If it’s good does it matter how long it is?

What’s the longest book you have read?

I actually don’t know the length of the longest book I’ve ever read. Although I keep track of each book I read I don’t track pages read. It doesn’t really seem that relevant.

There have been times when I’ll get half way through a book and I’ll look to the last pages to see how far I still have to go. This can even happen with a good book. I was just reading an autobiography which was very interesting and illuminating, but it was starting to drag a bit in the middle and I started looking at page numbers as if silently clicking them off with each turn of the page.

I wonder if this is also because of always being attached to our phones and mindlessly scrolling and consuming short form video. Has it become more difficult to sit down and read for an extended length of time. While reading I’ll find myself glancing to my phone, wondering what’s new, who’s doing what and why. Are we becoming a culture of observing, watching as others do things instead of reading and thinking.

I was at my Mom’s last week and I happened to be glancing through her bookcase absentmindedly looking for a new book to read. She had an old worn copy of War and Peace. I asked her if she had ever read it and to my surprise she said she had. My Mom reads but I never suspected she had read a lengthy novel of Russian history. My Dad I could picture him reading it and probably enjoying it. She encouraged me to take it but I declined saying I was looking for something a little more lighthearted than that. I also remarked that it seemed like a good book to read during the winter holed up in front of a fireplace as the wind whips around outside.

I’m currently reading what I would describe as a drugstore paperback. It’s an old timey murder mystery set in the 1920’s. It has that mystery noir feeling to it of backrooms, cigar smoke, treachery, double crosses, baseball and an old girlfriend who shows up unexpectedly. I’m only halfway through it but I’m betting the dame is mixed up in it somehow. I was hoping the old girlfriend might be variously described as a broad, skirt, doll or even a gal, but alas those terms haven’t been used and in that respect the book is a slight disappointment.

I once tried reading Moby Dick one summer. It was when I was in college and I figured I should read one of the classics on summer break. I have no idea how I came to choose Moby Dick besides knowing it was considered a classic and had all these existential themes of man’s journey, his perseverance and commitment. I don’t actually know if those themes are relevant to Moby Dick or not because I never even made it through one chapter. I remember reading the first couple of pages….there’s a guy named Ishmael, he wants to get on a whaling vessel and then I fell asleep. Odd I remember thinking, I never fall asleep reading especially back then when I was young and could stay up all night. A few nights later I tried again….there’s a guy who wants to be called Ishmael, he wants to get on a whaling vessel and then I fell asleep.

Obviously I never made it through Moby Dick that summer. It sat on my desk for weeks untouched after those first few attempts and finally I returned it to the library before I was charged a late fee. I do remember thinking thank god I didn’t buy the damned thing.

Perhaps I’ll attempt to read Moby Dick again or War and Peace or some other great Russian novel. I do love the movie Dr. Zhivago so the book must also be good. Dr. Zhivago is another book that seems appropriate to read during the darkest, coldest months of the year.

Until then I’ll continue with my mystery noir wondering how the broad, the dame, the skirt is going to double cross the main character. Perhaps that’s what Moby Dick is really missing, a skirt that comes back to torment Ishmael or maybe a broad is the real reason Captain Ahab chases the whale….. nothing beats a broad who’s been scorned and has trust issues.

Peace and Love,

John

A Face in the Yard

I awoke to the constant patter of a rain on the roof and windows. Better than any alarm clock, a gentle rain reminds you that nature is continuously at work. Is there anything better than falling asleep or awakening to rain. Although depending on your plans for the day, the rain may be greeted with dread, any outdoor activities might have to be rescheduled or completed in wet and miserable conditions. Who amongst us really likes being out in a cold rain ?

The rain didn’t last long and by sunrise it had been replaced by a cool, cloudless blue sky. The wind rustled the trees and the red and gold leaves that fell carpeted parts of the yard. But a morning rain, much like an unexpected guest, also presents an opportunity. Leaves become too wet to rake, wood too difficult to cut and split. Outdoor activities would be delayed. A comfy chair beckons, a book to be read or a show to be watched with no guilty feelings.

As I glanced outside again I noticed the scarecrow in the front yard. Pumpkins and cornstalks surrounded him keeping in company in a postcard setting of autumn. But the scarecrow was not facing the road for all to see, the wind had turned him around so he faced the house. In fact he seemed to be looking directly into the front window. He was soaking wet and his hat was askew, some of the straw filling had become so wet that it fell out of him and lay on the ground underneath him. He still had the same goofy smile plastered across his face, perhaps he was beckoning to me with his smile that it wasn’t so bad out in the rain and wind, or perhaps his smile and the fact that he was looking in the window meant he’d had enough, enough of the rain, the wind, the leaves blowing around him, perhaps he was tired of having a pole stuck through him, tired of wet coveralls and straw that itched him constantly. Perhaps the scarecrow was looking for a warm dry place to settle down for the day. Maybe he could see my comfy chair and big TV from the yard and he needed a break from his job as fall decoration.

I must admit, it was rather unnerving staring out the window with him staring back at me. His button eyes seemed to follow my every move. I went to another window and looked out, his eyes seemed to follow me knowing where I was. I hoped for a strong wind to spin him back around but he seemed riveted to this new position, and so I knew what I must do. Outside I went to straighten him out both metaphorically and physically. I turned him around to face the road, once again he assumed his proper position, a centerpiece among the pumpkins and cornstalks, a postcard picture of autumn.

