A Ta-ta Behind

WRITERS: — A Year In Review; On Medium — What Has Been Learned And What Has Been Lost And What Remains Illusive

A Daughty Chocolate Selection Of All My Favorite Writers From The Aged Writer To The Gifts Of The Virgin And Ever-Curious Writers And Folk

So, with ample time that passed since the drunkards’ day of passing over the reins of one year to the next, now, I pen this piece; So passes another earthly construct of a lunar Year; My, hasn’t it been a havoced time — with respite plentiful for the ones who can obtain it, and an almost hell for so many others!

’Tis the way of the equity of unceasing Time — But let me afford you another deeply needed moment of respite with this Catalog Raisonné; A Year in Review —

As though I was appointed the exchequer and we are doing our Taxes — Bully to the soul!

If time could ever be condensed down into a form most agreeable to the amassed humane mind — A Year would certainly ado!

Too many trends, too many foolish dials, too many pieces that seem to be pressed out of the pudding brain handbook of how to be tiresome and copiously meek — all yelling out, come to and let me take you away too far, too suddenly; it all wants you!

Let me then, in not too brash of a tone, cycle you through a year in my worldly scope — allegedly at least, few will know how I spend my time —

The more that is written on an enlarging scope, the less it’ll precisely say — The fear of the saturated market, especially with the gimmicks of artificial intelligence with their cheapening images [frankly, very bizarre ones at that!] and blandly written tact — please, at least you could’ve been exotic and mild crazy than just being meek!

Lately, as I ink this wee piece, I am reconstructing my first forays on this platform of Medium — I am returning to Goodness and Wellness in the manner it ought to have been from the beginning but this wee lass here hadn’t faintest of clues, only the passion of a pure hugger-mugger, I cannot get over that word lately!

Questions — endless questions that accompany me throughout, a major one being:

Is Medium for Consumption or tantalizing Art?

Answer me this — then we shall continue.

MANY MEETINGS:

Inan earthly year, one may expect to meet a few rascals, hither and thither, few expect to meet such a fine rabble of said rascals, as I have done so this year — if it was a year for me; either/or, may I bend down most amicably and introduce the one’s who ask for the glory of your eyeballs? In order of how

Many have departed, some right under me, away into the loosening darkness of the world, will they be heard from again? —I hope. Many shan’t, that is the pity of the divorcing nature of life that can only ever move forth, regardless of the humane passions, ever-on we go!

So let me take a moment to shut up as brilliantly as this chatter-box can do and make room in your hearts and on your eyeballs for them, my impressions and a few pieces I feel have some worth for you, today and hereafter.

Gary Orphey

My dear Patreon, friend and fellow poet, and someone I have the honor of housing within the Fine Rabble’s publication — The Curation. About time too, in whatever way you want to put it like, you were the first true reader of mine on here, while I slowly unmuddled a clearly muddled heart in what to do here.

About time I gave you a platform to slowly ebb your way in this cyberspace and give them a pension to regard your pieces in the manner that I do, so here, please, is my friend, Gary Orphey, the Texas Dog Poet in his glory thus far on the bloc of Medium:

I GIVE HIM THREE PIECES — I DON’T PLAY FAVORITE CHILDREN HERE:

Philip Writes

My dear so-and-so, friend and Phil of course — member of the Fine Rabble, you have brought down to some curious rants in our time shared so far; you and your mysterious kingdom in the Pacific North-West. I remember the exact moment I discovered or uncovered you, through Anisa I believe thereunto a marvelous moment of strangers recognized. Funny how time works, innit mate?

You are a devil of the Pacific Ocean's side, and we wouldn’t want you any other way — [excuse my Scottish Ruffin humor!] — but you desire the deepest of covers, by and by.

A note from your Doctor, but you get your head down and etch on forth, otherwise I will set my Brass band on yer!:

Anisa H.

My dear friend and member of the Fine Rabble, I can recount the mildly strange encounter it was to know of you, and Phil, once as strangers competing in my mind to how you’re known to me now, as friends and companions in the ineffable writer’s treadmill. Funny how a year goes on by, jutting along at a peculiar pace, hardly ever linear now is it?

Keep that Brummie shelf warm and well, and go on forth in humility and replete curiosity! — and to the brilliance of your loves throughout time and place, you certainly could catch the bill, with the right tact of giving it the welly you deserve to impart it with — go forth child!:

Harry Hogg

The sir himself, you sure know how to cloth yourself in the most splendid of repugnantly red tartan to gain my attention, don’t you? How do I pen something sincere to you, with the wit that would make a Scottish bum flash red, even in the deepest clothes of cover?

