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How to Be Alone
“On the other hand, some of the family’s impatience with the public is justified. When I use Federal Express, I accept as a condition of business that its standardized forms must be filled out in printed letters. An e-mail address off by a single character goes nowhere. Transposing two digits in a phone number gets me somebody speaking heatedly in Portuguese. Electronic media tell you instantly when you’ve made an error; with the post office, you have to wait. Haven’t we all at some point tested its humanity? I send mail to friends in Upper Molar, New York (they live in Upper Nyack), and expect a stranger to laugh and deliver it in forty-eight hours. More often than not, the stranger does. With its mission of universal service, the Postal Service is like an urban emergency room contractually obligated to accept every sore throat, pregnancy, and demented parent that comes its way. You may have to wait for hours in a dimly lit corridor. The staff may be short-tempered and dilatory. But eventually you will get treated. In the Central Post Office’s Nixie unit—where mail arrives that has been illegibly or incorrectly addressed—I see street numbers in the seventy thousands; impossible pairings of zip codes and streets; addresses without a name, without a street, without a city; addresses that consist of the description of a building; addresses written in water-based ink that rain has blurred. Skilled Nixie clerks study the orphans one at a time. Either they find a home for them or they apply that most expressive of postal markings, the vermilion finger of accusation that lays the blame squarely on you, the sender.”
Post Office
Emergency Room
Senses
“Publishing a book,
Watching its ways
Force me to look
At a screen for days
"Be still, be still",
My heart screams for life
But I must check its sales,
It's reviews, its likes.
Another Instagram poet
Who's dying
And doesn't know it,
Untying an underlying
Knot of desire
To be liked and admired
For people to love what transpires
From my mind, but I'm tired
Of the social machine
Producing my insecurity
Hoping someone will follow me
And like all my poetry
From this point forth, find me nowhere,
Socially unseen,
Just on the back porch, without a care
And without a screen”
Poetry
Conversation
Instagram
Addiction
Social Media
Screens
Facebook Addiction
Finding Myself
Front Porches
Socially Unseen
The Island of Second Sight
“There exist, he says, natural, vulgar, and pathological variants of this impulse, in addition to a higher form which is the only genuinely humane type. Its vulgar manifestation lacks all moral value, and can occur even among mindless animals. The less educated one is, the less familiar one is with the qualities of other places in the world: all the stronger is the attraction to the patch of land where one first saw the light of day. In this respect, Greenlanders and Laplanders, Samoyeds and Hottentots must be listed together with the cowherd on his Swiss Alpine meadow.”
Ignorance
Xenophobia
Narrowmindedness
The Crimson King
“The headsman's axe knows not where it is to fall. It is simply a weapon directed by the hand of another."
- Ahzek Ahriman”
The Black Library
The Horus Heresy
“the goddess knew that her daughter
had been taken, and tore her hair into utter disorder,
and repeatedly struck her breasts with the palms of both hands.
With her daughter’s location a mystery still, she reproaches
the whole earth as ungrateful, unworthy her gift of grain crops,
and Sicily more than the others, where she has discovered
the proof of her loss; and so it was here that her fierce hand
shattered the earth-turning plows, here that the farmers and cattle
perished alike, and here that she bade the plowed fields
default on their trust by blighting the seeds in their keeping.
Sicilian fertility, which had been everywhere famous,
was given the lie when the crops died as they sprouted,
now ruined by too much heat, and now by too heavy a rainfall;
stars and winds harmed them, and the greedy birds devoured
the seed as it was sown; the harvest of wheat was defeated
by thorns and darnels and unappeasable grasses.”
Grief
Curse
Famine
Infertility
Ceres
Crop Failure
The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
“He headed to the outer Eastern rim of the Galaxy, where it was said, wisdom and truth were to be found, most particularly on planet Hawalius, which was a planet of oracles and seers and soothsayers and also take-out pizza parlors, because most mystics were completely incapable of cooking for themselves.”
