The Coffee Guy's blog

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.

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.

Art for Our Sake, Goodness Sakes!

The Art is not the reason, the art is the subject, not the object.  There is no reason in Art.  The eye, ear, or touch, takes it in and the subject is processed by the mind.  Rarely do two minds process in the same way.  It is a pleasure when the minds meet in the process.  I smile each time.

Some art becomes obvious and immediate, and some needs to gestate in the mind.  The mind’s eye must make dendritic connections before full appreciation can be achieved.  Time can make the eye and brain wander, paths and courses less travelled by.  Take the fork and knife your way through a piece, if you cut a similar swath as another, again smiles all around.

To watch the process can also be enjoyable.  To see the effluvium entering the eye and the corners of the lips twisting in question.  The apparent engulfing of visual stimuli forcing its way into the brain through ocular receptors and the resulting widening of the look.  Interpretation manipulated by one’s history and growth.  A smile arises as appreciation grows.

To see the detail and the big picture, in context and with understanding of the artist.  To parse the paint and/or medium with the thought that there was intent.  Fulfilling the mind’s need for input while straining the range of understanding.  This exercise feeds your thoughts and nourishes the cognizance of the world as it is.  A smile reflects both appreciation and pleasure.

As patron to doner, as plaster moves through clay to oil, the where and the what become less important.  The message received through perception, different for each body, is that which has the import to move.  True sight, tactile reception, and aural connectivity draws the interest clearer and with insight.  Whence the body reacts with a smile, appreciation has been reached.

I smiled and saw smiles a lot then.

Smash me with a splash of sugar in my Joe today, Sally.

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.

This is a Very Famous Blog about Darmstadt

So out and about in the environs of some of my ancestors and still currently the home of some of my kin, we were given a private tour of the town.  To start, lets introduce my Very Famous tour guide AB.  For all intents and purposes, a fully fledged local.

Knowledge of AB bas been gleaned both from the book and experience.  A proper blend of interpreting both is how you should receive information from your Very Famous guide. We did.  As we strolled the inner sanctums of Darmstadt, each turn revealed another gem in the city of industry, science and technology. 

Bohrium (1981), meitnerium (1982), hassium (1984), darmstadtium (1994), roentgenium (1994), and copernicium (1996) were discovered in this Very Famous city. The existence of the following elements was also confirmed at GSI Centre for Heavy Ion Research: nihonium (2012), flerovium (2009), moscovium (2012), livermorium (2010), and tennessine (2012).  As familiar as the average person could be with those elements, I might have just dropped a name or two off the top of my head and hit my big toe.

Even the Very Famous Frankenstein Castle resides in Darmstadt.  The namesake of that Very Famous Horror story.  But above that spectacle, is the Very Famous Mathildenhohe, or the Wedding Tower, also commonly referred to as the Five Finger Tower.  If seen, this becomes self-explanatory.  Many Very Famous Russian and Art Nouveau construction and design examples are found in the inside of the city reachable on a brief walking tour.  Jugendstil as it is known in Germany, relates to many still standing and gorgeous buildings in and around the central areas of town.

Many of the Very Famous parks and squares in Darmstadt are adorned with statues and monuments of the founders and original land lords of the region.  A column 33 meters tall holds a statue of the Very Famous Ludwig I, the first Grand Duke of Hesse the region in which Darmstadt resides.

The largest employer in Darmstadt is the Very Famous Merck the pharmaceutical company.  Many locals use the extensive and intricate tram/streetcar system for travel inner city and trains to nearly everywhere in Europe.  The Very Famous European Space Operations Center and the EUMETSAT, The European Organisation for the Exploitation of Meteorological Satellites, both call Darmstadt home.  Additionally, there are several electronics research centers in the area.

Hence the statement that the Very Famous Darmstadt can definitely be a destination.  Regardless of the fact I have relatives in residence in Darstadt, and the nearby Pfunkstadt, (my mother’s birthplace), has more of my family in residence.

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.

Quintessential Quilting Qualifies Quarterly as Quality Quakes

At what point does a quilt become a mosaic?  Both have a salmagundi of pieces and colours.  Both are assembled. Both can depict a scene. Both are considered both art and craft.  Both can be of varied media.  Both are an expression of performance.

