TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

‘Drawing Hands’ by MC Escher*
Being in what appears for all the world to be the writing mood equivalent to walking into the classroom after a night of not studying and waiting for the words “Pick up your pencils and begin…now” I thought it would be best to let the rogers at wikipedia describe the photo.
Drawing Hands is a lithograph by the Dutch artist M. C. Escher first printed in January 1948. It depicts a sheet of paper out of which, from wrists that remain flat on the page, two hands rise, facing each other and in the paradoxical act of drawing one another into existence. Although Escher used paradoxes in his works often, this is one of the most obvious examples.**”
*College Dormitory Decorator’s Guild motto: ‘god, if it weren’t for Escher we would have had to come up with more ‘Hang In there, baby’ cat posters and beautiful scenery photos with sweet, encouraging and totally truncated Fritz Perls quotes. whew!
** whats with the ‘tude!? was it me, or did that last line have a bit of a sneer in it! hey wikipedian! chill… lets see you come up with something as simple, yet original… keep ya sarcasm for reality TV ‘talent’ shows…

 

Being Saturday, the theme (of Doctrine posts), sheers off from whatever off-the-pavement-through-the-cedar-post-wire-fences-and-straight-damn-across-a-farmer’s-field-of-half-grown-corn trajectory that we enjoy during the week and settles into a more sensible, if not predictable path. The Road to TToT-ville.

Fun metaphor (or allegory, can never keep them straight), the projection of this bloghop into a real, imagined place does allow the intent of our host (and before her, the founder, creatoress, Lizzi O’Ryan*) to manifest in as real a fashion as a hammer dropped on the foot.

Josie Two Shoes provides the place and the atmosphere for all those inclined to submit a post composed of Ten Things of Thankful (or some approximation thereof**) It is a not inconsiderable task, but as is often the case, those who have within, the qualities they encourage, she makes it look easy. And that is a gift in and of itself. And it provides an environment that’s totally comfortable for those of us less able to express the subtler and, to many of us, loftier qualities of the human being.

Enough with the charm. I’ll leave that to the rogers among us. (reminder: clarks think, scotts act and rogers feel)

On with this here post here!

1) Una. 52.4 pounds of Chodský pes  She is currently sitting on the bed in the room where I word-rassle

2) Phyllis (roger with significant clark-like secondary aspect and moderate scottian tertiary), bridge constructor and keeper of the hearth

3) The Graviteers

4) zoe and joules and the Six Sentence crew (now, I am, in fact, going to ask that you take hold of your visual cortex and totally imagine the writers that participate each week in zoe’s bloghop, in total gangster look. thug, to a man (and woman)…. no, I’m totally serious!)

5) the Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules). Somebody say, “Hey! There are always exceptions and allowances in any practice, exercise, or bloghop-with-a-theme-thats-innvariably-beneficial-to-all-participants. So what’s the big deal about this Secret Book (aka Secret Rules)?’ Two words: hypograt (from hypogratitudiness, n. hypograt. (a hypograt is an Item (included in a TToT post) that represents something that happened or a person encountered or pretty much anything you think of that, no matter how hard you try, you cannot feel grateful for (or to, or even, at). The BoSR/SBoR allows: ‘…when something simply sucks, but persists in the landscape as one writes a TToT post and no amount of spin or alternate perspective transforms the toad into a beautiful princess/prince, provided it insists on sitting there, like the moisture-ring on the dashboard of your car that nothing seems to remove, it may, with appropriate notation be considered an Item for that week’s TToT.

6) the Wakefield Doctrine, my online sine qua non.

7) the writing jones that I so whole-heartedly picked up and strapped to my back. ‘Home and Heart‘ (A Sister Margaret Ryan novel)

8) Sunday Supplement

(Tilted) Primary Colors Sunday
A rose, a dog, sunflowers
Landscape format: the left half is immediate and shows a rose bush (at the top of the left half) and three sunflowers (at the bottom of the left half) The right half of the photo is centered by Una who is sitting with her back to the camera. She is looking to her left enough that we see her snout pointing to the left. The line from the tip of her nose travels up towards the top of her head with slight indent, followed by a small, squared prominence that lets us see her eyes, even though we can’t see them in the black on black coloring.
Where was I?
Una is sitting, which in a dog is a remarkably ‘prepared’ stance. Her back legs are bent and her forelegs are straight. This posture is stable, allows her to relax while still maintaining optimal awareness of her surroundings and, because of the position, (of her legs), she would be in motion a second after detecting the need to move.
Una (and most dogs) are my total (and near-hopelessly out of reach) role models.
The grass is green, ripening into white.
The leaves of the rose bush are totally angular, like the stegosaurus of garden plants, all sideways and pointy. As if the thorns weren’t enough of a ‘you talkin to me?!’ the color is …well, rose colored. (Sort of red sitting alone at the bar after everyone else has paired up and left together).
Now the sunflowers… man! talk about yer scottian flowers…. stem (straight green tubes) middle thing a black cue ball shiny enough to show a little window-pane-shaped light spot where it’s reflecting the light from above) and the petals! Yellow. As in…
‘HEY! Hey!! over here I gotcha nectar right here!’