Douglas Adams
Mystic
Mostly Harmless
What the Wind Knows
“I read somewhere that a person will never truly know who they are unless they prioritize what they love ... Anne Gallagher”
Great Quotes In Books
“Chapter Six: Mistress of Red
From underneath from hellish bowels,
She lives the torment she shrieks and howls.
A damned flame of volcanic intent,
Seeks a city where her hatred may vent.
Underneath the bow of vaulted earth,
This spirit breaks from infernoed perch.
Circles the span of inward woe,
From beneath the caverns does she go.
She seeks the city she may destroy,
To lie in ruins for her ploy.
From lofty plume of sordid ash,
She delights to see her cuts and gash.
Vulcania Draconis, spirit of bitter ’ire,
Rings the earth with her dredful fires.
Horrendous demon from Vulcan’s forge,
Lays waste to the earth, her inhabitants engorged.
Mighty Pompeii knew her ways,
Scoffed at her threats and would not pay.
In vindiction’s rage hissed she their doom,
Cast them alive within their tombs.
And Krakatoa and Mycenae,
They would not yield, she laid them waste.
An extortioness, royal supreme,
To conquer or destroy, her consummate dream.
How this evil one sets her pace,
Rings sweet earth in her death’s nec-lace.
Far from below she blasts her smoke,
To cover their eyes until they choke.
At her command cities fall and swell,
Earthquake, tidal wave, gives masses to hell.
This spirit from the blackest pit,
Broods deep on those she kiss.
She comes to seek those to enslave,
To fuel her bowels, her booty in trade.
The pride and ruination of nations and men,
Seeks souls and bodies to ambition her ends.
Now this licking creature of red-hot glow,
Sends her heat to make fumerals.
Damns the many and damns the one,
As empires burn when her rage is done.
A vengeful spirit, Draconis is,
Smiles so pleasant as victims drop in.
Opens her shotted eyes in mirth,
To hear the screams of their heated death lurch.
This diabolic holds much potent sway,
Seeks for victims as ground gives way.
She holds the riddle to the land,
And holds it she must for her time is at hand.
Had learned she now that Kari had come,
That timeless conflict again begun.
“Never did I see one I could not coerce,
But now a convolcation of power, a tour de force.”
Suppressed regret ruminated throughout,
Yet shreds of fear left no doubt.
“I will finish what was started here in mmy land,
Beyond records treatise once we did stand.
Past all memories, hmm, even so,
Before myth began and Rome’s trumpets blowed.
I will shatter her like earthenware because I mmust,
She tasks mme this creature, mmy hate it is just.
Wounded mme she did, her preysence calls,
If nothing else, ha I will hurt her if I faullt.”
On Vulcania Draconis, Kari's Diabolical Enemy
Cold Steel Eternity Vol. ii”
Poetry
Meditation
Heroine
Drama
Martial Arts
Action Adventure
Valkyries
“Chapter One: The Dawn and the Dread
Heartbeat, heartbeat comes from Valhallan way,
To meet down in judgment, to ply its trade.
Two →swords← to join in worthy cross,
Actions to be rendered, one to be lost.
She did come now from ’yond northern slope,
A day of reckoning did she again once hope.
A devout meeting was her qwesterly bane,
To stay her hand was to go insane.
St. Kari of the Blade to meet her past,
A wicked enemy, peerless of match.
Rode Kari she her charger on down,
Past the Dead Land where Gaul sat crowned.
A killing job, yea, she desired to lastly kill,
To set things right so her heart might lie still.
Upon the mist and roaring plain,
She entered in, a soul uncontained.
A fierce wind in deed, and forever freed,
Enemies she annihilhates (’tis hur’ creed).
Her own advanced guard of a sort,
Multitudes to follow in her report.
Know this Valkyrie from on cold,
An ancient maiden soft and bold.
A warrior spirit from Ages past,
A fragmented mind like broken glass.
Solid in stature this eternal framed being,
Yet crippled within from internaled bleedings.
A sword saint so refined in the poetic art,
A noble character yet with a banshee’s heart.
Rhythmed horse now to the beats,
Kari emboldened amid the sleet.
