About Me — Joanie Adams

Conjurer of Words; Bard of Songs; Doctor of Fun. Landseer; Sightseer — Woe-begone.

Why hullo-hullo there! Giving myself the briefest of introductions: You may say I’m a traveler — stretched across multiple plains of time and space. Others may also utter my mad accordance to it all, truly; I suppose, I’m a Lass who comprises little on the opinion of others but on the actions of others, as temperance to the self. Beguiling as mad as I will so be — and one is quite pleased for the plains of space I allow myself. Others have possessed to call me a Doctor, tho’ a Landseer or rather Sightseer Lady is closer to my rainbow suit; in a gray coat, wrinkled to face, besets an aged heart so starkly strong still.

They may also speak of my good deeds; I percolate upon my hidden thoughts, broaching myself truly in all shades and worths — I take this all and somehow translate the seemingly impossible feelings into a form of words, most precious to me.

A wonderous ball of precise jabs into the darkness that abodes and abates us all; regardless of the figments of facade, superficialities, and places that less than savory figures use to cull and divide us all.

I see past that prejudicing action; I may also call upon those very Prejudices to contrive a Play — an Act upon the Character, as dear old Billy, would’ve said: “We are all actors and the whole world is a stage.” — or as I prefer to utter in his manner of words: “We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On.”

I waste not, I affront not [Unless called for] and I gleam with widened eyes, head firmly back, breathing in the wind-sent senses, all with an unmuddled heart to this vastness of such brilliancy within this Cosmos; them tumbling nebulas, enflamed in redshifts.

Whether the hope is to enlighten or invoke emotion in another, that is purely upon luck or gamed upon happenstance. I must try, in case this certain luck befalls me; Luck, my, you’ve afforded me with so much — all the most wonderous things in this life come by you in total surprise or accidents. Marvelous be you — Hey kid?

So that is where we are, a traveler, going along her way with an unshiftable gaiety in self with the glee of the solvency words provide to me; with hopes that it may spark the imagination or gleam at the heart of another. I must also remark, that I weigh and hedge and contemplate the other casting contrast of all things: Meaning the Toilsome and Darkness aboding around us all, a tempered balance is what I strive for. Perilous Fairness in what I may. There we are, hopefully, brief enough.

Precious ought to be our considerations; Precious ought to be the nature of our words — most precise; Precious ought to be the spending of Our Time.

All I shall ever remain to be is a Sightseer; A mere humbled traveler that helps when I can. All I am to reason.

A few pieces I believe shall bridge your interests from here to there:

COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER

THE ENTIRE SERIES OF GOODNESS AND WELLNESS:

AMERICAN AUTHORS IN EXILE

THE MORNING PAPERS:

The Curation; Our Publication:

As ever, Dear Reader; as ever.