back down to Smaller,
Since their sould need no Height to make them Taller.
INKtober 2019: Injury
“Hit me like a punch in the stomach.” A punch in the stomach can rupture a spleen, as Stephen King demonstrated in one of his novels.
The wrong words destroy confidence, break friendships, and bruise our psyches. Sometimes words are used with vicious intent, but not always. Sometimes it’s negligence. All too often, there’s a misunderstanding.
Let us remember, Friends: words can be weaponized. We have more destructive potential than we realize. So keep your powder dry, but keep your safeties on. Life is about nurturing, connecting, and joy, and not injuring.
INKtober 2019: Ride
Hang on, Kids. We are about to go on the Ride of Rides.
Ride’s over, Folks! But don’t leave just yet, please.
Somewhere in all that noisy mayhem is a TRIPLE-acrostic poem. This one:
Ride Ride Ride
Rapt ball to First–an easy grounder
I‘d like to with the World go rounder. I
Done declared that need for speed
Entangled LIFE to supersede
Why do people pay good money to get on carnival rides and be whirled and tilted and inverted and sped around so much? I suppose there are many reasons. Two of mine are 1) They are the epitome of “in the moment” 2) They provide a means of brief escape from the Real World and its nightmares.
There’s a song by Vanity Fare [sic] called “Hitchin’ a Ride” that’s been playing in my head since I started this page. My brain is an often-wiseacre jukebox, sometimes infuriatingly so, but this time it served me well. Just when I started this very paragraph I went to YouTube, found the song, and it has just finished playing on the laptop I’m typing on. Without my asking, YouTube then queued up “California Dreamin'” by the Mamas and Papas, and that is what is playing now, and California is where I was born, and where many of my family members live. Welcome to The Ride of My Life, Friends. 🙂
PS: Simon and Garfunkel are now singing “The Sound of Silence.” Sometimes Silence is blessed and golden, especially after a long, bumpy ride. 🙂
INKtober prompt: Coat
Friends, you deserve a better visual offering than this, but the World Series game today is more than halfway over and I want to see the rest of the game and it was either get this done too fast or not at all. I will try to take my time tomorrow to make up for this hasty, sloppy pudding of a page.
Coat Rote Mote Note
Covering the Earth a coat of molecules that span
Overcoated O.G. does a Hoodlum if he can
Antics of a coated pervert in a room to let
Take us to a cheesy plate with coat of vinaigrette
INKtober 2019: Dark
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
Langston Hughes, “Dream Variations”
INKtober 2019: Tasty
Tasty Treat
The sensors plead compelling case–it
All derives from fry or baste–or
So it seems in hunger’s haste
The masticator makes its paste–aaa
You know it’s going to go to waist
INKtober 2019: Dizzy
dizzy dizzy
dancing by frenzy encircled in vprtex surrlunded by yi-yi zestiferous zing of pizzazz zig zebras zag zephyrs a-blitz yet yodel-y Yin/Yang holds sway
One with Clay, Image and Text 