Beyond the mountain she does come,
Unto southern fields wherein rules hot sun.
Far from that murderous Deadlands ground,
The land up swells; the dead still abound.
Traverses she those bygones of leprous civilizations
Those cities crumbled by the exhalted of oblivions.
Stark traces etched now bare in the land,
That are no more again, save dust in the hand.
A cool stream now in desert sans
(Does more good when one is damned).
Stopped she her mount to admire the flow,
A lovely stream with skeletons packed below.
Blue air whisps; dragon flied motion.
Flintsteel striking!!! Sparked of commotion.
Cold water chortles rushtish with tint,
Told of past carnage, it whetted her glint.
Fallen warriors, they are no more,
Swirls and eddies mark their discord.
Gurgled shouts slung and gathered,
Faces glazed while steel lathered.
Refreshing though it was to her mouth,
She smelled an air; she flared about.
Came up that ridge of loud, sanded hill,
Below a man and his half-score of kills.
Kari’s eyes waxed in smug contempt,
Possibilities ran deep with no repent . . .
On Kari, Valkyrie, Cold Steel Eternity Vol. II”
Spirituality
Fantasy
Heroine
Drama
Ghosts
Epic Poetry
Valkyries
“There are moments of silence and smiles and breaths taken away from the chest, wherein you truly feel a deep understanding for your position in your life, in this world, and within the walls of yourself that you call bones and tissue. You madly understand yourself (your thoughts, your desires, what you want to be living for, really) and it's amazing because it is within those moments where you will come to see how very few people should actually be important to your heart and to your path: because your heart and your path are glorious and different and breathtaking and not everyone belongs there with you. We all often feel pangs of loneliness and we clamour to hold onto other people because it has not yet dawned on us, that not everyone we wish to hold onto will fit on our paths with us. If you could come to an understanding of your own space, and what it means to occupy that space, then you would come to know, and to feel, and to realise, that we are not lonely in our hearts because others do not occupy with us; rather, we are painfully lonely in our hearts because we do not occupy our own skin. We do not occupy our own souls. We do not occupy the space we've been given by our own dreams, desires, longings... what makes you cry? What makes you laugh? It doesn't matter if you're the only one who cries or who laughs! What matters is that you fill up your space so full that your soul rubs up against your bones and pushes up against just below the surface of your skin. You will never be lonely, we would never be lonely, if we knew to occupy all that we are!”
Loneliness
Self Awareness
Wisdom Quotes
Know Thyself
Self Knowledge
Guidance Quotes
Loneliness Of Life
Your Purpose In Life
Self Purpose
Dissolution
“She cast about for her next adversary. She didn't seem to have one. The fight was over, and the few surviving hobgoblins were running away.
"Form up!" she shouted. "I want a column with the traders in the middle. Fast!"
Once the procession was under way, Aunrae, striding along at Greyanna's side, asked, "May I know where we're going? An ally's castle?"
"No," Greyanna replied. "I suspect we couldn't get in. We're going to hide our charges in Bauthwaf."
The column crept past corpses and burning stone, and as they made their way to the cavern wall, other commoners came running out of their homes to join the procession. Greyanna's first impulse was to turn away those without ties to House Mizzrym, but she thought better of it. Many of the newcomers carried swords, and she could press the dolts into martial service if needed.
Occasionally someone collapsed, coughing feebly, poisoned by the stinging smoke. The rest stepped over her and pressed on.
Someone gave a thin, high cry, as if at an unexpected pain. Greyanna spun around. The goblins weren't attacking. Her client the canoe maker had simply seized his opportunity to knife another male in the back.
"A competitor," the craftsman explained.”
Magic
Betrayal
Fantasy
Forgotten Realms
Dark Elf
Drow
Spider Queen
Thank You for Smoking
“You could drink hard liquor in the middle of a school day without people assuming you were an alcoholic underachiever. Strange how in America in the 1950s, at the height of its industrial and imperial power, men drank double-martinis for lunch. Now, in its decline, they drank fizzy water. Somewhere something had gone terribly wrong.”
