Tag Archives: Others

Wonder

Has it all been done before and said before and if so why say it again anymore?

Not all people seem to know or have heard the word, including me, I agree.

Truth is free.

In every age we rant and rage and fill a page.

We seek a sage.

The old is new and new is old, a neverending story told.

We wonder why we live and die and laugh and cry.

Beneath the sky.

So do I.

Tich Ennis

17th August, 2017

Considering

Considering they never look, read, listen or say thank you should I bother with people?

Impale them on a church steeple?

Not absolutely everyone, some old fashioned folks do.

Bring back the old days, they had a better view.

Thank you.

Tich Ennis

15th August, 2017

Should You?

Who does what they should do anyway who said?

A still voice inside them not quite killed stone dead.

Listen to me instead.

Come here ‘til I tell you, I’ll tell you a thing or two or three.

Listen to yourself, not me.

I could say more but then you would walk out the door.

Wait ‘til I take the floor.

I don’t want to undermine my argument but you know what I meant.

You are Heaven sent.

Don’t say no one cares, I do.

And you.

Tich Ennis

15th August, 2017

Full Stop

My best friend Michael O’Brien agrees I should stop giving my stuff away for nothing on my blog. I have written various things and not put them there recently, too busy.

I have only 75 or 76 followers on my blog. My nephew said people liking and following other people’s blogs often only want a like or a following in return. I don’t want those likes and followers. I know at least one is genuine, the only one I wrote to and who replied. Thank you.

My plan is to have a book printed and sell it locally, quite a few people, maybe 43, have said they will buy. I will sell it for almost nothing, the printer will make more than me.

I ordered a book on self-publishing from Amazon today, by Rick Smith, which seems the best on the subject. So my work may be available as a print on demand book (POD) and also electronically when I can get my head around how to set up writing for those and uploading and all that.

That way is known as going over the heads of the gatekeepers, who are very good at slamming doors in people’s faces and ignoring them. Going direct to the public.

25 per cent of the top selling books on Amazon are self published, usually half POD and half digitally. Digital books have a 65 per cent market share, and growing.   People buying digital books buy more books, presumably because they are cheaper than on paper, as well as instantly delivered and other advantages.  Being old and traditional I prefer paper books and do not own an electronic book reader. Also being broke.

The paper method costs more, including to me to get my book printed locally for which I will have to borrow.   Selling as a self publisher through Amazon involves a steep learning curve, hopefully I get to the top of that hill!   But no cost to the writer, except time and know how.   The know how I do not have but hope to learn.

Of course not every book sells, I am well aware of that. Today I heard I failed to win a short story competition. A friend of mine said, when you’re starting you have to do everything for yourself.

Contrary to my title here, this may not be my last word ever on my blog. Look forward to Full Start.

I’m a crazy mixed up old man, not a crazy mixed up kid.

Tich Ennis

4th August, 2017

Explaining Myself

Or attempting to. What am I? Who am I? Do I matter? If so to who or, much less, what? Are these irrelevant questions? If irrelevant, irrelevant to what? To what matters. What does matter? You. You matter to me. Do I matter to you? You who hear or read these words. Does it matter if I matter to you? It matters to me. Does it matter to you if you matter to me? I suppose so. It should. Who says? I do. Am I what I say and do? To a large extent yes. In fact that is all that matters about me. You too? Yes. Questions are limited. How, where, what, why, when and who. Am I defined in those terms and are those things all there are to say about me? For me read you. What is the most important question? Not what, that’s for sure. Why is the question, the supreme question. Why am I? Why are you? Why not? Why a pear, an apple, a blade of grass? Our environment. The environment from which we spring and of which we are a part. Self aware matter. Does matter matter? Yes. For a while. Our life is a while. We could not exist in material form except in a material world. Or universe or galaxy. Does matter last forever? No. It changes form. Will I or you last forever? No. Not in material form. Life is a life sentence. Hard labour. I mention that in passing. Life is a passing thing. Why and how are important, more than what. Reality is the essence of the real. I am my essence, you are yours. You are how you are what you are. I attempt to explain myself but explain you. A poor explanation. Another word for essence is spirit. When the spirit leaves the body we are dead. Dead to the world. We are no more. In the eyes of the world. We are our spirit. How we are. I am I. You are you. You are your spirit, me too. Does this matter? The word matter again. The soul of the thing. The thing I am, but more than a thing. What is my wish? That people not be treated as things. I or you. Anyone anywhere. Speaking for myself I know people have not much time for my longer pieces such as this. Unparagraphed now as I write. Should I care? Yes. About that? I don’t know. Should people care for each other? Yes. Who is the other? You. Me too. There are more questions than answers. Always. Here in this piece for example. The question why is all important. I must be talking to myself. You too. Have I answered those questions about myself? It seems not. I still don’t know. Do you? About you? Meanwhile I press on regardless. What have I said? I don’t matter, I am not matter, not a thing. If I matter to myself I am wrong. You matter. Who will read these words? Almost no one perhaps. Only you. That makes two. Me and you. A dream come true. Poets ask these questions and answer them better than I. Every man his own poet. We are part of a poem, you and I. The poem is the universe. Words are stars sprinkled in the sky. The question why. Maybe I will answer before I die.

I have a friend in hospital, maybe I will read him this. He will say it is too long. He is usually right. So long.

I read it to him. He said blog it. As is.

Tich Ennis

24th July, 2017

Fancy That

I live in oblivion but I don’t like words like that.

I like words like dog and cat.

Fancy that.

I have made no mark on the world, I am alone, unhonoured and unsung.

I bite my tongue.

Its not quite that bad, I don’t want to be a drama queen.

I am, as far as I know, a human being.

Sooner or later everything comes to a conclusion.

I end now to avoid confusion.

Tich Ennis

23rd July, 2017

Shred

Should I write every shred before I’m dead?

Do not dismiss others without a thought.

Love cannot be bought.

Is it pointless for me to write things down?

What is the point of a circus, the clown?

I suppose so, yes.

That’s true, I guess.

Suppose no one came, no one wanted to see or hear?

There’s always the next town when you’re not wanted here.

I might mention beer.

Be of good cheer.

Tich Ennis

14th July, 2017