M.K. Alexander's Blog, page 4
November 25, 2018
Mr Thursby’s Finale
Mr Thursby has gone from short story to novella, and now to a full-fledged novel— albeit a short one. Well, now it’s getting longer (sneaking up on 300 pages).
Does this book owe anything to Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide? Some say no, I most definitively say yes… It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety.
Part Two, “The Janus Particle” was released just last month, an added 100 pages.
Part Three nears completion, the finale, entitled “All Clear.” The first draft is now fully written. I expect to publish before the year is out, and as a paperback.
The nice thing about this “serialization” is Amazon’s policy. Each part is added as a new “edition.” If you’ve downloaded the first part and / or the second, the third part will be free of charge. At $2.99 that’s a bargain.
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
Available here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
Part Three goes a bit further afield, that is, we leave earth to visit Mr Thursby’s home world. A brief excerpt:
CHAPTER 17
Many light years from earth, what the humans knew as Mr Thursby made his way to the Hall of Deciding. His attendance was required. A meeting of minds, choices to be made; and his experiences were at the crux of it all. Thursby rode atop his favorite basilisk, a nine-legged lumbering creature the size of a mule. They had a wonderful symbiosis all these many centuries, and Thursby would admit to missing their early morning jaunts.
Two dim suns raced along the horizon as he dismounted and slid down the ceremonial ramp into the great hall. His comrades awaited; he slipped into the central pool, a warm muddy bath; and once he had settled, the conversations began in earnest.
To describe Thursby’s language, and those of his cohorts, would be a futile exercise. To say the mixture of clicks, grunts, wheezes and shrill whistles was a subtle and nuanced language beyond comparison, would however be accurate.
“Click, click, grunt, whistle, wavering wheeze, click, grunt, click,” might mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’ depending on the context, but it never meant ‘maybe.’ A deep throated chortle most always indicated ‘agreement’, though a chortle followed by a wheeze might also be interpreted as ‘doubt.’
To call the others in the Hall of Deciding by their given names would also be a futile undertaking. The meeting began with a long discourse of current events, most of it unintelligible to the casual observer. What might be called Mr Thursby would be the last to speak. To an earthling who knew English, the conversation might sound something like this…
Does this book owe anything to Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide? Some say no, I most definitively say yes… It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety.
Part Two, “The Janus Particle” was released just last month, an added 100 pages.
Part Three nears completion, the finale, entitled “All Clear.” The first draft is now fully written. I expect to publish before the year is out, and as a paperback.
The nice thing about this “serialization” is Amazon’s policy. Each part is added as a new “edition.” If you’ve downloaded the first part and / or the second, the third part will be free of charge. At $2.99 that’s a bargain.
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
Available here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
Part Three goes a bit further afield, that is, we leave earth to visit Mr Thursby’s home world. A brief excerpt:
CHAPTER 17
Many light years from earth, what the humans knew as Mr Thursby made his way to the Hall of Deciding. His attendance was required. A meeting of minds, choices to be made; and his experiences were at the crux of it all. Thursby rode atop his favorite basilisk, a nine-legged lumbering creature the size of a mule. They had a wonderful symbiosis all these many centuries, and Thursby would admit to missing their early morning jaunts.
Two dim suns raced along the horizon as he dismounted and slid down the ceremonial ramp into the great hall. His comrades awaited; he slipped into the central pool, a warm muddy bath; and once he had settled, the conversations began in earnest.
To describe Thursby’s language, and those of his cohorts, would be a futile exercise. To say the mixture of clicks, grunts, wheezes and shrill whistles was a subtle and nuanced language beyond comparison, would however be accurate.
“Click, click, grunt, whistle, wavering wheeze, click, grunt, click,” might mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’ depending on the context, but it never meant ‘maybe.’ A deep throated chortle most always indicated ‘agreement’, though a chortle followed by a wheeze might also be interpreted as ‘doubt.’
To call the others in the Hall of Deciding by their given names would also be a futile undertaking. The meeting began with a long discourse of current events, most of it unintelligible to the casual observer. What might be called Mr Thursby would be the last to speak. To an earthling who knew English, the conversation might sound something like this…
November 18, 2018
Cosmology
I am not a cosmologist, nor do I play one on TV. Though, Carl Sagan was a household deity when I was growing up. Okay, I’m not even an astrophysicist or a scientist, but even I can tell something is seriously wrong with the “Standard Model of Cosmology.”
The Big Bang, the Great Inflation, Cosmic Background Radiation, Quantum Foam, Singularities, Dark Matter, Dark Energy, Relative Time, Warped Space… A detectable filament structure… A definite speed limit set at 670,616,629 mph. And all at the tender age of 14 billion years or so.