Smoking
Scotch
Cocktails
Martini
“You could drink hard liquor in the middle of a school day without people assuming you were an alcoholic underachiever. Strange how in America in the 1950s, at the height of its industrial and imperial power, men drank double-martinis for lunch. Now, in its decline, they drank fizzy water. Somewhere something had gone terribly wrong.”
Thank You For Smoking
Martini
“What currency are you bringing to invest in your job, in others, and in yourself, now and in the future? I’m not talking about money denominated in USD, GBP, or Euros. I’m talking about your skills, your capabilities, your expertise, your values, your behaviors, your personal energy, your time, your loyalty.
You’re the owner of this human capital, and you decide when, how, and where to invest it. You hold the key to value creation.
Therefore, create value, preserve that value, and always anticipate value. The journey from success to significance begins with you.”
Success
Skills
Value Creation
Dead Toad Scrolls
“Am I alone in an ensconced inner world where I obsessively worry about what happens to me, where the story of personal survival becomes the central theme of my shallow existence? I think not. Swaddled in our own brand of strangeness, we all struggle to come to terms with our demonstrated personal shortcomings. Our yearned-for life of living in pink skyways far removed from harm’s way is depressingly marked in contrast by our actual crabby existence spent scuttling along akin to a smug lobster, scrunched down on the asphalt streets, working in the city grid as frumpy members of the faceless mob.”
Meaning Of Life
Alienation
Meaningful Living
Existential Crisis
Existential Angst
Existentialist
Existential Questions
Existential Anguish
Existential Alienation
Dead Toad Scrolls
“Most of us suffer from the pangs of self-doubt; yet, the courage to tread forward must originate from within. I seek to articulate a definitive purpose behind my effort and then resolve to devote all interpersonal resources to achieve established goals. I need to be mindful of personal talents and imperfections, boldly face all fears, bravely straddle the unknown, and unerringly establish high-minded objectives. I must exhibit determination, resilience, and courage to give my best effort and never slacken a resolute pace. A seeker is obligated to be truthful; I cannot engage in self-deception if I hope to develop the integrity of my spirit. Comparable to all worthwhile tests of character, a person seeking growth must ultimately conquer his or her insecurities and discover a means to muster flagging personal fortitude. Can I throttle back from the black lagoon or did I travel too far as a chainless soul up the river of insanity to turn back now? Can I reintegrate myself in a normative world where self-preservation and reasonableness reigns? Can I conduct a Black Ops reconnaissance operation by reconfiguring the organs of a dismembered self with reawakened astuteness, and exhibit the determined stoicism indicative of my ancestor lineage?”
Purposeful Living
Self Doubt
Fortitude
Purpose Driven Life
Seeker
Memoir Writing
Writing Memoir
Seeker Of Truth
Nal Growth
Self Determinself Development
Buried in the Sky: The Extraordinary Story of the Sherpa Climbers on K2's Deadliest Day
“...[B]uddhists prefer to cremate the dead. The smoke carries the spirit to the sacred realm above...When someone dies above the timberline and it's hard to find firewood, a sky burial substitues for cremation. Although outsiders consider sky burials barbaric, [to Buddhists] this was the sacred wqy to free the soul. During a sky burial, Buddhist lamas or others with religious authority carry the body to a platform on a hill. While burning incense and reciting mantras, they hack the corpse into chunks and slices. They pound the bones with a rock or hammer, beating the flesh into a pulp and mixing in tea, butter, and milk. The preparation attracts vultures, and the birds consume the carcass, carrying the spirit aloft and burying it in the sky, where it belongs.” (Buried in the Sky: The Extraordinary Story of the Sherpa Climbers on K2's Deadliest Day, p. 103)”
Buddhism
Mountaineering
K2
Sky Burial
“On the first hand, Social Media has much freedom of writing than professional journalism. Whereas, on the other hand, Social Media is the journalistic prostitution.”