9) Garden photo (raining out …. hey, lets see if I can find a video to place mark for us here, with the theme of rain. I know just the one, if I can only find it… got it!  at the bottom of the page.)

10) Secret Rule (SR) 1.3

 

*not, ‘actually’, her real name. Thing is, as fans of SOC (I’m looking at you Kerry) will attest to, sometimes rhythm trumps sense (or correctness). Lizzi O’Ryan has a roll-off-the-tongue-quality, so, I guess we’re stuck with it. At least for the tenure of this post.

** the bottom line requirement for participation is ‘good intent’. Numbers are good, Ten is fine. Less than (or more than) is acceptable, provided the intent is good. Plus…. plus!  there is the Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules) see number 5 Tell me how anyone out there in the blogosphere has anything that comes anywhere in the general vicinity of being imaginarily close to the TToT.

Click here and join us on the TToT!

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

zoe says the word this week is …pickle. (It’s been rumored that zoe has moments where she likes to mess wit our heads. Exhibit 1, your honor.) lol

What’s the deal? you inquire, all ready for a story that is six and only six sentences in length. How hard can it be, you opine, settling back in your metaphorical easy chair. (hey, where the hell did that expression come from? I know, lets go look it up! 1707, it says! well, that was interesting. is the word still ‘pickle’?)

This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop. (You really need to join us in the fun.)

Pickle

A 21st Century Gulliver, bound by gossamer chains of brightly patterned sheets, Jimmy Gherkin lay in his bed, the glowing sunset in the bedroom window called out for a continuation of the summer’s day. He struggled to appear unable to sleep, despite the model airplanes suspended on now invisible strings, their swooping flight halted in the dark, waiting to approve the letters of transit from a boy’s imagination.

With the unconscious insight for the very young, Jimmy asked, “Daddy, where do we come from?” and with that question discovered the power to stop the adult world, as stopped in the doorway.

As Tim Gherkin turned, an opportune glance at a sports poster on the wall created a smile and he said, “Well, son, imagine you’re at third base and the fielder drops the ball. Naturally you try for home but halfway there, the third baseman gets the ball and he tosses it to the catcher who walks up the baseline directly in your path. Life sometimes puts us on the spot where we can only try for home plate and hope for the best, and it’s called a ‘pickle’.”

 

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ἡμέρα Ἄρεως -the Wakefield Doctrine- (‘the day of the week most favored by clarks’)

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

So why is it that, of the three personality types, clarks look upon Tuesday as, perhaps, the best of all days of the week? Simple. The weekend-workweek transition day (Monday) has been survived, the focus on achieved (or not) progress day (Wednesday) has not yet occurred and the deceptively desirable end-of-workweek day (Friday) is still a distant dream.

Tuesday is all about optimism and promise. And clarks, well, clarks are nothing if not the embodiment of promise.* No, in our brief discussion this morning, ‘promise’ is decidedly a noun. And the context is social context-free! It is not about breaking a promise, making a promise, promising to better. It (the promise of a clark) is the potential… for (totally fill in the blank).

If anything, the promise inherent in the worldview of a clark is the event horizon of their existence. whoah! (whoah, indeed!) Damn, as often happens, I’ve stumbled into a topic that, like a quiet talk and a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, the coming day still held back by the castellation in bleached oak of the cabinets bracketing the sink, the outside wall falls into the yard and the world yaws open, ever hungry for human time.

lol

Cliff Notes version of my tantalizing allusion: “…the promise inherent in the worldview of a clark is the event horizon of their existence.” clarks are always searching for something. Being of a rational bent (clarks think, scotts act and rogers feel), the sought-after thing manifests as knowledge/information. clarks are the insatiably curious of the three. The ‘something’ clarks seek is the thing that everyone around them appear to know already and, by tragic miscalculation, clarks assume is the knowledge that makes them, (scotts and rogers) real people. They must have been absent that day, when growing up and being taught about life, ya know. In any event, that is the singularity, the conviction that if they acquire more information, they might discover the secret and become a part of.** Like the nearly-all powerful black hole, we cannot see it directly and so are left with the edge of endless appetite, like golem with a question mark impressed upon our foreheads.

