Friday, June 26, 2009

Diarrhea of the Keyboard

by Pa Rock
More Typist than Thinker

You've all seen this guy at a family reunion, or the local coffee shop, or on a park bench. He is an old codger who can't control his drool and loves to tell stories. Some of his stories are better than awful, but just barely. The trouble is that if he ensnares you for too long, he begins to do reruns. He can't help it. As time passes and his brain begins to shrink, his memory is also contracting.

The old coot is me - or I am he - and some days I am Bob down the road. The further I rip along the universe, the shorter my tale gets.

My youngest informed me that the story of Fred Blue that I posted two nights ago sounded awfully familiar. I replied back that I could have written it before but did not think so. He did some digging and told me to check out the Ramble for July 7, 2008. I did - and there it was - my first ode to the wonderful Mr. Blue. Not only had I forgotten writing and posting the original, but a quick read showed me that I had done a much better job with it than with my later effort. So my memory is going, as are my writing skills.

And now I can't even find my bib!

BTW: Fred was the caliber of individual and friend who was worthy of two postings!


Mike Box said...

Whoa! Hold the reins there Nellie. You may be caught between a progressive dissent into dementia and an idea well drilled into your subconcious.

I vividly recall sitting in 6th grade as my teacher drifted from the lesson plan to explain the old folks old memories concept.

Her elderly mother would harangue teacher and her husband every time they went to the Lake of the Ozarks. As soon as they hit one bend in the road the light bulb went off and the old lady spouted forth this certain memory like a Chatty Cathy doll.

I had the same teacher in 7th grade and truth is that she'd veer from the day's curricula each year as the topic of summer vacation came up. She of course ran off the road into the rut where her mother began telling the same old yarn as they hit that bend in the road.

Thus, I am not going to order you a bib until about this time next year. If your beginning a great sequential repetition it will become clear.

That well drilled lesson is taught to all writers. It to write, to re-write, and write it over and over again. Write what you know. Then write, re-write, and write it over and over again. Never, but never discard an idea goes the corollary.

I'll check the other version to see if I like it as much as the contemporary reminiscence.

In the meantime I'll be doing massive laundry as the oldest grandson returns from camp today. If you hear someone grumbling and cussing in the laundry room its only me; channeling Fred Blue.

Pa Rock's Ramble said...

Tim also suggested that it might relate to the time of year - seasonal dementia? I have a copy of the DSM IV sitting right in front of me - guess I should self-diagnose.

Phillipia said...

I am not so sure it is dementia at all, but maybe just seasonal induced reminiscing (SER)...and that is perfectly ok; because if it is not I am in BIG trouble...
Yeah I invented SER, but it sure makes me feel better about myself.

Mike Box said...

1) I prefer the re-write to the original.
2) If it were SER we'd probably be seeing this in November. Fred's story doesn't seem to have a summer trigger. But I really liked the SER explanation/defence and plan to use it when my own feet step on my this tongue of mine.
3) By "dissent into dementia" I was making reference to Dylan Thomas' plea that we rage against going quietly. Fred did, he began that rage early. That's a wise policy.
4) By re-write standards the New Fred Blue story is a smash hit. The July 2008 version garnered zero comments. The current version picks up 5 (2 on the original and 3 on the follow up). If you were doing this for money Nick could be a shill - but I don't want to give you evil ideas for your next Las Vegas trip!

Have a good day, I'm back to the laundry room to keep the levels from exceeding flood stage. And you really did a much better writing job the second time around.