The Coffee Guy's blog

I am Chresomathic in my desire to be Cacozealous

Cee to sea I manage my affairs close to the chest.  I chose this course as a matter of fact.  There are few to adhere to such non-rigorous structure.  The forecast is cloudy, and the long range doesn’t proport to improve.  I sally forth and Cathy west as one might under such terms.

Inspiration comes from without and within.  The weather in change makes for longer lingering at length in the lounge.  I have never stayed or staid close to the norm.  The room filleth with that which is unknown.  Whether a Mod or a Rocker, you can always select and option.  A or to be, that is not the question. To do or not to do that is the reality.

Forging a head or the rest of the body you can play with the medium.  In the end, the mind brings to the fore that which is important.  But the real crux comes during the compotation.  Carousing and comradery are what the social beings need.

Yes, I might need and few more books than the average.  That is the boat I mule up the canal of life.  The next chapter may or may not appear on the horizon. It might just appear one day in a pink panther suit and play on your wits.  Onward and outward you can never resist the desire for change.  Do what your instincts say no what the norm is.  Ether way, I can always burn the books for heat.

Down at the wharf where the water turns to mud, the lines are blurred and distinctions become an impressionistic Monet.  This is where one world of liquid meets the other solid berm.  The water has resistance but the air has the oxygen we need to survive.  With that, I breath and create.

Cut it a little with water Cathy,

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

 

Benedicence of Mine Leads to a Bouffage

We enter B as the second, not because its better, but because it makes for better banter.  In the greater history of the world, coming second is always considered losing.  But if not for the B’s of the world, there would be no winners.

The continued bastardization of language makes me cringe so often.  The Historical which should be Historic in most cases. The Orientate which should be Orient generally.  The pedantic use of too many words when so much fewer is needed. These expressions were once only used by the great unwashed, now they are in common parlance in the media.  I find it hard at times to watch a news cast.

Because we allow the slide, we are the cause of it.  In days of yore, one could put pen to paper and pop off a short letter to the editor, and for the most part get a correction or a mention of thanks for pointing out the slide.  This slide now has become a constant skid.  Not in any row, but throughout.  In marketing, in instructions, on titles, in every corner of communication.  I may may have even committed some faux pas myself.

Instructionally I know I have pushed an envelope or two.  Even up to the manilla stages of erroneous cacophonous chatter. And I quote, “Satire is a kind of poetry in which human vices are reprehended.”.  Yes, at this juncture, theys a’messin wit da lingo is a pass time.

Unfortunate as might this be, it is unstoppable.  The bastardization is a natural progression as the masses grow and the numbers increase.  The fewer and fewer regulations, and less expectance of quality and succinctity of speech, we will all devolve into grunting neanderthals.  In Short Message Systems we have already arrived.

Beat that milk well Betty, I like it frothy.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

Arrondissements About Areas of Appropriation

I delve deep in depths I am not accustomed to.  These are of course hard to find as my breadth and depth of knowledge is unexplored to its limit.  College and more University still in the works for me.  These blathering’s are widespread and pedantic at times, but for the most part just an exploration of what occurs to me daily.  Direction is not something I pretend to portend.

The beginning of our alphabet may appear typical or atypical.  This is not my concern.  The up side is, it looks like a ski hill.  You all know or, try to know that I Skis a bit.  Well, I do the steep, deep, and trees.  You may have seen my spec of a morning run, Yeah, we did some extreme elevation and some slight speed.  Fun is fun as they say in Rome.  Rome in upstate New York that is.

A, the Alpha in the Alphabet, the point where it all starts.  The Alpha Male, Gen Alpha, Sigma Alpha, Alpha Centauri. As wished for the bet will continue through to the last Z.  Zee or Zed as there are options.  My apricity means we near the white months with anticipation.

Whilst others may dither, my blathering will continue.  The riding season near an end appropriately with colours in abundance.  Seasonal changes are for us expected.  Not sure I could endure through the lack of change in countries where it’s the same all year.  I suppose it’s a sign of being avidulous for change.  Not the monetary kind.  Although in recent time I have been presented with both the US penny and the British penny, both an anachronism of days of yore.  Wasting pant pockets in both respective countries in my humble opinion.

