About: On the origins on writing my second-hand blog

“Your Life, the Book.”

“There is no bitter agony than bearing your untold story inside you.”_Maya Angelou

_You asked who am I? You said

So, who I am… Ad Veritas! A way deep question, in deed, as deep as diving in to the blue Mediterranean Sea, or Red Sea,  in a quest for a fresh-water rare pearl, indeed.

Say,

“Look back into your childhood and think of the nonsense you used to believe and the trivialities which make you suffer.” _ George Orwell

Let suppose I’ll  tell you the truth, “About.”_ So, if You go read about it, in the thesaurus dictionary list of synonyms: “About, around, to go about, to bring about, to seek the means, etc…” but let me see,

“Is this the Unabridged Webster’s Dictionary in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?

But wait, want to know a lit’le more on About my Blog? If so, stay tuned and continue reading..

On the origins about on Writing My Second-Hand Blog

la librairie.

I had not clue at that moment, went I start writing this blog, on how to write it, I had only a desire to carry out and old dream dear to my father, who was not too liberated to write a book, a diary like, or journal. It was a romantic epoch, in the “Air-du-Temps”, for someone who want to write a book onsome one’ own life, but with some distance now, I think, it was done in the way of someone taking the slow road, and somehow, arriving at the fork of tow roads, thinking about which-one to take,  and made one’s mind then,without much thinking of where to go, and now, to think about, later on, he choose the road not taken, otherwise. So either ways, the choice I made, I just took my pen, and  put down to paper the first thoughts that crossed my mind, and see what gives later on. Such as, such was I, like a pilgrim that had grabbed his stick, and begun taking his long and  slow road, to Makkah, or Roma. And as all the roads take you to Roma, quite as you say, here I am, isn’t it?

” Qu’ import le vin pourvu qu’on aie l’ivresse.”_a French quote meaning, whatever the wine is, red or white be it, as long as one’s gets drunk, so I am, writing is my drink, and that’s the way I like it, and because writing is fascinating, so I write. Am write? Right! But alright… I had neither the time, nor the skills, but only the dire, the envy, or whatever you call it, quite so as  you say: “call me Ishmael…”

http://blog.longreads.com/2015/02/03/taking-the-slow-road-an-interview-with-author-katherine-heiny/

"That was the kind of boutique-stores that existed in Algiers, in the 60's, 70's, and some of them still remain standing untill now, I suppose , and it still exists despise the erosion of time, and the ferocious modern urbanization that had bulldozed all the landscape, with its nostalgia whereabouts, and with it the few dear things to our memories, and the like, ditched them, au passage.

I grew up in a back-room  of  a bookstore like the one on the photo above, in Hydra, Algiers_ Algeria, not Algiers of New Orléans, though, there is a trove of a multitude similarities; in that, in the French quarters, by the architectural style, that you can find  there too, and where it is facile to be tinged by its temperament, by its singular perspectives, and warm local colors, and the clime of subtitle fragrancies, and then,  it is fascinating,  to fall incidentally in love with it; to discover that it’s default to any charming small town, in view, and nonetheless, to be captivated by the site, a setting dear to any artist-painter, and writer,  who is in a quest of  depaysement, and sourcing .

And as fragrances of lavender, jasmine and bouguinvillea was in the clime of thoughts; Hydra, is a chic small town, perched on the hilltops of the pined crests,  on the surrounding heights, that soar at  plumb line of Algiers, the Capital of Algeria, furthermore, the Casbah, and the port, which are  at the foothill of the mountain; offer the same site seeking, hence its  name, which it is similar with Hydra, a twin sister kind of, which was given by the French architects, after the Isle of Hydra, a Greek Island of the Egan Sea.

Thence, the name, it became famous after the shooting of the  film:” The Boy On The Dolphin”, starring the lovely actress Sofia Loren, in 1957.

That is, and it’s not bizarre, if we know that French had given the same names of the existing cities of the metropolitan cities of the mother country in France, on the opposite bank of the Mediterranean, to the newly built small towns of the colonies, on the other south side seashore, with evocative names, like La Madrague, Le Lido, on the French Rivera etc…

All the same, La Madrague, near Canes in France, is known for the shooting of the filming, with actor starring Roger Vadim, and the lovely French actress starring Brigitte Bardot in ” Et Dieu Creat La Femme (And God create Woman). After that event, the film-maker Claude Autan-Lara fall in love with the scenery, and the whole crew moved there, from Paris to St Troppez, took hold on the small fishermen harbor, and to settle there for life.

