Three AM

Totally unrelated, however, it is good that people visit, in order to criticise the place they visit.
Material.
one after another
Critical mass
Each, cleverer than the other.
Fair play.
Knowing themselves, as they do, they must know what they are doing.
Fair play.
Justice in action.
Long may it continue.

To be continued…

A friend asked for my view of the future, following the recent UK elections.
What’s good, what’s bad? What are the consequences of a conservative victory?
2020 vision?
The UK - England! I have yet to visit Scotland and N. Ireland. I did once deliver a vehicle to Hereford in Wales - a brief visit.

So it’s England - what effect will the conservative victory have for the nation? Do you know, I don’t believe the nation will give a flying fart one way or the other. England means nothing now. It stands for nothing. It was once stiff upper lip, bulldog spirit - no bullshit, sonny, let’s be dealing with reality.

It’s just not cricket, used to mean something.

Now, no one gives a flying fuck if “Brenda” or “Norman” just fed them a load of bullshit. It is accepted. We have reached rock bottom. The truth means absolutely fuck-all. Policies will be introduced to suit the prevailing order. Society is in peril of falling apart.
Twenty years ago no one referred to another as a “Cunt”. Unheard of. Now, everyone’s a Cunt, specially that Jeremy Corbyn, and that Michael Foot (we didn’t say it loud at the time). Wear a fucking Donkey Jacket to show yer fuckin respect. Cunt. (but not out loud)
Times change
To be continued

[size=50]The views expressed are those of the author and they are not to be associated with PCH&N[/size]

The very first post of PK’s excellent thread says, states, suggests - we are all connected. I’m not sure that has been universally accepted, certainly not in large swathes of the Country - England.

As was suggested elsewhere, Mister Johnson and others first sowed the seeds of discord. Now, they heroically promise to “heal the wounds”. Quality

To be continued

youtu.be/HClX2s8A9IE

23rd December. Happy Dvorak’s Day. Often overlooked.

Seasons Greetings to you and yours. =D>

From: The Story of a Life by Konstantin Georgiyevich Paustovsky

In reply to the statement: “I’m going to be a writer.”

“A writer?” Lazar Borisovich said briskly. “A lot of people want to be writers. I wouldn’t mind being Leo Tolstoy myself… One thing I’ll tell you, you’ve got to go everywhere and see everything. Go to the fairs, factories, night shelters, peasants’ huts… And to theatres, to hospitals and to mines and to prisons - everywhere, so that, in the end, life is instilled in you like valerian in alcohol. So that you get the genuine essence.”

So, why did ‘derleydoo’ write the above? About 35 years ago I began writing a book. I produced three chapters before realising that I was ill-equipped to write a book. Shortly after that particular realization I came across the above passage. I have worked through the list - and some. I have yet to visit a mine. However, my dad has experienced life as a miner, therefore, I have been able to pick his brain and gain from his experience.

2020 has a nice ring to it. I am hopeful that I may be able to finish the book at some point during the coming year. [-o< If you find yourself thinking, ‘derleydoo hasn’t posted too much of late’, you will know why!

Why am I posting this? In order to give myself the kick up the backside that I need. Know that if I do finish it, each of the posters on this site will have played a considerable role, for which I am very grateful. =D> Thank you! :slight_smile:

Explosive speech from a future president.

twitter.com/i/status/1212938627279466503

Do as I say, don’t do as I don’t say I do if I don’t, or do. :-k

K: I for one, will stand in line for hours to purchase such a book… I am waiting!

Kropotkin

I need not wait.

There are three theories that can be entertained in search for a ground for this claim.

First, if such a book were to be written, it would be as if everyone wrote it, including myself.

Then, life as living , predates it’s writing, and who reads books anyhow Nowedays they go see films, as soon film will eliminate it’s digitalization, as the simulation is becoming nearer and nearer to visual representation of immediate experience. Sure there will always be the written word, but who will understand it sequentially?

Remember the best remembered narratives used to be altercation of different characters and subplots to keep the imagination at work and play?
Well, the gaps between them, - the simulated and the stimulated are becoming narrowed by the effects of film, whose gaps consists of cuts and overlays nearing instantaneous for effect rather then affect?
The effect overcompasses affect as reaction because they rob reality in essential terms, to convert them into economic terms of the Freudian sequencing.

Therefore the derivitive becomes erotic, the climax is preordained, and can not wait to preordained it’s effect on the other.

