Bits and pieces
I don't know about anyone else, but the TV (my one and only) is more a entertaining companion to me than anything else, therefore I get very fed up with the constant repeats of repeats of a select few programs and movies that the networks foist on us. (yes ... I know I could always turn it off, but then who would I talk to) These, of course are interdispersed with ads for all the great new programs one would like to watch ... which can only be found on apps that are on phones, iPads and Tablets. What's the go with that?
Personally, I see it as a means of fazing out TVs altogether, so that the little devices will almost become a part of our make-up, like a bionic extension. Nobody will be able to detatch themselves. Why should you when everything you could ever need is in one small gadget? Right?
Technology, in many ways, is a good thing, yet when it becomes part of who we are I think it's time to take a long hard look at where our lives are heading. It could be straight over the nearest cliff.
Just my thoughts for the day. Have a good one, folks, and don't forget there is a big wide world beyond that glass screen. I know we're in iso but you can always check out your own back yard.
On Sunday night I watched a great Australian movie. Most people tend to underestimate the Australian movie industry, and it's a pity really as it puts out some great stuff. Aussies have a great way of looking at things differently and it shows in their films.
With nothing but repeats of repeats showing this particular night I decided to look at a new DVD I'd purchased some time back - Judy and Punch. It's a rather dark take with a twist on the Punch and Judy show of bygone times (a seaside entertainment that I don't like, and never have, I will hasten to add) But this film has a cameo of Australia's champion jousting horse so I wanted to add it to my collection.
Apart from some of the darker - as in night time scenes - I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It took the basic story of Punch and Judy and made it into a human story of murder, intrigue and revenge. While it was quite violent at times, these scenes were filmed in a way that were not too graphic, and as I feel there is no need for such I appreciated the nature of the scenes and what they imparted.
I gave this fabulous Gothic tale four and a half stars, and recommend it, as it does impart an important message.
Arthur’s next moment came when he was hiding down beside the couch. I don’t know what his game was that day; whether it was a change of view or whether he had taken up spying on me as he seemed to be peeking over the armrest. It could have also been a mere token of intimidation because, when I looked closely, I could see he was sitting there with one back leg sticking out like a tail, giving him the appearance of a rather large scorpion. Statistically, he wants to thank his lucky stars that I was wearing my glasses at the time otherwise he could have copped a slipper to the back of his head. It was an extremely cunning disguise and there was no doubting that he could have been bashed, with me lamenting the decision later as there would have been no questions asked when the swipe was swung.
It was at this moment I began to wonder about how dangerously Arthur liked to live. If he’d been human, he would have been classed as a right daredevil.
This was not to be the case I found out a week later.
It had been a couple of months since Arthur had graced me with his presence. We were getting along just fine, and we had a daily routine that gave life an interesting start to each morning, with me doing the come out, come out, wherever you are thing with him when I hit the lounge room.
On this particular morning, I found him on the wall near one of my bookcases. It was the first time that he had ventured to this position and I applauded him on his literary stance. He sat there as he usually did - hardly moving, (he’d stopped waving good morning weeks back) even when my brother Terence and my sister-in-law, Tonya dropped by for a quick cuppa on their way back to Riverbend.
We were enjoyed our visit together, chatting away about this and that when Terence’s mobile phone rang loudly, playing an upbeat song that sent Arthur rushing off to hide behind the nearest bookcase. We all laughed at his obvious lack of appreciation for modern technology and continued with our conversation.
It was only later, when I noticed Arthur’s continuing absence that I wondered at where he had gone. I was to keep on wondering for several days as he refused to show his furry face.
When he finally made a reappearance, it was in the spare bedroom nearest the lounge, on the wall under the window. He’d clearly decided that he no longer wanted my company. Was it the phone, I often speculated? Or was he just fed up with me? So be it, I thought eventually, hoping that he’d miss me and change his mind.
But it was not to be as some months later, when doing a bit of a spring cleaning, I found Arthur again. His little dried up carcase was lying on the floor, still and inanimate. Sadly, I realised, he had come to the end of his short life. I was not to have the pleasure of his company ever again. If anyone in the past had said to me, I would miss spiders if they didn’t exist, I would have laughed heartily, but the last laugh would have been on me, because I did miss my little friend. I missed him more than I could ever have imagined. So here’s to Arthur, spider companion, and entertainer.
Cheers, and thanks for the memories.
The next time I sighted Arthur he’d found a little place next to the microwave. I didn’t notice him for hours, even when I was spending time at the bench making coffee and cups of tea, and my salad sandwich for my lunch. I was completely oblivious to his hairy existence as it sat in the darkened wooden alcove. He must have chuckled his way through the morning thoroughly enjoying my ignorant bliss.
It was as the light and shadows shifted throughout the day that the unusual shiny duo of his two front eyes could be seen high up on the left-hand side.
At first, I wondered what on earth it was it that sat there unblinkingly quiet, staring back at me as I peered with a frowning face into the enclosure. It was when I finally identified my arachnid friend that I’m sure he winked at me. I had to give him 9 out of 10 for this hide-out as he’d been sitting there for most of the day and I hadn’t spied him. But the game was now up, and I guess he no longer felt a thrill in seeing me come and go throughout the day without knowing of his presence. Within minutes – when I wasn’t looking - he’d moved to another location with all the stealth of the Scarlet Pimpernel. I wasn’t to see him again for three whole days.
If you're not a writer it's hard to appreciate the time and effort that goes into the process. I know people complain about the price of books - especially paperbacks and hardbacks - but considering that some writers/authors can take up to 10 years to complete a book for publishing, they don't ask for much. And that time is a long haul; one that doesn't pay well unless thousands of copies are sold.
Most writers will be lucky to come out even with costs for editing, cover design and formatting, sometimes adding up to between $3,000 and $5,000 thousand dollars. When it is finally printed up - and sold - most get only two to four dollars per copy for their efforts. That's not a lot. So, as you can now understand, writing is more often than not done out of love ... as are most crafts.
Consider that latte or sushi you bought without hesitation for lunch the other day, then please consider doing the same when purchasing a book. You will make a writer very happy, moreso if you leave a review.
Enjoy your day, folks.