 

 

*  the natural tendency here is to interpret the word ‘promise’ as a verb, which totally changes the spin. That kind of promise is strictly of the domain of the real people, the scotts and the rogers. (“Hey, a promise is a promise, so get some clothes on an we’ll catch some breakfast”  “Yeah, but you promised. I heard you promise. Everyone heard you promise. How can you do such a thing?“)

 

** super-brief Doctrine for New Readers: unlike most of the other personality theories and schema, the Doctrine does not rely on quizzes and surveys, questions about favorite colours or food, likes and dislikes, in order to establish which category a person falls into. This is because, from our viewpoint, our personality ‘types’ are simply the characteristically distinct style of dealing with life, given the world we are experiencing. Ex: I grew up in the reality of the ‘the Outsider’ and I learned and developed the style of interacting that would best advantage me in that context. My tendency to mumble, have poor posture, make creatively eccentric fashion choices, be funny (provided you’re close enough to hear me) and exhibit a sporadic yet wildly original creativity is because that is what is successful when contending with the world as I experience it. For scotts and for rogers, the same applies. Start out as a little baby one in the world of the Predator and I betcha you develop a predilection for quick reflexes, act-before-being-acted-up real fast. It’s about what strategies are appropriate to the character of the world you grow up in, you know, what kind of likes and dislikes, favorite colours or food that increase the odds that you survive and thrive today.

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

‘Flowers, Deck, Roses and Garden’ (Landscape format) Left lower quarter is the corner of the deck at the back of the house. Like a flat arrow, the bench that defines the corner of the deck is pointing to a rose bush that, by luck and happenstance, occupies the graphic (if not artistic) center of the picture. The rose bush is a variant of the Rosa rugosa (beach rose) and, apparently blossoms (or blooms or flowers or whatever you call it) more than once a season. New red flowers among old and missing flowers, whats not to like? Anchoring the bottom left are some sun flowers. Along the top half of the scene is the much-grown, Una’s garden. (Why yes, everything at our house, or at least outside our house has a name and/or place in the family life.)

 

Welcome to the Ten Things of Thankful (TToT). Josie’s weekly evocation and celebration of all things gratitudinistic*. Come, join the growing crowd who realize, (not that they forgot it, but with the constant drone of the angry, but stinger-less bees that grow increasing in numbers in some corners of the virtual world, sometimes we misplace our healthy centers), that looking back, (and isn’t all reality and life really series of remembrances, sequences long and infinitesimally brief, postcards from our own lives), and celebrating (and sharing) the good (and the bad) is way better than trying to fight the voice inside that says, ‘But….(fear)… be careful…(fear)’

ya know?

This, like anyone other than a New Reader would not have guessed, is the Wakefield Doctrine. This is our TToT.

1-3) Ola’s Bridge complete

‘As a matter of fact, she does have a hammer’ Phyllis beginning the final phase of construction of the bridge. She is kneeling at the edge of the newly attached boards that form the decking of the bridge. She is reaching with her right hand for a hammer that is lying on the newly cut board, (a pale, pine white-into-wood hue). Next to the hammer is a red carpenter’s pencil, used to keep the spacing between the planks consistent. Just below the hammer (from our perspective) is the box of nails that will create a whole from the multiple parts. The box is fire engine red with a surprisingly bright yellow label.

Phyllis on the Other Side (Portrait format) Phyllis crossing the bridge from the far side. The surrounding is shades of green. The bridge is a blonde-on-light-brown rectangle. It’s long enough to show a narrowing (due to perspective, Red Shift or the curvature of the Earth) as it appears in the center-right fore ground and recedes up the center of the scene.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Form Follows Function (A Woman, a Dog, a Bridge)

4) Phyllis, Una and Denise: Constructionae Extrodinare  for the success of the current iteration of Ola’s Bridge.

5) Seeing as we mentioned her, one of the most iconic, (to the breed and to the individual dog), photos in our possession,