Instant gratification hopes the other can accommodate it by trailing successively shortening it’s own understand ing understanding by substituting visualization into the them

The pornographication has.to substitute the realization, that the young can not be possessed by the old and the forgotten.

Second, publication has been shortened , and a book can be realized , conceived, and edited , and released within shorter and shorter temporal perimeters.

The techno-medium is an explosive ticket that had exploded decades ago, as Burroughs had it.

Third, the market for hard copy has reduced dramatically except in genres that are apocalyptic and hyper realistic in vastly reified terms, making branding of authorship more definitive then the imaginative, even if, such imagination is prescribed into either expectation or not.
The end of the tunnel shines a bright catch of a shocking yet determinately reducible foreshadow , while suffering through plethora after plethora of diminished.returns of reversed plot, unexpected yet becoming tedious.

Contrivance.is becoming the new norm of what.to expect, and so ingeniously built into the script of.what.authors gear toward the silver.screem, as.to present the latest infusion of the true motives that are implicated.

This is nothing new, it has been accelerating unabaitingly since.the 1920’s

Meno: This is nothing new.

To be fair, it is not often that you read a book review of a book that has yet to be written! Newish? :laughing:

New wish? maybe.
Henry Miller in his last retrospective:

" If I had known what it takes and what’s involved back then, I’d rather would have become a truck driver then a writer."

ha ha ha.

Matchbox 20 kind of has the market cornered on this one.

:slight_smile: Nice to see you, Pav! Hope all is well with you and yours! Not previously familiar with MB20. Like the tune!

Great to see you too, Derleydoo!

What? This is 2020 , not 1984. Every fiction Nowedays is science fiction.

The quantum world revisited, or the approach of the witching hour. Or, wishing? Merely?

Do not worry, there still are insomniacs out there. Or, ’ Not everyone is a.vampire’

Note: it’s exactly 3 am .

“Who found this?”
“I did, sarge.”
“You? Okay chaps, you can remove the body.”
“Aren’t you going to inspect the scene, Sir?”
“What can there possibly be to inspect? He left a message. And see here. It says. Dot, dot, dot.”
“Dot, dot, dot, sarge?”
“It was a cry for help.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion, Columbo?”
“Oi! Don’t take the piss. You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can put you back where you came from.”
“You said it was a cry for help, sergeant?”
“Dot dot dot. Dash dash dash. Dot dot dot. He was a third of the way through the internationally accepted code for the distress signal.”
“Oh.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“I made a note of it. It says:”

[i]What? This is 2020 , not 1984. Every fiction Nowedays is science fiction.

The quantum world revisited, or the approach of the witching hour. Or, wishing? Merely?

Do not worry, there still are insomniacs out there. Or, ’ Not everyone is a.vampire’

Note: it’s exactly 3 am .[/i]

“What time was this written?”
“23 minutes past the hour, sarge?”
“Can you be a little more precise?”
“Not with any certainty, sarge. It’s the time difference.”
“The time difference?”
“Would that be an item, sarge?”
“What the… stay there. Excuse me, miss… we’ve not been introduced.”
“I’m Doctor Avaluk. Forensics.”
“What’s your initial reaction, miss? Your gut instinct?”
“My gut instinct tells me that your demeanour is a little too brusque. You are, sir?”
“I am investigating the death of this man. I believe he drank himself to death.”
“I see. And you are basing your conclusion on what, precisely?”
“It is apparent that he is a third of the way through the internationally accepted distress signal. He knows he has a problem, observe the vomit on the keyboard. How long would you say that has been there, Love?”
“Ooooooh. I get it!”
“Is he okay?”
“He found the body. He is studying the art of detectivity,”
“And you’re tutoring him?”
“We teach each other, Love. How long?”

Fiction! :slight_smile: :slight_smile: :slight_smile:

