Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

 

Wednesday day today!

Say the word with us…. buh….. bay….. ached… Baked!

Very good. zoe smiles and Joules grins crookedly, a twinkle in his eye. (If only life allowed thought balloons, his would most certainly be full of ‘AArrrs’ and camaraderie).

So, we good? Single word: BAKED Six sentences read in a row, a Story.

what are you waiting for, come on down! It’s fun, it’s exciteful.

(The music? from a previous draft of the Six, but after I wrote the current Six Sentence Story, I thought, ‘sure! that’s appropriate if I look back on the story, as opposed to it being representative of the contemporaneous experience.)

Baked

With the natural flamboyance often exhibited by third year college students blessed with a 3.5 grade point average and a Miller Analogy score of 460, the newest resident of Suite K announced, ‘I bring Hash oil’.

The boy standing with his back against the inside of the door watched as the pilot’s-mask-turned-smoking-apparatus made the rounds; hearing the phrase, ‘made the rounds’ in his head sparked a grin as crooked as an earthworm on a summer sidewalk. Almost immediately came the admonition, “remember your resolution, no more getting baked during Finals.’

Without being conscious of the transition between ‘there’ and ‘on my face’, he felt the grey elastic straps grasp the sides of his head, peered through the lenses of the mask and took a deep breath.

In the middle of the common room of Suite K, silence wrapped his head like a wet towel, he wondered how long it had been since he left the party and headed towards his own room. He saw through the still open door of his room, Room 115, the Jimi Hendrix poster on the wall, he looked back towards the room he’d just left and decided he had covered half the distance, which left approximately five more miles to go; with a smile of tenuous satisfaction, he continued his journey.

 

 

 

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

Summer, a friend cherished for it’s boundless life and warmth, falters and falls behind. Even knowing it is the way of nature, one can’t help but to look back, hope becoming resignation to the turning of the seasons.
(modified portrait format…almost square)
Una is sitting on her haunches (that posture that seems to say, “You have hands? Big deal… betcha I’ll respond more positively to surprises than you and your hands”) in the lower left corner of the photo. If she were in front of you as you sat on your couch, her left foreleg would be pressing against your left shin.
Una is sitting on the globel-warming-green grass between me and my camera and her garden, in our backyard.
Her face is in profile, so there is the triangular black silhouette of her head and muzzle at the right top of the black rounded-triangle of her body. Her front legs are two sable uprights, twin fulcra to launch her into action should the need arise.
The upper half of the photo is a view of the garden. Nearest Una is the ‘A’ section of the garden where the celery still reach upward, desperate for salvation. Behind them are the stalks of corn that are still standing, the perfect symbol of New England autumn. They are collectively-angular and a lifeless light brown. They huddle together, clumps of the dying standing amid the flattened carpet of the dead that cover the formerly life-giving ground on either side. Very non-human, they are not malevolent as much as they are careless (devoid of the slightest sharing of feelings, the ultimate of unconcerned bystander). If God decided to kill all the angels in heaven, I believe the aftermath would look like this.
oh kay lets get back to Una!
Una, while sitting on the alert, has a cautious forward lean, that manages to convey a certain sadness at the scene behind her. Being a dog she does not regret the dying of the garden. Being a dog she accepts that the garden is now a different thing, a different place in her world.

I’m beginning to think that Summer is over. Not entirely because of the weather, which in the last week or two has been early-Septemberish in character. I’m beginning to think that Summer is over because it’s starting to get dark at, like, 3:00 pm (and we’re still on DST!). Given that our house is in the middle of a pine wood (photo below) which means our horizon is approximately 45 degrees up from ‘over there’, the sun sets early anyway. I suspect there is something more fundamental going on than mere temperature and light; the days are getting shorter. Doesn’t take a metaphysician to extrapolate that observation into something useful…to a clark. (lol)

