Uttley's Current 'N'

N is for... new nexus of nebulous networking in audiobook narration.

This ABC Wednesday, "J" is for...

When I sat down to consider what I might contribute for this week's ABC Wednesday, the first word that came to mind was jubilant. I am not feeling particularly jubilant today, however, so I gave that one a pass. By way of explanation there, I have been fighting some fatigue lately. I work a swingshift, and every few weeks, it catches up with me and all I want to do is sleep. So... not jubilant. More somnambulant, really. But, times like these, it's especially good to have some stimulation of the sort that this hop provides, so... I press on.

The second "J"which came to mind today was "Juicy Fruit." You know, the gum? I thought of the seminal scene from One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest when the enormous Native American whom Jack Nicholson's character calls Chief first speaks. Jack gives him a couple of pieces of Juicy Fruit, and Chief says, "Yeah. Juicy Fruit." Jack goes nuts. I thought of embedding that scene, but when I found it on YouTube, I realized that it entails some language which may not be appropriate for the hop here. Certainly don't want to offend anyone...

So here I am, wracking my brain for "J" number three. Oh, I know. Carl Jung. I devoted some time to the study of Jung some years back, and was fascinated to find that he had his own break with reality at one point. I wrote a poem about it. Here 'tis.

My Friend Showed Me His Painting
The eminent psychologist Carl Gustav Jung
When he was thirty-eight years of age
Went bananas
Just temporarily
He talked to himself -- ranting and raving
And played in his garden like a little boy

During the three years or so that he was bonkers
Dr. Jung wrote a weird little book
He said was dictated to him by
A wise, winged old man in his head
The book was about emptiness and fullness
About the devil and God and being human

Like I say, it's a weird little book
But there's this one part of it I'll mention
Because it fits well in my mind with
A painting my friend made and showed me
The painting, which is called 'Molt', is of an owl that died --
all whirring white & purple, drooping brown & blue

So the passage from Carl Jung's crazy book
Goes, "The daemon of spirituality
descendeth into our soul as the white bird...
The white bird... bideth with the mother"
The word 'daemon' sounds bad, but can mean
'divine power' or 'guardian spirit' too

Looking at this wild painting 'Molt' -- which is
What birds do to make room for a new growth
Of feathers, I'm thinking of Jung, who went on
to famously influence our science of the mind
It's as though he had to go good and mad himself
To get to where he could help us all stay sane  

Incentive & Zeal

Today, I'm chiming in on two awesome long-running link-ups:

(just click the image to check out the link-up)

The letter of the week over at ABC Wednesday is 'I', and the first word that came to mind was

Incentive

Jenny is at the end of an alphabet cycle. Alphabe-Thursday letter this week is 'Z'. Actually, I gather that this is the very last Alphabe-Thursday, which is sad. But it seems she has new challenges in store for us. I am excited to see what they may be. Thanks, Jenny, for inspiring us and bringing us together! For the letter 'Z', I choose the word 

Zeal

So here's what these two words make me think: I need a good incentive to infuse me with zeal.

See, I've just completed an Associate of Applied Science in Accounting. With this new degree on top of my old Bachelor of Arts in English Language/Literature, I really feel like I should be holding down a more professional job than I currently have. Problem is, I really like my little job. It's simple and satisfying, and although the hours are wacky (a swingshift), there is lots of downtime during which to goof around on my laptop. In fact, I'm on the clock right now. My employer is fully aware that I spend up to six hours per shift just tapping away at my laptop keys. It's... a perk. I consider it to be some measure of compensation for how little the job pays, the absence of benefits, and the hours.

Money. You might think that money alone would be sufficient incentive for me to try hard to improve upon my current lot in life, work-wise. Thing is, I don't really need more money. I'm a bachelor... no kids... so my meager earnings pretty much cover my humble needs,

What else is there besides money to motivate me to undertake a more professional position, in which I will doubtless work harder under more stress and most likely without the perk of fun downtime?

Aha. Now that I think about it, I know. The greatest motivator of all: fear. I'll just tap into my fear of what will happen to me when retirement age comes and I haven't stashed away any funds to speak of.