Are we all on board with this? Are you okay living in a cosmos made of matter and energy that only comprises four percent of all we can see? The other ninety-six percent of it is just “Dark.”
If you’re at all like me, you think about these things just before you drop off to sleep at night. Or if you are a lot like me, you don’t sleep at all, you just toss and turn with a mind filled with notions that can never be figured out. It might be beyond our intelligence to do so. I’m not meaning to insult anyone— I mean “us” as a species with our limited brain capacity.
For example, we can easily imagine how a black hole distorts space in two dimensions, like a giant bathtub drain, sucking everything towards it. But can we imagine how it distorts space in three dimensions? No, we cannot. Or, if you can, please tell me.
The only thing that seems to be sure, is that everything in the universe is moving, and at some speed. I can’t think of a single thing that’s stationary. If there is such a thing, I suppose it would appear to be zipping past us at a breakneck pace.
Lately though, I’ve been thinking more about black holes. We’ve all heard about them: So gravitationally dense that even light can’t escape! What? Does light want to escape? Maybe it’s happy right where it is… The “normal laws” of physics no longer apply! Really? Can you be more specific? Which laws do you mean? Could I still make a ham sandwich? Will the mustard spread differently?
Pablum… we don’t think too carefully about it. So, how deep is a black hole? It’s really not a hole at all, but more like a densely filled column of warped space and time, filled with compressed matter and energy until it reaches a singularity.
Well, we do sort of know there is a super massive black hole at the heart of every galaxy. And we do know that galaxies are in motion, not just spiraling around, but speeding away from each other or crashing into another. If galaxies move, therefore, so do black holes. And at last count that’s somewhere 200 billion and 2 trillion.
Wait, black holes are moving too? Yes, sir; yes, ma’am. They must be. Despite the fact that they distort space/time so much, light can’t escape, and the normal laws of physics don’t apply. Hmm, where have I heard that before?
So finally, a few questions… Where do all the black holes go? Do they meet up with each other? Maybe it’s like online dating. Or, I wonder, over the last 14 billion years, how much of the cosmos has already been swallowed?
The Big Bang, the Great Inflation, Cosmic Background Radiation, Quantum Foam, Singularities, Dark Matter, Dark Energy, Relative Time, Warped Space… A detectable filament structure… A definite speed limit set at 670,616,629 mph. And all at the tender age of 14 billion years or so.
Are we all on board with this? Are you okay living in a cosmos made of matter and energy that only comprises four percent of all we can see? The other ninety-six percent of it is just “Dark.”
If you’re at all like me, you think about these things just before you drop off to sleep at night. Or if you are a lot like me, you don’t sleep at all, you just toss and turn with a mind filled with notions that can never be figured out. It might be beyond our intelligence to do so. I’m not meaning to insult anyone— I mean “us” as a species with our limited brain capacity.
For example, we can easily imagine how a black hole distorts space in two dimensions, like a giant bathtub drain, sucking everything towards it. But can we imagine how it distorts space in three dimensions? No, we cannot. Or, if you can, please tell me.
The only thing that seems to be sure, is that everything in the universe is moving, and at some speed. I can’t think of a single thing that’s stationary. If there is such a thing, I suppose it would appear to be zipping past us at a breakneck pace.
Lately though, I’ve been thinking more about black holes. We’ve all heard about them: So gravitationally dense that even light can’t escape! What? Does light want to escape? Maybe it’s happy right where it is… The “normal laws” of physics no longer apply! Really? Can you be more specific? Which laws do you mean? Could I still make a ham sandwich? Will the mustard spread differently?
Pablum… we don’t think too carefully about it. So, how deep is a black hole? It’s really not a hole at all, but more like a densely filled column of warped space and time, filled with compressed matter and energy until it reaches a singularity.
Well, we do sort of know there is a super massive black hole at the heart of every galaxy. And we do know that galaxies are in motion, not just spiraling around, but speeding away from each other or crashing into another. If galaxies move, therefore, so do black holes. And at last count that’s somewhere 200 billion and 2 trillion.
Wait, black holes are moving too? Yes, sir; yes, ma’am. They must be. Despite the fact that they distort space/time so much, light can’t escape, and the normal laws of physics don’t apply. Hmm, where have I heard that before?
So finally, a few questions… Where do all the black holes go? Do they meet up with each other? Maybe it’s like online dating. Or, I wonder, over the last 14 billion years, how much of the cosmos has already been swallowed?
