A digital commonplace for a Regular Guy called Charlie Pharis
Out of it. Out of whack. Out of sorts. Out of options.
Out of order. Out of date. Out of touch.
Out of line. Out of sight. Out of mind.
Out of my mind. Out of my league. Out of my lane.
Out of my field. Out of the ordinary. Out of bounds.
Out of office. Out of breath. Out of stock.
Out of focus. Out of reach. out of context.
Out of the ordinary. Out of options. Out of luck.
Out of service. Out of this world. Out of time.
If you’ve been hanging around these parts at all over the last 21+ years, you’ll agree that many of the all too sporadic posts deal with serendipity and/or synchronicity. I’m just that kind of observer, I guess. And when I observe something, often it puts me in touch with something else related or almost related. So you might say this blog—when it runs at all—runs on finding stuff others throw out or leave behind. Today is no different.
Here’s a couple of items for today…
Julian Summerhayes asks, on Tumblr…
Since when did a plurality of old people turn into a burden on society and not be, as they rightly should be, the repository of ancient, mythic wisdom?
David Murray, over at Writing Boots (note: the actual site returns a “nonsecure” message, so you’re on your own on that one), opines on what we call “burnout’…
These days, we would say that Dr. R. was “suffering from burnout.” Nope. He was just questioning the meaning of his work (and thus, to some extent, his life), and finding it wanting. Like we all do, some days. For some, most days. We just don’t give a sh*t.
We should feel free to say so, once in a while—especially in the middle of the summer, especially with our intimates, at the very least, with ourselves.
But do we dare? Do I? Do you? I think we should. For everyone’s good.
Hello, you loyal readers…all both of you! And happy New Year from this little dusty spot on the interwebs. Traditionally, today has been the day for reflection on the year just past and commitment to be better in the year that is just starting. And as someone somewhere opined, “New year’s resolutions are a to-do list for the first week in January.” That’s about right, because that’s just about how long they last.
Anyway, enough about that. Let’s get to what you came here for, shall we?
Some random thoughts on a new year…
One Word. There are folks out there who subscribe to the idea of having One Word for the year. One word that ideally and hopefully will define your intentions for the year, and guide you as you live, work, and love. One word to remind you of who you want to be and what you’re doing to become that person. One word to rule them all, so to speak. Having never been much on that kind of thing before, this year it seemed appropriate to me to think about it. So my word for 2024 is going to be elevate. Stay tuned for more details. (How’s that for piquing your readers’ interest—and setting up a reminder, a prompt to further develop a thought?)
Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash
From somebody’s notebook this dark and early Thursday…
We wax nostalgic for some mythical ‘way things were’ because we see the present and have extrapolated it out into the uncertain future. And the picture is not a pretty one.
Ooh! Ooh! Two posts…in the same month! And on the same day!
As I was writing the ol’ Morning Pages this morning, I began to think of how Fridays are the perfect time for reflecting on The Week That Was, The Weekend That Is To Come, and The General State Of Things In This Life As We Know It. (Looks more epic if you capitalize it like a title, no?)
Anyway, there are several items that make me thankful today, even in the midst of—especially in the midst of—these topsy-turvy times in which we are called to live. Here we go. Add your own if you’re playing along.
Remember (he says to himself)…you’re pretty much going to find what you’re looking for. This quote from Katherine May’s Enchantment is a sound observation…
Enchantment is small wonder magnified through meaning, fascination caught in the web of fable and memory. It relies on small doses of awe, almost homeopathic: those quiet traces of fascination that are found only when we look for them.
So today, dear both of you readers, make your Friday a day for looking for and finding The Good Stuff that’s all around, the Stuff That Makes Your World Wonderful.
Greetings, fans of Just Charlie! All both of you have been waiting with bated breath for another infrequent installment in this space. Well, wait no more! It’s Friday, and that often means random goodness from all over the place. Let’s jump in with a quick glance at a new cool tool…
See those two images at the top? They’re what happened yesterday when I discovered the rabbit hole that is Adobe’s Generative AI products. I’ve used the Generative Fill tool in the beta of Photoshop once, and I had pretty good results. But I’ve kind of resisted playing around with Firefly and the tools in Adobe Express, just because. But yesterday, with a little dark and early time on my hands, I jumped in. Here’s what I discovered in my short introduction:
I know there’s quite a bit of conversation about AI and its role in our culture. I do fear that people like me—old coot wannabes with limited skills, at best—will likely be replaced by these tools. I’m also afraid of the ramifications for communication, politics, and our society in general, as we cede more and more of our rational human function to The Machines. Maybe more on that later. But for a few minutes on a Thursday, it was a fun little distraction for a guy who had an artistic and creative bypass at birth.
It’s taken me almost a month to get used to the pocket sized Moleskine again, but now it just feels right, like the good ol’ days, or something.
Here’s fair warning to all both of you, loyal readers. This post will not be earth-shattering, life-changing stuff. It won’t. It’ll be a couple of random lines, mostly copied from somewhere else to accomplish two things: getting my mind and fingers working, and boosting that word count up to 300 for the day. You’ve been advised, so you can probably go ahead and move on to something more profound and productive.
John Slaughter writes over at The Abbeville Institute about how the South as we know it is being homogenized away by encroaching factors mostly beyond our control. Now, I understand there aren’t a lot of folks who love the South out loud (the result of those “encroaching factors”), but I am one. You can save all your blah blah blah about racism and Lost Causes and backward ignorance and all that. That’s not the South I love and it’s not what I’m talking about here. It is true, however, that Aunt Pittypat (from the Book That Shall Not Be Named—and Film That Shall Not Be Named) was quite prophetic: How, indeed?
