Broken Tongue

I received two emails addressed to a group of people today and with both I managed to antagonize someone; in the first by attempting a joke that seems to have bombed, and in the second by assuming the email that was sent was a joke and responding in kind.

As much as I love individual emails from people, and I truly do, I am finding that I would just as soon not receive group emails. It’s not that I don’t like being made part of the group, I do. It’s just that group emails trigger my evil twin, and that nasty babe loves to cause trouble.

I added comments in for a couple of posts, see how it goes.


Where in the world if Jeff Ward?

If you’re a fan of Jeff Ward, otherwise known as Visible Darkness, otherwise known as This Public Address, be aware that he had server problems, and he’s moved his weblog to a new domain and server at

His old archives are temporarily lost in limbo at his old server, but you can find new postings in his new home. New look, too.

Change your link and go say hi to Jeff. Tell him you’re glad he came in from the digital cold.


Clashing Colors


I’ve pulled the link to Paths at this time, though the files are still on the server (for the moment, I’ll pull by end of April). I’m not happy with it, with the writing or the organization. The whole thing rather reminds me of a lemonade stand I tried once when I was a kid.

It was a useful exercise. I liked playing with the web page design, and it provided an excellent lesson in being honest with oneself.

I’ve added more essays/stories to Paths, including Bright Copper Pennies. If you liked Marbles you would probably like Pennies.

I’m finding that Paths: The Book of Colors is becoming a hodge podge of random entries, loosely linked on a common thread. Unfortunately, though, the thread is stretching to the point of invisibility. If one looks closely, one sees not one, not two, but three Books of Color all mixed together in a confusing mess of words.

There are the parables and fiction, such as the Mockingbird’s Wish and a Child’s Tale. These are mixed in with stories based on actual experiences, such as Marbles and Bright, Copper, Pennies. Alternating are the essays such as Reflections on Still Water and Held Captive. There’s even a poem of sorts with If the Sunset could Speak.

Regardles of their merit, or lack thereof, throwing all these different writings together can’t help but irritate the reader. There is no flow, no connection, not even a common method of writing between the lot. Basically, the colors, which should be distinct but not clashing, flow but not run, are blurring, becoming a muddy mess.

I could focus on the stories, and I have at least two more I want to add – The Inn at the Fork of the Road and My Moutain, Far and Near, but I’m not sure that’s the type of writing I want to do. I enjoy doing it, but I’m not sure that it’s the type of writing I want to do. Make sense?

I could focus on the stories loosely based on my experiences and others, but there are dark tales among the copper pennies and the marbles, and I’m not quite comfortable publishing these. However, it is just these stories that make the lighter stories worthwhile. They are the substance.

Then there’s the essays, and I do love writing essays. However, I was reminded yesterday when I started reading through the collection of Virginia Woolf essays I found online that this type of writing is the most difficult, requiring not only skill with words but also an unusual sense of perspective. You must be able to invoke feeling and images within your reader, but indirectly. You must be able to use sentiment without being maudlin. And you must be able to write passionately and compellingly, without dripping emotion over the nice clean page. The reader should be the one to clutch at their chest in exultation, not the author.

No worries about the one poem – that’s not my focus or strength or interest (as a writer), which should come as a relief to several poetry lovers in the crowd. I know just enough about poetry to know that it’s more than half sentences strung together with an occasional rhymed word. Brave wielding of ellipses does not a poet make.

Until I decide the direction Paths takes, I’ll continue to add my hodge podge of stories and essays and parables, each acting as placeholders for the real thing if nothing else. Someday I’ll decide what kind of writer I want to be when I grow up. I guess that’s the one constant in Paths –regardless of the style of writing and the popularity of the work and the reader reaction I may, or may not, receive, I will continue to write. Online, or off, I will continue to write.

But, it was easier just writing about cats, Tim Tams, and RDF.


Just Shelley

Powers clan

I’ve been asked if Chastity Powers at Wealth Bondage is one of the numerous Powers clan relations.

I checked the genealogy and I believe that she could be my Great-Grandfather’s brother’s wife’s cousin’s niece’s great-great grandaughter, making her my cousin, 7 times removed.

This would put her on the Boston-Catholic Powers side, rather than among us Heathen West Coast Powers. This could explain her working for WB, and the ropes; but it doesn’t explain the cleavage.