It was such a lovely warm day out that I decided to go for a walk in city centre and bathe in the sun while it is still hanging around.  I walked and enjoyed the warmth for a while with my backpack in tow.  I stopped at the local caffeine watering hole and got a double latte as usual.  I sat down at a wee table and started going back through my lovely friend, Susan Abraham’s, new book, Call the Ships of Dar-es-Salaam.. 

As I looked up to have a sip of the steamy and luscious coffee, I noticed a blonde in her mid twenties sit down across from me with several books in tow as well.  I sat there, occasionally darting my eyes over to her, to see if she was doing the same.  She happened to glance up as I did, so we exchanged pleasantries.  She asked what I was reading.  I told her about Susan’s delightful book.  We started talking about our favourite authors.  She asked me about Susan’s book and I even let her read a few poems in it.  She was so enthralled by some of the poems like Lipstick Fish that she wrote down the ISBN so as to order it herself.

One thing led to another and she sat down at my table.  We discussed everything from poetry to the weather.  I spoke of my own poetry and my love of photography and all the arts.  I was more than impressed by her intellect, not to mention the complete package.  That’s when everything went horribly wrong. 

She threw her hair back, smiled, and asked me a question that made me feel like barfing.  “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?”  I demanded as a mountain of anger and confusion erupted from my brow.

She put her hand on top of mine, and said, “Oh, it’s okay now days.  Don’t be ashamed of who you are.”

“I’m not gay”, I exclaimed whilst jerking my hand back.

Shock gripped her face, as she queried, “You’re not”.

“I’m not gay now, nor have I ever been gay, nor do I have plans to be gay in the future",  I answered, as my heart and pride splattered to the floor in a pool of humiliation.  (I mean that figuratively)

“I’m…I’m…I’m sorry…I just thought with the poetry and your kind demeanour that..you were…ya know.”  Her countenance red with embarrassment and pity.

“Can a man not scribe sonnets of a beauteous nature and be soft spoken without being labelled as gay?”

“Again, I’m sorry…I just misread you, I guess.”

“You Guess?!”

“Yeah, most guys are more obvious in their pursuits.”

“The desire to procreate is a powerful one.  I’m just like every other guy out there, except for the fact that I’m a lot smarter in my pursuits.”

“Well, let me apologize by buying you a refill.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I have to go and I don’t take pity drinks from women that have eradicated my self esteem, accidentally or not.”

“Aww..”

“Read the book and you might learn a thing or two about people”, I stated whilst grabbing my backpack and heading towards the exit of the caffeine watering hole. 

Looking back at the entire situation makes me almost laugh and yell at the same time.  I’m more confused that she would think such a thing.  I don’t dress in any sort of flamboyant manner.  I don’t speak with a high voice.  I don’t flail my hands in the air while talking.  I don’t get it. 

As I said, I’m not gay, I’ve never been gay, I’ve never thought about being gay, and I’m never going to be gay.  I don’t have anything against gay people.  In fact, I’d fight for their right to be gay.  I may not always agree with the way some people live their lives, but it is their lives, so I pass no judgement on them nor do I have the right to do so. 

So ladies, just because a man may be in his thirties, clean cut, soft spoken, a clean freak, and kind does not, for the love all that is Holy, mean that he is gay!  Believe me, I can be tough when necessary.  I’ve taken more than my share of blows to the head and upper body.  I’ve delivered quite a few too.  If a man would have asked me that, I would have knocked him on his backside right then. 

P.S.:  Susan, I’ll have that review by the end of the week.  Your splendid musings and poetry give me hope for my own writing future. 

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That wondrously kind Vanilla has bestowed an Art award upon me.  I am honoured and quite blushed that she’d include me in this award, especially since I’ve been so quiet on the blogosphere lately.  I can only hope that future post will enhance this fête.  It is the little things that people do for one another that gives me hope.  Thank you, Vanilla.

So, here’s the blurb:

Art Prize and Award
"This prize has arisen from the daily visits that I dedicate to many blogs which nourish me and enrich me with creativity. In them I see dedication, creativity, care, comradeship, but mainly, ART, much art. I want to share this prize with all those bloggers that entertain me day to day and to share this prize with those who enrich me every day. Doubtlessly, there are many and it will be hard to pick just a few, the people I will name today deserve this prize, as do the very long serious list of bloggers I also enjoy to read, but I will name the first 10 and will leave the rest of the work to all the bloggers that visit other’s blogs and are nourished by them."

