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Category Archives: Latitudes

Writing, that’s all I need

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It’s said, elsewhere that it doesn’t matter where you sat, and what time it is, essential  is to be ready for when inspiration strikes, you don’t miss out the train  of thought, at the  station where you are, ceise the thing and get the hell out of  it, and put  it down to  paper

on creating-the-physical-and-mental-space-to-write

Seven is enough of, for  a family members  living in a house  of 2 bedrooms, that you are always in quest of a quiet place where to read, write, and as the usual routine had absorbed your time at work, for  when you get  home, fed off  of computers you  want only to  just relax. As Mr.W. Somerset  Maugham’ quote said, to read you only need is  a secluded cocoon like, or just to shut down your ears, and cut yourself from the  world outside noises, and continue reading, like when you commute and usually do. Save that in your house, besides your  domestic duties, cook, do laundry, and errands, at the end of the  day, the only place of your  realm where  to gather yourself, thoughts, and pains parts is the little corner of the  shared sofa. It happens that I  have that little Eden,  with a imprenable  view of a safety-escape rusted iron stairway that stop right on a the asphalt of street.

It’s a nook where I have written   about all of my blogs and  posts, on my  iPad, and sometimes, my laptop, late in the  night when  the tribe  had joined the  pillows, I write for an hour  or  less –I told you  that already, It’s  mansion of  2 bedrooms, I did? Oh! Yeah, Sorry for  repeating  myself, so that’s it. At wee hours You  can see through the  curtain time flies, and season playing at seek and hide, for  your  eyes only, and a visit of whimsical bird stopping by the windowsill to read you blog? Peering atop your shoulder perhaps, than rises an eyebrow and flaps  his wings away. Good  morning  sunshine, it’s  Sunday morning, I got to sleep

Thanks for sharing reading

A sailor|if I have a hammer|prompts of the day

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Echoes of Sinbad the sailor: Flickr photo of the day

If I have a hammer
I would be a carpenter,
and I would be an Art-painter
I'll build a boat,and I'll trace route
If I have a hammer
I would be a sailor,
I'll say then lo,
and I'll pray,Oh! Lord! 
I have pain in my heart to sooth

I would have astrolabe, Sextan,and compasses 
maps, and routes I'll  draw, as hour passes
So, I'll throw off the bowlines behind, and go asea,
and see people, and things I would never see
I would be a skipper, I got
urgent desire, a heart on dire to see the seven seas_
"Les Îles Marquises,
le ciel est bleu la mer est grise."
Then, I would reconcile my heart
with  that old dream of mine,
I had once ago, when I was a kid of nine.
That's would be it, a state-of-mind, and art?

Then, I'll  say cheers to all the tears, and all the fears, 
and all the dreams, loves and friends left, behind.
That, shall I have  a toast with a glass of wine

Then, I can sing Brel,
and I  draw like Gauguin 
With peace in mind

https://kmlkoubablog.wordpress.com/2014/04/25/just-to-make-this-dock-my-home/

 

Tranquil Thoughts|http://alisonanddon.wordpress.com/

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Just as I woke up this  morning, I picked a glance outside and shuddered at the sole thought to this image below

Snow fall on Brooklyn

then  when I open the emails, I got :

“What’s the difference between these two blogs?”- Add Variety with Post formats, please compare by clicking on the link below, you’ll be nicely surprise!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/

Then  when I saw both the blogs, Adventure in wonderland, instantly I re-blogged it,  sometimes inspiration strikes before you read more, as flurries, and thoughts last only a time as a fleeting wisp.

As It occurs  here in New York, “On these high-latitudes…. ” more often, that it snow  on each other day, so as the Presidents’ days weekend heading up, O My sweet Valentine, we only had to curl up, with a book to read, some wine to indulge and look as these following Blog Photos, thanks to:

http://alisonanddon.wordpress.com/

Tranquil Toughts

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Tranquil Thoughts

Yesterday, it was Super Bowl Weekend, in the City, 34 st, It was crowded like crazy, then I woke up this morning, outside it was lovely, cool, snow falling on Brooklyn, and the branches, wires and street side-walks were sawing as the snowflakes piled up on them, I have read a Blog of Someone  complaining about the weather down there in Florida, then I got a gleam of this following passage on my mind, of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature”:

There are days wich occur in this climate, at almost any season of the year, when the world reaches its perfection, when the air, the heavenly bodies, and the earth make a harmony , as, if nature would indulge her offsprings; when in the bleak upper sides of the planet, nothing is to desire that  we,have heard of the happiest latitudes, and we bask in the shinning hours of Florida and Cuba; when everything that has life gives sigh of satisfaction and the cattle that lie on the ground seem to have great and tranquil thoughts.”

Global warming, climate change… who cares. Tranquil thought

A Lone writer|snapshot-stories

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The Lone Writer

Taking the slow road, and The Road less traveled

Memory-on-the-menu:

Memories, Speaks_Vladimir Nabokov

_Chalk, Ardoise*, Violet Ink, Fountain Pens, Pencils, stained fingers, Falaqat*, and the like…

 * a flagellation on the sole of my feet! with a long, and thin stick crop from a limb of an olive-tree,  wich I still remember till to today.
_a quick mnemonic method of no harm, used a longtime  ago, by a Taleb, a teacher of sort, for teaching kids the Koran, in Algiers of old. Usually the momentarily little burning on the little soles, it passed  a little while after it was flicked, but the learning of the Koran by rote will last forever. Similarly  to that a method, in Zen Buddhism teachings_  Bashõ, the Zen Master used ago his stick to strike a naïve monk, for  to let him remember his scriptures, it is called Satori. See Zen in Japanese Culture_Suzuki
"The more I read, the more I am itching with words for writing, " 
_G. Flaubert
“You must learn some of my philosophy. Think of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” _Jane Austen

Then, it was unthinkable for me, of such thing to be on affair with writing; a would be-writer, some forty years ago. Because, it was an affair.

Ardoise 
 noun ar·doise \ärˈdwäz\
  : A slate, a stone cut, of a grayish purple that is stronger than 
telegraph blue, bluer and deeper than mauve gray, and bluer 
and paler than average rose mauve, used for handwriting with a piece 
of chalk, for initiating children in Pre-k,in those golden years

The first time when I started doodling Arabic calligraphy with a piece chalk on a slate; it didn’t occur to me then, nor having the slightest thought to be one day a writer,  rather I was in awe before the white chalk handwritings on a blackboard, that I rewrote meticulously on my slate tablet, at first, then on a double-ruled lines handbook, later on, like any other kid on my age, a longtime ago, at the madrassa of the small village, where I spent the precious years of my childhood.

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