AUTUMN AND DISCORD

 Well, I finally salvaged my blog - despite the fact that it isn't exactly the way I want it.

I just revised (improved) the format

I'm presently going through an enormous amount of personal problems that would probably kill a lesser person.

And I'm having health issues that are starting to scare the hell out of me.

The last thing I needed was to spend hours on this stupid blog, struggling with the nightmarish issues of the new format. I trudged through the quicksand and land mines of the treacherous "new and improved" blogscape and emerged unscathed - but also disgruntled.

I despise my "new" blog title format. And I can no longer post my own background images. It says to use images 1800x1600 or larger. All of my background images are larger than that, but when I post them they come out in tiny half-inch tiles. I marked the "do not tile" icon but it didn't help. So I'm stuck having to use the backgrounds provided by Blogger - which I hate.

Am I complaining too much? Hell, yes, but I don't care.

My initial "first day of autumn" post was thwarted by this blogger debacle. Summer ended abruptly this time around and September has yielded delightfully seasonal temperatures and several blessedly dry days.

It's been in the 60s during the day and 40s at night (that's Fahrenheit, for those of you in Oslo). This is such a glorious time of year but much too brief. The weeks are passing with breathtaking speed.

I had lots of photos to share, but will only dare to post a few on this new blog format. I'm still using my ancient camera because I'm not yet used to my new cell phone.

First day of autumn from the front porch

Goldenrods

and butterflies
 

ALL ABOUT BLOGGING

 
Did you ever try to change the format of your blog? I did (several times recently) but screwed everything up so badly that I quickly reverted to my old tried and true format.
Which looks cluttered and stuffy. And rather tired.

I hate having ads on blogs - yet I (reluctantly) plug my books and Zazzle stores. Where the heck else can I pimp them? 

I dislike the title of my blog, but I chose Lone Wolf Concerto only because it was similar to my old Texas blog Lone Star Concerto.
Heck, I live alone. In the woods. I'm not exactly a wolf. But concerto reflects my musical and poetic soul.

I don't have the popular "Followers" thingie on my blog, mainly because I think it's tacky. And misleading.
If you have 2,000 followers, people assume that your blog is great.
If you have 6 followers, they think it's crappy.
Truthfully, most followers never bother to read the blogs that they follow.

And the cult-like concept of followers is slightly disconcerting.
Rasputin had followers.
Charles Manson had followers. So did Jim Jones.....

I intensely dislike Comment Moderation, yet I have it on my blog. There's nothing worse than writing a comment on a blog and getting the rude message: Your comment will be published after approval (or something like that).
It makes me sound like judge and jury.

I have comment moderation to filter out the loonies, the haters, and spam.

Jon, it seems completely inconceivable that anyone could hate you.

Well, Kemosabe, let's just say that my intense charm doesn't captivate everyone.  

I always envy those bloggers who have no comment moderation at all. They write a post, and immediately (within 30 seconds) get 50 adoring comments, telling them how wonderful their post is.
That's never happened to me. Never.

And while I'm on a roll -
I always envy those bloggers who post a photo of themselves and immediately (within 20 seconds) get 50 adoring comments, saying how fantastic they look.

That's never happened to me. Never.
In twenty years of blogging (or so it seems) I've only gotten two (that I can remember) compliments on my photos. Both were from men....
......who obviously have good taste

Usually I'll get a semi-snide remark, like I've never really been attracted to blondes.

Relax, sweetheart. There's no chance that we're ever going to copulate. It's just a photo. 

When I had my Texas blog Lone Star Concerto, one of my readers told me she hated my profile photo. This was coming from a woman who looked like Marie Dressler's ugly sister. 

I'll pause here and give you time to Google Marie Dressler.  

In a rage over one of my political posts, some misguided moron called me a Nazi and accused me of looking like Donald Trump!

Hey, comrade - I'd rather look like Trump than Bernie Sanders.

But this is all beside the point. Assuming there ever was a point.... 

I absolutely can not tolerate people who are super-sensitive. Over the years I've lost an extraordinary amount of readers who disagreed with my opinions. Especially my political opinions. If you can't handle opinions that differ from your own, you shouldn't be reading blogs. 

I now (very reluctantly) keep my most controversial opinions to myself. But I'm always tempted to unleash them.....

I dislike the cluttered sidebar on my blog - - but the things that I put on it sometimes subtlety give hints as to my predilections. 
...quotes by Marcel Proust or Oscar Wilde....the Metropolitan Opera....
an American eagle with a flag (I'm sure that scares the crap out of some people)
"Proudly politically incorrect".

In reality, I don't adhere to any affiliations. I'm merely a free-thinker. And a realist.


