Life in a Nutshell

The Tales of Cedric Pomperty

Chapter 1

Cedric was,  a  man, whose trousers of fine fabric had been robbed of their former atonement, and in fact, over time turned grey.  Though that fact would be unnoticeable to all those affording a similar looking garment, even when perhaps of lesser quality. His dress shirt, made of fine linen by a master Quarter-man (Quartermaster), as was the entire suit,  was equivalent in color to his very manor and wore him well. Pityingly, he stood at the very gapes of pathways which were subsequently within eyesight of all those who new better. His secret now had eyes and ears and witnesses. Their biased opinions could indeed be heard by the walls  surrounding them. Even repeating his recourse, however false. Iniquity was out of place to others, though it fit his hands like gloves. As if they had been purposely purchased falsely only to be returned at a later date, without the bill of sale. He wore spectacles which had been placed seemingly inadequately upon the very tip of his nose. Their thickness had proven themselves handy, as they often shared company with the ground beneath his feet. However small, they seemed to menace his slightly bearded face, which, in turn, had yet to see the remnants of a razor’s edge nor either its counterparts.

He was absent from the very school he should have been attending, His lessons guild should equal that of the infirmary for his writer and paper now contained themselves in darkness and would be of no use to him, at all, as he had failed to retrieve the pair before they too lie broken or withered or both.. He was abstinent from all things he should adhere to. So should his name be called, alphabetically, or slowly, (he would hear it not) and be it reserved in his fathers name lastly or engraved in wood, he would hear it not. Even then he would appear anywhere else but here. Be it close by the door or window or not. He indeed, would, be still abort of his chair and coined. Without challenge or contest his opponent  would lose on any level. No matter how hard he reveled. The army of swords should fail him.  For now it would be he against himself.

Undoubtedly, returning itself to him without any presence of a voice to scorn any answer he would choose to give or either scathe him, at all. Time had once beside him. It would now bereave him of the many things he coveted down to nothing. He would, indeed, be too late this time. Too late to answer his call. The very watch used to shackle his wrist to bend would lend itself to echoes chord exactly five minutes before the hours glass could fill. Though, this time, it would count for nothing. However many minutes he would have had in his favor.  However great he was. His greatness was no more. Everything that partied him had left.  The very span of his life had been traded for a lot’s sum of crisps.

Under the influence of liquids, whose potency elated the taker upon arrival, thereby consuming him. The speed he chose to leer them often met his equilibrium with undenying accuracy and timbered him, as he tendered his soles to walking. The upper hand sieged his might, though his hand be moving to ward things not. His glass raised. The liquid orifices which were bottled and sold took but one tenth of his earnings now nay. Uncumbered and green the seeds and roots which once raveled themselves and he come undone. Weakened at the loss of his known agilities, now left the the earth to tame the grass. A colored past indeed he lead without ever being the leader or near him, No, it would bed him not,

Now there would be none left to spare. Not even pents and if so there was who would take them in trade for bills or paper? His vision had become about the same. The same as the likes of those he once harvested ridicule in without water. Notting Hill quartered him pastly and welcomed him with the adolescence of royalty. The keys to doors once unlocked to swing abreast. Carefully tapered grass and fields would now receive another who married the Queen down to the very pound itself in agreement to the terms required to piece her.

Once entertained by youth in its entirety, the pleasure therein now fell to his waist’s lows without request nor interest. This was surely the past. Fortune including the mysteries of a life he once new was in dire need of a detective or counsel willing to represent it. Who but would dare take his case? Distress gained distress atop the hill without effort, terror or trail. The sight of witnesses seeing grace fell faint. Mirrors of his once perfect image lay broken and un-abridged. …

His preempted solicitations of self had eluded him at a snails pace. The very place near his side was vacant. Ease garnered the most of his core.  Sages that once led his reaches of opportunity had been reduced to a mere shoulder’s shrug. That very same motion now had multiplied itself beyond normal figures of mathematics, unless you considered calculus. These things would factuate themselves into everything stone and counted. Even pebbles. Who shall dare to say that none of these possess the power to weighthemselves through glass, disrupting its original form, alone or in numbers when thrown.  The scorecard to this seasons game had gone a bat. Rescheduling it would prang in mannerisms low beneath the plate without swinging, but who was staying the pitchers mound? Was it a  discerning shadow of his entire self or was the bending lights fraction now an integer.

What he called legs could be considered as such, as they performed their stated task ingeniously. Far away from applause or even chatter. He chuckled. Legs he thought. Fested be they to the hip and even in shortness of  length.  He could only lay claim on leaves that were closest to his arm’s reach. He would have no say on its branches nor lean against barks without first watering the ground. Was he more fertile than his neighbor?  Would the bells that once sounded there be missing or broken?