Yessir - good old fear. But fear is kind of the 'dark side' isn't it? Gotta stay positive. That's where 'incentive' comes in. Much more positive word. So the incentives here would be safety, security, comfort... yeah, now I'm getting it. I feel more zealous already. I've been job-hunting all along, but now I will do so with more vim, vigor, verve! Wait, this isn't 'V' day. More zest and zing!

There is a possibility that I should have thought of this already. Like a long time ago. Probably most people start planning for retirement before they ever even go to college. What can I say? I'm not the most practical of people. When I went to university for the first time, I pursued my passion. Only decades later, the second time around, did I make more down-to-earth choices and decisions.

Well, I'm off to Monster.com to send my resume to another fifty employers in hopes of landing at least one interview. Wish me luck?



postscript:

ooooops... i had not noticed that jenny's last link-up was over and done with. oh well, silly me... well, it looks like her new project is

It warms my heart that Jenny is still bringing bloggers together and inspiring them to write!

If you care to check out some other heartwarmed posts and maybe join in with one of your own,

click here

And 'V', Well... Why Reinvent The Wheel?

Such a very creepy mask, such a deeply creepy movie...
but this is the month for such things is it not?

Despite its violence, always a turn-off for me,
V for Vendetta has a lot to offer.

Lots of great lines in this film.
Here are some which strike me especially
(just culling from the web here; no particular order to the lines):

Evey: My father was a writer. You would've liked him. He used to say that artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up.

V: ...words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you...

Deitrich: You wear a mask for so long you forget who you were beneath it.


V: There is no certainty, only opportunity.
And here... here is V's vociferous self-introduction!

Vertiginous, isn't it? Here it is in print:

V: [Evey pulls out her mace] I can assure you I mean you no harm.

Evey Hammond: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey Hammond: Well I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Evey Hammond: Oh. Right.

V: But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.

[carves "V" into poster on wall]

V: The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.

V: [giggles]

V: Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.

Evey Hammond: Are you, like, a crazy person?

V: I am quite sure they will say so.


Quite enough V's for now? I imagine so.
But please permit me this one more little choice bit of dialogue:


Evey Hammond: [reads] Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici.

V: [translates] By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

Evey Hammond: Personal motto?

V: From "Faust".

Evey Hammond: That's about trying to cheat the devil, isn't it?

V: It is.

(click the pic for more cool, V-inspired posts)

'N' is for... Nasreddin, of course!

This week's letter over at ABC Wednesday is... 'N'.

And when I think 'N', I , like you, like everyone, of course immediately think... Nasir ud-din Mahmood al-Khoyi!

Please forgive me for telling you what everyone knows, that this personage of ancient times, known more familiarly as Nasreddin or Nasrudin, is said to have come from Turkey in the 13th century AD.... Of course, he is also said to have come from Iran in the 15th or 16th century AD.  Probably both are somehow, ineffably true. 

...That though Nasreddin hailed from Iran, or Turkey, or somewhere, he traveled far and wide, and tales of his goings and doings and sayings are and have long been known around the world... He's big in China, as you know, and India as well.

...That even here in the New World, Benjamin Franklin has been known to drop a Nasreddin tale, though he might call him simply, Old Man. Oh, yes. And that the celebrated writer known as Mark Twain, too, passed off a Nasreddin story or two.

You have undoubtedly heard about Nasreddin riding around on his donkey looking for his donkey.

You can't not have heard about the three times Nasreddin was called upon to speak in public:

• That first time, when he stood and asked the people, "Do you know what I am going to say?" And when they admitted that they had no idea, he told them, "Why would I want to speak to a group of people who have no idea what I am going to say?!" And he left...
• That second time, when he stood and asked the same question, and now the people knew just what to say. "Yes, Nasreddin," they told him. "We know just what you are going to say." Whereupon, Nasreddin said, "Then there is no need for me to say it!" And he left...
• That third time, when he stood and put his question, and half the people shouted that they had no idea what he would say and the other half shouted that they knew just what he would say, so he said, "Let the half who know tell the half who don't know!" And off he merrily went.

