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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Ten Things of Thankful (TToT) bloghop. Our foundress, L, as the recipient of a grant by George V as part of a deal to ‘get the rest of those malcontents off to the ‘new’ world and generally clean up London’. (The subtext being to focus on the rabble-rousing nouveau-social activists like Mrs Cooper and her sisters-in-law, Ann and Margaret Fletcher who seem to have travelled the length and breadth of Lancashire raising support for the locked-out-workers*. This last, one of those elegant (and mnemonic) slogans and catch-phrases that dot the admittedly under-researched period of the worker’s rights movement in both the UK and the States. The thing about these events? One might infer something about catchy phrases and… well, it rhymes with ‘Pen things of Rankful’.  (Seeing as we’re on the topic of worker’s rights, we would be negligent if we did not mention the strike of personal interest, ‘the Bread and Roses Strike**’ (‘Short Pay! All Out!) which served as a focal  point for the first part of our WIP ‘Almira’.

1) Una

2) Phyllis

3) the Wakefield Doctrine

4) the Unicorn Challenge ‘Prime Ear of the Week’: ‘The Robber‘ by jenne (‘In which our story-teller walks us into a veritable maelstrom of un-tagged dialogue. Some of us Readers found ourselfs running through the story like a puppies in it’s first snow flurry’.)

5) the Six Sentence Story, ‘The Six of the Week’: ‘Untimely Utterances- Part II, Mystic Rains‘ from Friend of the Doctrine, Spira/Nick In the way of the virtual world and synchronicity our intro here was written prior to reading Nick’s post. We love that stuff. “Linear, monolithic timeline reality!?!? “We don’ need no steeken’ linear, monolithic timeline!” As it happens, we’re the clear beneficiaries of this juxtaposition as our reference to the seemingly endless river of antipathy towards those without power by those with, could have gone afield, had it not been the availability of the jinn of hyperlinks to provide context. Nick’s most excellent post was far more challenging.

6) yard project/status in photation (Grat 7)

7) as soon as it stops with the endless rain

8) something, something

9) Bridge Update (Nothing new to report. We suspect the timeframe for the project has been pushed back as Phyllis’s mallard family are, as the New Yorker Magazine* might say, ‘In residence’)

10) Secret Rule 1.3 (From the Book of Secret Rules, aka the Secret Book of Rules) that states and provides for, in part: “[t]he process of reaching Grat Items eight (or seven, if you’re feeling all-powerful) is, legitimately, and without qualification, a valid item on the list (“…gratum notatio gratitudinis.” op.cit. page 222); with the proviso (Latin: prōvīsiō (“preparation, foresight” but said while wearing, like, a toga)

 

* reference here to Ten Percent and No Surrender Strike 1853-1854

** ok, here is the perfect example of the difference between rogerian literalness. The title of the Wikipedia article we’re citing is: ‘The Lawrence Textile Strike’ also known as ‘the Bread and Roses Strike’. While we are not experts in the history of the worker’s rights movement in the early 20th, we are experts in a certain theory of personality. Guess which of the three would be drawn to the first title and which would be attracted to the second. The question you might ask yourself, provided you, the Reader’ are still with us but are pausing, ‘What is it you’re trying to say?’

music vids

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Language Advisory! (Strenuous use of ‘fuck’ as a lyric motif, if not an excessively enthusiastic anaphora)

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Friday -the Wakefield Doctrine- the Unicorn Challenge

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to ‘the Unicorn Challenge‘.

Hosted by jenne and ceayr, the only strict rule is: a story may not exceed 250 words. How much time, intellectual resources or psycho-emotional careening around in one’s mind after seeing the prompt photo but before hitting ‘Publish’? Unlimited.

 

 

“Kiss me.”

“Sure. Wait, what?” The girl looked up at her date, startled by his words, yet reassured by the obligatory travel-frayed backpack hanging off his left shoulder. He smiled with an elemental charm found in a vanishingly-small number of chromosomal wellsprings available to those who lugged a Y Chromosome cudgel through life.

“No, I’m serious. Wasn’t it my idea to come here instead of the Casino?”

The young, (going-on-younger), woman nodded acquiescence; yet a single pair of muscles in her face, deciding to go all Conscientious Objector on the moment, deprived her upturned face of that one physical inflection that differentiated between love and lust.

