Psychology | the Wakefield Doctrine - Part 63 Psychology | the Wakefield Doctrine - Part 63

TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

This is the Doctrine’s weekly contribution to the Ten Things of Thankful (TToT) bloghop. The reason? It is better to exist in a personal reality where the default emotional-state is positive. Like fashionable clothing or an expertly prepared meal, it is in small things, ingredients finishes,(clearly we didn’t think through this particular metaphor), that are responsible for the overall overall effect on the objective observer. And, as Mimi and the other hostinae demonstrate, the details count.

(For the clarks out there? Details, in this context, should not be construed to be the: ‘oh, shit, I see, now that I read through it, I missed a point, over-did the similes all those little things!’ No. Despite being how ‘details’ may manifest in the personal reality of Outsiders, the true meaning is way easier. And simpler. And, ‘ya coulda told me!!’

That said, we place our faith in the notion that ‘Practice leads to approaching perfect’. And so we make the decision to look at the world and decide to see how it, or the parts (of it) we encounter, are positive. Rather than negative.

1) Phyllis —————————————————-↓

2) Una ——————–↑

3) the Wakefield Doctrine

4) the Six Sentence Story  Doctrine’s Six-Pick of the Week: ‘Happiness‘ by our very own Mimi.

5) the Unicorn Challenge  Wakefield Doctrine’s Choice Challenge of the Week: ‘Champagne on Ice‘ from the Sicilian Storyteller

6) Tom and me and the Serial Six ‘Of Heroes and the MisUnderstood. (This link takes you to a page we’ve created that allows you to read the story as a whole. Let us know what ya think of it!)

7) Weather is reasonably moderate. Not only can’t complain, but gotta sigh with relief.* No frozen water.

8) something, something

9) getting some rainage…. this past week

10) Secret Rule 1.3

 

* purely in a personal, aka selfish sense. It does not bear too much thought about conditions in the ‘real’ world. ya know?

music vids

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Freyadaya -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s bi-weekly/semi-monthly/every fourteenth day contribution to ‘the Unicorn Challenge‘.

Hosted by jenne and ceayr,  the challenge is the most simplest of all: see that pitcha down there? Write a story that involves it and do not, at hazard of Heimdall (his friends call ‘im Doug) calling you out for exceeding the limit of two hundred and fity (250) words.

(Apologies to Shirley Jackson fans. Not my fault. The line showed up on my doorstep as soon as I saw the photo)

 

 

“…and Dust to Dust.”

I couldn’t resist the pulling towards the house. If the experience of witnessing a sunrise includes feeling the pressure of light, heat and the day’s possibility, this moment, invisible to all others, could be nothing other than sunset.

“The path he took was lined with books, the mark he left: secret bent-page corners, insight into humanity serving only to drive his further search. An insatiable curiosity, for our brother, was both journey and destination, albatross and crucifix.”

The house, the one in which I was raised didn’t merely grow in size as I approached, (or was being transported to), it became an increasing certainty. Certainty in the way birthdays and holidays are, so inevitable that most people felt no need to remember them, they happened when they happened. Reassuring for no other reason than everyone had them.

“He was a quiet man, but kind, even if tending to be distant in social settings.”

The rooms were exactly as they always were, filled with family. All the time. Always helping and teaching, correcting and reminding me to come out of my shell. To learn to live.

“We close this memorial service with John 14:1-3 ‘…Father’s house many mansion…'”

My God! The voices, the whispers, the memories growing in the air… Rather than Dante and his guide to damnation, I should have paid Shirley Jackson heed

Whatever walked there will never be alone

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six]

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

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

Hosted by Denise

Having but one rule: the sentence count for the story must be Six.

Prompt Word:

NAIL

“Hey tall err thin…. fuck, old man, where ya goin?” the Sophomore’s voice held an urgency common to the young when caught-up in an unexpected but overwhelmingly enjoyable event, a voice behind the music laughed, ‘Tell them it is the Raconteuse  and she commands their attendance,’ a flare-up of voices laughing.. ‘yeah! immediately, post haste… don’t make us call jenne and Ford…” ; the remaining sound was celebration rather than information.

Stepping out of the darkness of the hallway, the tall, thin man stopped at the edge of the glow emanating from the Café, slow rollers of respect and love shared by two beings at the end of the bar broke around him, a human-scale Flying Dutchman at the mercy of the ocean.

The Proprietor smiled, “It’s good to see you two.”

