26 March 2014
731
R. Linda:
There are times when one is daydreaming that vague memories can spring to mind and it is like watching a film in one's head. Such was me in a moment of being so worn out that I sat at the kitchen table, chin resting in one hand, the other wrapped around the warmth of a coffee cup, letting my mind wander wherever it wanted.
It floated into me mind a snippet, yes a snippet of memory. I was discussing writing endeavours at me local library. I was the guest speaker and it was one of those times that the Weasil had paid me an unexpected visit. Because I had to be at the library and had little time for Weasil nonsense, I packed him in the car and headed to the library.
Everything was going great. I made a few jokes and they were received like I was a stand-up comic, even the Weasil chuckled along. I talked about my work, but most of the audience were budding writers who wanted to know more along the lines, of how to write a good story and get published. Somehow, and I guess because we were in a library, surrounded by books written by some of the most wonderful authors ever, we got into a discussion on the classics.
I told the story of author and BFF of Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins who is credited with writing the first 'Who Done It' mystery in England, complete with suspects telling their side of the tale. His book The Woman in White and the more famous Moonstone, if read by the modern reader, is very old hat if you get me drift. But it is of value to know the author wrote the first of what today has become the modern detective, crime, and mystery novel.
We had a wonderful discussion on this and I thought I was being very smart in rewarding the Weasil for being so well-behaved (for a change) that I ended me lecture with the following and was rewarded for me efforts with the Weasil being the Weasil in spite of his good behaviour.
"Now I know this young man sitting in the front row has an extensive library and probably has read many a mystery novel." I smiled benevolently at the young whippersnapper, who smiled benevolently back at me and said, "Every novel iz a mystery if you dunt finish it."
Yes indeed. My ego was deflated like a balloon that someone thrust a pin in. Why I thought of that I do not know. Note to self: Do not call attention to the Weasil when with a group of strangers, who by the way, found that remark very funny.
I drifted into a more recent snippet/thought, I was driving down the highway to Target to pick up something or other, I don't remember what and it isn't important. Anyway, I happened to have me Irish Red and White Setter in the backseat of me car and she likes nothing better than hanging her lurvey head out the window. If we stop for a light and I am in the right-hand lane, heaven forbid someone pulls up next to me in the left-hand lane. She goes nuts. She barks at them fiercely as if she's saying, "HEY YOU! Pull it the hell over or I'll eat you!"
This annoys me no end and I always look apologetically at the driver and shrug like -- it's a dog, this is what MINE does. Sorry. But the drivers never look pacified, they look irritated and in some cases, terrified and will gun their cars to get passed mine as soon as the light changes.
I made a mental note to self: Do not take the dog on trips where there are red lights.
My mind drifted further on, this time to a work snippet where I was reading a police report, that had three people basically tattling on each other. It was one paragraph long, and it contained prostitution, drug addiction, and shaking down an old guy who was mentally impaired for filing a false police report, though he stated he was not impaired, which was more the pity because something was wrong with him. There had to be zero brain power between all three. They each incriminated the other, all in the quest to report one another for something ridiculous. One of the "ladies" (and I use that term loosely) reported that the other stole a car that turned out to belong to the one accused of stealing it, I tell ya! So right there is crime number one: Filing a false report. The one accused of grand theft auto accused the old man of letting his new heroin addict girlfriend influence him to report the car stolen because she wouldn't sleep with him, and that he was mad because of that. He said, that wasn't true, all was platonic (I can see the officer rolling his eyes at that), but the car belonged to him. She came back with he "gifted" it to her for services rendered (prostitution). Oh my. The officer asked the first "lady" if she was indeed addicted to heroin and stupidly she said "Yes." The police officer was not happy with any of them. I thought I could almost hear them chattering at each other in an argumentative fashion and the police officer sighing as he wished he could go home. But there in the background, I envisioned a lawyer standing in the shadows, rubbing his hands together and smiling evilly, wanting to snatch that police report in the worst way. Somehow, I left that snippet scene to another along the same lines.
In me last snippet, I was listening to Mam, asking her son-in-law about buying a gun. Now in Ireland guns aren't always readily available as they are in this country, so you can't just go out and buy one at a gun store. No, one must go to the local Garda Station and request the firearms form. One must distinguish whether one is buying a gun to hunt or for target practice. Then one must take a firearm safety course, etc., so it is a process it be. So much paperwork, I tell ya! So the son-in-law says, "Nah Ma, you can use mine." Not what he should have said, but that's what he did say. Next thing me Mam be on the phone ringing me up telling me she is going to shoot me father. And the beauty in it was that the gun she was using would be traced back to her son-in-law who she never liked anyway.
That woke me up from me daydreams. I made a note to self: Get more sleep and lay off the coffee!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
There are times when one is daydreaming that vague memories can spring to mind and it is like watching a film in one's head. Such was me in a moment of being so worn out that I sat at the kitchen table, chin resting in one hand, the other wrapped around the warmth of a coffee cup, letting my mind wander wherever it wanted.