‘Big Smile, Big Teeth’ A photo of our first dog, Ola. Ola is the center of the photo (quite characteristically, as she was the most photogenic of all our dogs). She is lying her right side on a couch. The couch cushions rise and form a backdrop, half (of this backdrop) is a dark brown corduroy quilt. Ola has her head up (there is a pillow to her right), it is easy to imagine that, before the photo was taken, she was asleep, her head on the pillow. She is, however, quite awake. She is looking at the camera and she is smiling, in the way that all dogs have, but some breeds, not the least of which, German Shepherds, have the coloring that totally makes you see a smiling dog. Ola had light brown and black colorings. In fact, her back disappears against the dark brown of the quilt on the back of the couch. From her shoulders upwards, the predominate color is light brown. Her ears are quite prominent and totally alert (the hint that this is not a harmless, half-groggy from sleep animal). The conical triangles of her ears have a black bordering, enough to highlight the pinkish inner ears. (Like a bunny rabbit, provided the bunny rabbit could run as fast a man on a bicycle and was un-abashedly carnivorous.) Her eyes are dark, and she has an accent of light brown, arching over her eyes, but with two sharp black eye brows right above the inner corner of her eyes. (If Rene Russo were to reincarnate as a German Shepherd, everyone, family and the AKC alike would approve.) Ola’s mouth is open in that smiling-so-unaffectedly-to-cause-the-lower-jaw-to-drop slightly sort of way. Her tongue is pink and her teeth are white. There is an intelligence in her eyes that is, imo, startling. (But then again, each year for a week or so after her birthday, when Phyllis’s car would appear coming down the driveway, Ola would go to her toy box, find the birthday present toy among the laundry basket full of others and stand at the door. (I would be in and out of the house all day and nary a glance at the toy… but for Phyllis, who got home once a day, it was a whole different matter.)

6) The un-named detective in the work-in-progress, ‘The Mystery of the Missing Starr’, has a name. Finally! His name is Ian Devereaux and, well, maybe this excerpt will give you an idea of the man, “I live alone in a house meant for a large family. I used to have a dog. I used to have a wife. My wife divorced me and my dog died. I really miss the dog.”

7) Speaking of discontinuous hopes and realizations: theres trouble in Toemahtoe City (photo at 11*) One dead, one dying, one holding out and last being stalked by Bambi and her band of vegan cannibals.

8) (Sunday Supplement)

9) the Book of Secret Rules (aka Secret Book of Rules) It is both the rabbit hole, the little cake with ‘Eat Me’ icing, a free-form Thesaurus, a (non)TV Guide, Cliff Notes, and ‘Life and Everything Else for Dummies’. Fun. Not sure when to use the SBoR/BoSR? Whenever you can cite an appropriate Rule.***

10) SR 1.3

Click This (Alice and every other fictional and non-fictional explorer)

 

* not a ‘real’ word

**11 am Sunday,  that is

*** preferred citation guidelines for use of Secret Rule(s): Chapter, verse, (chorus, if there is one) and an op.cit. (if ya think you can pull it off). Extra standing attributed if you can manage [t]hose crazy parenthesis that you know someone at the Chicago Manuel of Style stuck in there, just to mess with us.

 

(song in head, of a more modern vintage)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

John W Jones

The Six Sentence Story is a bloghop hosted by zoe. Each and every week she invites all those, so inclined, to write a story relating/related to a new prompt word. The stories are limited only by the number of sentences it has. Six. No more and no less. Otherwise it’s left to us, the writers, to decide what makes a story. And that’s where the fun is.  The Six Sentence Story can be anything, fiction, autobiographical, non-fiction or any combination of all. It’s an opportunity to witness ideas gathering words and forming tales, that others can enjoy. As has happened before, this week I got well into Wednesday with the belief I knew exactly (well, sketchy-exactly) what my Six would be about. And then my clarklike nature exerted it’s power. One reference in a comment on ‘the Facebook’ lead to ‘the Civil War’ and then to Andersonville and then Elmira (both prison camps). But the idea still had not sunk it’s ink-stained teeth into me until I got to a reference to the above picture man. …it then wouldn’t let go.

….slip

Each morning that might slip from night’s tenebrous grasp, the sun would blaze over the clouds of mist that would, each summers day, rise from Foster’s Pond. Columns of new sunlight lightly balanced on the surface of the stagnant water, suggesting a delicate crystal formation; yet the stench that floated down over dry land, whispered of disease and death. Both the terrain and the Earth’s pull on all things conspired to draw the water that fell from the sky and the fluids that flowed from un-healed battle wounds, down from the hills and through the canvas ghettos that were home to thousands of Confederate soldiers.

In A-tents housing six or more prisoners, at least two would die of disease before bullet wounds or shattered limbs, the older prisoners (and increasingly the guards) called this place in rural New York State, ‘Helmira’ and would tell dark, cautionary tales as welcome to newly interred, “Ah swear it’s true. God may be white, but his angel of death is a old colored man who moves through the camp collectin the dead and when he passes, ain’t not a sign of boot pressed in the mud.”

In every culture, even one grounded in a makeshift prisoner-of-war camp, rise tales intended to give comfort; fighting the goblin-clutch of diarrhea and small pox, dying men would grasp the nearest arm and beg,  “Jus promise that John W Jones will tend me when my time comes. I got no regrets, but that my mother won’t never know what became of me, Sexton Jones’ll make sure she knows her boy died brave.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Source Credits: ‘The Elmira Prison Camp; a history of the military prison at Elmira NY’ by Clay W Holmes 1912      (p. 140-150)

John W Jones Museum

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