On the set of ‘Two’s company - Three’s a crowd’. Recording is due to begin in less than ten minutes. The show has been running for a while - 20 or 30 years. The floor manager has just been handed the preliminary script. He gives it a cursory glance. It requires little more. What could possibly go wrong?
When he first joined the company it was his custom to demand a copy of the proposed schedule of events. “It should be on my desk a minimum of one hour prior to shooting.” Back in the day he was considered to be a very strict taskmaster. And yet no one minded. There was little to complain about. In the two years following his arrival, ratings for the show increased by some considerable margin, 20 -30%. Anyone connected with the show was provided with the red-carpet treatment wherever they happened to go. Anyone? The two glamorous hostesses - but Don in particular. Don Grimaldi. Don had fronted the show from inception. He was rightfully considered to be a national treasure.
“Has Don seen this?” The Floor Manager asks. “Has this been rehearsed?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. No real need. A nice couple of feeds for Don to pick up on.”
“Who chose these contestants?”
“Don’t worry, they’ve all been vetted.”
“Okay then. Just looking down the list. We have a chap from Cambridgeshire, one from Kent, and one from Hampshire.”
“Exactly. The chap from Cambridgeshire is a Butcher. The chap from Kent works in a Bakery. Have a guess what the third fella does?”
“Go on.”
“As a hobby…”
“Go on.”
“You’ll love this. His hobby is making candles. Don’ll pick up on that. You’ve got a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker.”
“You said his hobby was making candles.”
“Don’s the master.”
“Of course he is. He pays our wages.”
“So you’re happy?”
“Well, do you think Don will pick up on the fact that the first chap, John, I believe, lives in the village of Over.”
“What? A couple of Over/Under jokes?”
“That kind of thing. I note that the Hampshire chap - Bill, comes from Andover.”
“Probably.”
“And Geoff hails from Dover in Kent?”
“Don’s got a stack of jokes about immigration and the channel tunnel.”
“Well that’s good. Let’s see if Don can make the most of it.”
“You know better than to worry about Don. I’ve see him tell the same joke over and over and over and get away with it… He’s a national treasure.”

On the set of sunset boulevard revisited. I’m never ready for my closeup Mr Demille.

And the poor guy is at the bottom of the pool.

Granger in man and superman was great, died a year later. From first row could see spittle could see, as he pronounced.

The pool. He died later , he lived on Ocean Blvd. Drunk and alone and slipped hitting his head. Sad.

Wait what was his name. It will take some minutes, but this time nowhere close to witching 3 am.
Till the time.

Back less then two min.

William Holden:

Saw him in golden boy, he truly was that.

I am not ready for my closeup Mr Demille and cannot possibly ever be.

Who cares if a sequel ever be made, who cares and who could possibly stay awake for one, till 3 am, only in the mist hart, crane - rendering description by abusing to one writing instructors, no two’s advice.:

One always drink in private, Allen Ginsburg
Two( faded through time passages) always write from real experience

Other variables that could be well entertained : Henry miller: ’ if I had known what writing entailed early on, in my younger days, I would have become a truck driver
Family: how they grow to despise you as the years go by, ( the ones that survive)
Seeking some refuge and some natural space, and start drugs, even if…
Forget they ever wanted to forget you even if they actually intended

Give up on the idea that you’d be ever read except maybe your mom if you have one ( this is a plageristuc gesture)

Form some substantial friendships who may not decline to re line, without breaking vows

And keep pains of writer’s block within bounds, not prone to periods of shining.

This last one is tough, and if there is any reason to believe that that sort of a deal can actually be usurped by the dark one, rest your mind and keep Christ’s guarantee of a sinless naivety be broken.

Even the evil one knows that. deal can not be made with those who lack capacity to understand.

And as such, Dostoevsky was a recurrent theme between letters underground and the possessed, that indemnified : to not misunderstand the seal of that guarantee, as between it’s sign , and it’s deliverance.

There you go.
Mister Trump - acquitted.
Lots of people stood up. Expressed an opinion. Sat back down.
That is in keeping with the purpose of the thread.
Justice in action. Never sleeps.
Fair play to him. The poor fella’s only human. Important to keep in mind. He could out-evolve us all if he’s not careful.
Who needs witnesses?
“And me.”
“You?”
“Vladimir. Can we go back? This is bloody ridiculous. I’m in way over my head. You people have absolutely no idea what it’s like being me. People have said to me: ‘I don’t think any one else could be you’.”
“This way, Mister Trump!”
“What do you think of the verdict, Mister Trump?”
“I’ve known it all along. Swamp games. Distracting me from getting on with the job at hand.”
“For fucks sake, can someone keep that child quiet. We’re trying to produce a fucking documentary.”
“This way, Mister President.”

I feel your pain, sir.

Meanwhile, in the offices of PCH&N.
A board meeting has been convened.
There are raised voices. Passions run high.
One of the partners is seen to slap one of the other partners on the side of his face.
All assembled laughed.
“Now whatcha gonna do?”
It hasn’t been mentioned since.

Lately, there has been a strange atmosphere in the office.

There’s a big case coming up.
There is a tension in the air.
A big case is pending
There’s attention everywhere.

And that is where we must leave you.
This is John Alexander, for NNN, reporting for no earthly reason.