‘The view from my writing place.’
This is a photo of squares and anti-squares. It is in landscape format. Filling the frame are two double-hung windows. Through and beyond the windows are pine trees.
The windows are comprised of four square panes of glass. We see that they are two windows because the dark wood that divides them on the vertical is twice as wide as the dark word that divides them on the horizontal. We recognize them as two windows because there are two white borders running from top-to-bottom on either side of these windows. These are white curtains. The innermost edge of the curtains show in silhouette like the decorative frosting around the top edge of a round cake.
In the lower left of the photo we see three-quarters of a square of my computer monitor. On the screen we can just make out the squares of the windows open on the display. It’s all about the squares with this here photo here.
It’s beyond the glass that we leave the land of squares and have to deal with anti-squares. The pine trees fill the scene from top to bottom, except for the far left, upper corner where white clouds against a blue sky shows due to the fact that the trees on that side of the scene, while just as tall, if not taller than the trees in the center and right, are farther away.
The telephone-pole trunks of the trees show as shy dark lines wherever the branches of green pine needles are not. Just when you think the branches are running on a horizontal, they bend upwards in tight clumps. Really kind of scottian trees. They grow very fast, they don’t go away in the winter, keeping green and rustlely in the middle of a damn blizzard and though they are taller than anything else around, they’re always having limbs break off. But even then, they don’t slow down, just keep growing.
lol…scottian trees.

Hey! Quick Grat Item… lets call it… Number 7 any scotts reading this should find a way to head south, even if only for a short visit. As a people, they are way prone to seasonal affective disorder. It doesn’t take much, just some extra sunlight to break the soul-crushing effects of approaching winter.

Ok… to get back to the topic, Josie Two Shoes works hard enough every week getting this train rolling, we shouldn’t make it more difficult by increasing the likelihood she’ll have to contend with messages, “I love the idea of sharing the parts of our lives that we feel grateful for and especially appreciate the orderly format asking for (up to) Ten Things of Thankful. Knowing that others feel the same goes a long way to making this a joyful exercise, not a chore at all. It’s a pleasure come and read the others… what is it with those Waynesville Doctrine people? Are they doing that on purpose or what? I mean, come on! How difficult is it to write ten numbers in sequence?

On with the show.

Una and Phyllis start this week’s post at Items 1) and 2). Una does not mind winter’s cold, but, if truth be told, she not a big fan of snow. Sure, she runs through it and has fun but, our Chodský pes* prefers dry to wet and once you come in the house, wet follows snow like

Combined (1 & 2 cont’d): Phyllis and Una on google. Type ‘chodsky pes’ into the google search, click on images and you can see a photo of: Una as a very young puppy on the couch or…. Phyllis and Una in bed. (photo below, in case you don’t want to scroll through excessive canine cuteness).

‘Not yet entirely comfortable with the paparazzi’

Items 3-5 the bloghops out there in the ‘sphere. They are a critical element not only in my enjoyment of this place, but in the development of writerly skills:

  1. Finish the Sentence Friday (with Kristi and them)  Hey! I just remembered, Kristi said I could do a FTSF with her on the 9th of November!  how cool would that be?
  2. Six Sentence Story (zoe and Joules)
  3. TToT (Josie Two Shoes)

These blogs are excellent illustrations of why (and how) the virtual world has cable TV beat, hands down.

6) the Wakefield Doctrine:  because with it, I can see more than one path and…and! with an understanding of its principles, I can know more about other person than they know themselves!*

8) Sunday Supplement  These Bounties for which we gratefully labor:

‘Mother’s Natures Vitamins and Swizzle sticks.’

9) ‘Open Mic Item’  Got a Grat, not yet comfortable doing a whole post but still feel good about this one thing (or person or place)? Send it in as a Comment and I’ll put it right here at Number 9

10) Secret Rule 1.3

 

(talk about your ‘Way Back Machine’!)

 

Click on the photo and join us at the ‘hop

* unless, of course, they’re also students of our little personality theory….

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Finishing Sentences* -the Wakefield Doctrine- *’cause it’s Friday

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

 

Friday is Finish the Sentence Friday.

Finish the Sentence Friday is a bloghop we’ve participated in, starting way back in two thousand-something. A long time ago in regular years, a lifetime and a half, in blog years.

FTSF is hosted by Kristi and Mardra this week and is proving to be one of the most challenging FTSF posts I’ve come against in a long time. The premise of the ‘hop is straightforward, they write a sentence fragment and you, (the projecto-editorial ‘you’, meaning me, in this instance), complete the sentence and reveal your inner most self. Or a fraction thereof, like those particle collision things, you know…. the photo at the top of the post.

Anyway… this week’s fragment is giving me brain a run for the money. But, if my memory serves me, when, in the early days of this blog, I found myself without an idea around which to write a post, I’d just start in any random direction and trust my ability to write myself home.

What’s priceless about…”

“…those people, places and things that we, (as individuals, privately and as groups, publicly), identify as ‘priceless’ is the lesson in right-living that’s buried within them.