Behind the bar, a computer screen flared into life in sync with both human’s phones: The bar display scrolled letters, “And don’t forget the Prompt word, (signed Major Tom); Mimi’s phone played a bar or two of Max Rebennack followed by an animated clouds of smoke spelling: ‘It Rhymes with Ace’, yours Ἥφαιστος and from the tall, thin man’s device, a audio file whispered, “If you three think I’m schlepping drinks up all those stairs, well, yes in fact my name is Bartender.”

Hūnga barked, in that special tone, which all too-few could translate, “You humans, you’re almost where you were Supposed to be.”

 

 

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood.’ [Part 1.5]

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

Hey, gonna try something different this week. Our story, (me and Tom‘s), is moving right along and we’re getting up there in terms of ‘chapters’. The hardest thing about writing a Serial Six is providing a new Reader (or a regular Reader who might want to refresh their memory) an opportunity to read the whole thing. So, here is a link to ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘.

Prompt word:

ACE

“Hey, Rue, did Lou provide a backup safe house or are we gonna have to rely on your little buddy, Moonchild, to find us a place to regroup and maybe deprogram our little cult grrl?”

I actually didn’t mind sitting on the floor in the back of a cheap cargo van riding through the streets of Soho in the rain; from the look I was getting, our little hostage/prisoner/hit-girl did. At the moment she was doing her best Lisbeth Salanda, glaring at me while repeating, “Futu-ți măt” which I’m betting is ‘fuck you’ in Romanian or one of those slavic languages that decided, early on, having a bunch of extra accent marks was way more badass than vowels.

I saw Rue turn towards me, ready to fling her laughter back at us when two things happened: the low-hum of tires on wet pavement was sucked out of the interior of the van and my prisoner started to do a passable imitation of one of those fake zero-G airplane dives; I felt fingers clutching at my jeans as we rolled together in midair, but not in a good, coed deciding the virtue of patience was overrated, way.

A light that seemed to also be a musical tone filled the van as it slid on it’s side along the road, even as I tried to embrace my prisoner in the best impromptu-airbag manner; anticipating an abrupt deceleration, a certain homicidal hostage might be my ace-in-the-hole, so I hooked my arms through hers and did my best to make sure her soft spots were between me and whatever, when we slammed to a stop.

Time sped up; the girl stopped screaming; Rue’s laugh made it to the back of the van and everything stopped.

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood.’ [Part 1]

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

Hey, gonna try something different this week. Our story (me and Tom‘s) is moving right along and we’re getting up there in terms of ‘chapters’. The hardest thing about writing a Serial Six is providing a new Reader (or a regular Reader who might want to refresh their memory) an opportunity to read the whole thing. So, here is a link to ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘.

Prompt word:

ACE

Even with the front door closed, Moonbeam could hear the unmistakable metallic-cough of noise-suppressor equipped rifles followed by the dull thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Oddly enough, the sound seemed to originate inside the two storey house which had the immediate effect of causing his elegant left eyebrow to freeze mid-sarcasm; the front door opened and the lead dancer at Lou Ceasare’s Bottom of the Sea Strip Club and Lounge leaned into the foyer,

“Come on, Ace, you’ve got thirty seconds to decide which side you’re on; we leave in fifteen and, if you do choose Curtain Number 2, remind me to make you explain what your interest in my visit here is; btw…twelve…eleven.”

Rocco stepped past Rue, reached under a sofa cushion and, approaching the wounded girl like a professional square dancer at a Minuet competition, turned her left hand behind her back, twirled her to the right and and secured both in a pair of handcuffs; unchecked, her rotation brought her around to face Rocco and, crouching slightly, lifted her over his shoulder. Turning towards the front door he bound her ankles with a second pair of cuffs, unlike the shiny metal on her wrists, these, rather incongruously were red-velvet wrapped; he immediately trotted out to the back of a van idling nose-out in the driveway.

“…Eight” Rue, now behind the wheel of the rust-scaled white Vauxhall Vivero, called out the open driver-side window even as the well-dressed Supervillain ran through the glare of headlights on his way to the front passenger side door, “As my boss Lou is fond of saying, when you’re off home turf, it never hurts to take along a button man or two, you know, keep the surprise visit factor to a minimum.”

Slamming the van into Drive before Moonbeam had both feet in, Rue DeNite stamped on the accelerator, side-swiping a Volvo parked on the opposite side of the street as she turned left; the bang of the collision was punctuated by a female shriek of pain and male laughter from the rear of the van; “Rocco, remind me to give our Superhosts here a 4.8 Star rating for our little airbnb stay.”

 

 

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