He had come to stop to stand, positioning his corpus lecti to the store front. Its infinite structure returned the ills of his nonconformity  and cast the very shape he knew, quite like a twin, Though this coin toss would be anything other than free. His reflection unfamiliar to laws now break the displays in a store`s lay, momentarily trespassing. What was the store clerk saying, he thought. Worrying if her screams of complaint be embellished in the heads of staff, her colleagues, return customers, or the custodial service known to end at the hours end, ending  without parraging time or losing it. The mops they carry run abreast of multiple structures had yet to engage themselves in water.   Seemingly unaware of the chemicals that would alter its collective strength to whiskers.


Cedric had seen the courts  before. Though, one sided at best. He had revied the things he had often lived before pculiars of familiar lights would rally them all. Thus, casing the festivities to set amongst them the elements required for this recurring while pollitely exclusing the sun. He marvelled this. A slow cadance of chatter and the sliding and clacking of pints raising placed upon the wooded rounds which was most oftenaccompanied by the crunching of whicket mounds, though these were salted. It was not carried but shaded by a beerman who shouls have concerned himself with pits. As he tallied the evenings wealth, he wondered how he could raise the bars that filled them without suspect and be ended in its value and transform it into more. To do this he would need the finesse of a brothels stage, without the woman. Breaded or baked, served they were now cold and not one man concidered its ingredients. Then would be he who questioned salt for spilling or ratherspill more? After all, it was free.

It was a place where men to came to rebel all other things unlike him. It was a place where he could be unnamed, undivided, and at at times, anonymous. If was as if their unisexual behavior was without sex. Their behaviors above human. The deeds themselves were unwelcomed for they were not needed here. It was a time far before the digital revolution and a time where very few things analog were noticed. They content  to spills, lyric and tales of adventure. Here he was everything in this place. True or untrue, once told, stories released from the mind breathed life into a room filled with those of the same seed however garnished. Fruit or vegatables or weeds leave the safety of the earth and its covenant were now living amongst all and not one. However far fetched or short no one man could challenge that of any others. The proof wieghed itself in brick only in a scales witness. Though they all had none. None of them were butchers, welders or even saints. They were outside of prayer. The Bibles which stood for them laid anothers man table, resting in his home or quarters folded closed from cover to cover. Their unread words were still written. They heeded no one in numbers. Spreading themselves to become chapters in verses and vice versa. Which mans ink would  spills beyond a covers spread and leave stains. Clearly no data would be collectec or stored here. It would be used instantly to form a bridge between their ears and sound them.

The earths seasons were without reference. They were taxed, labeled and barreled . It was not summer and there would be no reason to cut the grass. The floors were wooded like copperstone. They had been equally darkened long after the guests who filled had left their seats,the pavement and even the city. No one waited. The wind, waits neither for any other condition to settle or spin it. It moves whenever, stays wherever. No man can tame the wind nor should he try to. (he shall be carried. Should he go against it, it will shovel him.)

Chapter 2

Cedric had been most places. Small, tall, wide, and even narrow. He had been in those places indeed. Expended paces he had many left, some of them right. Often scattered and unmarked themselves. He had been everywhere indeed, though no one would ever find traces. He had travelled to and through all of them masking his face with the shadows. He could cater to them in numbers. There would be no prints left on corners, countertops, shelves or stairs after he touched them. Forensic authorities nor scientists would find him, nor would they desire to search. He was of no importance at all. He had not yet committed any crime or considered such. His journey, however far, would cost him nothing more than braincells. He was a master traveller. He could bare what he had known and not less.

Pennyless in wealth he stood so why would he scurrage any more than dollars. Even if they had more weight than pounds or equal.,their currencies avoided him. He had been trading them for quilts. He only wished to. Far above his perception, he faired lower. These heights were good. He had never been higher than or near others. Complacency became him to the letter. He would feed the world stamps and record them sticking. Or used.

The earth in all of it, would stand still for him to adore peacefully to himself and stop spinning. Most probably not. It was of great ridicule to him to even consider its rotation without any knowledge of its axis or algebra, the time of the year and its weight. Far more spectacular than the entire space between the stars. Unbelievable to living things exceeding the sun in distance. What would warm him now?

The theaters he adored more than the cinemas that played or housed them still. He would be the noisy one. The ticket that cost him, the most of all he had, was free. He would pocket it too early and miss the film in its entirety. He was at recess when no one else was playing.

