Don't Bring Me Down

I know your time is important and I don't want to waste it. But it's important to me that I keep you up-to-date on all the happenings in Wilmawood. So let's get to it.

"Don't bring me down, Lupe," I said to the little pinprick when she asked me why I looked like someone suspected by the authorities of stealing a pig.

And don't tell me that she meant well. I know she was only trying to cheer me up with a friendly barb but I wasn't in the mood for it. What I wanted was a soft pat on the head, and a consoling "There, there."

But did I get what I wanted? Did Mick Jagger? I'll tell you what I got. I got jokes and a burst of laughter from Claudia who thought Lupe and I could be understudies for Stiller and Mira.

The morning opened well--as smooth as a Barry White ballad, with the kind of light that you only get in mid-October. The kind that suggests you should be up and at 'em. But just a few minutes earlier, as I crossed the Memorial Bridge into downtown Wilmawood, instead of Barry, it was Marvin Gaye on SiriusXM radio crooning "Ain’t That Peculiar?" 

The song was oddly fitting to the mood generated by the mixed messages coming from Princess Amy as I entered the Egret Coffee Cafe & Dance Bar. Still, I looked forward to 16 ounces of Jah's Mercy and a few precious minutes to myself before the paying customers arrived.

Instead of solitude, I found the girls already there. After ordering the needful and resuming the pour parlers, I decided to give the morning a second chance.  But then Island Irv entered the joint. I can't say I wasn't happy to see him. I was. But his presence was going to require a different style of delivery than the one I'd planned.

"So, you all know that I've recently been obsessed with writing my blog," I said.

"Oh, Lord, what now?" asked Lupe.

"I'm just saying," I said, "that I love my blog and was excited at first when my agent told me a production company was interested in movie rights."

"I didn't know that," said Irv.

"Why are you bringing this up? said Lupe. "What's gone wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I said and while looking for the next words, Claudia spoke.

"That's wonderful!" she said. "Aren't you happy that your blog may become a movie?"

"Yeah," said Irv. "Congratulations."

"Oh, it's not a done deal yet and I'm not sure I actually want to do it, now I think about it," I said.

Mixed exclamations and questions erupted after that statement but it's all too much to try to sort out now. I think the gist will fall out in the next minute or two.

"That's what I wanted to talk about," I said. "You see, I've always thought of The Circular Journey as special."

"What I'm getting at," I said, "is that I recently read about a group of neuroscientists who measured the brain output of subjects while the subjects viewed the Vermeer painting..."

"Girl With The Pearl Earring," shouted Claudia as though she was a contestant on Lucky 13.

"Oh, no, here we go again," said Lupe rolling her eyes from earth to heaven. "I don't know how you manage to make these quantum leaps from one topic to another. That bridge doesn't exist."

"Don't I know it," said Irv.

"Yes, thank you, Claudia," I said. "What they found is that the viewer's attention was held captive for a few seconds by something they call "Sustained Attentional Loop."

"What are you talking about?" said Irv. Then he looked at the two girls as though he thought they'd provide the back story. Claudia only shrugged. Lupe spoke.

"Let me see if I can guess," said Lupe. "First, we know he's talking about his blog. That blog has been a recurring theme for the last two weeks. And, unless I miss my guess, he's found a way to turn a good thing into a crisis." 

"And why shouldn't I be talking about my blog to my best friends, if I can call you that?" I said. "This whole movie business is very attractive but I love The Circular Journey and I don't want to lose control over any of it. I'd much rather publish it in book form than adapt it to the big screen."

"Calm down," said the Islander. "Start once more from the beginning and I'll attempt to be your best friend, if you can call me that."

"Me too," said Claudia.

"Ok then. That's better," I said. "So the researchers found that when looking at the Girl, the viewer's eye is drawn to her own eye, then down to her mouth, across the face to the pearl earring and then back to her eye."

"And?" said Lupe. 

"One of the neuroscientists who carried out the study explained that when someone views the painting, their attention is captured and he or she must love the painting whether they want to or not."

"I seriously doubt that," said Lupe. "But I'm guessing you think the people who read your blog must love it whether they want to or not."

"Exactly," I said. "I knew you'd understand if anyone would."

"I understand too," said Claudia.

"I don't," said the Islander. "Not in the least."

"The researcher I mentioned, said the research team knew the painting was special. But why it was special came as a surprise."

"And, of course," said Lupe. "you can say the same thing about The Circular Journey. You knew it was special but didn't realize why."

"And now it makes perfect sense to me," I said. "It's simply the Sustained Attentional Loop in action. When people read my blog, they have to keep reading whether they want to or not."

"But why do you think that?" said Claudia.

