Gosh, what Yank accent would that be? Mine are northern Maine or northern Vermont and mountains of North Carolina. And they come from similar places in the throat.
I followed you so I look forward to future connections.
My apologies Geoffrey, it was just my clumsy attempt to mirror your phrasing without thinking at all about the “Yankee” accent, which of course yours sounds nothing like. I found your accent quite wonderful.
So glad you’re following and yes, after hearing your piece I look forward to more :)
You can try listening to a deep Scottish accent, or Welsh, or Yorkshire - and the experience might be different :) I am also amazed by the variety of American accents, but I wouldn't know where to place them geographically - except perhaps a southern drawl.
If you want to test out a Mancunian accent, 'upgraded' by years in boarding school, you could listen to my fortnightly poem - just posted today - here: https://joshuabondpoetry.substack.com/p/bureaucrat
Mancunian means as in born and brought up in Manchester, (north-west England), 200 miles from London (which is a long way in our world). My mother was from Liverpool, 40 miles away, which of course has its own famous accents - and music.
I have waited all through this busy weekend for a quiet few minutes to listen to this beautiful lament Jonathan, I knew it word be worthy, I am not wrong...
One wonders how long we must bemoan these changes before epiphany? How many more creatures must become extinct before we stop to "reclaim the messy, bewitching and beautiful that is ours." You write "We are all skating on a veneer of our own making, swishing along in a fiction of our own invention, without seeming to care for the precarious nature of our predicament" I add, neither the precarious predicament of nature...:-(
Your audio gives your writing much power and emotion - thank you, as always I'm in awe!
I've been in a few car crashes in my youth. There's a moment when the car loses control and the inevitable becomes certain, when a moment of peace occurs, like being in the hand's of the gods. The peace comes from the absolute certainty of what's about to happen. I think the epiphany is still lurking behind the curtains because the certainty is being so (insanely) undermined. Understanding and accepting where we are is the first step, yet our listening waves are dominated by the insane blather of the Shopkeeper kings.
Beautiful Jonathan! Once again, you bring a sense of agency and hope into the shopkeeper king’s bleak reality. We need this reminder, over and over again…the belief that humans can refuse the sleeping march and instead “become the ocean for the bounteous capelin to swim once more as we dream of worlds yet to be.”💛
That's exactly it Kimberly (unsurprisingly). I think this piece is a kind of lament, or a Call To Arms, but instead of weapons we employ our insight and humour and love to defeat the Tyranny of Stupidity we're all facing.
I wonder if the ocean might be that sea of nothingness in which we all swim? Hehe, what fun. :)
Interesting... (a word that is both an understatement and perhaps an overstatement, in a way) I felt a very similar emotive uprising reading the last paragraph here as when the narrator stood up to declare themselves in your previous piece. It's how courage feels.
This is especially brilliant, and hits hard: "As if a tree could be owned we laughed as we picked and boxed the harvest and waited for our wage to deliver us from our precariousness."
Yes. Thats a great way to put it Eric. Courage. I like that. Courage to let the heart speak sort of.
If it's not weird to say I also love that line: "As if a tree could be owned we laughed as we picked and boxed the harvest and waited for our wage to deliver us from our precariousness." - for me, it says so much, like a small container of a sentence with a huge amount packed into it, almost a story on its own.
Thanks Eric, I really appreciate your comment here pal.
What a wonderfully and poetically written account of the inner journey as experienced observing 20+ years of tragic destruction and loss in your neck of the woods. I feel there is a collective grief to be grieved -- indeed, I sense Mother Earth is grieving Her pain through us humans, since we are part of Her; we are grieving Her grief. And it is no small matter.
Great! I'm quite new to Veronika's writing (promoted by Kimberly Warner) but I've been really enjoying everything I've read so far. So a pleasure to meet you both :)
what is it about a British accent that is so appealing to us Yanks.
Thanks for this. Wonderful audio and writing.
Best to you.
gg
Maybe the same thing that makes the Yank accent so appealing to us Brits ;)
Thanks pal, best right back atcha :)
Gosh, what Yank accent would that be? Mine are northern Maine or northern Vermont and mountains of North Carolina. And they come from similar places in the throat.
