SUKKOT of LONG AGO

 

It’s been some years since we observed a variation of Sukkot, the holiday where Jews are advised to dwell in huts as our ancestors did while on the way to the promised land.

 

Contemplating this year’s upcoming Sukkot and whether I have the energy to make a Sukkah again, I happened to come upon an old photo. It reminded me of a feline family friend who has left this earth long ago. Clyde was not our cat. He lived next door. When his family moved a mile away up the hill, he kept returning. Not to his old home, but to ours.

 

We even found him sleeping in our makeshift Sukkah. We always returned him to his new home, and he continued to make his way back to ours.

One of these trips may have cost him his life. He was found dead, possibly injured. I tried to answer one of my kids as to whether cats have souls and go to heaven by writing about him:

 

CLYDE HILL

©By Mirka M. G. Breen

  

            Clyde is climbing a great green hill.

            The grass under his paws is as soft as fur. It’s tingly wet, and smells of catnip.

            The light is soft blue, no sun yet.

Clyde passes every mouse he ever ate. The mice wave at him.

Birds he had watched, fly over and wink.

Squirrels he had chased puff their tails

No time to think. Up Clyde must go.

Yes, this is so.

Clyde still climbs the green hill.

The grass is deeper, the hill steeper. But the higher he climbs, the lighter his steps.

He’s not hot; he’s not cold. Light’s turning gold.

A purple butterfly flutters before him. Clyde’s trotting, then pouncing.

One butterfly soars, and then a hundred more-

In every color, with spots and dots

In a ribbon-dance the butterflies flow.

Yes, this is so.

 

Clyde is bounding up the glistening green.

When the moss grows dark, a cloud heavy with steel gray covers the light.

Clyde slows. What to do? He squints, then pulls through.

A line of pure silver is guiding him on. The cloud turns to vapor.

The blue of the air, gentle light everywhere-

Give power from nose to tail.

Clyde faces toward the glow.

Yes, this is so.

Clyde climbs some more, the hill, green as hope.

The air caressing his ears with gentle fluffing strokes. Cat music is sounding.

His mother and father are mewing above

Clyde turns his head back one last time.

 The people he loves look at him with wet eyes: they are wise.

Balls of yarn left below, adventures above.

Clyde has to go

We think this is so.

 

Sukkot this year falls on September 29-October 6

 

In a Silly Mood: CLEVER DEFINITIONS for YOU

  

{Skip if you're in a solemn mood}

Clever Definitions

 

COMMITTEE
A body that keeps minutes and wastes hours.

DUST
Mud with the juice squeezed out.

EGOTIST
Someone who is usually me-deep in conversation.

HANDKERCHIEF
Cold Storage.

INFLATION
Cutting money in half without damaging the paper.

MOSQUITO
An insect that makes you like flies better.

SECRET
A story you tell to one person at a time.

TOOTHACHE
The pain that drives you to extraction.

TOMORROW
One of the greatest labour saving devices of today.

YAWN
An honest opinion openly expressed.

WRINKLES
Something other people have....similar to my character lines.

 

HOW DO YOU COUNT THE YEARS?

 

For most, the Gregorian calendar is their year-counter.

The number changes, and with it come the New Year’s Resolutions, the taking-account of last year’s hits and misses, and the sense of a new beginning.

 

For me the year begins September first.

 

The Jewish New Year is somewhat responsible for this conditioning, but more than Rosh Hashanah (sometime in September) it is the start of a new school year where I grew up.

 

Later, my kids’ school year signified all the projects I have promised myself I’d tackle once I had my weekday mornings to plan as I wish.

 

September first had become the start of writing a new novel, first draft to be done before the Gregorian calendar chimes a new number. (The rest of the year until June will include at least five drafts, with a few short stories during breaks between them.)

 

So here I am, deep in, and feeling both the exhilaration and terror of draft #1, praying the muse will not leave before the clock chimes midnight on December 31^st

.

Happy New Year

CHAT GPT* AND ME

 

There are vigorous discussions on (what else) the Interwebs regarding the replacement of creative wordsmiths (what we aspire to be) with artificial intelligence.

 

Someday, soon, even yesterday, we will be obsolete, the writers and poets say, trembling. Look at the amazing results AI had spawned so far: can you tell which was written by an individual human and which was spawned from the bank of many human contributors in the past by artificial Intelligence algorithms?

 

For the most mundane texts, it’s not easy to discern. AI is (still? maybe always?) not quite up to the marvels of human creativity when it comes to the upper ends of the never-before imagined.

 

The other day, I resorted to using Chat GPT* for a task many writers dread: finding comparable titles to the one we are submitting for agents/editors’ consideration. This new requirement in standard submission forms had left many of us even more despondent than writing synopses. Synopses already felt like a cruel denigration of long and layered works.

This request for comparables, “Comps” for short, never feels right. After all, we like to think of our work as unique, one of a kind, none other quite like it. 😏

 

Adding injury to insult, the requirement is supposed to be for 2-3 recent tiles, published less than three years before by major publishers. Say what? How many novels are we expected to read while crafting our own?

 

And this brings me to Chat GPT*. This article here is an almost perfect use of this tool. Of course, once it brought titles to my specified search, I realized I needed to refine it. But then, the comps were not only appropriate but led me to read a couple of the titles because they were too wonderful sounding not to. This tool turns out to be an effective marketer to boot.

©Josh Gosfield

When Chat GPT* replaces the older search models, it is akin to a better factory machine. These machines can never make a handmade object, but they sure save on the more tedious tasks that human labor will gladly give up.

It still requires a final inspection by a real live human.

*Bing's chat feature will do this adequately also and is in some ways more up to date. It doesn't require a sign-in or charge. Google's Bard, which I haven't checked yet, is rated lower by most, but it aspires to eventually match Bing's chat.