tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post6167116754829724421..comments2023-10-03T11:41:21.191+01:00Comments on The Truth About Lies: #511Jim Murdochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-79578220529234096942015-02-24T16:09:22.487+00:002015-02-24T16:09:22.487+00:00Italian, eh, Gwilliam? I didn’t pick up on that. I...Italian, eh, <b>Gwilliam</b>? I didn’t pick up on that. I could report them but they’re not doing me any harm. I actually quite like their layout. Been a while since I changed mine. So many other things to do. I see Sunday’s post is not up on the cloned site.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-24632845160201993162015-02-23T13:07:34.189+00:002015-02-23T13:07:34.189+00:00I experimented with typing the title of your blog ...I experimented with typing the title of your blog into my blog's 'search this blog' search box and got 30 or more hits, none of which entries contained, as far as I know, the title of your blog or even a similar phrase. One was just a simple haiku, but it touched on Vaticanistic things . Now that's odd because I had an impression of an Italian touch in your doppelgänger blog. Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-61048840319510041682015-02-23T12:58:30.500+00:002015-02-23T12:58:30.500+00:00Maybe the title of your blog The Truth About Lies ...Maybe the title of your blog The Truth About Lies has something to do with it. Maybe their needle in a haystack search engine trawled you. Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-7929167180487536952015-02-23T12:56:06.322+00:002015-02-23T12:56:06.322+00:00How it works? There's a guy called Edward Snow...How it works? There's a guy called Edward Snowden who might know. Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-11236428068411769872015-02-23T05:42:17.694+00:002015-02-23T05:42:17.694+00:00I’ve no idea what it’s all about, Gwilliam.. I can...I’ve no idea what it’s all about, <b>Gwilliam</b>.. I can see no one to contact to ask about it but it’s doing no harm if it’s doing me no good. Odd though, Sunday’s post isn’t there yet. Wonder how it works.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-62690646401217423752015-02-22T13:22:47.451+00:002015-02-22T13:22:47.451+00:00What is that all about. I just looked Jim and it i...What is that all about. I just looked Jim and it is indeed a copy of your blog. Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-44675663435543182722015-02-19T14:37:35.285+00:002015-02-19T14:37:35.285+00:00My father started teaching me to drive just before...My father started teaching me to drive just before I was seventeen, <b>Vito</b>, which, here in the UK, is when you can apply for your first provisional licence. I failed my driving test the first two times I sat it. I suspect part of the reason was I was driving daily after that with either my dad or someone else with a full driving licence in the front passenger seat. So I developed bad habits quickly. I wasn’t a bad driver; I was just like everyone else who’d been driving for years. When I started learning my dad had a <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/64/Ford_Capri_1600_1598cc_July_1969.JPG" rel="nofollow">Ford Capri</a> so basically a sports car and a bit flash for the time when everyone else was driving wee boxes. He wasn’t an especially fast driver but as far as I was concerned the maximum speed limit on any road was the minimum speed limit.<br /><br />When he retired he gave me his car—he’d moved onto a mini estate by then—and I got to ferry them wherever they needed to go but the car was mine and quite often my sister would turn up at my door wanting to go for a drive. Like me she felt trapped and getting in a car and heading off somewhere we’d never been felt like freedom even if we knew we had to return to our normal lives a few hours later.<br /><br />It is interesting looking at the dates of the poems. I churned them out at a fair old rate back then. I miss that. I typed in that phrase “World of horizons” and discovered something interesting though. A copy of my blog at <a href="http://make-it-plain.blogspot.co.uk/" rel="nofollow">http://make-it-plain.blogspot.co.uk/</a>. Odd. Wonder what that’s all about?Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-91077256164454674162015-02-19T13:34:52.739+00:002015-02-19T13:34:52.739+00:00Jim - it’s so true that for many of us as teens, d...Jim - it’s so true that for many of us as teens, driving provides that first taste of what seems like real freedom. I’m sure it’s even better if we actually have somewhere to go! At one point I’d written a poem titled, "Aiming For Squirrels," which attempted to give that aimlessness: nowhere to go but wanting to get there fast, a purpose. (Thankfully, no squirrels were harmed.)<br /><br />The “Worlds of horizons” phrase was recently used by one of the astronauts on the International Space Station to describe how rich with possibility life on earth can be. It’s an interesting and unique turn of phrase. <br /><br />This poem, finished a couple of days after “Untitled” from your book, “This Is Not About What You Think,” is made all the richer (to me) by its connection in time to that poem. Those blurs passing blurs in the night come even more alive.vito pasqualehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02647852611654199400noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-74860674499185972582015-02-19T06:19:56.520+00:002015-02-19T06:19:56.520+00:00I don’t really have any problems borrowing a coupl...I don’t really have any problems borrowing a couple of words here and there, <b>Kass</b>. I do it all the time with my prose. There’s an entire sentence from an early episode of <i>Star Trek</i> in my first novel assuming I’ve not edited it so often it’s no longer recognisable. I’ve no idea what the sentence was but I do remember it was something Kirk said. Every word we use has been used by someone else. I’m always surprised when watching TV and a certain word of phrase jumps out at me and often one I’ve heard before but at that moment, in that place, it suddenly takes on a significance it never did before. When I decided to post this poem I was sure I’d included an entire line from ‘The Jaguar’; that’s how I remembered it. Maybe I did in a first draft.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-6489094328238984572015-02-18T16:41:16.509+00:002015-02-18T16:41:16.509+00:00There's nothing wrong with using a word or two...There's nothing wrong with using a word or two from another poem as a prompt for your own idea.<br /><br />"Time dying on a fast fuse" is so good for the speed aspect of this poem.<br /><br /><i>Worlds</i>? of horizons. Hmmm...? I'm still thinking about it, so it might be good.Kasshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05233330248952156754noreply@blogger.com