Preston Dickinson: Self-Portrait (c. 1926)

Qualifies As A Feeling?
I mostly feel lucky even though lucky probably doesn't fully qualify as a feeling. Further, luck must be utterly out of my control, or else it's not really luck because luck if it's governed by anything, must be ruled by randomness. One might harbor feelings about impending luckiness but only experience luck once it happens. How often do I "feel" lucky without experiencing an actual manifestation of luck? How frequently do I experience luck without having a premonition of its arrival? Both questions seem as unnecessary as they are unanswerable. I might cringe when Friday the Thirteenth comes around, regardless of which day of the week it lands on that month (Thanks, Walt Kelly!), but I cower for nothing more or less than randomness. Not to downplay randomness, for it was probably the force that resulted in us. It routinely produces unlikely results if only because we cannot calculate the likelihood for most results. We might be equally blessed and cursed by randomness, just as lucky or unlucky as we expect to be, depending primarily upon our expectations, which are rarely random and most often focused on feeling luck as if luck even qualifies as a feeling.

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Weekly Writing Summary

This Grace Story finally describes the big pour where the front porch remodel finally starts looking Porchy to me.

The Muse's rendering of our finished porch remodel.
"Those without the patience of Job experience the amateur's impatience …"
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This Grace Story describes how I prepare for finishing each series of stories. This Assembling effort is the most challenging work of the whole process.

Edward Ruscha: Chocolate [Series/Book Title:
Assembling, vol. 1, Henry Korn and Richard Kostelanetz, compilers
Brooklyn: Gnilbmessa inc. (1970)
" … genuinely qualifies as work worthy of shirking."
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This Grace Story represents my attempt to explain and describe my personal Greatness. I've deliberately written it in the voice of an emerging language, one unknown a few short years ago and now as common as mosquitos. Lord knows where our discourse will head from here.

Edward Ruscha: Angry Because It's Plaster, Not Milk (1965) ©Edward Ruscha, Fair Use
"Thank you for your patience."
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This Grace Story, Lap-Sitting, describes one of the primary reasons I get up so damned early every morning. I claim that I rise so early to write, but I first sit at the library window wondering what I'll write with a warm cat purring away in my lap. I wake early to get properly lap-sat before starting my day!

Lucian and Mary Brown: Untitled [boy sitting in woman's lap]  (c. 1950)
" … just run-of-the-mill reassurance …"
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This Grace Story finds me surveying the massive new portal that will become the new face of The Villa Vatta Schmaltz. I see my future Revealed before me.

Unidentified Artist [after Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn]: The Blind Fiddler-
Alternate Title: Blind Fiddler, Led by His Dog (1631)
" … all will shortly be Revealed."
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This Grace Story, GoodMeasure, finds me lacking certain masteries. I might just be the sum of all my absent masteries; thank Heavens!

Unknown Artist: Ivory and Brass Folding Shoe Measure (1738)
" … I feel deeply sorry for that absence."
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This series started winding down this Writing Week. The front porch remodel finally started looking Porchy, and I began Assembling these stories into something more closely resembling an actual manuscript in preparation for finishing my twenty-ninth book-length series in the last seven and a quarter years. I reveled a bit in how fortunate I feel to have a Lap-Sitting feline in my life and I dabbled in a literary style perhaps not very suited to Greatness. It was only a dabble. The future was Revealed to me as futures are usually revealed, as a shocking shift after a largely unnoticed prelude. I ended this writing week describing my lack of GoodMeasure skills and how I've grown smart while riding on Stupidity's back. Thank you for continuing to come back. I appreciate your presence here!

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Grace, #PureSchmaltz