“Well, it was an effective come-on line.” She smiled to smooth her words, lest, in his haste to accept them as a compliment, he snag something critical to his mission.

Shifting his backpack, the almost-older man missed a frightening percentage of cues fanned-out by his newest travel companion. Like an out-of-towner in front of a sidewalk three-card monte game, his desire to win was his undoing as he decided he was keeping track of everything that was important.

The girl complied. The boy smiled.

Their bodies met, her heart did not. He didn’t notice. She never forgot.

Both turned, an inward ratcheting of bodies, as a limo stopped at Pl. du Casino, 98000 Monaco. The only man wearing dark glasses stepped forward to open the vehicle’s door. The ghost of Princess Grace stepped out and entered the building, entourage trailing like a funeral shroud.

 

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘…Of Heroes and the MisUnderstood.’ [Part 0.666]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host

Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)

The prompt word is:

PRESENT

Standing at the towering wall of glass that looked out over the Miami business district, Cyrus St. Loreto felt at home; as insufficient a designator that phrase might be, given his unnaturally-long life.

A metaphor from Shakespeare came to mind, accompanied by a private smile as the sun conspired with the waves of the Atlantic to sneak up on the businessman: ‘The world was his oyster’. Rumors to the effect that he did some ‘reputation management’ work for the playwright was the stuff of corporate legend and rejected PhD dissertations. Given a certain span between ‘then’ and ‘the present’, the transient character of good and evil, endemic in the society of man since expulsion from a certain Garden, always transforms from liability to something more akin to power.

The business of the Bernebau Company and Cyrus’s personal interests were inseparable and as witness, carved into one of the columns in the first floor lobby:

Fura ceea ce se poate, cumpara ceea ce trebuie atunci repossess rămâne.” *

In no small measure an indication of his reputation, there was nary a comment, Romanian or otherwise. in any business publications on the meaning of the inscription; at the moment, which is the only place Cyrus St. Loreto operated from, the affair in Iceland demanded his special talents.

 

 

 

*’Steal what you can, buy what you must, repossess what remains.’

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host

The prompt word is:

PRESENT

Time is not the falling of anonymous grains of sand. Time is not the un-human tick of insensate teeth ratcheting down in circular metallic viscera. Time is not the breathless sighing of decorated and divided paper, claiming past hopes and X-ing out failings like overly-sensitive girls and vainglorious boys.

The present is the waist of the hourglass, the future, heard in the metronomic beat of the clock and the past, the greatest of life’s poseurs, leaves an ink-stained trail of written promises and silent disappointments.

It has been truthfully said that time waits for no one. Yet the presence of god lies in its nature, to accompany us until we no longer require its progress report.

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘…Of Heroes and the MisUnderstood,’ [Part 0.888]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host and reminds us to allow only six sentences to tell (our) tales.

Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)

Most previously in our tale: this from us and this from Tom.

The prompt word is:

PRESENT

“No, I don’t care if the Miller Analogies are in twenty minutes…”

In the delightfully subversive ways of the unconscious mind, my desire to remain asleep incorporated a persistent shoulder shaking as part of my dream… something to the effect of having to get up out of bed and a girl who was slapping the palm of her hand with a ruler; Waking World: Zero / Enjoyable Dreams: One.

Like they say, from the moment you believe you can figure out how the stage magician achieves his illusion, you’ve surrendered the joy of pretending in exchange for the dubious power of maturity; it takes most of us getting to the far end of life, if we’re lucky, to again appreciate youth.

Cyrus St. Loreto’s private plane did nothing to betray either our velocity or location, which for anyone keeping score was: a skosh under the speed of sound and on final approach to Iceland’s Keflavik Airport; in the spirit of the dichotomy of life, despite the engineering to maintain the bliss of not knowing, there was a display over the cockpit door spelling out present position and speed.

Isla was lying on her left side, an inhale and a venial sin next to me, our adjacent seats reclined as one; seeing my eyes open, she lifted the blanket covering us enough for me to see my phone leaning against her left leg… it was live and the caller ID showed: Rue.

Given the rapid development of our relationship, I felt comfortable enough to move my right hand down to hunt ‘n peck a text message; I think Isla was hoping it might involve the use of excessive emojis.

As always Rue had taken the initiative, her text: ‘Are you alright?’

 

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