O; let me say then, it was a strange moment when I uncovered you in the depths of this seemingly endless platform — it surely was, I can say with a dash of sniggering gaiety on my face, it truly was my friend!

Whenever, or wherever you read this piece, I truly must impart my gratitude in knowing the Hogg of the haughty cross and share a few favorites of mine, [I can’t remember if these were my truest of favorites, ‘cuz there have been so many for me to recall] alas, here we are:

Kendalin Jane

My dear Dreamweaver, friend, and ninth-runner-up in the competition to laud the Bar Boss over all others. You were a delightful, inspiring surprise in the middle of a mild death throe of mine, such is the accidents that delight me to the workings of this curious Cosmos — and you make me realize I am hunted down by only the tallest!

August I can recall, that last summer, acquainting myself to you, from afar unto September, where our friendship started to blossom into this companionship of Dreamweaver to the Doctor; such queer facts we arrive at! When all is said and done, I still won’t be done, and I hope you keep that brilliant fizzing your belly going, until the end, and to the subtly sublime to what you find along the way — here she is!:

A PAIRING OF OUR SHENANIGANS SO FAR:

A SNEAKY EXTRA OF HER ACCORDS: ;)

MY CURATED LOT:

As the passage keeps on Rolling — Rolling — Rolling! — where shall the resting mule end up by and by? Only something more potent than me could ever foretell of such judiciously fortunate things but hush down for me on my humbled lots.

As a sightseer, I am ever pushing forth to see where my Canon forms me up — a constant state of flux is what I prefer to remain in; me and I floating in my box way up high, with a record of ABBA to accompany the forlorn hours between all days and moments.

So, let me natter down, and let your rampant desire for tchotchkes take custody of you thenceforth!

NEVER PUBLISH FIRST DRAFTS — AN AGED WRITER’S WORD TO THE VIRGIN WRITER:

There’s a belter to begin our rubbernecking voyage through ourselves — hey Doctor? I remember writing this ironically in an hour, on a swelling summer’s evening trying to lay down a healthy skeleton to eventually come back on, that remains to be seen [cough-cough, which may be rectified soon].

And I am so pleased it has a clement surprise from one of the mad ones I met in the current of the last year; and to bugger up the minds of a few loud small-town lads out there, you know I have to love ye, you brilliant ones! — especially you, E! And the demand is on me to expand this series wildly, it would be rude to me if I ignored it for much longer!

WORDS FROM AN EVER-CURIOUS WRITER: THE WILL OF A DREAMWEAVER:

TAKING THE LONG WALK — THE HEALING ART OF SOLITARY WALKING; TO SETTLE AN UNSETTLED MIND — GOODNESS AND WELLNESS:

GREAT STORMS ABOVE — NAUGHT ELSE OUTCOMPETES THE MAJESTY OF THE WEATHER — MORNING PAPERS:

Ah, naught else like strolling into the strong headwinds of a gusty autumn’s storm, discovering what a God hath done unto the heads of a Guillemont and what it has left of the bodies of numerous others. That was a day of much to recall!

Ever am I pleased to appease the call of the Morning Papers — will we return to the beginning daily form of it? — I doubt it, but I am like a shock hammer to the pearly whites sometimes, so only tomorrow could know now!

In all regards to the previous earthly year, few things highlight it as proudly and as dutifully as the friends I come across in my endless journey across the lands known as Earth and beyond the bondage of seas and dusty plains. Not only here, but elsewhere do I discover or uncover the slightly mad ones out there, while keeping a few ever closer to heart while others will surely depart me, as it must go — as all things end, and that is always a depressing duty of life, but it must, otherwise how would aught ever begin again?

Stagnating is hardly my favorite quarrel to pursue in the depths of any mildly topsy night — still, the qualifications enrolled on my middle name alone are worth many tales in of itself, but that is a secret that won’t be imparted on this mild drunk affair; all without the tipple mind you!

So there we have it, a wee thing to get off my taught breasts, before we can begin — Ta-ta Now!

Ever yours; The Doctor [Adams]

COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER

©Joanie Adams — Joanie Adams; Gift A Tea: https://ko-fi.com/joanieadamms

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As ever — we go, Dear Reader.