But back to Mr. Slaughter:
We are already seeing our rich customs, traditions, and values being overshadowed or discarded in the relentless pursuit of profit and conformity. How many statues and headstones now lie in ruins or hidden away in storage lockers because transplants brought forth by the lure of money and employment sought to turn the South into little New England?
The consequences of large corporations dictating our cultural landscape weigh heavily on my mind. In a world driven by mass consumption and fleeting trends, I can’t help but worry that the vibrancy and authenticity of our Southern traditions may be reduced to mere commodities, stripped of their true essence and significance. The introduction of conflicting values from diverse backgrounds further compounds these concerns, as it threatens to dilute the very core of our heritage and erode our collective identity.
Moreover, the rapid expansion of urban centers raises valid concerns about the displacement of longstanding communities. Iconic cities like Atlanta and North Carolina’s Research Triangle now wield significant influence, overshadowing rural areas and threatening the very fabric that has nurtured our customs and shaped our collective memory for generations.
Reflecting on this situation, I find myself drawn to Christ’s words in Mark 8:36, “For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Are we willing our identity for GDP and manicured lawns? Is increased tax revenue worth forced cultural amnesia? I for one do not want a South that is indistinguishable from Ohio or Illinois.
Nicholas Bate reminds us that stories are powerful means of communicating important material. After all, the Great Storyteller and some who followed in His footsteps have been good examples.
Among the eleven reasons Mr. Bate gives for good stories, this one sits in the middle:
Stories use language not just words; it requires an engaged brain to use a story. And the latter is an increasingly rare commodity on a Zoom/Teams call.
Toni Cade Bambara reminded us to take words seriously.
And finally, this morning, Mitch Chase engages Proverbs 15:30 to encourage us to be, well…encouragers!
And would you look at that? That 300 word goal? Well, it almost doubled! Take that, inertia!
It’s a rainy, windy February Friday morning, and the temperature is dropping, reminding me that even though we’ve had spring-like conditions here, winter is not done yet. Here are a couple of those random thoughts banging around in my noggin this morning.
See that image at the top of this post? (Right…there.) I love everything about a vintage date stamp. It reminds me of the libraries of my childhood and young adult years. (Really random recollection: I worked in the music library when I was a wide-eyed naïve freshman music major. It was loads of fun.) My current date stamp setup is simple and old school. I bought this stamper and this stamp pad at our local Staples. On the stamper itself, you rotate the little rubber bands of numbers and letters around an axis, press it onto the stamp pad and apply with varying pressure to your paper. Part of the quirky charm is the slightly off-line alignment of the characters. The other part that appeals to me is the color of the ink, which just about matches the color of my current Pilot G-2 and the nifty fountain pen I got for Christmas. Yeah, I’m a blue ink guy. So there.
Image via Flickr
This morning, for some reason, I found myself thinking of—and missing Spanish moss. I grew up a few miles inland from Savannah, Georgia, and that stuff was everywhere. A lot of people have the notion that Spanish moss lends a spooky air to the locale, but I never saw it that way. I always thought it was another idyllic feature of my South. The way it blew in the breeze, the way it added a “something” touch to the stately oaks. I remember the way it smelled, the way it felt. And I remember people warning us kids that the “redbugs” lived in it. (Actually, the redbugs were chiggers, and according to the great Walter Reeves, they really don’t make their home in the moss if it’s in the trees. Good to know.)
Anyway, here’s a quick feature on Spanish moss in south Georgia.
I’ve been keeping a somewhat regular journal/notebook since around 2003. Coincidentally, that’s about when I started blogging (but not nearly as regularly).
Anyway, I’ve never been real sure about how to format my journal, what to include and leave out, pencil or pen, computer or whatever. Somewhere along the line I came to the conclusion that what I have is not a journal in the classic sense, but more of a commonplace book that includes all kinds of stuff.
Today as I was making my way through the stack o’ stuff in my Reeder feeds, I happened upon this article from The Millions. This part about Lynda Barry helping non-creative people learn to express themselves included this:
I’m turning this over when I come across Lynda Barry’s Syllabus. Barry is a cartoonist, author, and teacher whose recent books are devoted to changing the way people think about their own creativity. Syllabus is based on a workshop Barry teaches called “Writing the Unthinkable.” The main course requirement is keeping a notebook—and not just any kind. Each day’s hand-written entry must contain these items: 1) a list of seven things you did, 2) a list of seven things you saw, 3) something you heard someone say, and 4) a sketch of one item from the “saw” list. Don’t even think about skipping the sketching step.
Much like Jane Van Slembrouck, this approach has been bouncing around in my brain this morning. I think I’ll try it. Here’s my hack, though. I’m going to try to start each day’s entry with Barry’s list, and then keep using the same book for the commonplace items I come across throughout my day. We’ll see.
I’ve given a couple of copies of Every Moment Holy as gifts, but never got around to getting one for myself until one came bundled with a new Bible. This collection of liturgies creates a new perspective on the everyday occurrences of life.
I’m especially grateful for the one about coffee. Ned Bustard‘s illustration of the phoenix in the coffee cup is the perfect accompaniment to Douglas McKelvey’s text: the resurrecting power of a new day and the ritual of coffee that makes it so.