You know what really bugs me about blogs? Microscopic fonts. There's nothing more annoying than trying to read a good post when you have to use reading glasses and a microscope. 
It's not that difficult to enlarge your damn font. It doesn't require a college degree.

My blog font is unnervingly large, because I want people to actually see what I write.
Sometimes.  
 
I often (very often) regret what I write. It sounds great while I'm writing it, but bombs Big Time when I reread it. My blog is nothing more than me thinking out loud. I'm not here to educate you or impress you. I don't purposely try to entertain you.

I'm just me being me. What you read is exactly who I am. Sometimes I'm funny. Sometimes I'm depressing. 

I try to be as honest as possible.
Lately I've been boring. 
I used to (jokingly) say that I'm the most fascinating person I know. Well, perhaps I wasn't joking. 
Perhaps....

You know what irritates the hell out of me? Excessively long blog posts.
Anybody who writes them should get a good swift kick in the ass.

Am I smiling here? Yes.

NOT AMUSED

 We all get occasional critical comments on our blogs. It's an inevitable part of being a blogger. We endure the sting and move on.

It is spooky and disconcerting, however, when our antagonists refuse to leave or let go. They derive immense pleasure from absorbing our posts and loathing every word. They devour the comments we receive, eagerly hoping that someone else will hate us as much as they do.

Even when they remain blessedly silent, we know they are always there, thanks to live traffic feed.

Most unnerving of all is that they haunt other blogs that we follow - just to see the comments we leave.

Our existence provides them with some bizarre psychological nourishment.

How do we rid ourselves of these foul entities, short of performing a blog exorcism?

Ignore? Tolerate?

My toleration level is very low. Why should I have to continuously weigh my words, change my blog settings, repeatedly delete? These are all hazards of the game, but I'm weary of it.

For now, I will either disable or modify all comments. And take a break from blogging.

One thing I will never do is apologize for being myself. I'm too unique, talented, interesting, cute, and irresistible.

I just threw that in because I know it will really piss you off.

DON'T ROCK THE BOAT

A CONVERSATION:
 
Jon, your blog has been doing incredibly well. You've posted some interesting things and haven't angered anyone in nearly two weeks. You've received frequent and amicable comments. You've even managed to snag a few more readers. I think you now have five instead of three!

I'm well aware of this good fortune, Kemo Sabe. And I'm extremely greatful for it. I have a lot more interesting, uncontroversial posts lined up to please my readers, but.....

Uh-oh - - I knew it! Here comes the inevitable "BUT". You're always full of unpleasant surprises, Jon. Among other things.

I have to go with my heart and follow my instincts......which usually takes me right down the toilet and into a sewer line straight to hell. But that's beside the point. One has to be true to oneself.

What have you planned to disrupt the tranquility this time, Jon?

I've written a review of the recent Democratic Convention! But this is more than a review. It's so dangerously explosive that I've been hesitant to post it.....for fear of inflicting permanent injuries.

To your readers?

No. To myself. I'm fully aware that 99 per cent of my readers are voting for Hillary - - and are gathering together with torches and pitchforks, ready to lynch the Evil White Man Trump.
They're also ready to lynch the Evil Hungarian Blogger.

You'd better not rock the boat, Jon. No need to upset easily offended readers.

A little sea sickness never hurt anyone, Kemo Sabe. They'll eventually recover after they barf.
Everyone knows that - deep down inside - I'm absolutely harmless. Not to mention sweet, charming, humorous, interesting. And cute.

Don't press your luck.
Now would be a perfect time for a change of subject. What has your life been like lately? What have you been up to? Besides irritating Democrats.

Would nouns be sufficient?

Yea. Shoot.
Not literally, of course.

Heat, humidity, rain, weeds, wasps, fruit flies, mosquitoes, cats, insomnia, anxiety. And blogging.

Blogging is a verb.

Are you sure? Did I mention rain and cats? Is acute anxiety a noun?

You have acute anxiety, Jon?

I've had anxiety since I was five. I get acute anxiety when I have to drive into town. I've been putting it off for three weeks - but the kitty litter is getting dangerously low.
I have two choices:
I can either drive into town tomorrow....
or give the cats ample doses of Pepto-Bismol and wait until Monday.

Why do I get the uneasy feeling that your cats are going to have pink tongues and whiskers this weekend?

Monday is always a good day for anxiety attacks.

What's the deal with the header picture on your blog, Jon?

My post is titled Don't Rock the Boat. Do you realize how difficult it is to find a picture to accompany that?

So, when are you going to post the dreaded Convention review?

Soon. Very soon.

Any advice or warnings for your readers?

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

MORE THAN YOU WANT TO HEAR

This post, I suppose, is an extension of my previous post Death Wish - - just an inane ramble of things nobody wants to hear.

