Saturday morning

 I woke still aching from hauling too many boxes.

As of this moment, I have spent the last 4 hours doing the following:

1. Writing a very long post on novel writing which is scheduled for later this month; me shooting off my mouth, and maybe reaching some sort of catharsis for not getting more of my fiction done. It has also left me rather tired of writing about writing, and blog posts!
2. For that post, I wound up reading about Robert B. Parker, the review ROBERTSON DAVIES REVIEWS AND REAPPRAISALS, Analysis of Robertson Davies’ Novels, Brecht’s ‘Epic Theatre’ and ‘Verfremdungseffekt’ techniques, and Magic and Technology: A Profile of David Duchovny. I found the blogs Gently Mad and The Bunburyist. I also dabbled a bit with James Whitcomb Riley. There were several more I closed the tabs on before I started listing them here.
   
3. I finished listening to The Sonic Bloom.
4. I set up my scheduled email sending out a link to this site, and got a song for from YouTube.

Now I need get dressed to catch the 10:30 bus at the Mall. 

Except my phone needs charging, and I still have a lot of open tabs. 

The English: Emily Blunt’s incredible western leaves every other cowboy show eating its dust makes me wish I had Amazon Prime. 

The cable I get here has two channels with Westerns. One is a religious station. I find that a bit surreal. I found myself on Wednesday watching The Professionals, one more time, and loving it. Who would not be smitten by Claudia Cardinale, but Lee Marvin and Burt Lancaster make it really work. I think it covers the same territory as The Wild Bunch, while I will admit this may be due to both movies having Robert Ryan.

I read ‘I want to open a window in their souls’: Haruki Murakami on the power of writing simply while listening to Waylon Jennings. 

I don't think Hank done them this way, slides into this:

I was born and raised in Japan, so the vocabulary and patterns of Japanese – in short, the language’s contents – had filled the system that was me to bursting. When I sought to put my thoughts and feelings into words, those contents began to swirl like mad, and the system sometimes crashed. Writing in a foreign language, with all the limitations that it entailed, removed this obstacle. It also led me to the realisation that I could express my thoughts and feelings with a limited set of words and grammatical structures, as long as I combined them effectively and linked them together in a skilful manner. Ultimately, I learned that there was no need for a lot of difficult words – I didn’t have to try to impress people with beautiful turns of phrase.

Some wisdom from Murakami:

One rule of thumb is to ask yourself, “Am I having a good time doing this?” If you’re not enjoying yourself when you’re engaged in what seems important to you, if you can’t find spontaneous pleasure and joy in it, then there’s likely something wrong. When that happens, you have to go back to the beginning and start discarding any extraneous parts or unnatural elements.

I got my song for the day:

The phone is charged.

I am going out.

Later,

sch