Coyote and Coffee

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“Right is right, and wrong is wrong, and a body ain’t got no business doing wrong when he ain’t ignorant and knows better.”  ~ Mark Twain,  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn 

This morning I read about the nature of emotion in regards to it’s capacity to be defined. The article perplexed me so I am going to carry the perplexity into my day, wearing it silently, simply because it feels so good. You never know, it might come in handy. The other article that really stuck with me was an interview with some fella named Reif Larsen, about “The Fine Art of Ambiguity“. Heady stuff that interview, but Mr. Larsen discusses an issue that is dear to me. Ambiguity means a lot to me. I mean, if you answer all of the burning questions right upfront you’re gonna end up bored, right. Give me the benefit of you taking that last sentence as a tongue-in-cheek manner. Thanks, yer a pal. I see ambiguity, in writing and in daily life, as an engine of creativity, although I cannot actually pin down just what I mean by that. The very nature of ambiguity promotes mystery. A lot of life’s venues rely on mystery to keep them going; two examples that immediately come to mind are romance and politics. If you already know what you are going to get it all comes down to acquisition. That’s no fun. If you ask me it is mystery that powers us forth. I know I am getting all obscure on y’all, but I can’t rightly avoid that, because obscurity is another of my favorite things, maybe because obscurity can also fuel mystery, even though it can leave folks to wander off due to lack of interest. To that I can only say buh bye.

“Sometimes the only thing more dangerous than a question is an answer.”  ~ 208th Ferengi Rule of Acquisition

I don’t often enough express my gratitude for all y’all’s patience with my odd yet playful expression here at EyeYotee blog. This is my playground as well as my workshop. My goals here are often aimed at finding new ways of adding layers of meaning that cannot, to knowledge, be expressed through perfunctory prose alone. Wish me luck. Even if I go all florid at times. I need that like I need coffee, because florid expression boots me forward when the ‘pause and reflect’ moments only serve to make me stodgy. Florid expression, as I use it, is akin to a painter’s broad gestural strokes.

Just a few minutes ago a coyote started barking just beyond the fence, over by the chicken coop. I knew it was a coyote and not a dog because of the rising whiny accents at the end of the bark. The animal also betrayed its species with a couple of high pitched wails, both fleeting. I put on my slippers and walked out toward the coop, but the coyote had already gone silent. I knew that the silence did not necessarily mean that the predator was gone. At that point I wondered what the heck I was thinking. If the beast did somehow gain passage over the fence I would have instantly become a rival in the way of its acquiring a chicken or two. But nothing came of the whole incident. What could I have done anyway – throw my bedroom slipper at it? Yes, the chickens got riled. They sounded scared. After the rooster crowed I knew that all was well.

It’s time to wrap this up. I have a long day ahead of me and a mystery or two to address.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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