I followed you so I look forward to future connections.
My apologies Geoffrey, it was just my clumsy attempt to mirror your phrasing without thinking at all about the “Yankee” accent, which of course yours sounds nothing like. I found your accent quite wonderful.
So glad you’re following and yes, after hearing your piece I look forward to more :)
You can try listening to a deep Scottish accent, or Welsh, or Yorkshire - and the experience might be different :) I am also amazed by the variety of American accents, but I wouldn't know where to place them geographically - except perhaps a southern drawl.
If you want to test out a Mancunian accent, 'upgraded' by years in boarding school, you could listen to my fortnightly poem - just posted today - here: https://joshuabondpoetry.substack.com/p/bureaucrat
read, listened, commented, liked and really liked the Mancunian accent. Whatever the devil that is.
Mancunian means as in born and brought up in Manchester, (north-west England), 200 miles from London (which is a long way in our world). My mother was from Liverpool, 40 miles away, which of course has its own famous accents - and music.
I have waited all through this busy weekend for a quiet few minutes to listen to this beautiful lament Jonathan, I knew it word be worthy, I am not wrong...
One wonders how long we must bemoan these changes before epiphany? How many more creatures must become extinct before we stop to "reclaim the messy, bewitching and beautiful that is ours." You write "We are all skating on a veneer of our own making, swishing along in a fiction of our own invention, without seeming to care for the precarious nature of our predicament" I add, neither the precarious predicament of nature...:-(
Your audio gives your writing much power and emotion - thank you, as always I'm in awe!
I've been in a few car crashes in my youth. There's a moment when the car loses control and the inevitable becomes certain, when a moment of peace occurs, like being in the hand's of the gods. The peace comes from the absolute certainty of what's about to happen. I think the epiphany is still lurking behind the curtains because the certainty is being so (insanely) undermined. Understanding and accepting where we are is the first step, yet our listening waves are dominated by the insane blather of the Shopkeeper kings.
Beautiful Jonathan! Once again, you bring a sense of agency and hope into the shopkeeper king’s bleak reality. We need this reminder, over and over again…the belief that humans can refuse the sleeping march and instead “become the ocean for the bounteous capelin to swim once more as we dream of worlds yet to be.”💛
That's exactly it Kimberly (unsurprisingly). I think this piece is a kind of lament, or a Call To Arms, but instead of weapons we employ our insight and humour and love to defeat the Tyranny of Stupidity we're all facing.
I wonder if the ocean might be that sea of nothingness in which we all swim? Hehe, what fun. :)
Ditto to this. Thanks Jonathan, really something.
Beautifully sad
Thanks so much Zsolt 🙏🏼
🥹
Interesting... (a word that is both an understatement and perhaps an overstatement, in a way) I felt a very similar emotive uprising reading the last paragraph here as when the narrator stood up to declare themselves in your previous piece. It's how courage feels.
This is especially brilliant, and hits hard: "As if a tree could be owned we laughed as we picked and boxed the harvest and waited for our wage to deliver us from our precariousness."
Yes. Thats a great way to put it Eric. Courage. I like that. Courage to let the heart speak sort of.
If it's not weird to say I also love that line: "As if a tree could be owned we laughed as we picked and boxed the harvest and waited for our wage to deliver us from our precariousness." - for me, it says so much, like a small container of a sentence with a huge amount packed into it, almost a story on its own.
Thanks Eric, I really appreciate your comment here pal.
What a wonderfully and poetically written account of the inner journey as experienced observing 20+ years of tragic destruction and loss in your neck of the woods. I feel there is a collective grief to be grieved -- indeed, I sense Mother Earth is grieving Her pain through us humans, since we are part of Her; we are grieving Her grief. And it is no small matter.
Thanks so much Joshua, and I agree about collective grief and being a tear rolling from Mother Earth's eye. It is no small matter.
On another matter I just listed to your Bureaucrat and thought it was wonderful. Awakening too. Glad out paths crossed :)
Thank you - I got a prompt from my wife Veronika Bond :)
Great! I'm quite new to Veronika's writing (promoted by Kimberly Warner) but I've been really enjoying everything I've read so far. So a pleasure to meet you both :)