I know of a few who partake in the activity in various mediums.  That which is appealing is that which is a manifestation of an idea, a fugacious vision retained and brough forth.  Placed in detailed orientation on a breadth and width.

The eyes of those that behold, all see a new form.  All see that which relates to their past and present danger and pleasure.  It is not the “I” that matters, it it’s the “eye” that sees and enjoys the vision.  In fact, the eye sees all as a quilt of reality.   The mind or brain derives its conclusion.

Whether or not the description belies the reality is of no importance: it is the act of placing an image in front of an ocular interpretation that arrives at a conclusion which has import for the world.  World views vary as do images depicted.  Whence has thou depicted that which you wish to show the world?

The one whom dost do that which comes from within, sees that which is of interest or disinterest.  The need to exude is unstoppable.  The need to show cannot be quelled.  It just comes out.  The product cannot be pushed asunder.   It is.  As you are: cogito ergo sum.

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.

I, Aye Aye the I for Ideology Ideally

In conversation, the directness of contact comes in many ways.  Some audible, some visual, and some tactile.  Which of it has the greatest import at what instant in the palaver?

During elocution, the receiver has an obligation to both absorb and understand.  Some information comes in the form of sounds, some visually, some tactilely, and some optically.  For me the eyes have it.  Deep understanding is tossed into me by the look.  I catch the intent and intensity of the point with my eyes.  Of course, the glove must be open to catch the ball.  Just looking is not necessarily seeing.

Why is it that the most silent of all senses sends and receives so loudly?  At times I can feel this as much as if I was poked by a pin.  Not only in a negative way, which I have rarely experienced, but in a positive reassuring way: “Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”  No stare, no blink, no watering of the eyes, just a solid, “Yes, I understand.”.

Of course, there is always the incessant trap to fall into with some interlocutors.  To look and not stare can become a daunting task in itself.  The ones which mesmerize you may not be the ones that have that effect on me.  I know by rote those that influence me.  There is no discovery often needed through oration, a distinct look is enough and the words on reaffirm the already understood inferences.

To view is not necessarily to regard.  When we regard something, it is the act of taking notice.  Observing the import and export of the studied.  We take in what our filters allow.  Open filters will deliver more information.  Oft as I ingest the eyes of a dialogist, the sounds of speech disappear and wane and I glean a deeper understanding through sight.

Let it pour Liza, I like it café noir.

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.

Yen and Yearn for Your Yesterday

When what I did when comes around, I polish off the old and revel in the new.  The platitude, “get back to normal” is in error.  What I yen for is a new day where masks and protocols are not in the mix.  Why would I go back?  Where would I lead me?  I want to break free, to quote a good songster.

They yore of yesteryear will never return except in your yearnings.  Worry not of the past, not of the future, but of what you can control now.  Dr Leo Buscaglia posited this some 35 years ago.  It holds true today.  The coming year will determine following years.  Will things change?  Yes.  Will they be something you know now? No.

The tomorrow of wishers is the fluff filling the interweb thingy with trash.  Trash talking the world away will get you less of the more.  Working your world into what you want will guide you to that which is desired.  We all desire something different.  We all wish for the nought and the hole.  Wish for the torus, not the void.

Substance is that which you can, vapour is untouchable.  Could the secret service use it and find the money?  Nope.  Only consume what you can use, use it wisely.  Only purchase what you can carry, employ, or ply.  Storage lockers around the world belie the folly of the past.  “I though I would.”  “I was going to.”  “I need that.”  Fair estimations of decisions fraught with fallacy.

The future is not going back to “normal”. It has been to long, move along. Move with stealth, determination, and fortitude.  The fray is not to be joined, but to be directed.  Move with earnest tenacious resolve.  This will pull and sway that which you want closer.  Anything less is imprudence. 

In chess, the game, your move is unreturnable.  There is no stale date, no period of limitations, no undo function.  You will survive the board if the process of movement is correct. Your King will fall to folly.  Flake that bark off gently, the tree survives by covering it base.  Scarring and marring will lead to dried out membranes and life loss.

Perked piques my palate Paula, Pour slowly.

