Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm
G.R. Hambley ©
June 30, 2018
ADDENDUM MAY 27 (early), 2018
I heard yesterday, after this piece was already scheduled for posting that today is the last show. We are going to need a top 500 list from Pschedelic Psunday!
“Good Friend” is more of an aficionado of the “Theme Song” than I am and did ask if I was going to have to live in monochrome. To which I replied that there is only 1 thing I can say to that and it does qualify for this spot with a 1973 release date…. KODACHROME
And as I start this little tale up, my coffee spot has a staple of “Psychedelic Psunday” playing, “Ooh La La, The Faces”. A little Ronnie Wood on YouTube for you. This one will get you to the original on Spotify.
From the beginning…
You could of course hop over to the Mighty Q and listen to what they got going on.
The wiki regarding Psychedelic Psunday needs updated. It starts at noon now.
The art. I was working on an image and as I told “Good Friend”, I screwed up right on this one. I didn’t select everything I wanted thinking I had and when I made the new image, the mask is pretty much what my copy got.
I sent the capture along to “Good Friend” who responded with, “This is you on Psychedeic Sunday isn’t it?”. I agreed and said, “That’s actually a good idea”.
Yes I added some touches from my repertoire to make it exactly to my liking and added the word imagery. Exactly to mu liking can be construed as perfect, to me.
Y’all are seeing what a friend triggered with a little banter. I probably wouldn’t have thought of giving the piece a tie to how much I enjoy the Radio on Psunday afternoon.
If you want to use the image as a desktop background, feel free. If you can stand me looking at you all the time that is.
G.R. Hambley May 27, 2018 ©
The Spire of St. James Cathedral here in Toronto.
I love walking around my city. Got a couple other things in the works too.
I am standing on, “The Esplanade” looking north. The white automobile you see is on “Front Street. Those are condos in front of the Spire.
G.R. Hambley May 23, 2018 ©
I was visiting my Obelisk this week and got a little retrospective. I enjoy flipping through time and screwing with the “Temporal Prime Directive”, among other things.
I reiterate, “My Obelisk” so get your own. No, no I don’t share!
A pothole appears where there never was one and you lose your oil pan. A tear suddenly happens in the grocery bag you’re totting and your goods are falling out. You find yourself going the wrong way on a one way street and you tell the cop writing you up that you’d swear on the stack of burgers you got on the seat beside you that the arrow point the way you’re going.
These are all impositions brought upon you by time travellers. It’s a very good idea to watch whom you piss off cuz…. They could be a time traveller. They could have angelic friends who don’t mind handing out some comeuppance so to speak.
I was winging my way around and stopped in front of the Hockey Hall of Fame to admire, “The Players Bench”. While I was gazing on said sculpture my critical thinking decided the piece should be seen throughout history.
I like this “Players Bench” piece enough that I think those in the past and those in the future should be able to appreciate Canadian Culture at my desire.
A couple days back I went forward to next Thursday (check the posting date) and brought the sculpture with me inside my Obelisk where it shall remain forever, maybe.
If you’re located right beside the sculpture at oh, 3ish in the afternoon, don’t be leaning on the thing getting your picture taken. If you’re attached to the piece when it moves, you’re going in to my Obelisk and I aint letting you out!
In the future and past, I will be moving things around and when I do, it makes holes and tears in the fabric of time. If you should lose something or bottomed out, among other evil nasty things that you can’t disprove in court … I did warn you!
G.R. Hambley ©
May 06, 2018, maybe
G.R. Hambley © March 31, 2018
I wake this morning and I am now in my 60th year on this little blue planet 3rd from the sun. Doesn’t feel much different than yesteryear but it is!
It’s so cold in this country the Calgary Zoo took the Penguins inside. Yet, I go out and forage coffee. Priorities my good reader, priorities. Writing can not be done without coffee. No it can’t, hush yourself!
Last year and in previous years, I would write in two things at the same time, narrative and poetry. This behaviour has continued in to this year I’m pleased to say.
Sneak peek of the poetry… it aint close to there yet!
Should’ve taken the umbrella because it looks like pain
I can see and it looks like you’re headed for hell
I see it’s not a place where you’re going to fare well
You can trust me because everyone knows I’m insane
It’s good to be me!
Here in Ontario, I’m expecting it to be frigid until June 7th. Gonna get real warm that day, and if you’re of the liberally minded RITE, I don’t see you liking it one damn bit.
I took a cab late last year and the driver was real sociable. For all you immigrants, just because I’m Canadian it doesn’t mean I like frickin’ winter! I like winter in the country where it’s pretty. I like winter in California where you go visit the snow! Been there, done that, short pants 70-degree weather.