The standard rules apply for this award.  I will pass it on to five of you and expect you to do the same.  If you are not on my list, please do not be insulted.  I might have just forgot ’bout you or somethin’.  Have you ever heard of an absent minded lensman?  Well, that’s me in a nutshell. 

Iced Coffee

Gingerpixel

Baino’s Banter

K8 the Gr8

The Inner Minx

Here’s a lovely meme for the lot of you.  This one has been around the blogosphere for a while, but it is fun and easy.  This one consist of taking passages out of a book on a certain page.  It is quite hilarious as to what you’ll find.  I may have cheated a wee bit, but it is really close to what it is supposed to be. 

The rules are:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

"She aroused them, and soon the assembly ground and seats were filled with curious men, a throng who peered and saw the master mind of war, Laërtes son.  Athena now poured out her grace upon him, head and shoulders, height and mass – a splendor awesome to the eyes of the Phaiákians; she put him in a fettle to win the day, mastering every trial they set to test him.  When all the crowd sat marshalled, quieted, Alkínoös addressed the full assembly."

Most of you can probably tell from whence this passage came, but I will tell those of you that have never read it.  Shame on you!    Tis "The Odyssey", by Homer and translated by, Robert Fitzgerald.  Whenever I need advice about life, I dig deep into the works of Homer and Sophocles.  We can learn so much from the past.  At times, I think they knew more about the intricacies in life than we do. 

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Today, I drove up to Caesar’s Head, Table Rock, and Pretty Place to snap some photos. To my surprise, the sunny weather down in the valleys changed to a thick fog. As I motored up the winding narrow road, the weather would dramatically change from sunny to a mist and back again. When I entered a deep ravine, it actually started raining, but cleared up as soon as I topped the hill. Altitude is an amazing thing, isn’t it.

After driving for about an hour, I reached Caesar’s Head, which is a granite outcropping about 3300 ft. up that resembles…what else…Caesar’s Head. The thick haze cut through my denim shirt, like Pyrite through a miners fingers as he realises its fools gold. Oh, have I ever mentioned that this area is lined in gold, along with Pyrite? Just don’t come running to my streams with your gold pans!

I walked down a path or two, snapped a few pictures, and headed down the road a bit to Table Rock, which has two lakes. But, the main attraction to all visitors is the big arse rock that protrudes from the mountainside. The sad thing is that it has been abused by graffiti artist over the last few years. Although, some of the pieces are quite humorous. The fog had lifted a smidgen by the time I approached the edge of the rock to take some photos. The wind had settled as well, but it was still a biting autumn day in South Carolina.

I was running out of time, so I started back to my truck. I hadn’t realised it, but there was a boiled peanuts stand on the side of the road selling boiled and roasted peanuts. I walked up to the chap, asked how much, which he replied to by saying, “If you’ve got to ask, they are too expensive, right?”.

We laughed, I took three bags of boiled peanuts, and just as I was about to leave, he turned and asked, “Have you ever been up to Pretty Place?”.

“No, I’ve always wanted to go, but I’ve never been able to find the darn place”, I answered, whilst laying down the armful of peanuts.

“Well, take Highway 11 here up almost to the North Carolina line, and you’ll see a sign that says “Camp Greenville”, which is where Pretty Place is.”, He retored, with a congenial smile.

“Thank you, sir…I really appreciate the help”, I replied, as I shook his hand and began to walk away.

So, after about a half hour of driving, I pulled into pretty place, and it is a gorgeous little chapel that overlooks the blue ridge mountains. It’s a splendid spot to sit and reflect. Even with the mist rolling in, it was beauteous. Normally, most of the trees would have already transformed and began to shed their brilliantly coloured leaves, but mother winter is taking her sweet time this year.

While sitting on the edge, gazing at the fog tumbling across the bluish-green ridge tops and into the valleys below, I pondered about the people this land used to belong to, and how we’ve ravaged their land and sacred sites.

It’s not that I’m always looking at the bad end of things, it’s just that I have a conscious. You know, I may be of European/Celtic descent, but I am also 1/8 Cherokee, which I’ve discussed before. I mean, you certainly couldn’t tell it, if you ever met me. Yep, being speckled in freckles, strawberry-blond haired, and blue-green eyes doesn’t exactly match the criteria of being Native American.

