I’m going to post a video cast for starters. It’s about ten minutes; the first part being an account of my “out of body” experience, and the second part a POD #10 rumination.
The software is quite rudimentary. I can’t do much with it, but when I get back upstairs to my office, I’m sure I’ll be doing better. Everything now is limited to what I have on my laptop. In regard to background music; the bad news is that I have only one royalty-free clip on my laptop; the good news is that it’s Pachabel’s Canon in D, which I think most people like.
I finished my prologue today, about 5000 words–actually I finished it yesterday, but was discouraged because I thought it rather shoddy, but after working on it today, I feel better. I will post the opening two paragraphs, so that you can see the progression from the first draft. So; 2nd draft of the Prologue:
1 January, 874 AD
8th Rabi’ al-awwal, 260 AH
The young boy sat in the courtyard of the house his father’s father had built, waiting quietly for the funeral to start. It was an interior courtyard of generous size, with three sides being formed by the house itself. The monotony of the clay brick walls was broken by irregularly spaced, arched doorways and windows with colorful fabrics that looked bright and vibrant against the soft dullness of reddish clay. To the boy, the courtyard represented the world, for his only memory of ever being outside of them was last spring, when his uncle took him to the wadi north of the village to see the rushing waters of melted snow from northern mountains, and the pale bluish flowering of umbrella palms along the river’s shores. “Water is the source of life, Hujjat; see how it brings life to the papyrus that, in turn, Glory be to Allah, brings life to us,” his uncle had said.
Twelve months ago Hujjat had discovered that if he stood at the extreme southern portion of the courtyard and stood on his tiptoes, he could see the tip of the spiraling minaret of the Great Mosque over the top of the northern wall from which he’d hear the call to prayers five times daily; metronomic intervals of time marking his young life. It seemed to him like the minaret was growing; because with each succeeding month it magically rose a few millimeters more above the wall.
It’s two paragraphs because I divided the subject matter of the first draft, and added to it. Now, I’ll set that aside and move on to something else.
Sue wanted to see Shivering Sands creek, so I took her out there tonight, or rather, she took me, as I was in my usual, customary spot in the back seat.
I fell from this side, into the middle of the creek, then pulled myself to the embankment.
The apogee of the arc was about 14ft.
I am truly blessed. God is kind and merciful.