November 11, 2018
Theories of Time
My fictional character, Tractus Fynn, has been having some fun on his twitter feed this week. He’s been exploring various theories of time. How we view time itself is important because our personal perspective informs us on causality, self-determination and destiny. Are we masters of our own fate? Are we restless leaves in the winds of randomness? Have our lives been pre-determined, or, do we truly exercise free will?
Our concept of time colors these views. It decides how we live our lives.
To say Tractus Fynn is an expert on the subject of time is to say little. He’s been traveling through it since 451 BCE— or thereabouts. And even that measure of years means little, considering all the parallel timelines he’s lived through, or in some cases, has been compelled to repeat.
And he would be the first to admit Time Travel is a metaphor, a measure for our hopes and fears, our regrets, and all the choices we’ve made. It also clearly defines where we stand in the present. But that is a topic left for a series of voluminous books. Here, we can only speak about a few Theories of Time:
The Domino Theory of Time
Events follow each other in exact sequence. One thing always leads to another. The cosmos is little more than an enormous Rube Goldberg apparatus.
The River Theory of Time
Time flows like a river. The past, present, and future travel by as water does. The river meets the sea, sometimes as a river delta comprised of thousands of branching possibilities; or it dumps into a swamp; or comes to a crashing end as a waterfall; or it slaps against the concrete of a manmade dam.
The Confetti Theory of Time
This idea holds that all moments are randomly scattered in the past, present, and future. They are accessible to us only before they hit the floor. In this case the ground represents reality, and the glittering scraps of paper are our ideas, our hopes, and dreams. All of which can be gathered and thrown into the air again.
The Alarm Clock Theory of Time
Hours, minutes, and seconds are dutifully counted. Before-and-After reigns; though, the snooze button is paramount.
The Butterfly Theory of Time:
A deterministic view that posits all events, no matter how small, can change the future dramatically.
The Quantum Theory of Time
Events, to be important, must reach a certain threshold. They must possess a measure of energy before they can change history. For example, eating a croissant instead of a bagel today won’t cause World War Three.
The Clockmaker Theory of Time
Some distant deity created the universe and all life. He set a large pendulum in motion and all time flows from there. All good Deists bow down to Father Time.
The Brief History of Time Theory
The universe was created with a big bang. Stars and galaxies coalesced. Life arose. The cosmos will continue to expand until nothing can be seen except darkness. Thank you, Stephen Hawking.
The Black Hole Theory of Time
It’s all relative here and gravity is not our friend. Inside, things seem normal (though a bit dark perhaps). You feel peckish and decide to make a sandwich. Viewed from outside, several thousand eons have passed before you even begin to spread the mayonnaise.
Our concept of time colors these views. It decides how we live our lives.
To say Tractus Fynn is an expert on the subject of time is to say little. He’s been traveling through it since 451 BCE— or thereabouts. And even that measure of years means little, considering all the parallel timelines he’s lived through, or in some cases, has been compelled to repeat.
And he would be the first to admit Time Travel is a metaphor, a measure for our hopes and fears, our regrets, and all the choices we’ve made. It also clearly defines where we stand in the present. But that is a topic left for a series of voluminous books. Here, we can only speak about a few Theories of Time:
The Domino Theory of Time
Events follow each other in exact sequence. One thing always leads to another. The cosmos is little more than an enormous Rube Goldberg apparatus.
The River Theory of Time
Time flows like a river. The past, present, and future travel by as water does. The river meets the sea, sometimes as a river delta comprised of thousands of branching possibilities; or it dumps into a swamp; or comes to a crashing end as a waterfall; or it slaps against the concrete of a manmade dam.
The Confetti Theory of Time
This idea holds that all moments are randomly scattered in the past, present, and future. They are accessible to us only before they hit the floor. In this case the ground represents reality, and the glittering scraps of paper are our ideas, our hopes, and dreams. All of which can be gathered and thrown into the air again.
The Alarm Clock Theory of Time
Hours, minutes, and seconds are dutifully counted. Before-and-After reigns; though, the snooze button is paramount.
The Butterfly Theory of Time:
A deterministic view that posits all events, no matter how small, can change the future dramatically.
The Quantum Theory of Time
Events, to be important, must reach a certain threshold. They must possess a measure of energy before they can change history. For example, eating a croissant instead of a bagel today won’t cause World War Three.
The Clockmaker Theory of Time
Some distant deity created the universe and all life. He set a large pendulum in motion and all time flows from there. All good Deists bow down to Father Time.
The Brief History of Time Theory
The universe was created with a big bang. Stars and galaxies coalesced. Life arose. The cosmos will continue to expand until nothing can be seen except darkness. Thank you, Stephen Hawking.
