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Tihmmnmmish's Cuddle-Friendly Fireside Threadcast

hmmnmm said:
Am I the only one in all of Lit who is such a profound failure at so much? Am I the only one who is completely absent of any thread of ability to do more than crawl across muck? Am I the only one who sees so many glaring imperfections within and about my self? Or is achievement overrated? Why aspire? Why do people feel it necessary to make themselves appear bigger by belittling the modesties of others whose aspirations are less concretely defined? Why is it that just when you're about to set off on a journey of unbridled fun, someone comes along who feels it is their community duty to slash your masts?

Why o why o why...
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I'm hopelessly flawed.
 
unpredictablebijou said:
Today's cookies are made with finely sifted magnolia flour. Unsalted danish butter is melted over a slow and lusty flame, mixed with Tibetan allspice, rain-scented saffron and the finest violet cinnamon from Bhutan. It's all creamed into a mixture of meadowlark eggs and Peruvian honey.

Drop by copper spoonfuls onto a silver baking sheet lined with egyptian parchment (inscribed, of course, with the appropriate heiroglyphs) and bake at slightly higher than body temperature for about four blissful hours.

I garnish mine with raspberry gumdrops, but you can also use red jujubes. Or just frost them with whipped almond cream.

Have another. They're best fresh.
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Please lay off the meadow lark eggs they should be born to soar above the earth singing as they go

LadynStFreknBed said:
I'm hopelessly flawed.
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me too I was flawed half a century ago and nothing will ever make it right again. Pardon me for being melancholy as I have food poisoning, was going to have my hair chopped today but couldn't go and am just attempting a little bit of bread and butter. Is my blankie here?
 
Blankie? It is.
Food poisoning? Ew.

The struggle between Winter and Spring has begun here. One minute sunshine, another minute snow flurries, turmoil in the sky. Helluva show.

See, not too many people live here. The remote setting does not appeal. It is not popular. But that's why I like it. If this town was a writer it would be considered unpublishable. If it ever did become published, it wouldn't be the same. It would be ruined. It would lose freedom. Interesting how things match up.
 
One of my favorite sweaters would be considered seriously flawed. In fact my wife tries to talk me into letting her Fix it. Make it less flawed. Make it more Proper. Less comfortable. The mentality pervades. You'd be more 'successful' if you looked like this person in this magazine. If you wrote like this book and less like yourself... if you'd study the habits of Successful People... Copy them. Hm. Nah.
 
unpredictablebijou said:
Your other post, paired with this one, makes me think that maybe you forgot not to be too serious about the opinions of other people. It's a mistake we all make, sweet. You just have to remember to count and weigh it all, if you're going to pay attention to any of it. For every one who feels the need to tear you down, there are many who will happily keep you afloat and remind you of your worth.

Had a friend ask me recently, when I was struggling, "What are you trying to control here?"

When I realized that I was trying to control other people's perceptions, it reminded me how futile that is, and helped me relax. We have enough of a task shaping our own perceptions, without messing about with those of other people.

Come have some pie, sweetie. That'll remind you what's really important.

(nothing but love, and some nice refined sugar on occasion...)
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Been reading this off and on over the days. It gets better every time. I'm very glad you gave this.

Here's what's really nuts: a perception that another is perceiving me in a certain way that I don't feel is really accurate. The first mistake is caring about what another perceives. Next mistake is assuming my interpretation is accurate. And even if it is accurate and the perception is not good news, the mistakes compound by me giving a second thought to it. But it's an easy thing to fall into. Because it's all around us. We're trained. Don't do what you want. Do what gets you good grades and approvals from teachers and parents and peers. If you try to tell them to just leave you the fuck alone, give you some space in which to have freedom to wander here and there, sometimes you hang out in poetry, other times in music, other times in tangible nature, and all the while collecting and learning in the most effectively informal way, so that you can ultimately offer the miscellany to whoever might want or need, which seems perfectly plausible to me, but it's a societal crime, practically.