I thought about somehow securing him so the wind couldn’t spin him any longer, so he couldn’t be facing the house looking in the front window contemplating my cozy environs. But I assured myself it had been a windy night and that as a scarecrow he was his happiest outside in the wind and rain fulfilling his destiny with a pole stuck up his back….who wouldn’t be ? As I walked away I glanced back and as I did so a gust of wind blew him back to face me, his goofy smile taunted me and then another gust blew him back to face the road. It was as if he was reminding me…. “go ahead, go inside, sit in your chair with your book and hot coffee…. I’ll be here in my wet coveralls with my straw filling and pole up my back but remember I’m just not here to scare away the birds and I just might be looking in the window when you awaken tomorrow.”

I did sit in my big chair with my coffee, but then as I looked outside I realized perhaps it wasn’t so bad out and wet leaves aren’t so bad to rake. An afternoon spent outside in the fall is a blessing and an opportunity. I also checked the calendar….only 10 more days till Halloween and then I can take that scarecrow down and decorate for Thanksgiving….turkeys love being outside right ?

Peace and Love,

John

Wait, I Do Have to be Worried About That ?

As a kid growing up in the 70’s there were certain things we were bombarded by. Alien abduction, BigFoot sightings, TV shows that had one or more car chase scenes ending in a fiery crash. These were all items I was certain I would have to deal with as an adult.

I soon realized as I grew into adulthood that I probably would never encounter any of these situations. Now that we all have cameras in our pockets the amount of BigFoot sightings and alien abductions seems to have decreased significantly. Perhaps BigFoot really is camera shy and aliens having studied humans for awhile have moved on determining there’s really not much intelligent life here on earth. And even though there are police chases everyday and some do end in crashes there are very few that end in explosions engulfing the vehicle in flames and I learned long ago not to be involved in that type of situation.

But there was one situation I was certain I would have to deal with as an adult but up to this point I had not encountered it myself or even heard about it happening to others and that my friends is ………quicksand.

TV shows in the 70’s used quicksand a surprisingly inordinate amount of times as a relatively harmless way to present a dangerous situation without all the blood and guts and gore of say an animal attack or gunshot injury. Quicksand was a sudden but painless way to endanger a TV or movie star. Thankfully in all the TV or movies that I saw that used this technique there was always a friend and absolutely always strong vines around to pull the entrapped person from the quicksand. After watching countless shows that used quicksand I became convinced that quicksand was a hazard to be aware of on any hike or adventure into the wild and that quicksand could be anywhere.

As I grew into adulthood and ventured out into the world I realized I probably would not actually encounter quicksand either because I wasn’t hiking in jungles or that quicksand really wasn’t a thing. So imagine my surprise at a headline I saw recently in my local paper that described a situation of a man entrapped up to his waist in quicksand having to be rescued by first responders. At first I thought that my paper in an attempt to boost readership was starting a type of section devoted to parody or humorous but not real news story’s. But thankfully there was a picture to provide visual proof that this wasn’t fake, yes a picture of a man at the beach on the shoreline sunk in sand up to his waist. Apparently the man and his girlfriend had been searching for unique rocks along the shoreline when he quickly sank to his waist. His panicked and horrified girlfriend was able to call first responders who were able to attach a life vest and rope but still had to dig around the man for about 20 minutes before they could extract him.

It was surmised that some recent dredging of that area had resulted in this dangerous situation of soft sand, but the man and his girlfriend enjoyed a hearty laugh after it was over.

Although I don’t think I’ll be losing any sleep over the fact that quicksand is real and evidently close by I am once again pondering those situations that first appeared to me as a kid. I’ve got my eyes out for BigFoot and aliens flying spaceships looking to abduct and study humans and beware I’ll have my camera at the ready to provide proof as I look into the night sky as long as I don’t stumble into quicksand.

Peace and Love,

John

Go Ahead and Do It

Daily writing prompt

What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?

View all responses

There is something I’ve been pondering and putting off. A couple of weeks ago I saw a notice about a short story contest open to all residents in my state. I thought it might be interesting to enter but I became paralyzed each time I sat down at the computer to enter.

I had a short story in mind that I liked and thought others might like but each time I sat down to submit it I would stare at the screen and eventually turn it off without entering the contest. Part of the reason was the submission guidelines….you have to create an account and password and I had to change the spacing and font on the story. I know these are all minor and easily overcome but I used these as an excuse not to submit.

I knew the real reason for my reluctance was that my story would be read and judged. I have a very small audience of readers of my blog and that’s fine…..sure I would like more readers but I know the loyal few do actually read it and generally find it to be entertaining……and really that’s all I’m aiming for here.

By entering a contest my work would be judged against other stories probably submitted by real writers, not by bloggers who write once a week about something that happened in the grocery store. And that’s really why I’ve been pondering this and been paralyzed into in-action for the past couple of weeks. I know my story probably isn’t good enough to be considered against other stories but when I write a short blog post a few people read it and some even hit the like button but nobody comments how bad it was.

So this morning I sat once again at the computer staring at the entry guidelines and submission page. I found myself filling out the application and attaching my story to it and away it went into the internet ether…..a few minutes later I got a confirmation e-mail and it was submitted.

I don’t know why today was the day…..maybe because it is Monday and I wanted to get the week rolling in the right direction or maybe I got tired of making excuses and sitting around worrying that others would read my story and possibly dislike it or call it the work of an beginner but my work is out there for others to read and really as writers that’s all we really want.

Peace and Love….

John