The Black Hole Theory of Time
It’s all relative here and gravity is not our friend. Inside, things seem normal (though a bit dark perhaps). You feel peckish and decide to make a sandwich. Viewed from outside, several thousand eons have passed before you even begin to spread the mayonnaise.
November 4, 2018
Don't vote for me!
Editor's note: this post has nothing to do with the 10th Annual Good-Reads Choice Awards. It has everything to do with our faltering nation.
Democracy is a fragile thing, an imperfect system, and yet the alternatives always seem worse.
A few fun facts:
Athenian Democracy lasted for about 186 years.
Democracy in the US comes in around 229.
Rome spent about 450 years as a republic and about the same amount of time as an Empire. The only voting that occurred was thumbs up or thumbs down at the Circus Maximus.
In North Korea, everyone over age 17 is required to vote. However, only one candidate appears on the ballot.
In Russia, there are many candidates to choose from, though they are all named Vladimir Putin.
Sometimes the choice is between the Silly Party and Very Silly Party.
Please be sensible. Exercise the only power you have: please VOTE this Tuesday. Democracy is a fragile thing and needs your participation.
Democracy is a fragile thing, an imperfect system, and yet the alternatives always seem worse.
A few fun facts:
Athenian Democracy lasted for about 186 years.
Democracy in the US comes in around 229.
Rome spent about 450 years as a republic and about the same amount of time as an Empire. The only voting that occurred was thumbs up or thumbs down at the Circus Maximus.
In North Korea, everyone over age 17 is required to vote. However, only one candidate appears on the ballot.
In Russia, there are many candidates to choose from, though they are all named Vladimir Putin.
Sometimes the choice is between the Silly Party and Very Silly Party.
Please be sensible. Exercise the only power you have: please VOTE this Tuesday. Democracy is a fragile thing and needs your participation.
October 28, 2018
Soul Crushing
There is a dark side to being an indie-author, something none of us like to talk about. We write to be read, and when no one does, it hurts.
Is there anything more soul-crushing?
Hmm… let me think for a second…
No, nothing…
Not that I’ve ever had my soul crushed before… oh wait, maybe once or twice. Like all those years pumping gas, sucking fumes in Jersey, a place where there’s no self-serve. Or all that time working as waitstaff: rich folks stuffing their faces, ordering fine wine, many self-serving, often subtly condescending, and, oh-so-superior… I won’t count the time as a homeless guy begging for spare change along a jam packed Cross-Bronx Expressway. That ended up being sort of fun.
Besides, that was years ago… now I’m an established indie-author. Everything’s good.
Soul-crushing?
Write a book… months of work at least… months more of revisions and rewrites… weeks of formatting and promoting… Okay, let’s count the readers now: eleven or twelve (not including betas— who are ineligible to leave reviews on Amazon). A dozen downloads, some paid, some from Prime.
Let’s count the reviews: zero.
Mr Thursby is critically un-acclaimed.
It should be time to give up—right? Or at least it’s time to place the blame. Do I suck as a writer? No, that’s not the case— of that I’m certain. Do I lack imagination? No. Am I writing about things no one cares about? A possibility, I suppose. Do I suck at promoting? Most likely.
I should give up, I guess, but I can’t.
Mr Thursby has gone from a short story to a novella, and now to a full-fledged novel— albeit a short one. Well, now it’s getting longer. Mr Thursby Three is in the works, the final bit of story— half of it fully drafted.
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety. Mr Thursby, The Novel, published last week on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
Is there anything more soul-crushing?
Hmm… let me think for a second…
No, nothing…
Not that I’ve ever had my soul crushed before… oh wait, maybe once or twice. Like all those years pumping gas, sucking fumes in Jersey, a place where there’s no self-serve. Or all that time working as waitstaff: rich folks stuffing their faces, ordering fine wine, many self-serving, often subtly condescending, and, oh-so-superior… I won’t count the time as a homeless guy begging for spare change along a jam packed Cross-Bronx Expressway. That ended up being sort of fun.
Besides, that was years ago… now I’m an established indie-author. Everything’s good.
Soul-crushing?
Write a book… months of work at least… months more of revisions and rewrites… weeks of formatting and promoting… Okay, let’s count the readers now: eleven or twelve (not including betas— who are ineligible to leave reviews on Amazon). A dozen downloads, some paid, some from Prime.
Let’s count the reviews: zero.
Mr Thursby is critically un-acclaimed.
It should be time to give up—right? Or at least it’s time to place the blame. Do I suck as a writer? No, that’s not the case— of that I’m certain. Do I lack imagination? No. Am I writing about things no one cares about? A possibility, I suppose. Do I suck at promoting? Most likely.
I should give up, I guess, but I can’t.