You most certainly even have heard about how Nasreddin requested to be buried in an old, long-standing tomb, so that when the angels came to question him about his life, he could claim deafness, saying "Angels, can you not see that I am stone deaf, ancient as my tomb?!"

But I ask you, have you heard about the time the thief came to Nasreddin's house? Oh, Nasreddin's wife did start to raise a cry of alarm! "Hush, dearest," said Nasreddin. "Let us pray to God that he find something, so that we may take it from him!"

Aha! And here is one more Nasreddin story you may or may not have heard:

“A certain famous Fakir was claiming in the village that he could teach an illiterate person to read by a lightning technique. [Nasreddin] stepped out of the crowd: 'Very well, teach me – now.' The Fakir touched [Nasreddin]'s forehead, and said: 'Now go home immediately and read a book.' Half an hour later [Nasreddin] was back in the market-place, clutching a book. The Fakir had gone on his way. 'Can you read now?' the people asked him. 'Yes, I can read – but that is not the point. Where is that charlatan?' 'How can he be a charlatan if he has caused you to read without learning?' 'Because this book, which is authoritative, says: 'All Fakirs are frauds'.” 

― Idries Shah, Caravan of Dreams

Find many more Nasreddin tales (which you already know) here.

'U' is for...

"When criminals in this world appear, and break the laws that they should fear, and frighten all who see or hear, the cry goes out both far and near for Underdog!"

-----

This cartoon, which I actually did watch regularly as a kid, managed to be both a rockem sockem good superhero show and simultaneously somehow a send-up of the whole superhero genre.

I think shows like this helped to instill in my generation an awareness of how formulaic and hackneyed television can be. They helped to break the spell tv had over us, making us smarter watchers and fostering a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor.

Remember Dudley Do-Right? Rocky and Bullwinkle? And the absurdly overblown villains they battled?

These shows were like an antidote to the poison we were being fed during the Cold War. Even as kids, we knew that the painting of the West as good guys and the East as dastardly villains was false. We learned to spot and mistrust stereotypes.

And how about Hong Kong Phooey?

Hong Kong Phooey was an underdog, too - a 'humble janitor'. And man, was he jive! This show was just... unreal.

Memory & Macavity for ABC Wednesday

This week's letter-prompt over at ABC Wednesday is 'M'.

'M' is for Memory.

I remember... sitting in the back of a taxicab in Ulsan, South Korea with my Canadian friend Craig, and we were talking about how fickle memory is. "Life is made up of so many moments, and we remember so few..." Funny that I remember that conversation, that taxi, that corner by the bar with the silly, filthy name, there near the red-light district in Ulsan (which is not where we were going)... Ironic, actually, since the conversation was about forgetting.

I remember... when I was a senior in high school and my girlfriend got us tickets to see the musical Cats. Then she got sick and could not go, but she insisted that I go and come back and tell her all about it. So there I was, alone at Cats, trying my hardest to remember everything that happened, so that I wouldn't disappoint the girl that I loved.

Now, so many years later, I only remember two things about Cats: the song Memory, and (another M)... Macavity! 

Macavity is a character in Cats, but his origin is a poem by T.S. Elliot:

Macavity: The Mystery Cat

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw—
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!

And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it's useless to investigate—Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
It must have been Macavity!'—but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumb;
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN'T THERE !
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

(click on the image for more ABC Wednesday posts)

This Alphabe-Thursday, 'T' is for... The Diamond Grenade BLURB RAFFLE (of course)

It has been a long time since I participated in Alphabe-Thursday. It's good to be back.

Hope you enjoy my offering for this week.

Please CLICK HERE to jump into the majestic mess of web pages that is The Diamond Grenade BLURB RAFFLE.

The BLURB RAFFLE is a spectacle in itself, yet "The Diamond Grenade" is the main event.

"The Diamond Grenade" is a series of five novellas which tell the story of a family line and of a bloody revolution.

Also to be found in this maze-like web event is "The Way and its Adepts: a partial, slightly jive recasting of Stephen Mitchell's Tao te Ching" (which also starts with 'T').