And they try to punish you. You're supposed to be studying Algebra or whatever during these set periods of time so you can take a test scheduled for another time. If you don't comply with the regimen and study and practice and exercise well enough by test time, then you risk Failure. You fail. You get an F. If you get too many F's, you risk not advancing to the next grade. You risk not receiving a diploma that proves you satisfactorily complied with a system that others devised and did not even bother to see if maybe it was a stupid system to begin with. Because it's built, not for the purpose of enriching anyone, but it's driven by the notion that it matters or we should care that it matters if others approve or disapprove.

So it's easy to say or dream about, but to really do it, to really gain freedom... maybe that's what it's all about for everyone.

Ah.
 
And what a beautiful day today. Even overcast. Even so. And quiet. So sweetly quiet, so contemplatively poetically so. And that's no metaphor.
 
hmmnmm said:
...
So it's easy to say or dream about, but to really do it, to really gain freedom... maybe that's what it's all about for everyone.

Ah.
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in a nutshell that's what it's about for me.

love one's self, say/think/act with good in your heart and the freedom is right there at your fingertips.

it's as easy to find as one makes it, in my humble opinion. and it has taken me quite some considerable time to discover that.

:rose:
 
wildsweetone said:
in a nutshell that's what it's about for me.

love one's self, say/think/act with good in your heart and the freedom is right there at your fingertips.

it's as easy to find as one makes it, in my humble opinion. and it has taken me quite some considerable time to discover that.

:rose:
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I love the way you lay out in consolidated language what I'm trying to get across, and what I know to be true.

And as always it's great to see you. :heart:
 
Every time I check in here I find something gossamer to watch as it floats by, and the language takes me upward, out of the earthy rocky nature of my environment. Thank you.


UnderYourSpell said:
Please lay off the meadow lark eggs they should be born to soar above the earth singing as they go
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Good thing they were purely allegorical eggs, then, hm? Or is it hmmnmmmmm?


hmmnmm said:
Because it's built, not for the purpose of enriching anyone, but it's driven by the notion that it matters or we should care that it matters if others approve or disapprove.

So it's easy to say or dream about, but to really do it, to really gain freedom... maybe that's what it's all about for everyone.

Ah.
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Indeed, academics at its worst does exactly that; it makes us dependent on the approval of others, and puts importance on the opinions of others as a way for us to measure our own self-worth. That's a hard hypnosis to get out of. The whole arena of publishing doesn't help much with that either: will They like my work enough to put it in Their Book?

I mean. It's not called submission accidentally. And it's why, although I've published stuff a lot, it was always a case where someone asked me for a contribution. We need stuff for this magazine, we want your work in the anthology, and so on. Oddly, I've published quite a bit despite that, but I simply cannot be responsible enough or grown up enough to send stuff off to someone in hopes that they will approve of it, think it is good enough for them.

*sigh* I seriously need an agent.

God and the Fat Lady love my work. And the polar bears. And that's all that matters, except for the occasional erotica, which is purely to arouse and seduce specific and precious individuals in my own life. If it does that, that's all the approval I need.

I offer that only as a helpful thought model. Why struggle with approval? The people who love you are all that matters. I'm everybody's mom, and I think you could all be President someday. As the Mom, that's my job and my cosmology.
 
I just got this fancy new one. Tabula rasa.

vinatge_ge_refrigerator_ad.jpg
 
I'm with you though about the Sending Submissions. The mere thought tramples into preciously sensitive mind space. And I wonder if some sorts are better off just trying to do the best they can and put it out there and if someone wants it they can have it, maybe some will swipe it, and maybe an odd one or two will make contact. Just do whatever it takes to get that stress off the shoulders and get Into the Goods.
Think there's something to that?
 