I opine regularly and without repent.  It is that which Plato briefed us on in the cave.  One’s opinion can be another’s fact ad the opposite as well.  

Adios Amelia, I want one that is artful.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

Averment to Amuse, My Guilty Pleasure

It has been some time, for some reason, for someone, for some things to be discussed in the open.  The time is nigh.  I reveled in the atmosphere of company, the brightness of oration, and presence overall.

I try to keep my cards close to my chest most times, living alone for 20 years made me that way.  I have tried openness and have difficulties disgorging my ways and methods.  The mind works the way it was developed.  Both by nature and nurture.  Once hardwired the dendrite connections are hard to alter.  I see things I saw as a child and still seem to interpret them similarly. 

“Whether it’s a symphony or a coal mine, all work is and act of creation and comes from the same source: from the inviolate capacity to see through one’s own eyes ----which means: the capacity to perform a rational identification---which means: the capacity to see, to connect and make what had not been seen, connected and not seen before.” . . . “He doesn’t know how he created his work or why, it just came out of him spontaneously, like vomit out of a drunkard.”…” Does affection make one a coward?”… A.R. Atlas Shrugged

In creating, the mind has its own motor, there is no steering wheel or gear shift.  The impetus comes from both within, and from outside stimuli.  A muse is one.  Valuable and unattainable.  Revered and admired. Nothing more.  Admiration and affection are undeniable and undefended.  As time progresses the ideas do not travel a roadway or direction, they morph and disfigure, transforming into something foreign from the original sin.

Now I must look to the world I wonder in.  Where will my failings foist forward to discover.  What will I see, envision, develop, conjure, and bring to essence?  Where will my mind drift to as the sands of time pour from the hourglass of my existence?  Each grain falls and joins the past.  Not the same, but inalienably identical in their differences.  As I delve into explorations the mind always travels the routes of the past, pondering benefits and features seen and unseen.

I do not apologize for my weaknesses.  A smile, a smirk, a line, a look, all drive the motor of thought.  Cogito Ergo sum.  It is said.  I agree, and want to learn more. Whence cometh thou with thine eyes.  I could not disagree, my drift was asea.  But I posit more from less, breadth from width, and ascension from a rise.  My inner outermost raison d’etre was not cunning.  It was appreciation.   Amazed in appreciation, in awe at the verve, essentially drinking in that which is presented.

I am I.  He who knows better but cannot do better.  Hopefully I amuse.

A nice pour over Patricia, make it pure Java.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus, Amused.

Cut Long, Shorten Never

The cut that is less than expected will lead to a repetitious existence.  There are of course courses that run short of expectations; never expect them to be longer.  The optics of myopia are manifold.  Bumping and cajoling on our way makes the trip feel longer.  So why is the shortcut so attractive to so many?

It may be perceived that the route less protracted will angle you to success mor aptly. This is a falsehood.  And as all good hoods, should be avoided.  The passing of advantage passes to the experienced.  Experience is that which gives us knowledge.  With that in hand, your passage becomes more delectable. 

It is oft postulated that the distance afforded between two distant spots can be ascertained by a line that has no curves.  As boring as that is, I do not travel that way.  No, boring is not my way, short neither.  How then does efficiency and effectiveness not go the route of directness.  They both cover the interesting and meaty path.  Information gleaned and glowing form this satiates the mind.  A mind this worldly enjoys the education of passage.

To become short is also a travesty not yet enjoyed in the larger scheme.  Why couldst a person or persons drive toward the shortcut?  Is there a desire for less drama in their story?  My saga does not will to be that unenlightened.  I yearn for knowledge and experience at a rate rarely fully sufficed.  Traipsing through the years on a long road, dense with experience serves the mind better.

The short road misses the scene, bypasses the interesting, and blands your travels.  If its short, chances are you will only short circuit your experience.  The length and breadth needn’t be abridged.  This is not a quick course to fill a term in which Coles Notes will suffice.   I want the Tome.  Fill it and exude the experience.