"It's like this," I said. "My blog has a wide readership with hundreds of thousands of readers who come to the site from more than 50 countries."

"Now 100,000 divided by 50 is 2000," I said. "That number divided by 30.417, which is the average number of days in a month, will give you 65.753. No wait. That's not what I meant. It's 2000 divided by, give me a second. My math is a little rusty."

"Forget the math," said Irv. "Give us the unvarnished English."

"Ok," I said. "I will but we'll come back to the math because it will be useful later."

And so, with much excitement and volume, I explained everything that I've already told you, dear reader, in that blog post titled, Let's Get On With It."

"I get it now," said the Islander.

"Don't take the movie deal," said Claudia.

"What would we do for fun around here," said Lupe, "if you ran away to Hollywood?"

"We don't need Hollywood, do we?" I said. "We will always have Wilmawood."

"What was all the math about?" asked Irv. But I don't want to burden you, one of my most loyal readers with all that. I appreciate you too much to bore you. 

Fierce Qigong, and all that! I'll bet you haven't heard that in a long while.

Let's Get On With It

The Circular Journey is Mostly true stories of joy, enlightenment, and just one damned thing after another.

Having written this blog for over twelve years, I feel that I'm uniquely qualified to present, explain, and apologize for, if any of that is needed or requested, exactly what the blog is about.

However, I know that your time is important and I don't want to waste it. Let me declare upfront that this post is written mostly for:

 

    1) my personal satisfaction

    2) to share with followers of the blog

    3) to share with my personal friends

    4) to share with social media friends

    5) to share what it's about with new readers

If you're a regular here, then you already know anything I might think to add. If you are new and have questions, please leave a comment.

The Circular Journey has found an audience of several thousand followers. Those followers log in from more than 50 different countries that circle the globe. This blog ranks #3 on the first page of more than 14 pages of hits from a Google search using the keywords, "circular journey". (Oct. 16, 2004 3:30PM EDT)

The blog details listed in the paragraph above may not impress you but they impress me every time I think of it. And I'm proud to say it's all organic--I have never promoted nor paid Google to promote The Circular Journey in the twelve years it's been active.

But that's enough of my self-congratulations. Let's look at what others have to say about the blog. I've taken the liberty of editing some of the comments but only for length and clarity.

A different way of understanding circular journey:

A Circular Journey allows the reader many different experiences with a single pass. Circular journeys are actually made up of many individual journeys that allow for maximum flexibility. You can enjoy the full experience, or if you wish, the partial experience, on your own schedule, taking breaks along the way without missing anything.
                                                                                                        ~~ Indian Rail Enquiry

For the record, I find the paragraph above to be a completely accurate description of The Circular Journey blog as much as the Circular Journey provided by Indian Rail.


Praise for The Circular Journey

I love your brain. Every bit of it. But especially the bits that write gems like this. OMG, Genome, you are a brilliant brilliant man. 

~~Jen E. on "Princess Amy Again"

In your retirement years, you may consider sending your writings to Hollywood. The witty way you 'see the world' and your writing reminds me of the work of Nora Ephron.

~~Karen B. on "Big Night for Surprises"

Enjoy your journey, and may every corner you turn have a pleasant surprise.

~~Cathryn J. on "Share The Joy"

My favorite blog entry OF ALL TIME!! I have sent the link to several friends.                ~~Manimee on "Match Made in Heaven"

This might be my favorite post, although I am sorry to hear of the pain underlying it. I can reassure you this much at least: your audience exists. Unlike (hopefully) Abbie's mouse.

~~Rachael H. on "Strange Case of the Cat in the Night"

My favorite line is, "I don't do well in the aftermath, do you?" I actually answered aloud, "Me either!"

~~Karen B. on "It Was Raining Cats"

I love this story. Truth is in it.              

~~G.K.B. on "Abracadabra, Alakazam!"

I hope to make it to Mardi Gras next year and I don't feel I would appreciate it so much without having read this post. 

~~Brittany H. on "Let the Good Times Roll!"

Take It Easy

The day opened bright and fair brought me into the peak of my form, fizzy to an almost unbelievable extent, and enchanting one and all with my bright smile and equally bright wit.

We were in Wilma Fine Arts Gallery, Ms. Wonder and I, to de-install her most recent photography exhibit, Harbor Impressions. 

At the apex of good cheer, I stepped out of the gallery for the cooling breeze and hot coffee, where I was offered an opportunity to buy a pack of cigarettes for a gentleman who seemed in dire need of them, and on his birthday no less. 

I'm not a cigarette handler so I gave him a bit of cash instead, assuming he could find someone who would accept the money in return for the coffin nails.

A few minutes later, I had a similar offer to unite a man in need with his personal needful--a can of Mountain Dew. What a day! Does it get any better?