Mr Thursby has gone from a short story to a novella, and now to a full-fledged novel— albeit a short one. Well, now it’s getting longer. Mr Thursby Three is in the works, the final bit of story— half of it fully drafted.
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety. Mr Thursby, The Novel, published last week on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
October 21, 2018
Mr Thursby Too
Mr Thursby has gone from a short story to a novella, and now to a full-fledged novel— albeit a short one.
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety. In the end it’s an homage to 1960’s Sci-Fi; you’ll find plenty of familiar themes.
Mr Thursby, The Novel, publishes tomorrow or the next day, depending on Amazon.
What’s new?
A hundred pages are, specifically Part Two: “The Janus Particle.” Nine additional chapters chronicle the events leading up to the gamma ray burst over a ten month period. Thrills and chills, alien possession and competent bureaucrats— that’s right, I said competent.
This second edition comes in at around 50,000 words, or about two hundred pages.
I’ll leave you with this brief except:
A white step van pulled off River Road in Schenectady New York. It parked near three long buildings lined with garage doors and surrounded by a chain link fence: the Route 5-S, Self Storage Facility. The driver got out and looked around. There was another man there, standing under a willow tree, and he shuffled closer.
“Mr Thursday?” the driver called out.
“No, it’s Thursby.”
The driver looked down at his clipboard and tapped the screen. “Oh, sorry. They must’ve put your name down wrong on the form.”
“No matter, thank you for being so prompt,” he replied.
“Got your delivery…”
“Ah, yes. I am using storage unit number three,” Mr Thursby said and pointed to the row of buildings closest to the river. “Would you unload it there for me?”
“Sure thing… just got to sign…”
“Can you sign for me? I’ve damaged my hand and cannot write properly.”
The driver gave him the once over. “That’s a little unorthodox…”
“I have paid for it,” Mr Thursby said. He came closer and thrust some currency into the driver’s palm.
The man smiled. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Nor do I need the receipt, thank you anyway.”
“Ninety-six pounds of clover honey,” the driver said and opened the back of his van with a flourish. “What are you going to be doing with all this, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
There was an awkward silence as the driver began to unload. “…Well?” he asked again.
“Ah yes, it is for a special recipe… an unparalleled confection.”
“Oh, so you’re a chef?”
“I hope to be,” Thursby replied.
“Got your honey in four boxes, two dozen jars in each… where do you want it?”
“I will place it in my vehicle for now.” Mr Thursby struggled with the garage door and the driver obliged with some help. The aluminum panels rattled open. A light clicked on.
“Wow… awesome car,” the man said, peering in with admiration.
“Thank you. A 1957 Silver Hawk.”
“A what?”
“A Studebaker.”
“Fins, chrome, and everything… You ever think of selling it?”
“No. This vehicle lacks wheels as you may notice, and the engine has more miles on it than I care to say.” Mr Thursby popped the trunk.
“Not sure you got enough room in there… How about the back seat?”
“Yes, that will suffice, thank you.”
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
What’s it about?
A gamma ray burst is heading right for earth, threatening to boil away our atmosphere. Mr Thursby, an extraterrestrial, is here to help, or so it would seem— and yet there is another alien (Janus) who would prefer if things remained on course. One always tells the truth, and the other always lies. Oh dear, who to trust?
It’s funny, a bit scary, and scientifically grounded, and of course, brimming with subtlety. In the end it’s an homage to 1960’s Sci-Fi; you’ll find plenty of familiar themes.
Mr Thursby, The Novel, publishes tomorrow or the next day, depending on Amazon.
What’s new?
A hundred pages are, specifically Part Two: “The Janus Particle.” Nine additional chapters chronicle the events leading up to the gamma ray burst over a ten month period. Thrills and chills, alien possession and competent bureaucrats— that’s right, I said competent.
This second edition comes in at around 50,000 words, or about two hundred pages.
I’ll leave you with this brief except:
A white step van pulled off River Road in Schenectady New York. It parked near three long buildings lined with garage doors and surrounded by a chain link fence: the Route 5-S, Self Storage Facility. The driver got out and looked around. There was another man there, standing under a willow tree, and he shuffled closer.
“Mr Thursday?” the driver called out.
“No, it’s Thursby.”
The driver looked down at his clipboard and tapped the screen. “Oh, sorry. They must’ve put your name down wrong on the form.”
“No matter, thank you for being so prompt,” he replied.
“Got your delivery…”
“Ah, yes. I am using storage unit number three,” Mr Thursby said and pointed to the row of buildings closest to the river. “Would you unload it there for me?”
“Sure thing… just got to sign…”
“Can you sign for me? I’ve damaged my hand and cannot write properly.”