My grandfather, which was half Cherokee and half Irish ,was a lively tall man. Both of his parents died, when he was young, so he had to fend for himself. Because of that, he was physically and emotionally strong, but cuddly at the same time. Anyway, he taught me all about the Cherokee Nation and the Trail of Tears. If this interest you, then “Trail of Tears; The Rise and Fall of the Cherokee Nation” is a must for your collection. It is a fascinating book that will even make a soulless person think twice the next time he or she crosses o’er a bridge named after a Native American Chief or passes through a city named after a Cherokee Chieftain.

After all of that pondering, I came home and plopped on the couch.

So, without further ado, here are today’s Phoctober shots. Thanks everyone.

Now, go eat some boiled peanuts!

Yet another whacky, off the beaten path, post by Jefferson Davis. You can find a multitude of my photos on my flickr page, if the mood suits you. Thanks…

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Hi folks, I’m busy studying for school, reading about Freemason’s, The Knights Templar, and the Illuminati.  History has always fascinated me, in all of its facets.  I’m a lover of all things.  As I’ve stated in the past, it is imperative to know not only one’s ancestral history, but the history of the world, in order to comprehend one’s own destiny.  Anyhow, I’ll be back Thursday evening, with a new poem.  While awaiting the next post, watch this intriguing video about the Illuminati and George Washington.  Thanks!

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I’ve added two books to my overflowing bookcase, as if I didn’t have enough to read.  I love history, and I’m curious, so The Knights Templar and The FreeMasons have always been intriguing to me.  The history, mystery, and the like, have enthralled me since I was a lad.  According to countless sources, the Freemasons began intertwining symbols of the ancient Knights Templar into their own symbols and beliefs. 

I know a few people that are Freemasons, and I know what degree they are, but they won’t give me much more info than that.  However, I did have one gentleman, which I will not name, tell me that he would not try to exceed beyond the level that he was at, because he had to be initiated into the higher order, which he desperately feared.

Anyhow, I think that researching the past, can only prepare you for the future.  What is life and time, but a big circle!

P.S.:  Just click on the books to be taken to the appropriate place on amazon.  Thanks…

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I had read several reviews of this book,
but had never read it because of all the conflicting information, surrounding
the “True Story of The Bell Witch”.

A few weeks ago, a friend pressured me into
reading it, because she said it was an amazing book, based on a “true
story”. So, I finally started reading it
about a week ago, and to be honest, it is a strange book, in that, its
style is so contrary to what I normally read. Supposedly, Brent Monahan, which
is a fabulous Mystery and Horror Fiction writer, was introduced to this book.

The Novel, which is supposed to be a
letter, from Richard Powell to his daughter, is a riveting tale about a
poltergeist that haunts the Bell
family. It is the most bizarre
poltergeist that I have ever run across in my days of reading horror novels and
in real-life (I’ll save that for another day.). I was quite bewildered by the first half of the book, but the pieces
started falling into place, as they always do with a good novel. However, as I’ve already stated, it is a different
read than what most of us are accustom to.

It is more of a journal, recounting
important events that happened during the time that the Bell Witch inhabited
the Bell household
and should I dare to say, Betsy Bell. The ending was so utterly shocking that I was awestruck.

Now I realise that Mr. Powell was in the
legislature and the Bell’s lived in Red River, during the early part of the 19^th
Century, but it’s too orchestrated to be factual. There are several other books narrating the
Bell Witch, yet I’m still not satisfied. The publication has enticed me to research the Bell Witch and read every
book about it. I love a good mystery.

I will not give away the ending, nor will I
tell you how the demon acted, but I will say that the ending will possibly
sicken you, as it did me. It is better
to read the book and then watch the movie. The book has a marvelous ending, while the movie has an atrocious
ending. Movies never satisfy my
imagination, like a book can.

Since saying that I had never read or come
across a poltergeist, like the Bell Witch, is because I’ve seen things in my
lifetime that most people dare not beseech. If each of us untangle ourselves from the world, we can see things that
we normally wouldn’t. Some people are
blessed with these abilities, while the rest of us are not. There is a lot in the cosmos that scientist
cannot explain.

Have you ever seen an apparition glimpse
out of the corner of your eye, only to spin around endlessly, to find
nothing? Have you ever treaded down a
dark path, hearing susurrations in the lull of nightfall? Have you ever seen ghostly figures in the
dark of night, as you pass from bedroom to kitchen, wondering if you really saw
something? These are the questions that
bother us all deep within our psyche.