It was as if, Sysiphus had been provided with a bulldozer to move that boulder up and down the hill.

And then, Bang! Pop! Pow! Just as I was feeling like saying, This is the life! along came the first of those text messages. The phone lay on the counter too far away for me to see the messenger and I eyed the thing askance. I think that's the word I'm looking for. It means an untrusting look, to look with suspicion as if expecting something to pop out and bite me in the ankle.

You may recall that it was a text message that started the rannygazoo involving Lupe and my Aunt Maggie. The posting is called, An Aunt's Curse, but I wouldn't bother reading it now--not germane (closely or significantly related; relevant; pertinent).

Had circs been different, not that they ever are, but if they had been different I might have enjoyed an after-dinner saunter down Front Street with Ms. Wonder who was back at the gallery wrestling with canvas prints and cardboard boxes. It's her alternative to working crossword puzzles.

The air was full of warm summer richness. A gentle breeze coming off the river refreshed the spirit, and the sky was probably full of stars. I say probably because they were dimmed by the street lights but I'm sure they were there. Probably.

But to enjoy the gentle night requires a tranquil mind and tranquil was exactly what my mind was not. Not tranquil; full of thoughts about text messages. What to do about them was the question I asked myself.

"Do about what?" asked Ms. Wonder who had shimmered from somewhere up uptown to join me outside Drift Cafe.

"Did I say that out loud? I asked.

She didn't respond to my question. Looking back on it now, I suppose there was no reason for her to elaborate.

"Poopsie," I said. "I've gotten text messages that I'd rather not have gotten."

"I'll bet they're from Crystal Cove, aren't they?" she said.

"You do know everything, don't you?" I said.

"Don't let it worry you now," she said. "The night's too beautiful for worry. Remember that tomorrow is another day and there's always hope in tomorrow. Put the text messages aside, enjoy the evening, and perhaps tomorrow morning your cares will have melted away like snow on the mountaintop."

"Yeah, but what if they don't melt away?" I said.

"In that case," she said, "you might want to get away to where your troubles can't find you."

"You mean somewhere like Cheers," I said. "Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot. Like that, right?"

"I was thinking of somewhere like Jamaica, or Australia, or even the United States of America," she said.

"I've heard that Australia's nice," I said.

"See," she said, "you feel better already, don't you?" 

Then she put her arm in mine and we sauntered on down Front Street like F. Scott and Zelda living another day in paradise.

Happy Journeys

I always wanted to be a writer, and if you think that sounds a bit strange, I assure you that it sounds a bit strange even to me. I mean why would anyone want to be a writer? It's not like authors are admired like firefighters, or idolized like rock stars, or envied like megalo-millionaires. 

When I ask myself that question, I think of something James Joyce once said. If you're a writer, you'll understand the sentiment. I remember the quote as something like this:

"Writing is the most ingenious torture ever devised as punishment for sins committed in a previous life." 

I feel his pain but I'm not ready to fully embrace the sentiment. Still, having a message that one feels the world is in desperate need of would be an excellent reason to entertain a dream of becoming a writer. It may be the only reason now I think of it. And we've already admitted that I have no messages.

When I think of how I came to be a published writer, I can easily think of a long list of possible causes. But there is one that stands out above the others. You see, I've always been more or less disappointed with the world I live in. I know! But let me explain and please, no comments.  

As a child I was bored. Nothing to do and no one to do nothing with. I had to entertain myself and I suppose I wasn't very inventive because, well, I was bored.

One summer my mother's sister came to visit. She lived in another part of the country and we didn't see her often. On the day she was leaving, my mom asked her... 

"Why don't you move back home? All your relatives are here and they'd love to see you more often. Everything you need is right here."

My aunt had the answer up front in her cerebral cortex. Without a moment's hesitation, she replied, "You're right. Everything I need is right here. But," she said with a grand, sweeping gesture of her arm, "there is so much more out there."

 

The scales immediately fell from my young eyes. It was as though an earthquake had shaken the foundations of the world. I realized the solution to boredom, loneliness, and the feeling of emptiness that plagued me.

I simply had to get out in the world where there was so much more.

Today, relatives and friends living in the community where I grew up, ask me the same question my mom asked her sister. Like my aunt, I have the answer ready because today I understand fully what I vaguely sensed in my younger heart. 

It's like this: when I choose to move on, it's not because something is lacking where I currently live. It's simply that there is so much more to experience out there.

That's why travel writing holds such a strong appeal for me. Those of you who regularly visit The Circular Journey are probably thinking, Genome, please! Aren't you forgetting the biggest reason you chose travel writing? 

You're right, of course. I'm not denying that Ms. Wonder played a significant role in my being a published author. You regulars can probably tell the story as well as I can but the gist is this. 