The driver gave him the once over. “That’s a little unorthodox…”
“I have paid for it,” Mr Thursby said. He came closer and thrust some currency into the driver’s palm.
The man smiled. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Nor do I need the receipt, thank you anyway.”
“Ninety-six pounds of clover honey,” the driver said and opened the back of his van with a flourish. “What are you going to be doing with all this, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
There was an awkward silence as the driver began to unload. “…Well?” he asked again.
“Ah yes, it is for a special recipe… an unparalleled confection.”
“Oh, so you’re a chef?”
“I hope to be,” Thursby replied.
“Got your honey in four boxes, two dozen jars in each… where do you want it?”
“I will place it in my vehicle for now.” Mr Thursby struggled with the garage door and the driver obliged with some help. The aluminum panels rattled open. A light clicked on.
“Wow… awesome car,” the man said, peering in with admiration.
“Thank you. A 1957 Silver Hawk.”
“A what?”
“A Studebaker.”
“Fins, chrome, and everything… You ever think of selling it?”
“No. This vehicle lacks wheels as you may notice, and the engine has more miles on it than I care to say.” Mr Thursby popped the trunk.
“Not sure you got enough room in there… How about the back seat?”
“Yes, that will suffice, thank you.”
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FZCS9FS?...
October 14, 2018
Smart Too
Continuing on the topic of being smart— which was not well-received last week— I am providing a passage here from “The Decline of the West.”
The author presents an “organic” view of history. His general argument goes: “Cultures” emerge and flourish… over time, they ossify into a “Civilization.” The latter may linger for centuries in a more-or-less static state, until eventually falling into decline. Such is the point in time where we live in at present:
“For it will become manifest that, from this moment on, all great conflicts of world-outlook, of politics, of art, of science, of feeling will be under the influence of this opposition [culture versus civilization]. What is the hallmark of a politic of Civilization today, in contrast to the politic of Culture yesterday? It is for the Classical rhetoric, and for Western journalism, both serving that abstract which represents the power of Civilization: money. It is the money-spirit which penetrates the unremarked historical forms of people’s existence…”
(You will likely need to read the above more than once…)
But I ask, how can a voice from 100 years ago so accurately describe our current day?
The Decline of the West
by Oswald Spengler
1917
page 34, introduction.
The author presents an “organic” view of history. His general argument goes: “Cultures” emerge and flourish… over time, they ossify into a “Civilization.” The latter may linger for centuries in a more-or-less static state, until eventually falling into decline. Such is the point in time where we live in at present:
“For it will become manifest that, from this moment on, all great conflicts of world-outlook, of politics, of art, of science, of feeling will be under the influence of this opposition [culture versus civilization]. What is the hallmark of a politic of Civilization today, in contrast to the politic of Culture yesterday? It is for the Classical rhetoric, and for Western journalism, both serving that abstract which represents the power of Civilization: money. It is the money-spirit which penetrates the unremarked historical forms of people’s existence…”
(You will likely need to read the above more than once…)
But I ask, how can a voice from 100 years ago so accurately describe our current day?
The Decline of the West
by Oswald Spengler
1917
page 34, introduction.
October 7, 2018
Spengler Smart
BOOK:
The Decline of the West
by Oswald Spengler
1917
We like to think we’re smart. I don’t mean personally, or like Yogi, who is certainly smarter than the average bear… I mean as a society, as a civilization.
We are way smarter than our ancestors. We’ve got smart cars, smart bombs, even smart TVs. Look at all the cool gadgets we have… and now most of them fit in our pocket. You had to be smart to figure that out.
Hmm, smart and the ability to miniaturize might not be mutually exclusive. Granted, the people who designed such things are smart, at least in one specific way. But just because you can use these devices, it does not mean you’re intelligent, or mutually inclusive.
What is smart though?
Of course I mean intelligence, reasoning, logic. Thinking, it’s sometimes said, is the ability to differentiate between various things, sort of like making a choice. That’s a pretty narrow definition. It leaves out the emotional quotient (E.Q.), and street smarts. Let’s leave them both on the boulevard for now. Let’s talk about intellect.
Why am I gong on and on about all this?
It’s because I just picked up an old book and started reading. It’s from a hundred years ago, a philosophy book titled “The Decline of the West” by Oswald Spengler. It was written in 1917, the distant past, and the first thing I noticed was the author is way smarter than we could ever hope to be.
This particular treatise is filled with long sentences, and lots of commas. It takes effort and attention to follow. It’s a book about history, not events, but the way we look at history. Spengler is smart and challenging; his ideas spring from thinking, and thinking long and hard.