'L' is for Lev in this week's ABC Wednesday Hop

 (Click the image to go to the hop.)

Let’s see, so: it’s the story of a family, right? A whole family line, from Old Gur the Boatman down through his daughter Guri the Boatman (because there is no word for a boat woman). Guri has her son Gur from Tuc, who promptly splits. Gur marries Honoria, and they have triplets: Donus, Florian, and Beatus.

Honoria took to traveling… and eventually ran off with a soldier. Gur…  hardly missed her. He missed the three wives, was who he missed. When Donus, Florian, and Beatus returned to the city, Gur implored them to remarry. “Impossible,” was their unanimous reply.

That’s the first spoken line in The Diamond Greande: “Impossible.”

Is it hard to keep up with who’s who? Don’t worry, you’ll get it as you go.

So on this ABC Wednesday hop, ‘L’ is for Lev. Lev is the grandson of Gur’s second wife.

Inevitably, Guri found Gur a mate. She was a mere ticket-taker, Guri told him, and twice the age of the rest. Gur bridled at this description until he conversed with the woman long enough to perceive some of her more remarkable features. Not only did she have a good head on her shoulders, a way with people, and good hair, she was also the niece of the ringmaster and owner of the circus – the largest single operation in the whole sprawling traveling affair.

And her name is Colia. Yeah, Colia is Lev’s grandmother. Because she has Anrea, who becomes the state’s the lone female magistrate, and finds Lev in a basket by a library at age one. Lev the Foundling.

Lev is the narrator/author of the first four novellas of The Diamond Grenade. He is the one who builds the… um… the sparkly munition. But it is the narrator of the fifth and final novella who finally pulls the pin. His name is Whit, and he is the son of either Donus, Florian, or Beatus. The triplets are minstrels, popular throughout the land for their ability to insult people in an incomprehensible language of their own.

Lev goes to a performance of his three minstrel uncles:

At the show, I occupy a big clean house for the first time. Despite impeccable grooming, I feel as though I am leaving smudges of inferiority everywhere. The staff of the house see right through me. But then my uncles are there and all proceeds swimmingly as they entertain. Most of the privileged youth dance. I dance. Florian lays his head back on his own shoulder and lets out a loud drone while thumping his neck with his index finger. Most everybody laughs. I laugh. Beatus laughs. Everybody Beatus-laughs.

The Beatus-laugh. It sounds like two birds having at each other. Everybody loves to impersonate it.

Lev dies at the end of the fourth novella. Whit is left to do Book V, which he entitles An Afterword by the Editor. There’s a lot more to Lev. He fathers a nation born of bloody revolution, basically. But Lev’s dead. Actually, by the end of the books, the new nation is no longer a nation. It's a reservation.

Then the self-proclaiming messiah comes. But that's another story, This is the story of Lev, for ABC Wednesday Round 17. Wow - 17 times through the 26 letters in blog posts. Simply awesome.

"G" is for Giveaway! Win $15 in Your Choice of Books!

Letter of the week at ABC Wednesday is "G"...

G is for... Giveaway! 

In honor of my blog going self-hosted this week, and of securing a publishing contract for my memoir, I'm raffling off some prizes in conjunction with about 200 other book-oriented blogs in what's called the Leap into Books Giveaway Hop. 

At my main blog, Uttley's Take, one winner will receive his or her choice of books up to $15 from The Book Depository. The great thing about The Book Depository is that they offer free shipping worldwide, so I can make my raffle open internationally. The other prizes in the raffle are about a dozen copies of my book - The Boon: Thoughts of a Schizophrenic in Remission. 

If you're interested in entering my raffle, or trying for the prizes of any of the other 200 sites participating in the hop, just click here. Getting entries into the raffle is easy. You just follow my blog, or my Twitter account, or my Facebook page... stuff like that. It's all handled really smoothly by an application called Rafflecopter.

Actually, it's a snap to embed the Rafflecopter. I think I'll go ahead and drop it into this post. Here goes:

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Good luck!