Make it a solo coffee, Cynthia.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

You Know When it Changes, Yen for the Past, Drive for the Future

It was beautiful, pacific, and therapeutic.  I revelled and languished as the hours passed.  Nonsense jabber and solving the problems of the world and selves in tandem.  Personal and societal advances mean that everything advances.  Motion is inevitable.

The world without end is tautological in itself.  The human race imbues the thought that passage through time is a progression and not static.  I move amongst the crowds at times not perceiving nor registering those and them who do not catch my presence.  To all of them, am I there or am I solely in a world without end?

Travels brings me to the world as it is delivered.  New and different from home.  Home is where stasis can be but not always must be.  Being different is a good thing as differing can be useful.  As we all are moving forward, differing in our own ways.

Can we ever return?  Nope!  It was then and is now a changed place.  The butterfly effect has taken us astride a new horse.  We have taken the road less travelled and started a new journey.  That experience as made our worlds different.  Morphed to a future not known then and changing by the second.

The orb travels trough space at a blistering rate.  We hang on to what we want and have.  Some things spin out of our grasp and we need to find another rein to grip.  Take them and steer our way to a butterfly world we can live in.  Move toward better and away from that which does not please us.  Push and pull on the reins as they can help us understand others and their own journey.

Pour me perfect pleasure Pamela,

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

Serenity not Solitude Switched to Sympatico

As movement along the timeline continues, we shape and shear our life and longings.  Passage happens with the morphing of needs and wants.  Without willingness to change stagnation occurs.  As in other worlds I have known, my Muse has altered settings and sessions.

To be inspired is to be honoured with thoughts and ponderings of possibilities as well as benignancy.  As a society, the motion of ideas through language and communication is how new ideas and concepts are born.  Once bourne, these ideas meld into common usage and norms, progress is made, and the life of the cogent progresses.

I singularly delve into that which is for nought.  With and without those in my midst.  Amid change and charter is where the options appear.  The what of the why and how it comes from where when who gets them under the skin of awareness.  To peel back the skin of onion only reveals more skin-like membranes.

To those of whom I have assisted, and to those who have aided in my own ontogenesis, my gratitude is shown with my subjugation to greater randomness and disjunction with the status quo.  I veer fro and to agin’ the wind.  Test the waters and conjoin two or three ideas not like the others.  Read.  Observe.  Take in.

Our travel through time is an unstoppable reality.  As we grow our world grows.  We see and have seen more.  We lose and gain knowledge as the pipe of our cranium fills and overflows.  To take one thing for granted leaves us open for downfall.  Test and stress the limits of the world around.  I have always had one or two fires burning in the hearth of life.  Now I crave and relish the unknown more than ever.

May my Muse always challenge me.   How my mind minds things I am doing and my mind is thinking about.

Make it Macchiato Maria, gotta be sweet on you.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

The Haunted “Rene M Gerrits”, not the Hunted but hinted.

To understand the paranormal and the effects and affectations is like ESP unleashed.  We don’t, and wont. This read takes one into the depths of belief, I had my doubts.  What could two doubters ever come to realize?

I too had my dissonance throughout the journey.  Then I did, and immediately didn’t again.  As I enter and exited a distinct Fete Noire, my Spidey senses hackled my neck hairs.  While no tome on the subject, but a quizzical romp through possibilities, the read is fluid and fortuitous.

The two brothers play to and against their contractor.  Many times, I thought there would be a much more instant comeuppance for that puppet of the night.  The endearing entrances and exits of possibilities ran my brain amok and crook.  There were passages I reread to ensure my gist was just.  Jokingly I continued to justify my judgment.

To Wit: I have never believed.  To add: I have my doubts. To you, parry my argument.  Put forth that which you pleasure your own gray matter with.  Mine is in situ and quite solidly constrained.  Can I wrap my head around the reality of the unreal?  I have been challenged this time.  That which is impugned, is that which could be possible.  Hence the disjunction between though and reality which this book exposes.

