Gary Gauthier's Blog, page 11

The Dead Imago

He woke in a start. His heart raced. Had it been a dream or was this a nightmare that even daylight could not chase away? The first sign of where he was came by way of the assault on his sense of smell. A miasma of stale alcohol and tobacco odors hung about the chamber and made the air heavy and difficult to breathe. He felt nauseous.

What sort of life could he lead if the dark deed loomed over him everywhere he went? During the day, he felt he was being followed. It could be an agent of vengeance or retribution. It could be an agent of the law. Maybe it was both. At night, he was tormented by lurking images and crouching shadows.

He had meant no harm; events simply got out of hand. His only lacuna is a failure of decisiveness, but that's not a crime. He didn't know whether to oscitate or laugh out loud. If only he could do it over again. But wait, how absurd! He caught himself imagining a magical and serendipitous turn of events, or the unfolding of some felicitous synchronicity, as the most plausible resolution to his horrific plight.

Painting: Caravaggio (1571 - 1610), The Sacrifice of Isaac

This piece of fiction was inspired by the Writer's Campaign Second Flash Fiction Challenge:

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:
* include the word "imago" in the title
* include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity,"

A Boundless Sheet of Unruffled Ocean

The view of the earth, at this period of my ascension, was beautiful indeed. To the westward, the northward, and the southward, as far as I could see, lay a boundless sheet of apparently unruffled ocean, which every moment gained a deeper and a deeper tint of blue and began already to assume a slight appearance of convexity. At a vast distance to the eastward, although perfectly discernible, extended the islands of Great Britain, the entire Atlantic coasts of France and Spain, with a small portion of the northern part of the continent of Africa. Of individual edifices not a trace could be discovered, and the proudest cities of mankind had utterly faded away from the face of the earth.

Edgar Allen Poe: The Unparalleled Adventures of One, Hans Pfall

Paiting: Johannes Vermeer, The Geoographer (1668)

I Used to Read Fairy-Tales

When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought!

Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Painting: Pierre Carrier-Belleuse (1851–1932)

A Ridiculous Exaggeration

Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard. So very great is the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would swallow in the course of a night, without any detriment to his reputation as a perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggeration.


Charles Dickens, A Tales of Two Cities

Painting: Gabriël Metsu (1629 - 1667)

Honorable Mentions

This is the first of a recurring column. It will be used to thank my fellow bloggers, followers and guests for their support. It will also be used to recognize their achievements and to highlight some of the comments we exchange. As the title suggests, this is an opportunity to issue honorable mentions. I would be terribly remiss if the first honorable mention did not go to Rachael Harrie who organizes and manages the Writer's Platform-Building Campaign. Thank you Rachael. I think everything that needs to be said probably has been said already. You are an amazing person and you deserve all the credit in the world for organizing such a successful event that impacts so many authors.

I want to thank Ruth Schiffmann for nominating my blog for the Liebster Award. Thank you Ruth! Because of the buggy Blogger platform, I couldn't post a comment on her blog to thank her. I apologize, Ruth. I just checked and still can't post!

I want to thank Christy Farmer for being the very first follower to leave a comment on my blog and for being so supportive of a fellow campaigner. Thanks also, Christy, for including my blog on your Links I Love Page.

I want to thank Ishta Mercurio for taking the time for our excellent discussion on the changes coming to the publishing industry.

Books of Travels

I have perused several books of travels with great delight in my younger days; but having since gone over most parts of the globe, and been able to contradict many fabulous accounts from my own observation, it has given me a great disgust against this part of reading, and some indignation to see the credulity of mankind so impudently abused.

Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels

Painting: Paul Gaugin, (1848 - 1903)

The Keys of Great Authorship

The habit of journalizing becomes a life-long lesson in the art of composition, an informal schooling for authorship. And were the process of preparing their works for publication faithfully detailed by distinguished writers, it would appear how large were their indebtedness to their diary and commonplaces. How carefully should we peruse Shakespeare's notes used in compiling his plays—what was his, what another's—showing how these were fashioned into the shapely whole we read, how Milton composed, Montaigne, Goethe: by what happy strokes of thought, flashes of wit, apt figures, fit quotations snatched from vast fields of learning, their rich pages were wrought forth! This were to give the keys of great authorship!

Amos Bronson Alcott, Table-Talk of A. Bronson Alcott

Painting: Herman Nieg, Benedict of Nursia, 1926

<!hr align=left style="height:1px; width=50%; color:#e0e0a8"/>A word from the editor
A commonplace book, or simply a "commonplace" is a scrapbook containing items of special significance to its creator. They can be poems, scientific facts, aphorisms or literary snippets. Commonplaces are used as an aid for cataloging quotes, recipes, interesting facts or otherwise useful pieces of information. A commonplace book serves needs, goals and interests unique to its creator.

See also: Blork's Literary Snippets

Mystical Books

I never could understand the fondness some people have for confusing their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the Epistles and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the terrible and holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh which forms an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal?

Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

Painting: Felix Vallotton (1865 - 1925)

Fond of Reading Books

I am too fond of reading books to care to write them, Mr. Erskine. I should like to write a novel certainly, a novel that would be as lovely as a Persian carpet and as unreal. But there is no literary public in England for anything except newspapers, primers, and encyclopaedias. Of all people in the world the English have the least sense of the beauty of literature.

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Painting: Julius Garibaldi Melchers (1860-1934)

Enchanted Palaces With Fiery Dragons

Man does not appear to me to be intended to enjoy felicity so unmixed; happiness is like the enchanted palaces we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of all shapes and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours. I own that I am lost in wonder to find myself promoted to an honor of which I feel myself unworthy—that of being the husband of Mercedes.

Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

Painting: Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780-1867)