The wolves run free

Wind-time, wolf-time ....

I have (or had) been contemplating making this my last post, but probably will be in and out as time passes. It has been fascinating how people come and go, take breaks, disappear, while others go on and on and on awaiting old age to overtake and to collapse them at their keyboards. It is mostly the go on and on and on types which I find most interesting. Maybe, it is like coin collecting or running or reading. It becomes addictive after a while, part of one's life, part of one's actual psyche and identity.

Some among the "Englanders" are holding "blog camps," where they meet and get to know each other. That makes sense, perhaps the only real sense of blogging. No matter how talented or intriguing or captivating any particular bloggers might be, they remain little more than fictional characters in a motion picture (perhaps even less than that) unless at some point along the way they are met, and smiles and handshakes are exchanged, and face-to-face conversation replaces words typed on a computer screen.

This is an excellent way to express one's self, so, perhaps, everyone should be required to write a blog and everyone should be required to read the blogs of a dozen other people each day. It would be a way of making a legitimate tool from this "habit" -- if used in that manner, rather than undertaken as a "diversion to winter," as was my original purpose for coming here.

I do wish to thank anyone who actually read the stuff I put here. Some was serious, some was for the hell of it, some was to annoy and to irritate, some was trying to be funny, some was preaching, some was to attract beautiful young ladies. My belief is that eight out of ten guys who blog are here simply to attract beautiful young ladies, while one among the ten is here to try to sell you something other than himself, and the remaining one might actually be trying to express himself through words or photographs. The beautiful young ladies who are here have a greater variety of reasons to be present, I would speculate. In any case, thank you, those who read, for whatever reason you read.

I will be "on the road" more than off it during the next few weeks and/or months. When I was a "little kid," which is to say, a college student, I admired Jack Kerouac and his so-called great American novel entitled, "On the Road." I since have come to hold a certain degree of contempt for many (oh, well, admit it -- for most) "modern" writers of fiction and poetry.

While I would characterize the road trip by Jack and associates as little more than an extension of going out bar hopping on Friday night and discovering you are three states away from home on Sunday afternoon (something many of us had done long before we were introduced to the genius of Sal, Carlo and Dean -- it was symptomatic of a disease called adolescence), my own ventures will be less of a party and more of a celebration.

Since I am at it, I would amend the list of those I hold in disdain to include most contemporary (= politically correct) "professors" of higher education. I place them along side of most contemporary celebrities, who, it seems to me, must spend most of their days standing in front of mirrors asking questions of themselves. A person would be better served by planting and tending a garden than by reading "popular" novels or by attending literature classes in the typical college or university. Sort of a "real food" vs. "junk food" situation.

The former paragraph is an example of me writing to annoy and to irritate -- among other things.

As the sun sets in the West, I will make a notation in regard to fictional characters in films and elsewhere. I am real. I am and always have been who I say I am. No allusion permitted here and, as I have commented before, no time for phonies, no room for amateurs. I will be back when the sun rises in the West -- well, probably before then, especially since many of the words I have left here today are cynical. I might be sarcastic, but I am not misanthropic. Take care ....

Fram the First's Old Norse Talisman:

Nine worlds I knew, the nine in the tree ....
Wise was my speech and my magic wisdom ....
Dark grows the sun, and in summer soon
Come mighty storms: would you know yet more?
Axe-time, sword-time, shields are sundered
Wind-time, wolf-time, ere the world falls ....

O'er the sea from the north there sails a ship ....
The fetters will burst, and the wolf run free;
Much do I know, and more can see
Of the fate of the gods, the mighty in fight.

Now do I see the earth anew
Rise all green from the waves again;
The cataracts fall, and the eagle flies ....
Then fields unsowed bear ripened fruit ....

In wondrous beauty once again
Shall the golden tables stand mid the grass,
Which the gods had owned in the days of old ....
More fair than the sun, a hall I see,
Roofed with gold, on Gimle it stands ....
And happiness ever there shall they have ....