The drama ensues through ups and declinations in action, from question to fact via flirtatious encounters.  From one possibility to another, quickly pouncing on your thoughts of possibility.  The enjoyable slide from one side to the other making the read digestible at its core.

My only caveat would be that you do not dismiss early, neither the protagonists nor the obvious.  There is very little obviosity to observe.  I truly did not know. Now that I do, you could pay me for the end, 50/50 I would decline. 

The author did his job in defining the test, I parried my best.  In the end, the smile on my face was enough.  And like any good yarn, the clarity to understand was utmost.  I know and I cannot tell.  I could tell but would not know how you digest that information.  My cards are held close.  And you know my chest never wavers.

Pour it straight Steph, I need a hard shot of the Java today.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

Cheeky Cheery Cherry Cheeked Company Cheers Me

Cheer gives way to smiles all around.  Cheer gives some Cherry cheeks. To me, its both that make me smile.  Good friends with good times lead all forward.  The doldrums of winter need be predicated on cherry and cheer.  With Wine all come forward, and with friends all comes cheery.

“Give me a home among the gum trees,

With lots of plum trees, a sheep or two, a kangaroo,

A clothes line out the back, verandah out the front,

And an old rocking chair.”  (John Williamson)

There are few that relish in the revel of others joy.  Its my joy to see this and I marvel at it every day I see it.  Fires and food are the things in the winters that make these happen.  Occasionally but not frequently enough.  The glow of a smile is something you cannot purchase or decree.  It arrives and is just in itself perfect.

Not as oft as we should, time stalls for us and you can relax and take in that which is around us.  To make the time hover and stall you need good times with good friends.  Take the time to pause over thoughts and actions.  Entertain with glee as the social aspect of our humanness is drank in.  Looking and laughing and lolling about, is the action of stopping and smelling the roses.

Roseate smiles and bright-eyed glances spill forth to bring joy to the table.  How is it that our busy lives can stash this revelry on the back burner.  Hurried lives must both allow this to regenerate the verve of life.  As powerful sultanates languish, the plebes of the world scurry and hurry too much.  We all must embrace the leisure we are due by design.

It was postulated that the processing ability of external devices would free us.  Shackles are what we were gifted instead.  Drop that and go face to face with the world.  Enjoy that which is personal and not prioritized by connectivity.

Free flow that Java Felicity, get me away from the locks.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.

1000 Days

The first millennium A.C..  As we enter the second, what knowledge have we gleaned from the experiment we are all in?  I don’t mean, conspiracy, or hearsay, or junk science, or fake news.  Real knowledge that we can all agree on.

Man is pliable only for a certain length of time.  Changes can occur from our stasis, but only within a limited expectation.  Man wants and yearns for the equilibrium of moderate change at the pace not noticed.  Rapid or immediate change causes trauma and pushback.  For example, years ago electronic money transfers were only acceptable with full documentation and back up resources and proof.  Now a tap is fine for pretty much every purchase.  We accepted lockdowns for a while, now, the mere mention ire’s most.

Buzz phrases and touchpoints can set off a storm of displeasure.  A mere mention of masking or vaccinations will now make people steam at the ears. Two years ago, we masked up and lined up for vaccinations by the millions.  Now mere mention of these will paint you to one side or another of a debate and you lose, friends, family, and some a job.

Elected officials can now defer to “experts” without losing the faithful.  Forever after, when confronted with an emergency, our elected official will no longer have to make tough decisions, they simply find some random proficient of expertise and state, “they are following the best practices as defined by this expert”.  Bollox to them, I elected THEM to make decisions not some nobody from nowhere.

We have also learned, the longer a crisis endures, then the more, the and the more extreme wackos will come out of the woodwork.  They have and will continue to.  As I was a research assistant, (with a credit for same), we wrote a book on argumentation.  Super Rule # 1: Never argue with a fanatic.   How do people not know this some 40 years after we wrote that book.

1000 days and 1000 nights, make mine as strong as it gets. Pour over for sure.  Thanks Margery.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C., Cee Minus.