Month: October 2023 | the Wakefield Doctrine - Part 3 Month: October 2023 | the Wakefield Doctrine - Part 3

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

 

1) Una

https://youtu.be/Y451G2IwsIE?si=i4fZ7lIP3jh4F81o

2) Phyllis

3) the Wakefield Doctrine

4) the Six Sentence Story bloghop (kinda in the middle of the pack Here)

5) the Unicorn Challenge bloghop Despite writing only, like every other week over there, jenne and ceayr are old-school gracious and, this week, despite, somehow, having a way blurry thumbnail, I’m in the list (participants add links in the comment section) Here

6) that there is only one September/October in the traditional calendar

7) hypo-Grats. One of the elements available to participants in the TToT that no other Grat Blog can offer.

8) something, something

9)

10) Secret Rule 1.3

 

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-the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘if at first you don’t…’

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

You’re all still here…

So let’s see what jenne and cyear be up to, this week’s Unicorn Challenge.

 

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“Suppose this,” the man moved his arm in a casual arc that implied no one thing, all the while including everything, “isn’t the way we were taught?”

“What?” The man’s companion, not being precisely human, responded in a language that did not require the creation of sound waves through air.

“Well, you know, transitions and such. A distant horizon with attractive vistas framing a single path through a non-adversarial geography.” The man thought to look down, the better to gauge the efficacy of his narrative embellishment, and smiled, remembering that there was no ‘down’ in this place, and so returned his gaze to ‘ahead’.

“Forgot again, didn’t you?” If air-based sound were a prerequisite in this place, music would have been the product of this latest interrogative. Moving at the man’s side, his companion required no special emphasis to her words. Italics for careful specificity and declining volume for sensitive emphasis was not a part of the land the two traversed. After all, the language of the heart rarely, if ever, requires a speech therapist.

“Well, I’m in no hurry, if you’re not.”

For the benefit of any observers, a concern that did not exist in her previous mundane life, the man’s companion simply wagged her tail.

The two walked on.

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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.

Hosted by Denise, there is but one rule: make the sentence count come out exactly at six.

Prompt word:

TEXT

At the focal point of the lecture hall, stood a chalkboard; to it’s left, a podium and behind that, a man wearing wire-rim glasses, hair of anachronistic length and a tweed jacket that had patches on its signature patches; on the dark slate, to his right, in all-cap yellow letters: CONTEXT, TEXT and SUBTEXT (and scrawled beneath: can’t tell a story without ’em).

From somewhere in the half-dark of the top row of desks, a young woman’s voice climbed up to her raised hand and threw itself, all Danza de los Voladores, towards the podium, “Professor Pangloss, can you give us examples of these three essential elements of fiction?”

“This,” the professor, stepping around the podium to the edge of the stage, extended his arms straight out to his sides while twisting his torso to face one side of the classroom and then the other; returning to center, he grinned and said, “This is Context.”

Seeing the girl’s hand begin to flutter, he added, “Your request and my response: Text.”

The trajectory of the broken piece of chalk he then threw, a dusty comet tracing an arc from stage to a student who sat hunched over dueling thumbs engaged in millennial foreplay with the glowing screen of his phone, resulted in the device flying from his fingers to lie mute on the floor.

“Hey man, what the hell,” the outrage of the phone-deprived student brought all attention to the man on the stage who then, with arms in a bowing flourish, pronounced, “Voilà …Subtext!”

 

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Ten Things of Thankful (TToT) bloghop.

This week the new season has displayed it’s credentials, albeit, still in a subtle, flash-of-the-gold-detective-badge kinda way. Some trees are showing small (but increasing) percentage of color control issues. Green losing commitment and letting orange, one of the true juvenile delinquents of the spectrum of shades and hues pretty much run riot.

For this week, we are grateful for the following people, places and things…

1) Una

2) Phyllis

3) The Wakefield Doctrine

4) the Six Sentence Story bloghop

5) yard work (actually, anticipation of impending yard work.) the grass and lawn type work is all set for the season. Now it’s a matter of some tree removal. Single or so trees, not large-scale hire someone work. The fun, (in this), is the significant alteration of the world that usually results. We have one tree in mind. Will try to get a photo before posting.

6) technology, of course. While the abuses and annoyances that accompany the …. (we almost typed: ‘conveniences’) but the impact of tech in the last 20 years isn’t hasn’t merely made life easier. It has expanded the world for individual. The blogosphere in which is post is being….err. posted, is the perfect example. Writing stuff to share with friends from any and all parts of the planet. People I would have simply never have encountered were it not for the internet.

7) (historical Grat) road trips that started in Salt Lake City (photo above)

8) something, something

9) Open Book Essay Item for extra credit for any Readers desiring a brief dalliance with the word-slingers at the TToT

10) Secret Rule 1.3

 

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Six Sentence S… -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

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

Prompt word:

PUMP

“I trust the name given to my husband’s condition is an inadvertent use of cruel irony by some faceless clinician,” the woman tilted forward in her chair with the explosive grace of an Olympic javelin thrower; the physician, safely on the far edge of a very large desk, registered surprise in a professionally-sanctioned manner as his eyebrows rose, witnessing the flight of the aforementioned spear.

He realized, not suddenly or in surprise, (these qualities of experience were barely words, much less a choice in framing his perception), that the soft, fluid grayness surrounding him began to glow with a grey-on-grey luminescence; unremarkable, (to the man), it simply was now the nature of the world, like a pump supplying certainty rather than water, the latter necessary to life, the former essential to the appreciation and acceptance of ‘Life’; he accepted that these areas of transparency were supposed to offer a view, and, so, thought, “Well, I must be on a train.”

The scenes, passing as if outside a stationary window, appeared with the seamless logic of a dream: a classroom of children without names; a woman floating above him; a dog resting her chin on the man’s knee with the level of trust rarely found in humans in infancy and old people at the time when moving becomes a conscious activity.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand your allusion,” the physician looked for something to pick up and hold, wishing for the day when smoking cigarettes could be considered therapeutic for both doctor and patient; failing that he stole a glance at the wall behind him, covered in declarations of Expertise, (hinting at Wisdom with it’s use of Latin), an elite claque ready to heckle any patient with the temerity to oppose his position.

“You hear the word onset referring to an early winter because it’s inevitable, but what kind of god makes dementia a character of aging to be endured like dimming eyesight or halting step?”

The man saw a woman in the not-really-a-train-window and knew he should know her name; trying to call out to keep her in view, his mind starved his lungs of words and he watched her fade, replaced by a Christmas so far in the past he did not yet know his name.

 

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