Journalistic Prostitution
My Year of Rest and Relaxation
“There was a fine mathematics for how to mete out sedation. The goal for most days was to get to a point where I could drift off easily, and come to without being startled. My thoughts were banal. My pulse was casual. Only the coffee made my heart work a bit harder. Caffeine was my exercise.”
Drugs
Caffeine
Sedation
“Some of Batista’s followers intimidated jailed and even killed political opponents. One of the pro-Batista paramilitary thugs was Rolando Arcadio Masferrer Rojas, who was born in Holguín on July 12, 1918. He had been a member of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, organized in 1936 by the Communist International during the Spanish Civil War. Returning to Cuba, Masferrer became a staunch supporter of Batista, who at that time had the backing of the Communist Party. Masferrer was by no means the average run of the mill thug and, in addition to being a lawyer, he ran for office and won a seat in the Cuban Senate. He was also a guerrilla leader, political activist, a member of the Cuban Communist Party, a newspaper publisher, and responsible for the founding of “Los Tigres de Masferrer,” a guerrilla organization he organized to support Batista militarily. He also published two newspapers, Tiempo in Havana and Libertad in Santiago de Cuba.
Becoming a radical anti-communist, he was ousted from the Cuban Communist Party. Regardless, Masferrer was a dangerous man and people learned to keep their mouths shut and play it low key when he was around. As a pro-Batista political activist, he took credit for supposedly attacking Castro’s rebels in the Sierra Maestra Mountains. Actually, in most cases his group of not-so-fierce fighters stayed safely within the city limits of Santiago de Cuba, extorting money from the residents.
In 1959, after Castro’s entry into Havana, Masferrer fled to the United States where he befriended American union bosses such as Jimmy Hoffa and got to know Mafia leaders such as Santo Trafficante in Tampa, Florida. Masferrer worked with Richard Bissell of the Central Intelligence Agency, planning another assassination attempt on Castro. He was seen at a ranch owned by multi-millionaire Howard Hughes, where he was training paid assassins, and he even met with President Kennedy in Washington.
With money contributed by fellow Cubans living in Florida, he later planned to carry out the assassination of Fidel Castro by attacking him from a distant base in Haiti. It all ended when, on October 31, 1975, Masferrer was killed by a car bomb in Miami. Although his figures may be somewhat exaggerated, Castro claimed that Masferrer was responsible for the death of as many as 2,000 people during the Batista era.”
Murder
Mma Captain Hank Bracker
Cuban Revolution
Communist Party
Batista
Abraham Lincoln Brigrad
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
“I have begun a new book, on purpose that I might have room enough to explain the nature of the perplexities in which my uncle Toby was involved, from the many discourses and interrogations about the siege of Namur, where he received his wound.”
Humor
Literature
Classic Literature
Tristam Shandy
“Always believe in yourself. Do this and no matter where you are, you will have nothing to fear.”
Baron
The Cat Returns
No One Tells You This
“I had grown up thinking of life as a series of linear decisions that if made properly would land me on some distant safe shore where I would finally enjoy the fruits of my labor. Now that I was getting a glimpse of that shore I was struck by the inanity of such an equation. My mother was never going to get another chance to do anything else. She did not have the capacity for regrets, nor was she even able to enjoy the comfort of nostalgia or fond memories--her mind had leaked away too imperceptibly to allow for the clarity to look back on her life and wish she had done things differently. As I continued to worry over what sort of future I was setting myself up for, she seemed a painful cautionary tale that life was not a savings plan, accrued now for enjoyment later. I was alive now. My responsibility was to live now as fully as possible.”
Taking Chances
Living Life To The Fullest
Mindfulness
Playing It Safe
Living In The Moment
Living Well
Dementia
Alzheimers
Living Fully
No Children
“Strong north winds are here
Big leaves blowing everywhere
Gutters full and plugged”
Rain
Leaves Falling
Gutters
Winter Wind
“Am I challenging myself? If I'm not challenged or if I'm not surprised or if I'm not in a new place by the end of the writing than I was at the start, then I haven't done my own job to myself. You gotta end somewhere new.”
Writing
Author
Writers On Writing
Writers Quotes
Why We Write
Why I Write
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