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.

Ire Isn’t Always Instantly ad Infinitum

Muse what you might from misinformation.  Mine came as a mind storm of mania.  While I am rarely in a state of Ire, at times it’s a good vent for steam in the cranium.  The flushed face of irritancies shows well the extent of one’s pulchritude.

Not my place to judge, my place to allow the effluvial nature exude.  The delight of seeing calm within a stormy offering allows the writer to delight.  It came as a realization when having a parley.  Observation is all part f the act of listening.  You can hear with your eyes and ears.  Similar to tasting with your nose.

Mine is not the Ire I mention, its other’s which is more pleasing.  Whilst I can dredge up that situation which can push you into the state of which we speak, that is not the direction to which I might leadst thou.  Mere mention of a mnemonic might make you muster or mutter.  My favourite from years in higher education was FSYLDSSRB.  Call me if you know.

Don’t let your Ire out if you don’t.  The only flushed face this season should be on the red togged sorts.  Relinquished rallies of rants brings the beauty of colour of your mien.  Are you the emotive type internally or externally?  That within is with all.  I can visually ingest that for days or nights or both. 

Short today Shirley, make it strong.

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.

Secrets in Society, or Society in Secrets

Sussing out sisters of the nation is difficult at the best of times, Sistering any Joist in a descent Joint can be tedious if nothing else.  And so the tomb of knowledge buries itself in a miasma of societal indifference.  “They” used to call it the “Pablum of the Masses”, well I did, now it’s the incessant race to the bottom of the lowest common denominator.

Passive indifference is the same as passive anything.  One always needs a driver, three eighths or better.  When the world changes at a pace not seen since Ole man Ford made a line, we need guides and getters, finders and fixers.  I was “retired”, have never been busier.

I need to find ANOTHER job to get some time off.   My casual time is at other’s behests.  The telephonic devices have taken over.  I will be on Hiatus for the following 30 days, getting me nearer to the 7th millennium.  There are a select few that can circumvent the ignorant.  There has never been a time more Tome-like than the present. 

I could write a river to the Amazon and still not let the flood gates abate.  Whence cometh the 12 days?  That is when I go on line for the duodecimus days of Christmas songs.   Some old, most new.  I am not a fan of the minor key pushing melancholy out.  It’s a good exercise, and difficult practice. 

Wouldst, thou have this any other way?  If you listen, I appreciate it.  If not, you too will just be part of the Masses dining on Pablum for days and weeks.  Think of the joy and bliss. Delve in delight at delusional dreams of delinquency.  There will be noshing and drinking along the way.  What is your preference for libations?  Perhaps I join you in one.

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.

Art for Art’s Sake, No Drink, No Beholding

I could orate in Latin; less knowledge can be a blessing.  But, in the eye of the unwashed, we see what our head perceives not that which may be in front of us.  While our window on the world is said to be the interpreter of information, its actually some varying portion of out grey matter which holds that key.

I wile away at times wondering about the ways of the world.  My cognition changes the views both metaphorically and in reality.  The problem-solving perspective changes post haste and periodically.  This is intuitively called ingenuity.  We all have less and more at times of what we want and need.  The brain pulls what it wants, and filters the unneeded as it sees fit.

Cogito ergo sum.  But who is the “I”? Does your brain allow you for vision beyond the pale?  Or are you myopic in your perception?  How is it that Van Gogh can see the Stary Night in such a way that transcends time, culture, age, and date?  Where did Monet sit in Paris for us to instantly recognise the scene?

Why does a stone David imbue so much emotion?  It is impossible to understand why we all see the same “ish” vision of reality, emote similarly, and understand in much the same way out view of the world?  Plato and his shadows on the cave wall only exacerbate the question while making it simpler.  The visual is only tainted by our nature and how we were nurtured.  

Would education make us see the same?  If one beholds a beauty, why are some not attracted?  I know one, I see one, no one sees the same one.  It is a question of billions of connexions zapping and popping in a ball sized dome atop our backs.  When I say blue, what do you see?  Denim or azure?  Robbin’s egg or Sea?

I ponder endlessly on this. 

Curve that pour Corinne, I want to see the amber nectar steam.

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.