His vision had been widened beyond the things he had once sighted. His courage once rivaled all things above the wind and below it. Amassed had he the hearts all of men and women,  in circles, though he was better known to the dead as those who had preceded. Scolded was he in the sun, though it was not against him. Its poise had never gaged him rightfully. It appeared to had left him the same color. He had not darkened against it. It could also be said that he too had noticed. The walls echoed his verse in chains and mimicked his misguided intellect.  He was unaware that some could bathe in the very rays of the sun and conquer them. This was never due to magic or waving but merely due to his genealogical standing. This served him rite and remembered him.

As the season slowly came to pass, the streets, as paved as they were, would not savor it. For without memory, brain or blood it cannot live within or feel it. This would be left to the living. The trees above it all, were taller than most things, though they never be forgotten, however silently they behave or how often their leaves be shed. Their importance was more than any wealth accumulated , tended or cumbered. Far greater things would be required on his journey, though they would cost him no more than each pace he took and any air he would consume.





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Unbroken hands & my sixth sense…

Today I was on my usual run through the city on a bike, my most favorite vehicle of choice. At least when you consider the dense after work traffic in the city. Though, at this particular time, that had all come to pass and the streets were much less crowded by motor vehicles. I really enjoy it often when the streets are vaguely occupied, and almost ghostly as if Stephen King had set the stage and I had been unknowingly it the middle of something  that usually ends up bad before it gets worse. I like double “entaundois” (look this up sentences or phrases with double meanings in french) )Indeed, I was on my way to visit a very good friend whom I have known since high school. We could talk about how far back that would be, though it is, at least for now, of little importance to the story.  After leaving my apartment, I decided to take a shortcut through a one way street. I had done this countless times before, successfully. Today would be different. Let us go back to the few minutes preceding this adventure…

As I stood in the kitchen deciding whether or not to have a zero day or not, I noticed the trash bin was full. I felt it was a great opportunity to get my attention away from my pc and also get some fresh air in return. Since I was already sporting a gray jogger and matching tee, I simply put on a pair of sneakers; of course they were matching, grabbed my keys, the trash bag I had already prepared and went outside.

I observed my apartment door close behind me as I, with my left hand, turned on the hallway light. It made a clicking sound. The sound was as it had always been as far back as I could remember at least. As I declined the stairs, I had a funny feeling as if should quickly return inside though I quickly brushed it off and continued through the hallway passing the mailboxes to my immediate right. Upon reaching the exit, I slowly pressed down the handle and opened the door inward so I could make my way to the trash bins which were coincidently also to the right. Though they stood oddly perpendicular to the only parking spaces in front of the building.  Holding keys still in hand as well as the trash, which I kept at bay and low beside my waist. I do not believe it would be necessary or even relevant to explain any further.

Trump this…

Ok. Let me check in for a sec. When you look closely, it is hard to believe the things that are seceding each after another since the president elect has taken office. Almost in cadence. I believe that this results out of the fear of a loss of status, a loss of influence which ultimately has led us into this upward spiral of outcomes whose downward spiral consists of a lobby of turmoil and a certain discontent among the american public. perhaps even outrage. It is an embellishment of our  complete social structure. The world is watching.

Let us forget about the economics for a second and bite on this; great wealth has always been accompanied with even greater controls. That is a fact. No country can survive over decades successfully without a system of checks and balances. Now our freedom may be worth fighting for, it seems as if control has always been worth dying for. Even at the shores of syncopated peace  or even at our doorsteps. Let this be known.

Will we be the living martyrs of our day. We will be remembered in our efforts? Will our voices sound collectively, on occasion or merely in silence?  Though there are many ways to shake a tree, uprooting one is not.

The lions are being fed well. No one goes shopping when the food is free and you can leverage the kickback while collecting on taxes you have never personally been rendered of. Liberty is the issuance of debt at the sake of economic freedom. For whom controls the wealth or debt of a nation, however mighty, holds all the cards and the jokers are wild.

The phoenix, to date, has always risen from the ashes, yet this mark in history may truly mark us all.

Love your country.




Freedom is…

Freedom is the most natural good that we all share. The thing that we aspire to. The place we choose to dwell. It is without borders. It knows no religion not shared. It is forever graceful. Forever wondered. It is magically simple, yet  unabridged. It is colorless. It is willfully connected between everything living and all that has preceded us. It holds a light to shine brighter than no one man. It spreads the light evenly. Even in darkness it remains. No one man is greater than his counterpart, breathing here or deceased, shall they share the same goal. For she is mightier than every other wish. Her kiss is sweeter than any fruit. She is worth dying for. Civilizations stand taller with it. It reigns along the highest in command, though it is he that is willing to leave his life at his feet or on hers to reclaim it. We will shed blood to protect her. She is sacred to all creeds, all denominations; to and for all. We have shed tears  to honor her. We live to be Free…dom.