Kristi has said it better in her post about the fleeting nature of our capacity as individuals to fully appreciate the priceless parts of life, as they happen; fortunately we all possess a willingness to recollect those moments and they become specks of magic in the most mundane of lives. She do have a way of taking a very abstract aspect of life, putting it in her car and, idling in front of her friend’s homes, yelling out the window, “Hey! Come on out, I got someone you should meet.” Of course, we go out to the car and lean in the open window and get to know someone/something that we’re glad we had a chance to meet.

So, like most who would care to look within, I have priceless pieces and parts, moments and memories. In present or past, because, when you come right down to it, pretty much every priceless thing in our lives is a relationship and relationships can live as long as time.

And the extra lesson of ‘priceless’? They, (these priceless relationships), live in the moment, yet are so powerful, their power such, that they endure past that moment adding to what and who we are, even as we grow old and change.

Hey! I hear a car horn, honking out front.

 

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SSS -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

 

This week’s prompt word?

SUBSTITUTE

is it? are we sure?

zoe eoz says it is, right there in her blog, the Six Sentence Story.

Substitute

He felt his mother’s voice ruffle his hair, “Remember, no one at this school knows you either, they’re probably just as shy.”

The eight-year-old boy, determined to be mistaken for the mailbox in front of his family’s new home at the far end of Circuit Ave, did not turn around; he avoided looking to his right towards the autumn-dark bend in the road, as the squeal of old bus brakes, like a million rat army, grew louder.

Remembering how his favorite detective, Ian Devereaux, dealt with the surprise client at the beginning of ‘the Mystery of the Missing Starr’, raised his right hand and shrugged his jacket closer to his neck; the wooden snapping of the old-fashioned spring closer at the top of the screen door told him he was in the clear…for now.

His stomach rumbled like a desperate herd of animals fleeing a forest fire as the metallic guttural roar of a diesel engine grew louder; without warning he felt a cold flash of fear chill his scalp.

Perfect,’ confident that no one would see through the disguise, he knew his substitute, ‘frightened-third-grade-boy’ cover would keep the nuns off-guard long enough to figure out what they were hiding under the habits and too-big sleeves. ‘We’ll just have to find out,’ the voice in his head had a tough as cigarettes and whisky edge; satisfied, he climbed the first step onto the busload of children.

 

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

‘Una standing watch over the house and home’.
Landscape format.
Una is sitting in the picture window that looks out over the driveway and the neighbors backyard.
Nicely apportioned elements make up this photo.
All though the entire field of view is the picture window, Una dominates the right half of the scene. (The window continues behind her but of limited detail.)
Una is presenting her left profile and is looking towards something out of frame to the left. She is focused on whatever it is that has her attention. Her ears are up, two small black triangles that are titled slightly forward which brings our attention to her eyes more than it does to whatever it is she is looking at.
Una is almost entirely black. Fortunately for us, what is not black is both an intimately familiar hue and is associated with those parts that we all know are important. Above her eyes at the inside edge are two beige commas of light coloring. These spots draw our attention to her eye, her lower eye lid, not having fur, reflects the light coming in through the window. The pupils of her are a peanut brittle brown and there is the tiniest of glints of light above the very dark center of her eye.
From the sharp points of her ears, soft-curves take over the definition of Una’s profile. Curving down past her eyes is a straight edge of her snout (un-measurable variations in the black conveys the round curves of her nose down towards her upper lip) to the end of her nose. No surprise that the end of her nose, being free of external hair and fur is marked with a shiny reflection of the outdoor light. Entirely appropriate similarity to the markings of her eyes. Scent rivaling sight as her connection to the world around her.
On the reverse curve her mouth shows as slightly open. Enough to see pale red tongue between ivory white teeth.
Beyond the glass and dominating the entire left half of the photo is the view of the front yard of our house and the backyard of one of our neighbors. The land upon which our house sits (and Una guards) is mostly the land behind the houses that line the street. Our driveway is long and narrow and runs between two of our multiple neighbors. Picture a row of squares, their tops all aligned on the horizontal plane, they present a unified shape. Abutting each other is no problem because they are all square in shape and, in the simplest of terms, when your boundaries are connected by ninety degree angles and your next door neighbor’s boundaries are connected by ninety degree angles, there really is little to argue about.
Until, that is, someone pushes one of the square lots ten feet to the right and the adjoining property is pushed almost ten feet to the left, predictability takes a holiday. When you great a space between two equal squares you force their back boundaries to become more important than they needed to be, Think: upside down T

 

 

This week, on the TToT:  wild turkeys! (the kind with actual feathers, not the ones that convince you that you can catch one and have your very own, all natural Thanksgiving), getting dark way too early, Halloween, a Quinquennial Visit from Vinny the Junkman (and the corresponding archeo-cleaning of the basement), work and the quandary of caring too much, Una, Phyllis, finding a photo of a letter on a mountain side, car chases and much, much more!