Oh I love those old magazines, old ads. Borderline fetish. Old encyclopedias, almanacs, etc. Love that stuff.
 
hmmnmm said:
I'm with you though about the Sending Submissions. The mere thought tramples into preciously sensitive mind space. And I wonder if some sorts are better off just trying to do the best they can and put it out there and if someone wants it they can have it, maybe some will swipe it, and maybe an odd one or two will make contact. Just do whatever it takes to get that stress off the shoulders and get Into the Goods.
Think there's something to that?
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Absolutely. The only reason I like to see stuff published is that it's Off Of Me. I give stuff to people and say, get this off of me, please. it's heavy. I don't even care where it goes or what happens to it. put it in a box in your closet, whatever. I just need room for new things.
 
unpredictablebijou said:
Absolutely. The only reason I like to see stuff published is that it's Off Of Me. I give stuff to people and say, get this off of me, please. it's heavy. I don't even care where it goes or what happens to it. put it in a box in your closet, whatever. I just need room for new things.
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I'm suspecting a key to something like this is the finding of someone(s) who would want it, and the who almost doesn't matter, because if you have an idea of the who, who Get you enough so you can do almost whatever you want, then the others who aren't your whos can be removed from concern. I've noticed (I mentioned this to someone earlier) that if I am in a certain Feel of enjoying the Doing, there comes a change when I become conscious that what I am doing might be viewed by others. Friends, foes, familiars, strangers... I'll guess that's where some of the ambiguity comes from, somewhat. Being thrust nakedly front and center for indiscrete examination can be a bit unnerving, so finding something to sort of hide behind... almost necessary. Maybe that's what poetry is? Sometimes? Possibly?

So, piecing these fragments together gives me an idea.

We had snow today.
 
hmmnmm said:
I'm suspecting a key to something like this is the finding of someone(s) who would want it, and the who almost doesn't matter, because if you have an idea of the who, who Get you enough so you can do almost whatever you want, then the others who aren't your whos can be removed from concern. I've noticed (I mentioned this to someone earlier) that if I am in a certain Feel of enjoying the Doing, there comes a change when I become conscious that what I am doing might be viewed by others. Friends, foes, familiars, strangers... I'll guess that's where some of the ambiguity comes from, somewhat. Being thrust nakedly front and center for indiscrete examination can be a bit unnerving, so finding something to sort of hide behind... almost necessary. Maybe that's what poetry is? Sometimes? Possibly?

So, piecing these fragments together gives me an idea.

We had snow today.
Click to expand...

sort your idea before you read this...



i think it's almost cyclic...
the enjoying doing and then
the change when being conscious of others... after that comes the
well, tuff luck, i write what i write no matter what anyone thinks,
and then of course,
well heck They might See it so i better not tell them i've done it,
i'll go back to simply writing and enjoying the Doing. ;)

to get out of that cycle, i have to toss in something different.

a goal.

whoa. a goal. a specific goal.

by the end of this month, i will have submitted
one piece of writing to a NZ Poetry magazine.

rats. i hate it when i go ahead and commit myself like that. ;)

:rose:
ps i like this spot amongst the craziness of 'here'. i make myself a green tea, come in and just mosey through the posts here. it's one of the threads i enjoy when i have spare moments. :kiss:
 
wildsweetone said:
sort your idea before you read this...



i think it's almost cyclic...
the enjoying doing and then
the change when being conscious of others... after that comes the
well, tuff luck, i write what i write no matter what anyone thinks,
and then of course,
well heck They might See it so i better not tell them i've done it,
i'll go back to simply writing and enjoying the Doing. ;)

to get out of that cycle, i have to toss in something different.

a goal.

whoa. a goal. a specific goal.

by the end of this month, i will have submitted
one piece of writing to a NZ Poetry magazine.

rats. i hate it when i go ahead and commit myself like that. ;)

:rose:
ps i like this spot amongst the craziness of 'here'. i make myself a green tea, come in and just mosey through the posts here. it's one of the threads i enjoy when i have spare moments. :kiss:
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Funny you mention goals. Actually it is not funny. Was just discussing goals with someone earlier. Taking the opportunity to really think about it made me aware that I'd not given goal-setting much credit, personally speaking. Maybe more like attraction to several directions, some related and others divergent, the attractions happening simultaneously and in equal measures. So it's Wanna go this way, Wanna go that way... then comes the question that maybe one way will fit better though another be attractive, and one may travel more naturally than another. One can't really know until one gets off one's ass and takes a direction, can one? Then again, a bench by the bushes can offer plenty of scenic treats too. Or a porch. yeah, a porch.
 
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