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Boy, it is quiet in the Blogs, these days. I thought I'd wait till there was a least one more blog logged, but I just couldn't wait any longer.
Ah! I remmeber the days of rcallaci's Tangled Tapestry and my own journey through the Major Arcana of the Tarot. Still going with that series after life decided to interfere with my fantasy worlds.
Everyday was a new adventure. The blogs were filled with the comings and goings of people -their imagination or daily deeds.
So to try to stir the broth, encur the wrath or prompt the sloth, I'll dip my oar into the murky depths of the blog's stagnant waters and slosh it about.
Blogs are where I can just let my hair down and fly free without the naked exposure that the front page brings. Here you can try and fly, before you buy into an idea or have a cheap overnight fling with a notion you have been toying with. Alternately it can be a place to share ideas and information or just like a diary you can chart your own unique path as the spinning blue green pearl we call Earth cuts a swathe through the swarthy star-stuck expanse of space.
So sharpen those scimitars of sonic scintillation and clash the signs and cymbals of the collaborative corroboree. Smash down that icy wall around your heart that hides the quicksilver slivers of living from your fellow travellers. Give in to the enticing exotique allure of the creepy, murky (and sometimes a little smelly) bayous of the blogs.
Like today, I went a little further along the stairway to heaven. Another small step for mekind; another backward leap for guitarists the world over.
Yes! I've almost mastered the intro to Led Zepplin's incomparable Stairway To Heaven. And from there I'm certain it's all downhill. :-)
But on the plus side, I finally learnt to play one of those old classics that has always been a favourite of mine. If your generation begins with a letter, look away, but for my generation of Krakatoa-like infants, you may well know this toe-tapping tune - The Bellamy Brother's "Let Your Love Flow".
It's just D,A and G chords mostly. Not a complex song with digit-twisting fingerpicking like Stairway, which is brilliant in it's precise pitch and delicate steps, but simple and soulful like a mountain's cry or a desert's plea or the whispering winds that echo with my call...
michael
my call
michael
Shh! Someone might hear you.
And so we stand on the precipice of tomorrow, the eve of new millenium before us...
Oh yeh! Sorry about that, chief.
And so we stand on the precipice of tomorrow, the DAWN of a new millenium BEHIND us and the eve of a new...??precipice?...
And so...yarda yarda yarda...the Dawn...??
Is it morning already?
Back to serious stuff.
The Circle of Stone. OoooH! Spooky!
Okay. I haven't done more on that because of work and re-editing of everthing I've written since discovering I was making the most basic of mistakes with punctuation. Who cares about punctuation you may ask?
"Who cares about punctuaction?" a disembodied voice asked.
I looked at the rejection letter in my hand.
"Publishers care." I replied, just realising that should have been a comma not a period after "care" or even a hyphen had I been bold enough and should this run-on sentence go any longer i had better make sure it has a few commas in it,,,to seperate the phrases not to mention using a capital i for I.
"I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Who cares about punctuation?" An etheral voice echoed around my writing.
"Publishers!" the blog dweller replied.
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Like the grasses showing tender faces to each other, thus should we do, for this was the wish of the Grandfathers of the World.
Black Elk
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The Archer's Eye