An irony perhaps… Our civilization is distracted, impatient, scattered, pulled in all directions, and preferring to be entertained… The Decline of the West indeed. And yet the irony lies in the fact that we are still just smart enough to understand what Spengler is saying.
The Decline of the West
by Oswald Spengler
1917
We like to think we’re smart. I don’t mean personally, or like Yogi, who is certainly smarter than the average bear… I mean as a society, as a civilization.
We are way smarter than our ancestors. We’ve got smart cars, smart bombs, even smart TVs. Look at all the cool gadgets we have… and now most of them fit in our pocket. You had to be smart to figure that out.
Hmm, smart and the ability to miniaturize might not be mutually exclusive. Granted, the people who designed such things are smart, at least in one specific way. But just because you can use these devices, it does not mean you’re intelligent, or mutually inclusive.
What is smart though?
Of course I mean intelligence, reasoning, logic. Thinking, it’s sometimes said, is the ability to differentiate between various things, sort of like making a choice. That’s a pretty narrow definition. It leaves out the emotional quotient (E.Q.), and street smarts. Let’s leave them both on the boulevard for now. Let’s talk about intellect.
Why am I gong on and on about all this?
It’s because I just picked up an old book and started reading. It’s from a hundred years ago, a philosophy book titled “The Decline of the West” by Oswald Spengler. It was written in 1917, the distant past, and the first thing I noticed was the author is way smarter than we could ever hope to be.
This particular treatise is filled with long sentences, and lots of commas. It takes effort and attention to follow. It’s a book about history, not events, but the way we look at history. Spengler is smart and challenging; his ideas spring from thinking, and thinking long and hard.
An irony perhaps… Our civilization is distracted, impatient, scattered, pulled in all directions, and preferring to be entertained… The Decline of the West indeed. And yet the irony lies in the fact that we are still just smart enough to understand what Spengler is saying.
September 30, 2018
Nooks and Crannies
As an indie author, I sell the vast majority of my books on Amazon, not Barnes & Noble, nor i-Books, Kobo, or GooglePlay. I wonder though, if things might be different, say, in an alternate timeline.
I do not mean to argue the merits of technology here. What’s better? A nook, a kindle, an i-pad or chrome tablet? That’s for someone else to say, though I do sometimes ponder why people prefer their zune to an i-pod. Nor do I wish to discuss the merits of formatting: Mobi versus EPUB verses PDF, or DocX, though the latter is to my mind, unacceptable.
I’d like to talk about approach.
In the early days of ebooks, Amazon came to the fore and has maintained their dominance ever since. Why exactly? Well, no doubt, the kindle reader was cool and inexpensive; but more, we were getting used to shopping online and Amazon was the biggest game in town. They made it easy to buy anything, even books. They also made it easy to upload your work.
Can they ever be toppled?
Maybe not in this timeline…
Still, let’s take a look. Why didn’t Apple wildly succeed as they did with music? Hmm, as an indie, getting your books there is an onerous process to say the least. Not Indie-friendly. I won’t even mention Smashwords… Oops, I just did.
Well then, Google, you say. A giant among giants. Every word you ever wrote could be searchable, analyzed and marketed. Hmm, GoogleBooks is already named for something else. GooglePlay— are you kidding? Nothing says I’m a serious reader / writer like that moniker. How about GoogleRead? That’s a bit better, and it would be foolish to discount them from the ebook market entirely.
That leaves Barnes & Noble. Okay, they arrived a bit late to the ebook game… and the Nook? Well, like I said, I’m not going to discuss the merits of hardware. They did miss the boat though, and in one way unique to them.
Name recognition? Check.
Loyal customer base? Check.
Thousands of brick and mortar stores dotted across the landscape we call America? Check.
Snazzy but elegant interface? Check.
Indie-friendly? Check.
What went wrong?
To my mind they missed one crucial factor: a regional strategy. There’s a Barnes & Noble bookstore in every other town, or state, or at least within driving distance. Oh, you’re an indie author who sells books with us? Oh, we wouldn’t dream of doing local book signings at our store, a meet the author kind of deal… You might show up with a smile and an armload of paperbacks.
I do not mean to argue the merits of technology here. What’s better? A nook, a kindle, an i-pad or chrome tablet? That’s for someone else to say, though I do sometimes ponder why people prefer their zune to an i-pod. Nor do I wish to discuss the merits of formatting: Mobi versus EPUB verses PDF, or DocX, though the latter is to my mind, unacceptable.
I’d like to talk about approach.