Winter in the city is mostly ugly. The snow don’t stay as it was purely driven very long.
This narrative interlude is complete. Poetry is staring me in the face. Word!
G.R. Hambley 01/01/2018 ©
G.R. Hambley © December 06, 2017
Have you ever received a letter?
No, not like in a welcome from your new bank or local chapter of the Willie Wonka Candy Crush Club.
I was sitting on the patio of a favoured coffee spot and one of the good coffee elves asked me what I was doing as what I was doing didn’t include my computer. I had my big book of blank pages open in front of me and one of my 2 pens in hand. I have other utensils that make inky marks but they aint pens!
I told the good elf I was writing a letter to a cousin. I asked if they’d ever received a letter and I was told no. We talked for just a couple minutes and the Elf made the bank reference. I said, “that’s a shame”.
For those of you that are semantically challenged, in this usage, shame can also be interpreted as unfortunate and/or sad. No person real or imagined was shamed or ashamed.
I’ve received and written and sent letters. Recently I received a letter from South Korea written by a lovely lady that I had the good fortune to encounter. You can read about her and me and our prattling in my “Foreign Liaisons” piece.
I care to share something with all of you that the Lady said to me in her letter.
Being a Torontonian and a life long Boston Bruins fan, I’m not really buying that Montreal part. Centre Hice, TABERNAC! That would be a cultural reference so don’t go offending me by appropriating it!
A letter, the second one I’ve written to the Lady is making its way from me to her. I say in my letter, we Canadians are for the most part, a good people. I didn’t bust the Lady’s Montreal bubble.
Have you ever written a letter to someone and later been told by that person how it made them feel when they discovered your hand-written letter waiting for them? When they told you about that letter you sent, were you exhilarated?
If you’ve written a letter to someone, how did you feel when you were writing that letter? Were you more reflective? Were you more thoughtful and deliberate with that which you put down so as not to mar the page with strikeouts? When you were writing the letter did you appreciate that time within your own head?
There were a couple letters I wrote that I didn’t send. Have you ever written your heart out in a letter and not sent it?
If you did send a letter, did you make it so the person you sent your letter to could take it to their dreams without having to remember what you wrote? Was the letter you sent scented?
Do you care to share what you felt when you tucked that scented letter you received partly under your pillow? How’d you sleep with that scented missive beside your head? Did you wake in the night and reach to make sure that letter was still there? How did you feel when your fingers touched the envelope and you knew that letter was right where you put it?
Did you maybe reach for that letter and it wasn’t there under your pillow? It felt so good when you discovered your letter had only slipped to the floor in your slumber didn’t it. Not a question. Would you care to offer up reasoning as to why my statement wasn’t a question?
When you retrieved that letter from the floor did it join other letters you’d received that had been bound together with ribbon?
How long did you hold that bundle of letters before tucking them safely in to your sock drawer? Socks and letters, both can be warm and fuzzy don’tcha know.
The handwritten letter is a wonderful thing. Cursive writing is pretty and has character. Have you ever wondered why there are so many elegantly flowing script fonts for your electronic use? Now you know.
My penmanship is far from the best and this is because my brain insists on moving faster than my hand. This is not unusual and can be somewhat counteracted with thought. You can counteract right up to the point your brain takes off leaving your hand behind. Trust me on this.
The state of the word as it lands on the page doesn’t stop me from writing by mine own hand. I have a journal too. If you would like to call it diary you are free to do so and it won’t phase me in the least because I’m just not that insecure in my sexuality.
This is mine. There are other Journals like it but this one is mine, unique. If you’d like one, write one and before you start, get a real pen and not some cheap writing utensil.
Good pens have a different feel. A good pen has substance just like those words you’re gifting to the page. In truth I call it bleeding on the page and if that analogy works for you, help yourself. A good pen doesn’t get heavy or uncomfortable in your hand.
There are a great many people who will tell you the “Art of Letter Writing” is gone. Those people will tell you that with our technology it is just oh so much easier and faster than writing a letter. Those people would be correct but what they don’t take in to consideration is how thoughtless emails and text messages are.
I have another letter to write that will give more context to a piece of the content in a previous letter. Yes, I know that sounds terribly clinical. All I did was tell you what I’m going to do and not how I’m going to do it. You already know what I say will be thoughtful and heartfelt.
A cup of coffee, a big book with blank pages, music playing and a pen. It appears I’m being threatened with a good time.
G.R. Hambley ©
October 13, 2017
Letters bound by ribbon from;
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G.R. Hambley in Toronto August 13, 2017 ©
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