Piebald
Majesty
The
trouble with morning is that I need something to get myself kick-started. Don’t need a new $40,000 motorcycle, but like
the idea of bringing Indian Motorcycle and brand back to life. Some folks are doing that as we speak, and
would say. “It’s a classic.” Proper line and power and style, and perhaps
that is what we are looking for. And
that is the trouble with morning, it over-laps that other spelling: mourning
and because I can’t separate the lines between before and after, there is a
certain pattern forming and without tea or coffee or clarity, it all blurs and
becomes one. Classic styling blends with
piebald majesty, and the will-power to differentiate one from the other is
missing. By lunch time this will not be
a problem for me, as I will have written down my thoughts, posted a blog, had
my morning/mourning coffee or tea, and set my course in the day I seem to be
wrestling with just now.
Piebald
Majesty
This
part is not original material and must be given credit.
All
this concerns the use of the word piebald.
Starts with another person's blog: 10
animals with unusual color mutations and brings us to the beauty I am referring to as piebald majesty. Its morning and I am yet to be clear and
specific, yet have confidence that others have come before me and can help on
this matter.
Why
say piebald when you don’t really want to say, spotty or blotched. Color or pattern mutation will suffice. Indian Motorcycle. Classic.
Picture of animals that look different and yet most of that is cosmetic
and once you get beyond the exquisite variance in look, one is able to identify
the item or individual or animal. Motorcycles
or pink dolphin and we seek to make it simple, recalling the original and not
something else.
Reading
about Venus the cat from the suggested link, and keep with me that this is a
cat with two faces. Explains a face
split in half. Goes towards explaining
the expression that is derogatory when used in the human person context: two-faced.
Duality and discussion or mentioning of morning or mourning in the same
sentence. The good news is that I didn’t
use photo-shop to bring this example to you.
Just borrowed an internet link and work of an internet contributor,
whose name I do not know. Named the site: cuteoverload.net and will leave it at that. What is really on my mind is that if we
credit all this to the works of nature, then in some small way I feel like it
has nothing or very little to do with me, and a lot to do with the mysterious
nature of creation.
Now
I feel better and am warming to the idea that this is something I can do. Wake up.
Begin to write, without an original thought in my head. Let the mix of night dreams blend with
daytime reality and by the time I am done with my first cuppa (tea or coffee or lemon water ), I am on a
roll. I like the idea that the words: Majesty, which in this case refers to
pedigree status, appears side by side Piebald, which at best can be said to be
nature’s tattoo overlaid on the pedigreed-one.
Odd phrasing but then again the point of all of this to me is how
variation is the key to sorting out that which is in front of you, and how
diversity can be explained.
Have
a sister-in-law, who has a sister who paints birds. Received a birthday card recently that was a
blank bird card and then made complete by writing on the inside that said it
perfectly: Happy Birthday. Yet, looking at the card as it came from the
envelope, I turned it and turned it
until the image became recognizable to me.
Color and shape and pattern and is nature’s way of protecting its
off-springs. Protective coloring or camouflage,
and when I see humans wearing such clothing, I think of war. And there I go again. Duality.
Morning or Mourning. Majesty or
Piebald. Here I go again. Flip-bored or wait, is it Flipboard. Too many variations and suddenly simplicity
becomes complex, and we wonder: “What is
he talking about?”
Two-faced
or wait one face split in half, and it is up to me to recognize you. No need to shoot a selfie in the mirror to
realize my face is a piebald mess and I
should apply makeup before I appear in public.
Blogs are but a device to conceal the true identity and look of the
contributor. Read the words and be not
concerned with appearance. Be
nondescript but not invisible. Use an
Avatar. Have identity, but not in the
sense that it is valid and true.
Protective colors become a shade of yesterday appearing in the reflection
of a future, we are never guaranteed. So
what am I looking at. A freak. A fake.
A variation.
And
am mentioning this because I am taken with the idea of having my picture taken
standing beside an Indian Motorcycle and
now it makes me consider this. Go to a
museum and find an original Indian Motorcycle and snap my picture when the
security guard isn’t looking, or go to the new dealership just down the road
and have my picture taken with the variation of the bike they have made look
like the original 1920’s bike: The
Classic.
And
all this talk about Being in the Majesty’s service, and pedigreed originality
and having unquestionable presence and dignity, becomes indignant and revolting
when in the next instance I click to another page and instantly am faced with
Hillary or Donald and am appalled.
As
if morning and mourning become one. As
if Piebald Majesty becomes a statement of fact and contradiction appears before
the judge and when its all over and a verdict is given, I live with the idea
that nobody is perfect and the sooner I get down with that, the sooner I will
realize that over time nothing remains the same what was the perfect look of
youth just yesterday, is now the piebald majesty of maturity and wisdom, and
the mosaic patterning of life from beginning to end, and it is okay. Okay to buy a new Indian Motorcycle. Okay to pay cash and make up the difference
for the short-fall by using my credit card.
Okay to tell you all of this and show you a picture of gypsy pony and
leave it like that. “Nice ride.” He said.
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