Dolphins banners and the sound of cannons. The sea once so bitter to your soul bore the many-coloured and glittering ships it swayed, rolled and tossed them, all blue with white wings, once so bitter to your soul now full of colours in the sun. ~Hydra by G Seferis

“dolphins banners and the sound of canons. The sea once so bitter to your soul bore the many-coloured and glittering ships it swayed, rolled and tossed them, all blue with white wings, once so bitter to your soul now full of colours in the sun.~Hydra by G Seferis”

Back then to the sixties, my father owned a bookstore, which it happened to be situated on the main street, just across of it, where my school was. So that for me, I didn’t have to travel too far to go to school then, and had just to cross the street, and to step in to the class-room; and I was lucky too, by having a whole library  of my own with garnished bookshelves under my reach. Which is, with such a variety of great readings opportunity, it had given me a taste of travel, beyond the lines pick ups of a bookstore.

So, it isn’t strange for you to comprehend, that I still recall Homer’s Iliad, and Odessa verses, and to have memorized the French Larousse Dictionary, with the red pages Latin lexicon in the

middle, with the History annex section, at the back of the tome; because it was a tome. That for, when we had overcome beforehand as kids, and already learned the entire holy Quran by rote, at the age of twelve, a book with its more than a billion words, six thousand four hundreds verses, all of that constrained in sixty-two chapters; thus it becomes for me a habit; and with a little practice, in memorizing instantly any scriptures with its smallest details.
Still, that it hadn’t made a nerd of me.

“pin 2nd Image below
“Lovely Sophia Loren in Hydra, during the filming of “Boy on a Dolphin” ~ 1957″
Awesome people hanging out together

In Hydra island, Greece

Hydra, in Algiers, Algeria that is _which’s not to be mistaken with Hydra the Greek Island of the Eagan Sea_  it’s a small town, that is situated ten miles away both from the tiny harbor La Madrague, one of the many fishermen villages, on the seashore, and  Algiers the capital Algeria.

–It is curious to see how many of the names of the cities are resembling to each others, in facts; Algiers is both the name of a city, the capital of Algeria, and Algiers, in New Orléans, and Hydra, La  Madrague, Etc, etc… The settlers had this in common to reproduce the image of the Old World, wherever they moved, and immigrate.

Hydra, although it is high-perched on the crests surrounding Algiers, with its sumptuous villas, with pools, and tennis courts, and even a couple of small size soccer stadiums and has tennis yards, people out there was showing also an expend of bourgeoisie, in the same way, that other people wich they adopted their style of life as their fellows Parisians, in the metropolitan motherland.

From the first sunny days of May, announcing the approach of the Summer Time, and while people were showing some skin at these first brightening days; that is, because summer lasts from May to October in North-Africa, ” I had, as often I had on those days, as the wish is a father of thought,” as I saw them boys and girls sporting tennis shorts, skirts, and wearing swing gears, I glanced to them through the glass-paneled door of the bookstall, then I shuddered to the image and returned my eyes to my reading, and to enjoy the freshness of cosy interior of the boutique. Preferring even the turning of pages to the return of balls, and the lasting tie – breaks afternoons on tennis courts.

Thirty to forty years later, I want to tale a story, more than that of an essay. People usually used to write a book, and I am itching for word, or words to write, while the train of thoughts is still humming in my mind, and it took me an unabridged dictionary, to find what I was looking for a meaning of a word or words, to explain something that we call a blog, while it’s already in the books, but I was damned if I could find it.

You see, you may say:

” Nice try”, and or where is the catch?”
_I would say:” You are using the wrong dictionary” _see JSomers’Blog
_”Then, again…” You said.
I said, from a quote:

“Writing criticism is to writing fiction, and to poetry, as Hugging the Shore is to sailing in the open sea. At sea, we have that beautiful blandness all around, a cold bright wind, and the occasional thrill of gleaming dolphin-back or the synchronized leap of silverfish; hugging the shore, one can always come about and draw even closer to the land with another nine-point quotation.” _ John Updike.

And finally , I tell you this:

“So throw off the bowlines, and sail away from the safe harbor.”_Mark Twain

That is, “It was Already in the books, while it was still in the sky” _John Updike dare

It’s a nonsense, and boring, I know

Now, I dare you,

-“Care you come back for a little Dickens?”

Thank you for swinging by

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