Oct 222017
 

Markus awakes yet again to the cold sweat of fear.

He finds himself in a long, dark corridor, right at the very end. No matter which way he looks, he can perceive but two options.

Former colleagues, knives out and heads like snakes, block the return to a bright and cheery cubicle hell. Worse still, some advance with malicious intent.

At the dead end, a vast and intimidating fire escape door emblazoned with the words “Exit Only. No Return!”

Unable (or perhaps unwilling) to fight his way back to the light, Markus rests one trembling hand on the door release, sensing full well the turbulent vortex beyond, waiting to suck him out. Its a drastic move he now contemplates, with no turning back once it’s done.

The unknown looms fearfully on the other side. A drop to a grimy sidewalk eleven stories down? A sailboat voyage to tropical paradise? Or something unknown in between?

Uncertain and afraid, Markus pulls the covers up and returns to restless sleep, hoping with all his being the situation might resolve itself, but knowing full well that only he can change things by opening that damn door…….

Feb 182017
 

What does a man need – really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in – and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all – in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?

– Sterling Hayden, Wanderer

Dec 022016
 

Attracted by the distant roar, a strange and uncertain sound for sure, we look to the north. Something is racing across the valley, sights set on us, coming closer. It’s approaching quickly now, nearly upon us and as it hits we realise – hail!

The weirdest thing it was, a micro-burst of hail, possibly only a 100m or so wide racing out of the north west. While the overall sky was typical of a late afternoon thunderstorm, this particular little demon was totally on his own plug, leaving Mummy Rainstorm in a huff and throwing his toys around in anger.

I wonder if he made it back home to mummy that night or whether he’s still out there, wreaking havoc with his tantrum?

Oct 132016
 
After all these years Cedric realised he had encountered a new project management strategy.
The practitioner of this method must, as soon as an issue is raised, and especially if the issue casts doubt on oneself or one’s firm, immediately divert attention by raising a totally unrelated item for discussion, and most preferably also if this new and unrelated item casts doubt and blame to another party. This needs to be done on a regular basis and over an extended period of time, without fail.
The jury is out as to whether this technique, technically referred to as “Misdirection and Obfuscation”, really works?
“It does however make for an amusing time and provides endless opportunities for creative writing,” mused Cedric, happy with the day at last.
Jun 082016
 

Do writers have any respect in the world? Don’t know?

The general millennial outlook seems to be shaped by a chronic lack of attention. The most reading done may be twitter and the rest of social media seems to revolve around visual media [photos, video etc]. Of the humans that still read anything longer than twenty words, and of course those that actively seek out real full-length books, I guess there may be some kind of unrecognised appreciation for the authors. After all, if you love books, by inference you must love the writers behind them?

Why does this matter? Well, actually it doesn’t at all. I was just thinking about writing. What makes a writer?

Well, firstly you have to write [or type more commonly these days]. But then you have to address the thorny issue of what to write about! And that’s perhaps the most difficult. Sure, you could write about almost anything. For example…

A while back, clearing out the old store room, Markus stumbled across a dusty-smelling cardboard box, packed full of old photo, momentos of times long gone. There was some interest from the family, chuckling at their previous tiny selves. With that done, the photos moved off the kitchen counter, there remained only a red 2B Staedtler pencil. It calls to Markus ‘Stop this silly writing thing, when shall you draw again?

So yes, there’s a potential story in everything. Whether every and any story might be read? Now that’s a good question. Perhaps it doesn’t matter? After all, I’ve been burning up the keyboard on EverNote quite frequently over the last few years. If I look at the note-count; 677 in _dtmNB and counting and considering I don’t necessary commit my drivel to HDD every single day, that makes it around 3-4 years of constant mind dumps via this VAIO into the cloud. Here’s the thing: “I hardly ever, never go back and read what I’ve written. Almost never!

So, once again, why write?

To be honest, I have no clue other than, well, it seems to be what I do!

May 262016
 

Markus dragged himself to yet another corporate gathering, a team-building and motivational event, so they said.

“This company values diversity” the story went amongst the other mundane blah blah blah.

“No you do not!” reasoned Markus. “You value only political correctness and conformity. And that is very different to diversity”.

May 132016
 

Markus spent some time speaking with an old colleague, one who had spent his career making the climb to the executive suite. Eventually the talk turned to the current management, he of restructuring euphemisms and cost cutting. “A godless man” sighed the old colleague, shrugging his shoulders with tension and totally forgetting his very own godless climb to the top.

May 122016
 

Sipping his early morning coffee, Markus trawled the classifieds for sailboats. “But we already have a boat” complained B. “Yes” admitted Markus, “but it never hurts to keep up with the market. Who knows what bargains lurk out there.”

Heaven forbid they find we also now own a walk-on mooring

May 102016
 

I should like to run the old roads, past the old boy’s school thought Markus. And so he did, sort of, the body of old no longer a match for the old routes. As a compromise he went hard on the downhills, vowing to return to the former glory days.