It floated into me mind a snippet, yes a snippet of memory. I was discussing writing endeavours at me local library. I was the guest speaker and it was one of those times that the Weasil had paid me an unexpected visit. Because I had to be at the library and had little time for Weasil nonsense, I packed him in the car and headed to the library.
Everything was going great. I made a few jokes and they were received like I was a stand-up comic, even the Weasil chuckled along. I talked about my work, but most of the audience were budding writers who wanted to know more along the lines, of how to write a good story and get published. Somehow, and I guess because we were in a library, surrounded by books written by some of the most wonderful authors ever, we got into a discussion on the classics.
I told the story of author and BFF of Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins who is credited with writing the first 'Who Done It' mystery in England, complete with suspects telling their side of the tale. His book The Woman in White and the more famous Moonstone, if read by the modern reader, is very old hat if you get me drift. But it is of value to know the author wrote the first of what today has become the modern detective, crime, and mystery novel.
We had a wonderful discussion on this and I thought I was being very smart in rewarding the Weasil for being so well-behaved (for a change) that I ended me lecture with the following and was rewarded for me efforts with the Weasil being the Weasil in spite of his good behaviour.
"Now I know this young man sitting in the front row has an extensive library and probably has read many a mystery novel." I smiled benevolently at the young whippersnapper, who smiled benevolently back at me and said, "Every novel iz a mystery if you dunt finish it."
Yes indeed. My ego was deflated like a balloon that someone thrust a pin in. Why I thought of that I do not know. Note to self: Do not call attention to the Weasil when with a group of strangers, who by the way, found that remark very funny.
I drifted into a more recent snippet/thought, I was driving down the highway to Target to pick up something or other, I don't remember what and it isn't important. Anyway, I happened to have me Irish Red and White Setter in the backseat of me car and she likes nothing better than hanging her lurvey head out the window. If we stop for a light and I am in the right-hand lane, heaven forbid someone pulls up next to me in the left-hand lane. She goes nuts. She barks at them fiercely as if she's saying, "HEY YOU! Pull it the hell over or I'll eat you!"
This annoys me no end and I always look apologetically at the driver and shrug like -- it's a dog, this is what MINE does. Sorry. But the drivers never look pacified, they look irritated and in some cases, terrified and will gun their cars to get passed mine as soon as the light changes.
I made a mental note to self: Do not take the dog on trips where there are red lights.
My mind drifted further on, this time to a work snippet where I was reading a police report, that had three people basically tattling on each other. It was one paragraph long, and it contained prostitution, drug addiction, and shaking down an old guy who was mentally impaired for filing a false police report, though he stated he was not impaired, which was more the pity because something was wrong with him. There had to be zero brain power between all three. They each incriminated the other, all in the quest to report one another for something ridiculous. One of the "ladies" (and I use that term loosely) reported that the other stole a car that turned out to belong to the one accused of stealing it, I tell ya! So right there is crime number one: Filing a false report. The one accused of grand theft auto accused the old man of letting his new heroin addict girlfriend influence him to report the car stolen because she wouldn't sleep with him, and that he was mad because of that. He said, that wasn't true, all was platonic (I can see the officer rolling his eyes at that), but the car belonged to him. She came back with he "gifted" it to her for services rendered (prostitution). Oh my. The officer asked the first "lady" if she was indeed addicted to heroin and stupidly she said "Yes." The police officer was not happy with any of them. I thought I could almost hear them chattering at each other in an argumentative fashion and the police officer sighing as he wished he could go home. But there in the background, I envisioned a lawyer standing in the shadows, rubbing his hands together and smiling evilly, wanting to snatch that police report in the worst way. Somehow, I left that snippet scene to another along the same lines.
In me last snippet, I was listening to Mam, asking her son-in-law about buying a gun. Now in Ireland guns aren't always readily available as they are in this country, so you can't just go out and buy one at a gun store. No, one must go to the local Garda Station and request the firearms form. One must distinguish whether one is buying a gun to hunt or for target practice. Then one must take a firearm safety course, etc., so it is a process it be. So much paperwork, I tell ya! So the son-in-law says, "Nah Ma, you can use mine." Not what he should have said, but that's what he did say. Next thing me Mam be on the phone ringing me up telling me she is going to shoot me father. And the beauty in it was that the gun she was using would be traced back to her son-in-law who she never liked anyway.
That woke me up from me daydreams. I made a note to self: Get more sleep and lay off the coffee!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
5 comments:
only you lol. your mother wasn't serious or was this something you made up in your head?
I'll never tell.
LMAO
I've had thoughts like that! problem is, I'd probably shoot myself in the foot.sigh
Ah daydreams daydreams. They can seem so realistic at times. I know, I have been lost in them many a time.
LOL, a day inside your head would be fascinating.
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