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The Daughter beats me at chess
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 760
It was about time, really, the boy, he's never overreached, but the daughter isn't shy.
She's been losing - she's won at Scrabble, until I started enforcing the rules - same for me as her, leveled the playing field, as it were, that wasn't a popular call...
Chess, well, I've never been a great player but with the kids I've taken it for granted I could not pay attention, play sloppy and worse, and recover from the worst of plays.
The daughter's proved otherwise. A few moves in...a few moves, I recognize them after playing them, first a bishop, then a knight, then a queen, all left unguarded, and she's quick to pounce on them. I'm inattentive at best. It's good this, you don't want to beat your kids forever, you want them to be better than you, but still, maybe I have to slow down a bit, pay more attention, up the ante - I don't want to be seen as TOO easy...
Lone Wolf and Cub
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 756
Also known as "The Baby Cart Series" I've watched these a few times. On my own, then shared them with the boy, now it's the daughter's turn.
I love these movies. 6 in total: Set in Japan about a Samurai turned Assassin - Ogami Ittō - who must bide his time wandering the countryside with his son Daigorō awaiting to avenge himself upon the corrupt Shogunate that have forced him into these circumstances, it's the inspiration behind a lot of Tarantino's films.
Clutter
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1217
It's impossible, paralyzing, this clutter. I'm paring down, selling shit off, not nearly fast enough, I want results now. NOW GODDAMN IT NOW!!!
I should be careful what I wish for or there will be a fire...
Boxes, stuff listed for sale, no writing now for ? weeks, months, longer even, the table I no sooner bought was filled with shit, clutter, and so I cleaned it off and it's a much healthier space. Space to work. Space to stare across the way at a brick wall and think...
Unpack a couple of boxes. A few suitcases. I have paper, pens, art-supplies, that predicate me living for ever if ever I hope to use them all. I want for nothing. Here, in the living room, the other table, there are still a couple dozen unpacked boxes, lots to sell, lots to give away, mail off as surprises to randoms who've long forgotten me, lots to do, and I have to resign myself to "slowly...slowly". Maybe, by the time I go to leave, I'll be ready. Or maybe, by the time I'm ready, I can leave. One way or the other I'm working...
Notebooks, notebooks, read through - transcribe, tear up pages, you have to tear them up or the army of homeless that live in the alley will be reading my personal shit, Xmas cards, letters, tear it all up, tear it up.
The shit that sells - a wood block - a runaway best seller, this is the ad that everyone is clicking on, and no fault of the copy, that's it, as described, wood block, makes noise, everyone wants one, 35 visits in 12 hours, crazy, the half-witted child's acceptance into Band, dozens of views, completely random, posting items the things I gauge least likely sell, the most likely sit on the shelf. If there's a lesson here it's list it all - you never know what people will buy.
It feels good to let it go.
Upward Mobility in Calgary
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 947
Spotted this in a crack-alley near my apartment. The ladder of success. Is it to get in or out?
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