(Continuing with the ‘theme’) Brought to you by Josie Two Shoes and the fine, fine, folks at the Ten Things of Thankful (made possible by the dogged determination of an English Gentlewoman who is, most assuredly, by all reckoning, no (direct) relation of CS Lewis.

On with the show!

1)  Una and Phyllis

2) We had a major clean-out of stuff. Interesting process given that Phyllis is a roger and I’m a clark. clarks are not known for seeing the preservation of the past in the form of mementoes, keepsakes, knitted rugs, household expense ledgers, and most text books from school days. rogers, being the force behind continuity and tradition will tend to see things as needing to be saved. clarks are less… concrete. We do have a sentimental streak but it is not usually on display (at least as far as we can tell) and it is not aggressively acquisitive. In any event, we have these clearing of the house (and garage and shed) events every few years and it is a manifestation of the consultative process as most couples experience it.

3) A few years ago I went to Salt Lake City for business. This is a photo from my room in the Grand America hotel. The reason for this being here is that I’m grateful I found the photo. The reason I’m grateful I found it was that when Kristi moved out to Utah recently, she posted a photo of a mountain side with a big letter ‘Y’ on it. My brain said to me, it said, ‘hey clark! that letter is different. what are those Utohians up to?’ Ya gotta open the photo and then zoom in on the upper left quarter where you’ll see a big, white, letter ‘U’

4) Driving on a semi-rural road on a pleasant-enough day:

5) Difficult Clients. Odd Grat Item, fer sure. But, the thing of it, most of the time when there is stress, I can trace the source back within myself to fear. Fear’s a funny thing. “ja ja” (as Friend of the Doctrine, ClairePeek might comment). Common fear is (usually) big and obvious and obnoxious, that kid in the 6th grade of the one in the 10th grade. And, thank god for the good intentions of those of us who populate the virtual world, there is no shortage of advice and strategy when it comes to contending with Fear (the bully). But he has a sister, who is quiet and charming and, (to some of us, irresistible), when first we meet. She’s all, ‘you are this’ and ‘you are that’ and ‘everyone doesn’t understand you the way that I do’. This lower case fear tends to shape our opinions and perceptions of the world and its people, (mostly, it’s people). Her brother Fear pretty much has laid claim to the objective world. Her’s is the voice that says, ‘if you do that, they won’t like you.’ and ‘suppose you’re wrong, can we just talk for a second how bad it might turn out?’ That is the fear causes me more trouble than the, “Hey! Look at how far up we are!!” The lower case, (and way more alluring), fear will touch my arm in a way both exciting and reassuring and say, “Now everyone will read the post, be careful, you don’t want to get to weird.

Thats why I claim ‘Difficult Clients’ as a Grat Item. They provide me with an opportunity to look within and see how I make decisions regarding the world around me. (aka ‘how I relate myself to the world around me’ which is a totally slick segue to the next Grat!

6) The Wakefield Doctrine (well, duh!)

7) Did I say there was a lot of wildlife in our area this year? (no, not that wild life… lol) This is a combined Grat Item. Work and interesting events and technology

8) Sunday Supplement Photo Insert!

‘Phyllis and Una walk up from the pond and pass the treehouse as they head towards the house.’

‘The rock rests on a perch. It’s separation from the earth an indulgence to the ephemeral life-forms that, with the conceit of conscious self-awareness, have raised it on a pedestal nearly as fleeting in permanence as they are; the rock does not wait, it endures.’

 

Phyllis and Una, nearly home, pass the mailboxes that have been drafted into bird feeder duty. They surely are not amused.’

9) This SPACE AVAILABLE (To any almost-ready-to-participate-but-still-would-rather-see-what-it-looks-like-to-put-thoughts-into-words-and-then-put-them-up-there-in-lights Reader. Send in your Grat Item as a Comment.)

10) Secret Rule 1.3

Click here!

This week’s music vid is an old cover of an older song. Given our demographic, the cover will be more familiar than the original. And, as sometimes happens, the cover is, imo, superior to the original (even allowing for musical tastes).

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