Wonder mailed a book from Houston to me in Carolina. She called to tell me to watch for it and expressed how excited she was for me to review the little volume. When I read it, I knew she'd done it again--is there another like her? I think not. She stands alone. The book was a life changer.

The name of the book is Travel Writing and Photography and the authors are Ann & Carl Purcell. We knew nothing about the subject but the book intrigued us. We followed the suggestions to the letter and in a short time, we were freelance journalists publishing articles and photos in numerous newspapers and magazines.

Some of the happiest days of our lives were spent running around the country, documenting our experiences. We'd still be doing it today if not for the shakeup brought to the publishing industry by the World Wide Web.

We had no messages for our readers but we did provide an important service. We helped people plan their next vacation; we introduced people to interesting places and events in their own communities; we brought vicarious travel experiences to people who were unable to travel.

Still, that's not where our work did the most good. Doing the research, writing the articles, and capturing our experiences in photos had a lasting effect on our lives. We've been able to experience so much more of the wonder that's out there in the world. And that has made our personal world a better place to live.

We've stayed close to home most recently, due to unavoidable circumstances. But we’ll be back on the road soon. Everywhere we go and everything we do will be available in our online travel magazine, Carolina Roads. I'll keep you updated here on The Circular Journey.

Until then, happy trails to you.

It's All Relative, Really

I woke to a morning coming down easy, just the way Lionel Richie said it would be. But it wasn't Lionel who woke me, it was Stevie Wonder singing "Overjoyed" on Spotify. I was happy to be up and about and happy to start my daily constitutional before the paying guests arrived. 

I entered the kitchen singing along with Stevie, "... though I doubt that they do, my dreams do come true." I walked to the French window and I threw back the curtains with a flourish. 

The morning sunlight sparkled on the dew-laden lawn like a sky full of stars. Or if you doubt it, then believe me when I say that it did move me to the brink of writing poetry. I confess that even though I haven't written verse since becoming a member of Poets Annonymous, I still sometimes consider it.

Mourning doves lined the fence row. Crows argued over a few tasty morsels. Rabbits frolicked in the grass. And squirrels busied themselves on the fenceposts. 

It may not have been a perfect utopia but it was a reasonable facsimile and close enough to be getting on with.

The squirrel's behavior interested me strangely. I recognized the two pint-sized delinquents as Twizzler and Ziggy. They seemed to be laughing, playing goosey, and pointing my way if it can be called pointing when done by a squirrel.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I realized, pointing or not, that I was not the object of interest. It was Mutter climbing the lanai screen. Again!

There he was hanging in space as it were, staring directly into my eyes with a look that said, "Uh oh, what do I do now?" It didn't require an Einstein to realize that Mutter had been entertaining his two young nephews, probably accepting a dare to climb the screen and allow me to catch him in the act. Typical of their shenanigans.

Now that he'd been caught, he seemed unsure of his next move. As usual, he hadn't thought it through. As soon as our eyes locked, he panicked. He was conflicted about whether to climb up to the roof or jump to the ground.  

In the meantime, Twizzler and Ziggy were enjoying Mutter's distress immensely. Did I say they were enjoying it? I should have said they were overjoyed. Twizzler got such a kick out of it that he fell off the fence.

Meanwhile, Mutter had regained his land legs just in time to see Twizzler laugh himself off the fence. The scales fell from Mutter's eyes and he saw all clearly. It was turning out to be a big day for falling.

Mutter raced across the lawn and up the fence with such intensity, that it left no doubt about his lack of appreciation for the practical joke. He laid into Twizzler like an all-in wrestler and in a split second the younger squirrel was scampering across the fence rail with Mutter inches behind him.

Ziggy seemed to think it was a game of catch-me-if-you-can and he began chasing Mutter. The three of them raced across the top of the fence, then turned the corner and continued to the garden gate. Down the face of the fence they flew and then across a section of lawn that brought them back to where it all started.

They continued to chase each other along that three-fold path. As I watched, it slowly dawned on me that from my vantage point, they were traversing all three dimensions that make up physical reality.  

As I watched their antics, the four of us were, in effect, proving over and over again, Einstein's theory of special relativity.

At this point, you may be asking yourself, 'Has Genome finally come unglued? What the heck does Einstein have to do with this post?'

You're justified in asking those questions, of course. But all I can say in reply is that these mindful quantum moments don't come along every day and when they do, I like to take advantage of them.

For some reason, and I don't know why, but for some reason the ranygazoo in my backyard this morning reminded me of a Carroll Bryant quote. I'd like to paraphrase it here: 

"Some of us make things happen. Some of us watch things happen. And then some of us wonder, What the hell just happened?"