Posted by: jamesotis | July 13, 2008

Dancing Hornpipes

JamesOtis is a late bloomer. Not former, nor an undergarment. He simply preferred soccer to sex during his adolescent years and is coming out of the woodwork a good decade later. Bloomin’ late perhaps; not when it was scheduled to occur, but certainly when appropriate.

This leaves many of his friends and associates in something of a quandry. Sela Vie. At least it will keep them warm until I get the shelter set up. And they thought that quandries smelled bad on the outside!

Nevermind such beasts however. Mr. Otis is wending his way through this new landscape. But not all who wander are lost, nor disoriented. Jamie may not know North from naughty and ignores timetables since the trains never follow them anyway, yet any wandering wizard knows a hobbit-hole when he sees one. And won’t he come in for some tea? There are some lovely marmalade scones on the hearth and some facinating new books and maps.

Yet for all the books and maps and guides and compasses left behind by previous adventurers our wanderer is beginning to wonder why they were left behind by their owners. Could it be that such great explorers as Thoren Oakenshield himself were best equiped with their sense of direction alone? Are they not merely clueless after a lifetime of wandering but offer instead genuine advice: “Break your own trail”?

And Loir wonders why James “seems distant this morning.” He does not believe that one creates one’s own truth, nor that reality is subjective. And yet he grasps not the cognicience necessary to view the whole. Nevermind a smelly quandry, our Jamie has wandered into the cave of a deceptive and dicotic conundrum dragon.

Yet for what may JamesOtis pray? Only to know where boundaries exist ere they are crossed, and knowing when they have shifted. For the physical laws of this paralell universe, while formulaic, are composed mainly of variables. A cipher wrapped in an Enigma and yet still sent via Purple. As the map reads, when sunrise sets…; or in the immortal words of Kipling:

WHEN the cabin port-holes are dark and green

Because of the seas outside;

When the ship goes wop (with a wiggle between)

And the steward falls into the soup-tureen,

And the trunks begin to slide;

When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,

And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,

And you aren’t waked or washed or dressed,

Why, then you will know (if you haven’t guessed)


You’re ‘Fifty North and Forty West!’

(For those who don’t understand the above references, please write. I shall be imbedding explanatory links as I see fit and as requested.)



  1. If I hadn’t had half a lifetime to get used to your be-riddled vernacular, I’d be lost completely. But I’m not. So I offer:

    Just because you haven’t traveled this way before doesn’t mean that you are trail-blazing. I would caution you about breaking your own trail if mending it later does not appeal to you. Some bloomers don’t smell as good as they look. The Hobbit had a thing for his pocket handkerchief but if he’d known where his towel was he’d have known about 42 and had no need for a quandary (note the sp). Kipling would be tickled pink to be so appropriately quoted. Take care lest while trying to view the whole you fall in.

    You’re laughing but I will say this.
    ~A wise person does not look for, rather creates his own boundaries. ~ If you need help making effective application of that bit of advice, let me know. 🙂

    Enjoy your journey, make it something to look back fondly on (don’t do anything you wouldn’;t want to tell your children about one day), and remember to stop and smell the late-blooming compass rose from time to time.

    I love you like no one else ever will.

    PS: A Hobbit has no business carrying a hobit.

  2. Bilbo carried his Sting. Apparently Gollum wasn’t fond of listening either.
    As for the quandry it’s another Thurber reference, this to his Mythical Animals cartoon series.

    Thanks 4 understanding and loving like none other. I stand under.
    Love always,
    Murray Bost Henson

  3. […] Oh, and you may need a Babel fish to even remotely understand what you have already read. As you may have noted, even my older sister Marge has difficulty with my metaphor smoothies. […]

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