P.S.: Kate/Minx, I had full intentions of writing a review for the “Coven of
One”, but I lent my copy out to a friend. She was supposed to read the first chapter and give it back, but she
likes it so much that she won’t give it back. My aim was to entice her to buy the book. As soon as I get my copy back, I’ll write a
review. I truly loved it, Kate.

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Hi folks, I ‘m feeling better today, but I’m
not ready to jump up and dance on cue yet.

I was feeling ambitious today, for what
reason I don’t have a clue, but it could have been the fever messing with my
head or something.

Anyhow, feeling ambitious and wanting to
explore this place I call home, I stopped off at a local café. I could only survive for so long on my
sisters cooking. My nephew, who is only
seven, can cook better split-pea soup, than his mother. All I asked for was split-pea soup. I mean how difficult is that?  Come
on Sis!

As I entered the café, the quaint little
waitress, rushed up to me and said, “Hi Honey. I’ll be right with you”, whilst straightening her hair.

I sat down at the available bar seat, so
she could take my order. I noticed
within an instance that she had changed her hair colour, from a dish water
grey, to a lively red, with hints of blonde woven within the bright read hair. I had to
say something, so I uttered, “Did you change your hair”, as I gazed into her
deep hazel eyes (Most women I know, love a question, even when it is stupid.).

“Why. thank you Jefferson,
I got tired of grey, it’s so out of fashion”, she replied, with a grin
overtaking her wise and weathered features.

“Well,
your husband better watch out, because I have a thing for red-heads. Heck, every time I see a red head within my
vision, I do a double take”, I answered, whilst roaring with laughter.

“So Honey, What will you have today?”

“Oh, I’m feeling adventurous today, so I’ll
take two eggs over medium, sausage, grits, and an order of hash browns with
cheese”, I replied, as I gazed at the menu.

Alright Darlin’, Jim will have it up for
you in no time”, she said, as she hung the ticket over the griddle.

The cook threw the contents of my iron man
breakfast on the griddle. Suddenly, the
sausage began to fizzle, as the eggs started spiting and spattering in the
oil.

“This is going to kill me”, I cerebrated to
myself, as I opened The Coven of One, a book by author, Kate Bousfield.

Just as I started delving deep within the
book, the cook said, “Hey, I’m Jim”.

“Hi Jim, nice to meet you, my name is Jefferson”, I said, as I turned a page and smiled.

**************

“What ya reading?”

“Oh, it’s a fictional book about a lone
witch that…”, I replied as he started swinging his hands outward in anger.

“What are you reading that for? Do you not believe in God?”

“Hold on there partner, there is no harm in
reading a fictional book. I believe in a
lot of things, one of those is expanding the mind, without taking mind altering
drugs”, I replied, as I closed the book.

It was at this moment that he saw the
Pentacle, which he thought was a Pentagram. A common mistake if he or she doesn’t know what he or she is talking
about.  Now, I’m not implying that I know anything, for I have much to learn.

“Are you a devil worshiper or something? You must be crazy for reading that”, Jim
asked as he teetered back and forth nervously, with eyes darting between me and
the book.

“No mate, I like fiction, and this book
happens to be a very well written book. I read for the knowledge and entertainment. Heck, I’ve been all over the world a thousand
times over, through books”, I answered, whilst sipping my tea.  (I
take my own mug, full of Earl Grey or Green Tea, everywhere I go.)  (Someday s I drink Irish Tea, if I’m feeling brave.  )

“Well, you just be careful reading that
kind of stuff”, he said, as he turned back around to turn over my eggs.

“My friend, knowledge is power, and power
is knowledge. If you’ve got one, the
other is achievable”, I uttered, as I anticipated my meal.

After our conversation, he would glare at
me occasionally, but for only an instance. I didn’t intentional insult the fellow, but I think I insulted him.

I’m not implying through this story that
Americans or Southerners or stupid, we are just set in our ways. If you want to categorise people as stupid,
because they don’t want to see past their own norms and folkways, then we are
all idiots. This man tried to combat
something, which couldn’t fight back, so I had to stand up for the book and my
right to read whatever the hell I want to read. The Coven of One is an amazing book that I am thoroughly enjoying. 

**************

Minx, I should be finished reading it by
the end of next week.

Skint, I only have one chapter left in your
book, The Three Bears. I apologise for not finishing it
already, but as you know, I’m a very busy chap. I’m taking a few art classes next semester, which I’m really looking
forward to. As soon as I can finish both
of the books, I’ll write my own review, which I’m quite sure you will
like. Thanks…

Susan, this crazy web of servers, we call the internet, isn’t the same without you. 