Be good to yourself & others…Be Free..dom

The Highest Good in bites

What is your highest good? When you think about it, it has very little to do with owning a new car, buying a house or getting a few more days of vacation a year. Not even earning more money to afford more things. No, it is none of this for material things are only that. You could go almost anywhere in the world and ask more people of all creeds and denominations. Their answers would almost be identical. No matter the framework built around the words they would speak, even the ways they would choose to use. It would have the same meaning. The highest good would be freedom. The reason for this is simple.

Every person shares the common need for freedom. It is the basis of our existence. It is the true reason we live from day to day. Naysayers would would probably disagree as they believe it is hope that drives us to greater things. I would agree that hope may be the vehicle. However, it is our freedom that allows to move forward, to create or destroy things, both necessary and unnecessary. Now figure this, imagine you ad the greatest ideas, written the most detailed plans, even attained the most diverse and intricate knowledge of that very idea. Imagine through your efforts that success itself was guaranteed. You would most certainly go forward, I am sure. Now consider that all of this was missing just one thing to make it all work and had been taken from you. That one thing would be your freedom. That would complicate matters for sure. Right?

So, if freedom is the highest good, how much of it is actually ours? Yours?  Do we share the highest good as a common? Is it a gift to keep? Could it lent or borrowed, shared or sold? Probably not. We own our freedom as individuals. It is our highest good.

Thank yOu  for reading. Enjoy your day.

Stranded with Chocolates?

Source: Stranded with Chocolates?

Stranded with Chocolates?

Source: Stranded with Chocolates?

Stranded with Chocolates?

Picture you are on vacation. Far away from where you are now. Somewhere exotic. Make sure you imagine a place that you absolutely cannot or would not allow yourself to afford. No matter the reason. Got it. Ready. Ok. Imagine you are on vacation in the most beautiful spot you can ever imagine being. To make this work, your imagination should be as colorful and detailed as possible. It is for a very good reason. Trust me. If necessary, go get that catalog you have put ears on the corners of. Those pages you may have carefully removed and now decorate your latest pic collage. Take a real good look. Think of all the amenities possible. Go all out. Take some people with you. Real friends, BFF’s, FFBFFS (made that one up Heeheehee), movie stars, maybe even an interesting partial stranger or aquaintance or entirely on your own. Remember or write down your choices. You may need them later  Like I said, it is for a very good reason.

I will help you with the framework in just a bit. I will also paint a scenario to up the ante, but first, do me a favor. In order to follow my instructions to thoroughly, you need to stop reading my Blog. I know. It hurts me too. Sigh and smile. I am banking on you coming back to it. If not, I totally understand. This is only a drill. Hopefully, it will have the affect I am expecting and you may enjoy. The effect would be standard. I want a little more here. So, stop reading. Come back to this within ten minutes, unless you fall asleep on this excercise. That would be really cool as well. Be sure to post that under my blog or tweet it to me if it happens to you. See you in ten.

So this is the part where you become active.

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1…These are minutes. By the way. If you are still reading, you are clearly cheating. Smile and show me those whites. If you are just getting back and have prepared yourself for this, let us begin. So, I gather you have that place in your head or in front of you. If  you find hard to concentrate or imagine, you are overdue for some R&R. No, not Rum & more Rum. Recreation and Relaxation. Top of the list please. I want to sit or lay in a comfortable position. If you have to run and change into something more comfortable or take your shoes off and let your hair down, I can wait. You know behavioural psychologists have found in their research over the past ten years that most good films, ok movies as well as most series that achieve cult status are the ones who can build suspense. If you have not yet clicked away yet, I thank you very kindly. You be awarded a King’s ransom. Promise. At least emotionally.

Comfortable now? Good. Goodnight. No, seriously. You are hopefully at a luxury resort hotel on a beautiful island. Where the beaches compliment the sun. Where you have the perfect balance between all of the elements. All expenses paid, including room service, health spa, massage, car service, dry cleaning. I hope you picked the largest bungalow available or maybe you have the President’s Suite. Remember, you can have it all. Even those amazingly soft bathrobes are all yours. I mean it.

Remember when I asked you to sit or lay down? Sure you do. If so you have realized by now that it would be much better to sit than to lie down. I know, I am such a teaser.

The Tales of Cedric Pomperty

Source: The Tales of Cedric Pomperty

Fruit Facts – Banana-ramas

Source: Fruit Facts – Banana-ramas

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