There are times when I think my blog is boring and repetitive. The spark that I once had (or imagined I had) has diminished. Yet, I continue to write - out of habit and necessity. Necessity - because writing (for me) is an addiction.
I've thought about giving up blogging.
Probably impossible.
Or cutting down my posts to one a week. Some bloggers do this very successfully. I'm much more spontaneous than predictable. I write when the mood strikes me. Which is often. 

There's a danger in writing too much.  Readers grow weary of your unrelenting presence. Yet, there's even more danger in writing too infrequently. Readers will lose interest, assuming that you don't care.

I occasionally (often more than occasionally) repeat things that I've blogged about before. This is not the result of senility (hopefully). I deliberately do this for the benefit of my newer readers. 
And, hell, some good stories are worth repeating.

That's what I did in my previous post.

I write about my violent father and dysfunctional childhood mainly because it so severely affected the rest of my life. I can't ignore or escape the detrimental repercussions.

I don't want sympathy. I don't consider myself to be a noble survivor. My story is nothing special. We're all survivors in one way or another. Life sadistically kicks everyone in the ass and we all have our own private bloody crosses to bear.

I could easily write a book about my father. To say that he was complex would be a vast understatement. In many ways, he and I were alike - except that (thank God) I didn't inherit the insane violence. I am alarmingly complex and infuriatingly complicated, which sometimes frightens me.

It would be an impossibility to analyze my father in a blog post, but I'll mention a few things. He was definitely psychotic, paranoid, and probably quasi-sociopathic. When he went into a rage, the level of violence was beyond extreme and all sense of reason was abandoned. 

What caused his insanity? Inheritance. His type of behavior was prevalent among many Hungarians. I have my own definite opinions, which I won't go into here.

In "normal" times he could be kind, extremely generous, humorous. I hated those times most of all because they didn't last.

He never handled any situation in a mature manner, but rather reacted with  childlike tantrums. He had a terrifyingly intense desire to get even. Nothing was ever his fault. His mantra was "You made me do it" or "It's entirely your fault".
He never, ever said "I'm sorry".

The violent rages were inevitable yet unpredictable. He'd explode in an instant. The anger was never brief. His rampages could last for days, even weeks. And when he finally returned to "normal" it was as though nothing had ever happened. He chose to remember nothing.

What would spark my father's rage? The smallest things imaginable would set him off. When I was fourteen, I got in his way while he was working in the yard. He grabbed me and stomped on my bare feet until they bled (he was wearing heavy work boots). Then he pummeled me with his fists and squeezed me so tightly in a vicious bear hug that two of my ribs were fractured.

Only one small example of hundreds. Many incidents were far worse.
I think the hate that I harbored is understandable - - a hate that nearly consumed me.

I'll regret posting this. I've said far too much. All of it is past history. My father died in 2005. He mellowed slightly in his old age, and I think he had remorse.
I've forgiven him. I no longer have hate. Yet, it's impossible to forget.....

ICY INTERLUDE AND BLOGGING

 sunset this evening

It's long after midnight on an icy night - hence the post title. The expected snow never materialized, but there were heavy flurries and plenty of ice. Tonight it is 12 degrees (Fahrenheit). Two nights ago it was 7. These frigid temperatures compel me to stay up and monitor the water pipes. I don't want them to freeze and burst like they did last winter.

Interlude?
This is a brief respite from my previous post The Long Interview - Part One. Judging by the tepid response it was undoubtedly too long. Some people might have thought it was boring and self-serving. I tend to vehemently disagree, and I might post the rest of the interview just for spite (sarcastic smile).

Most bloggers are very reluctant to reveal personal things about themselves. They toss out a tidbit now and then, but prefer to leave readers in the shadowy netherworld of uncertainty (perhaps they are much wiser than myself). I usually wear my heart (yes, I have one) on my proverbial sleeve. I felt that rehashing the interview would illuminate some of my shadows.

One of my long-time readers, Donna, recently mentioned that she misses my rants about my neighbors (and other annoying people I endured when I lived in Texas). Actually, I miss those rants, too. I used to turn my personal misery into enjoyable reading.

Way out here in the peace and privacy of the wilderness, I admittedly don't have many interesting things to tell. I've lately been reduced to writing about my cats and the weather. Not very appealing subjects, I'll admit.

I used to have a fantastically adventurous life. I figured that re-posting the interview about myself would help expunge the mundane blandness of my present situation. Against my better judgment, I'm going to put the rest of the interview in my next post.

As for tonight: it's moonless, quiet, and bitterly cold. My trio of cats are asleep. I'm drinking a cup of coffee and feeling thankful that the pipes didn't freeze - - yet.

my cat Scratch yesterday, enjoying a patch of sunshine

 

Here's the link to my other blog
(holy crap, why would he have two??)

Cabinet of Curious Treasures