In the early days of ebooks, Amazon came to the fore and has maintained their dominance ever since. Why exactly? Well, no doubt, the kindle reader was cool and inexpensive; but more, we were getting used to shopping online and Amazon was the biggest game in town. They made it easy to buy anything, even books. They also made it easy to upload your work.
Can they ever be toppled?
Maybe not in this timeline…
Still, let’s take a look. Why didn’t Apple wildly succeed as they did with music? Hmm, as an indie, getting your books there is an onerous process to say the least. Not Indie-friendly. I won’t even mention Smashwords… Oops, I just did.
Well then, Google, you say. A giant among giants. Every word you ever wrote could be searchable, analyzed and marketed. Hmm, GoogleBooks is already named for something else. GooglePlay— are you kidding? Nothing says I’m a serious reader / writer like that moniker. How about GoogleRead? That’s a bit better, and it would be foolish to discount them from the ebook market entirely.
That leaves Barnes & Noble. Okay, they arrived a bit late to the ebook game… and the Nook? Well, like I said, I’m not going to discuss the merits of hardware. They did miss the boat though, and in one way unique to them.
Name recognition? Check.
Loyal customer base? Check.
Thousands of brick and mortar stores dotted across the landscape we call America? Check.
Snazzy but elegant interface? Check.
Indie-friendly? Check.
What went wrong?
To my mind they missed one crucial factor: a regional strategy. There’s a Barnes & Noble bookstore in every other town, or state, or at least within driving distance. Oh, you’re an indie author who sells books with us? Oh, we wouldn’t dream of doing local book signings at our store, a meet the author kind of deal… You might show up with a smile and an armload of paperbacks.
September 23, 2018
Johnny Mnemonic
A few people (a very few, more than two and less than four) have asked me about dreams. Specifically, if I have some method for remembering them every morning.
(see my post here of two weeks ago)
The short answer is no, but a qualified no. I made some glib remark about throwing your alarm clock out the window. Not the worst idea. Well, I do not wake each morning in some sort of blissful zen-like state. Most often, it’s a soft paw across my face that rouses me. And if that fails, a sharp little claw. Word of warning: cats do not have a snooze button; though, loud purring has much the same effect.
The point is, no matter how you wake, to remember your dreams, it takes some effort. Try this: think of nothing else as you wake. Don’t start thinking about your day, your anxiety, if the coffee is on or not, if the shower still has hot water, etc. Think about what you dreamt first and nothing else for now.
I most often recall my dreams if I’m awoken in the midst of RWM sleep (Rapid Whisker Movement). So sleep cycles can be a determining factor.
And then there’s habit.
You might not recall your dreams every morning— try nonetheless. You’ll be disappointed, but don’t get discouraged. Keep at it… think of nothing else.
Motivation also plays a role. Is remembering your dreams important to your life, your well-being? Perhaps that’s a discussion for another post…
As a last resort you might consider this: There’s a device on the market, might be available on e-bay— it’s simple really, you just plug it into the back of your brain stem, hook up to a USB port and you’re good to go. (software interface sold separately…)
No, not really…
Then there’s the final point of how much will you remember. From my experience, very little. A snippet, a scene, a fleeting impression are the best to hope for at first. As the days and weeks go by, you might recall up to half a dream.
Best of luck in this endeavor.
(see my post here of two weeks ago)
The short answer is no, but a qualified no. I made some glib remark about throwing your alarm clock out the window. Not the worst idea. Well, I do not wake each morning in some sort of blissful zen-like state. Most often, it’s a soft paw across my face that rouses me. And if that fails, a sharp little claw. Word of warning: cats do not have a snooze button; though, loud purring has much the same effect.
The point is, no matter how you wake, to remember your dreams, it takes some effort. Try this: think of nothing else as you wake. Don’t start thinking about your day, your anxiety, if the coffee is on or not, if the shower still has hot water, etc. Think about what you dreamt first and nothing else for now.
I most often recall my dreams if I’m awoken in the midst of RWM sleep (Rapid Whisker Movement). So sleep cycles can be a determining factor.
And then there’s habit.
You might not recall your dreams every morning— try nonetheless. You’ll be disappointed, but don’t get discouraged. Keep at it… think of nothing else.
Motivation also plays a role. Is remembering your dreams important to your life, your well-being? Perhaps that’s a discussion for another post…
As a last resort you might consider this: There’s a device on the market, might be available on e-bay— it’s simple really, you just plug it into the back of your brain stem, hook up to a USB port and you’re good to go. (software interface sold separately…)
No, not really…
Then there’s the final point of how much will you remember. From my experience, very little. A snippet, a scene, a fleeting impression are the best to hope for at first. As the days and weeks go by, you might recall up to half a dream.
Best of luck in this endeavor.
