A digital commonplace for a Regular Guy called Charlie Pharis

Month: March 2017 (page 1 of 1)

Another Friday Afternoon…

143/365:DiaryCreative Commons License Magic Madzik via Compfight

Afternoons seem to be the worst times, and even more so lately. Especially Fridays. Today in particular, for some reason. So rather than waste a lonely afternoon, I thought I’d try to add to the regular challenge of writing something, anything, in the hope that something good or thoughtful or productive might work its way to the top. Here goes…

  • It’s Saint Patrick’s Day. That means it’s time to wear the traditional color and display the time-honored symbol of Ireland. You know…blue and the harp. You didn’t see that one coming, did you? Well, of course not, because everyone knows the color is supposed to be green – emerald, specifically – and the the symbol is the shamrock. Right? Except, of course, the color most associated with Saint Patrick is blue and the harp is the universal sigil (see Guinness, for instance).
  • Nightnoise is providing the soundtrack for this lonely Friday afternoon of Irishness. Playing right at this moment is the classic At the End of the Evening.
  • And don’t you wish Nightnoise and Windham Hill were still around?
  • From my Moleskine: “Sometimes I feel like I have some of the sensibilities of an artist (substitute creator, designer, whatever floats your boat), but none of the skill.”
  • That Nightnoise album is from 1988. Serendipitously, I watched two movies from that year last night: Working Girl and Big. Iconic and cliché 80s flicks, but still enjoyable, and still a couple of my favorite diversions.

Random Thoughts, 03.12.17…

marielinden4 via Compfight

Some random smatterings from my Moleskine, via my head and my heart and my reading this weekend. No particular order, no particular subject, no particular plan or process, just words, such as they are…

  • Now closer to sixty than fifty, he felt the burden of the years piling up. Everything was the same from day to day. Which is to say, everything seemed pointless-er and hopeless-er every day.
  • It’s quiet, eerie quiet. Restless quiet. Unsettling quiet. Weird quiet.
  • (From Frederick Buechner) “The magic of words is that they have power to do more than convey meaning; not only do they have the power to make things clear, they make things happen.”
  • For me, the real adventure is in creating the adventure, in my head, in my heart, in my words – to tell the story as though it really happened, whether or not it really did.
  • Slowly, deliberately, he fit the pencil neatly into the crease of the book, and slid it away from him on the floor. The pencil and blank lines seemed to take a life of their own, and they were whispering, calling, beckoning him to enter into their world. These inanimate objects now fairly pulsed with life, and they called to him, and at the same time, chastened him, mocking and taunting because he was unable to pick them up, and yet unable to turn away.
  • We’re doing good, but we’re not doing so well.
  • We lost the hour this morning to the dreaded Daylight Saving Time transition, and every time I’ve stopped today, I’ve nodded off. Now, all of a sudden, I have that second wind and I can’t turn off my mind.
  • Twenty more words to three hundred. Now thirteen. Only 211 more to the mythical 500! Now seven.
  • The desire is there, but not the talent or the skill.
  • He whisked the sugar, strong, dark, and sweet, into the scalded milk. The coffee would come later, and the sugary milk was now almost as dark as the coffee itself would be. There really wasn’t enough coffee left in the grinder from two days before, but the grinder was too noisy to use after she had gone to bed. So, he imagined, the dark sweetness of the sugar would make up for the weaker brew. “Not sweet enough,” he thought after the first sip. “Coffee that is neither sweet enough nor strong enough is not fit to drink.”

A Little Ditty About Generosity…

Image: Taylor’s Acre Barn, via Lori Grieg https://flic.kr/p/7mic5V

When you’re in a rut, and down in a dump,
There’s a little trick that will make your heart jump:
Find something to give, and give it away –
You’ll make magic in someone’s day.

Give from your heart, no matter the cost;
You’ll find you’ll gain much more than you’ve lost.
The smile on their face, and the joy in their heart –
These are the generous giver’s art.


And So We Write…

When the words won’t find their way from our hearts to our voices, we write.

When the storms brew and the thunder booms, and we worry once again about the damage the storms may cause, we write.

When the months outlast the money, and we see no path to catching up, we write.

When injustice seems to hide the face of all that is good, great, and beautiful, we write.

When our deepest secrets are too deep for others to handle, we write.

When we lose our way amid the clamor of the ever-hostile and confusing world, we write.

When we don’t know what else to do, or where else to turn, we write.

When we have words that need to get out, but no one who hears, we write.

When we long for someone to listen, but no one cares, we write.