DBA, keep the short stories coming, for I couldn’t survive a day without reading them.

Shameless, I loved the story about meeting bloggers.  A thought provoking question, if there ever was one. 

Mr. Loe, keep doing the crazy antics.  I can’t wait until the next chapter.

Phil, keep the playaz in line buddy.

Wayne, don’t give up the dream buddy.  It’ll be alright…

John, keep the New Zealand Pubcast coming.  Each session is better than the last. 

**************

Shew…I’m a wee bit dizzy from the meds, so I’m going to have another cup of tea and call it a night.  Take care all…

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According to George Polti, there are only thirty-six dramatic situations, i.e. Plots.  He published a book in 1921 stating examples and variations.  Personally, I believe that the 36 cover most of the bases.  However, writers are inventive and coming up with new plots all the time.  The basic bare-bones dramatic situation can probably be covered by the list, but that is just my opinion.  Frankly, I’m a spring chicken in the writing field, so I’m trying to learn all that I can.  Your opinions are appreciated.

Why do I bring up such a subject?  Well, as some of you know, I’ve been working on a novel, when I have the time, since I returned from Ireland.  It has gone through several transformations, since I started writing it three months ago.  There are so many twist and turns that I’m getting lost in my own story.  When I started the book, it had a beginning, some twist and turns at the end of each chapter, built characters, and an ending.  But at present, I don’t even know where the characters will end up.  It is quite entertaining though. 

I’ll finish it sooner or later. 

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One of my cousins from Baltimore, who is into art, just sent me a very interesting book.  It’s called Head, Heart, & Hips.  I’ve not had time to look it through yet, but it looks very interesting.  My cousin is a graphic designer, so he has an immense respect for the arts, as do I. 

It’s funny that we used to not get along all that well, because we had different views about America and the world, but we are like best mates now.  Anyhow the book is about sex, seduction, and how it plays into modern day commercial art.  Be forewarned though.  The front cover has partial nudity on it.  I’m not bothered by it, but you may be.  Anyhow, have a great week all…

By the way, my cousin is the one, who introduced me to the the New Yorker.  He also taught me to not be ashamed of reading such material, for it only enlightens the soul.  Eh…Well, they have worthy content in most issues.  What say you?

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I tend to read magazines from the back to the front.  How about you?  It may be becasue my brain runs in reverse.    What say you?

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I just recieved two books from a friend of mine, Derec Jones/Skint Writer.  I highly recommend that you check out his blog and books, because the man is absolutely brilliant.  One of the books is a Novel, called The Three Bears, and the other book is a compilation of short stories, called The Walker.  There is a short story in the book called "The Walker", and it gives a unique perspective on life. 

I have a slew of homework piling over my head, but I will definitely make time for these two books.  You can purchase the books directly through him, or you can go to his publishers website.   

I conclude, at least in my journey through life, that everything that comes into contact with our senses, whether it be art, a painting that entrances the intellect, great manuscripts, a blossoming flower , or an exquisite specimen of a woman that is unblemished from time, alters our life in one fashion or another.

Many have asked the question, what is art?  Well, many have argued on this very subject for hundreds and perhaps thousands of years. But, I have to inquire, what is not art?  Why, life itself can be art.  Anything that you put imagination, heart, and soul into could be described as art.

The Encyclopedia Britanica explanation of art.
A visual object or experience consciously created through an expression of skill or imagination.

The term art encompasses diverse media such as painting, sculpture, printmaking, drawing, decorative arts, photography, and installation. The various visual arts
exist within a continuum that ranges from purely aesthetic purposes at
one end to purely utilitarian purposes at the other. This should by no
means be taken as a rigid scheme, however, particularly in cultures in which everyday objects are painstakingly constructed and imbued with meaning.

What say you?

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Have any of you ever read any Dale Carnegie books?  Well, if you haven’t, then I absolutely suggest that you read, "How to Win Friends & Influence People".  I’ve learned a lot from this book, I only wish I could have read it a long time ago.  He was a very smart man that I have learned a lot from.  I can only hope to emulate the people in his books.  Also, I wish that his books were used in public speaking classes, which I just passed with an A, for I may have made an A, but I didn’t learn a damn thing, that I couldn’t of learned in an hour reading his book.  A must read.  What’s your say?

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