mental pencil sharpening

I say I am awake. I got up around 10:15; late for many, but when do The Many go to sleep? I am awake, but it's not the prime hours of the day for me, the starter minutes, the limbering up orally, visually, aurally, et ceterally. I strive to be awake, to back up my claim of same.

But am I?

Who is?

I look around. Glance and browse with my eyes. If I were to close my eyes right now, could I name five objects in this room at this coffee shop, name five smells, five sounds, five textures? Could I describe colors, voices, fixtures, flavors, tastes, walls, floors, doors, customers, lighting, ceiling, temperature, odors, fragrances, air flow?

But who could? Who does such a thing?

To be fair to myself, and to anyone reading this (all 18 people), if I knew I'd be queried as queried above, I'd be able to practice my observation skills. I'd be able to sharpen my mental pencil, or mentally sharpen my metaphorical pencil. Something like that. I am confident I would achieve better results, as would anyone else.

Is it an acquired skill or a discipline, this acute awareness? Can anyone do it with practice over time? Are some people born with talents and powers and skills that aid and abet this adventure?

Detectives and priests. Writers and car salesmen (not gender-specific). Hustlers and thieves. Politicians and pontiffs. Pitchers and batters. Poets and magicians. Who among them exceeds at seeing/hearing/tasting/touching/smelling/thinking/feeling? Again, is it practice or innate talent, or a hybrid of all those things?

Are females or males better at this? I suspect babies and toddlers are the most advanced in this arena; they simply lack the ability to articulate it. Are some cultures better than others at it? Has technology dulled the knife of perception, the blade that cuts through the cloud?

So, you're reading this, and you say, So what? Who cares? What's the point? What's the big deal?

The big deal is the small deal. The small deal is the only game in town. It doesn't take a meteorologist to know which way the rain is falling.  

I want to know enough to get away from the train on the tracks. But I don't want to know so much that I can't tell the difference between a train and a titmouse.

entitlement

What's your favorite title?

Monologues in Stereo 

Failure to Thrive

Doors Shut Wide

Burying the Dead, and Others

 

cinematic sinema

 Sometimes sparks fly, they just do:

https://amzn.to/36UtTKC

sub rosa

Under the rose. Above the dirt. Across the great divide. Beyond the pale. To hell and back. For better or worse. Beside me. Under the rainbow (somewhere). Below standard. From here to eternity. On the brink. To the front. In the back. After the fall. Against all odds. Through thick and thin. Before time immemorial. Despite all evidence to the contrary. Along the watchtower (all). Above the fray. With malice aforethought. Over the top. Without scruples. Among thieves (thick as). In the beginning. During this time. Toward the end. Around the bend. On behalf of. Since forever. At the mercy of. To have and to have not. Under the watchful eye of. From the storm (shelter). Down the rabbit hole. Between you and me. Except us. Within these walls. Upon second thought. Beneath contempt. Up the river. Under the table. Until then. 

The Cost of Loneliness

The price one pays to obtain it

Market value

Cost / benefit ratio

Gross Domestic Paralysis (GDP)

Auction: what am I bid

The cost of solitude

The price one pays to jettison it

Gelatinous Diabolical Penis (GDP) 

The price or cost of oneliness

Sex drugs rock 'n' roll

What my bid

Mortgage the past present future

On loan

Currency exchange (dollars to do-nots)

Sex rugs rock 'n' stroll

Giant Dwarf Projection (GDP)

If these walls could talk

Lace curtains

Do you want to know a secret

Silos

The walls have ears

GDP

Rental (dis)agreement

Room for hire

Nowhere man woman child

The cost of living

Adjusted for inflation (or deflation)

Economies of scale

One is the (l)oneliest number

Enough

Is

A feast

on notice

You're on notice. Give notice. Take notice. Give or take. Notice this: Brits loathed notice as a verb. It was seen as an Americanism. Ben Franklin went to France. When he came back to America, he noticed that notice as a verb was notably a new thing. For gamers, a pending loser is on notice. If someone puts you on notice, doesn't that notably add stress to you? It's like they're waiting for you to crash and smolder. Performers are on notice, in a different way. They want to be noticed. Sometimes, though, the spotlight seems too bright, way too hot. (Not-ice, get it?) Being on that kind of notice can freeze one in their tracks. Caught in the flicker of the strobe light. Paralyzed. You're on notice, son, girl, spouse. How servile one feels. Everyone, anyone, working for The Man is on notice from Day 1. (Do people now work for The Woman? The Person? The Military-Industrial Complex Android?) 

Politicians, you're on notice. As if they care. As if we care.

On notice? We notice what we want to notice, see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear, believe what we want to believe.  

And we call this freedom.

soft touch

Each box of pens sported a dime-sized label declaring SOFT TOUCH. Anyone seeking the ying-yang symmetry of a HARD TOUCH label would be disappointed. Besides, who wants a hard-touch writing instrument? Presumably someone who desires a forced halting, an imposed reflection, speed bumps or humps or whatever they call them in your neck of the woods. A writer who wishes to be arrested goes for the hard touch. It need not be rough or clumsy. Think of it like a vehicle's electronic stability control (ESC) system that employs computer-controlled braking to foster safe driving. They used to call this a governor. Sometimes a writer craves that meditative slowdown. 

For post-post-modernists who shun handheld writing instruments, a keyboard's settings can accomplish much the same thing. Or pour mucilaginous maple syrup over the keys, but don't expect to use that keyboard the next morning, or ever, without a side of waffles.

A soft touch. That's when you want to glide, sail away, slide down the snow-covered hill with abandon. Let it ride. Don't stop for no one or nothing. No edits, rewrites, fixes, catches, second thoughts. Smooth as silk. Enjoy it while you can. Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a stream.

They say: She's a soft touch, an easy mark. He's a soft touch, a softee, a marshmallow. Dupes. Targets. Victims. Gullible and gulpable jellyfish.

And yet: Soft touch mother to newborn, father to failing father, skin to skin, kin to kin. Romancing the stone, like water like time. Soft touch melting madness. Soft touch secret texture, facile tactile, silent language. Touch tone static-free, soft spark whisper flame.

May I borrow that pen?