Landscape photos : holding steady

Dearest Odyssians,

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In gale Force winds. With the world at our backs.
Let it be enough.

#goberniego

Hugs,
O and om 🐱

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Beautiful nature landscapes: mighty mount

Dearest odyssians,

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We just want to apologize for our lack of daily blog posting these past fews weeks. This scattered sharing betrays our scattered schedules and scattered minds. Of course Weve already started attempts to right the ship of life and reclaim all balance points. As conditions improve, so too will the frequency with which we post. We hope todays blog is the b3ginning of our return to once a day blogging.  Theres too much beauty in the world for us to clock out in the face of inconvenience. We must remain a point of landscape allocation.

“Ones art should never suffer as a result of the world. if anything ones art should be enhanced by it.”-odie the wise.

Of our duo, Only odie is wiser than odie mama after a rum rocks splash of coke.

“We both know the truth” – odie
“2 rum and cokes?”- om
“Id agree with you, but then wed both be wrong. .”-odie
“I love your sense of humor”-om
“Me too. Except I wasnt joking..”-odie
“Come here and give mom a hug you little hairless rascal!!-om
Hugs, o and om
;)

Beautiful nature landscapes: simple. spectacular.

Dearest odyssians,

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There is tremendous beauty in simplicity. Mother nature and her Earth know this.
“And so do we” – odie
“That’s why we like our bacardis silver, and silver only” – odie mama.
“On this we disagree. Good rums come in all colors” -odie
“I’ve been trying to learn that, but have had little success” -odie mama
“I see. Let me ask you this. how do we learn?”-odie
“By doing?” -odie mama
“damn straight” -odie
“i see. Im on it.” – odie mama
“Til crooked” -odie
“At your recommendation”-odiemama
“Enjoy”-odie

Hugs to all of our wordpress friends. And may all your spirits flow freely. .
O and om

who’s pulling the cards and the cart? (not me. and why we wish it was odie.)

dearest odyssians.

lost at dark sea

there are a few cards in the deck (tarot) that express the querents need to take the reigns; ‘the chariot’ card, as an example. the chariot card asks us to literally “put your damn hands up and steer the motherfu**ing wheel in order to reap the best possible scenarios for the future.

ive pulled the chariot card from the deck. i had a 1/78 chance to do so.unless you believe, like i do, that the cards we pick are a perfection of destiny’s message from beyond. so fate picked my card. i understand what the card asks of me. but my proverbial buggy wheels are rust and crumbling compliments of the a lifetime of inaction coupled with the unforgiving ravages of passed time. they will not turn.

the cards may be asking me to take my wheel. break this inaction. yet every choice we have made lately makes us feel as if we have stepped further and further back from the yoke. odie waits for me at home all day. while im gone i feel im watching the movie of my life as series of wholly uninteresting and disassociated pictures-a slow motion slide show we dislike viewing. a poor script indeed.

worse yet, we dont know why we feel this way. yet the feeling is true. this feeling grabs both of us.

odie wonders why im  missing/working and not home. i wonder why im working and not home. when i was home i wondered why i wasnt working. then i wondered why work at all? then i wondered why not work all the time. then i wondered what the hell was wrong with me. for only an anxious fool blinded by a hate for all things conformity would ask such questions of himself. yet i didnt stop there. next i asked why ask about asking at all. why ask why. why not ask why ask why not. a carousel of self indulgent questioning was about the only thing turning in our lives.

the real problem; any work other than the screenplay leaves us distraught. yet we hesistate. and delay. then when we do get around to the task of writing our muse has left the building replaced by performance and perfection anxiety. our latest contributions have been streams of consciousness far outside the realms of traditional dialogue.  weve had no joy in writing any of it. we cant sell it either. nor show it around.

we dont know why all of these jumbled feelings of failure and more failure have sewn us tight. but we want to know. perhaps this ‘knowing’ would scuttle the dilemma we face now.

i digress from my miseries. let me continue.

weve sat in a corner while others painted us in. thats far worse than painting yourself in. at least in the later, you f**cked your own game plan. i am no way absolving myself of responsibility about where i now sit.

at this moment we are overwhelmed by a deep sadness. utterly depressing sadness.

weve always wanted to be drivers of our ship. not waiting for someone elses. not a passenger. but a captain and commander. not a sitter in the only unpainted corner. but thats precisely where we are.

we fear our lives will be a series of “how come she never…” “so much ______ yet she never ______ with it’.

these quotes evoke a paralyzing inner fear. when youre this far gone down the rabbit hole of counter society the thought of climbing out and the work it will take to do so is dauntingly paralyzing. and thats just the work to get to the surface. imagine the work needed to succeed among the herd?

perhaps we were never cut out for the herded life? we know we werent. but even those with minimal _____ were able to eek out a living amongst the living. what does this then say about one blessed in so many ways by the gods, yet squanderer?

the final stab wound>the cuteness of youth and the endless possibilities of youth have left us.

ahh sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.

a poem then?

“Sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.

never to return.

admired more enviously with every day

perched upon the brow of another.

Leaving bitter a purgatory of mid aged shell

Not yet young, to wallow in folly of youth.

Not yet old, to see this folly and its gaze back fool

are one and the same.”

the rocking chairs and the canes of  unaccomplishment surround us. ultimate fear jeers at us.

we are frozen. frightened. pitiful.

wheres odie with a translator collar when you need him? what would he say to al of this. what would he say about my long absences that leave him crying and lonely. if only he and i could understand each other more. i would explain why i am gone and return sad. i would remind him of my undying love for him and how strong it is though it comes from a person of perpetual inaction.

goodnite dear friends.please dont let the same ghosts haunt you as they haunt me.

let us pray.

beautiful unique landscapes: surf and super turf (thats the star trek way)

dearest odyssians,

heres a little pic odie wanted to call surf and super turf. i agreed without any fuss. there are lots of interesting colors going on here. odie mama has always had an unusual but healthy fascination with things that grow at ground level- like moss and lichen… i think its because when you look closely you can see that all those small micro plants hold a micro universe in their delicate beauty. reminds me of the possibilities that our planet and our lives hold. too esoteric a muse? naw….no way.

Engage Flip Mode

its been a busy week here in the matrix. plenty to do. not in an aggravating/tiring sense because all of the work has been fulfilling.. more in a because my mind has been busy mind now my mind is tired sense. i also did a good deal of writing, but this time I allowed my dialogue to flow free. didn’t clip any wings in my characters speeches. be what it may, and be what they say about Tarantino, that wild card of an *******  can write incredible screenplays. dynamic dialogue. unusual scenarios. strange dialects. weird metaphors. every word is essential. nothing extra. we call that the precise concise one two punch. its the only way to write a movie. should i mention now that he had help/a cowriter. yeah. lets go there.

but whats the use in doing so? i guess i can sit and kvetch and wonder about how great it would be to having a writing partner, who unlike my dear cat odie, can type and offer up ideas, and rehearse dialogue with me. o fiddle dee dee and pity me. no. nevermind all that.  ill be fine. i think…

gotta run. so much to do. so little time. and most pressingly, odie and i have lots of star trek the next generation to watch. only midway through season 3. deana troy (who has a speech impediment/sounds like shes chewing on a wet rag hidden under her tongue when she speaks) is about to bone some good looking guy with dashing blue eyes while the enterprise is parked near an expanding and contracting worm hole. i hope that sentence didnt give you guys too many filthy idea. ok. just a few :)

 hey, its your freaky mind, and odies… not mine that took us down this road.

so here we are. together. shall we? lets…

why did they give the crew people such tight fitting jumpsuits. i know theres a weird correlation between sci fi and taboo sex (alien sex, s and m, etc) thats explored in tv shows like farscape and movies like, well icant think of a movie right now… or maybe i can, cherry 2000 anyone? hows that for whoa factor – I/OM just veered way out on an exposed topic limb here, but let me work through this…with all this weirdo taboo etc in sci fi,  i wonder if STTNG worked in the titillation element needed to draw vieweres by putting everyone in tight suits so you could see what everyone was working with. how human.

no one in real life on any space race mission would dress like that. nobody. Yet they put everyone in these suits. ugh. in one episode in season two (you trekkies know full well who im talking about) the guest star guy had massive man tits- planetary man tits.  he put deana troy and beverly crushers ample bosoms on blast.

“for gods sake, transport our sight away, raise the shields, turn off the big screen on the deck, and end program on the holodeck…” i thought as i shielded odies eyes from such anatomical horrors…. couldn’t they have made a less fitted wardrobe exception for this guy?? how to explain to odie how a 6’3″ dude clocking in at a good 225lbs had mammaries worthy of underwire support? lets just go ahead while we are here and mention that  to me theres not anyone attractive enough on the whole next generation ship to warrant the 80%lycra 20%cotton blend anyhow…. bald ass picard should be revealed through recitation of Shakespeare’s sonnets alone. ladies? can i get an amen. and gents? how did you feel watching bold men take the universe one random _____*** at a time?

also, why the top officers on board take all the lethal missions and risk their high priority lives to head all the away teams for a crew of how many thousands while wearing these really tight jumpsuits??? is just asinine. yeah. well we know it works for t.v., but hey, we also know its beyond unrealistic. it would be interesting to have a sci fi series where theres a separate military wing used for all ground missions. that military branch  then battles with the civilian and executive entities aboard the ship. there would be three powerful people heading each in constant battle. i bet theres a show like that that came out in the 50s… that i missed somewhere along the way. so lets just say bravo to them now for creating amore realistic depiction of space life.

ok. im done for tonite..

love and hugs and crisp concise exciting dialogue to all,

O and OM

*** redacted for your pleasure.