The First One Hundred Days

This is the 100th. day I have been publishing this website and the 100th. day of the blog.

OK, it is not like The 100 Days, the period when Napoleon returned from exile before he was defeated at the Battle of Waterloo but that ended in failure, for him anyway.

So this has been no Waterloo but it has been a battle – against illness, but enough of that, and against that urge not to keep it going every day, seven days a week.

I never thought I would actually manage to write a piece every day but here we are, 100 consecutive blogs. What is the next target?

Maybe I am obsessive. OK, I am obsessive.

The blogs have helped me recover from my brain haemorrhage for sure but before I was “struck down,” I had just finished another writing challenge, 30 short stories in 30 days – actually it was 32.

It is probably something to do with some mental disorder which long pre-dates my brain haemorrhage, I do like that mix of the improbable and the orderly. Also, for someone who is numerically challenged, I can get obsessive about scores, totals and percentages.

My most embarrassing obsession is counting up, on my fingers, the number of letters in certain sentences that people say. There is a crazy interest somewhere at the back of my head, to see if the sentence would add up to ten, or if not, 15 or 20 digits. Why I have no idea but I have done it since I was a child.

So maybe this 100 Days is just like all of those other obsessions. If it is forgive me but carry on reading.

As if there wasn’t enough excitement about reaching the first 100, my small cherry tree choose today to open its first flower. That Zen cherry blossom party is now a double celebration so raise a glass everyone, wherever you are.

Oh, by the way, I have just started a new challenge.

I am trying to write a daily poem to publish on here before adding it to the poetry section above. This is the third in three days – hope you don’t think that is obsessive.

Oh yes, and while I am on, here is a link to another of my canine friends. If you like theatre and get to London without too much effort, have a look at this:

www.dogatecake.co.uk

Overtime

Overworking .

Overtired,
We overact.

Our feelings, overdone,
Our nerves, overloaded,
Our tempers overheat.

You overreact.
Your hand, you overplay,
Your emotions overflow
And you throw me overboard.

OK, my comeuppance was overdue,
It was an oversight.
I too often overlook
Your power to overwhelm
The men you overuse.

You and I both overreach.
We both can overdo
Ambitions and overshoot
Each other, missing the overview.

It is as if our love is overpriced.
A game where lust is overspent,
Passion overgrown.

It can be overcome
It can be overhauled

Over time.

4 Comments

  1. I do enjoy my daily fix of WolfieWolfgang. I wonder if some new obsession will take you over eventually. Well, I shall enjoy it while it lasts. I am off for a couple of weeks with no internet access but shall look forward to checking out your poems when I get back.

  2. Thanks Bill,

    I am really pleased to have you as a loyal reader.

    If other obsessions do come along and I am afraid they are bound too, I will not give up this blog, I so enjoy writing it.

    I am envious of your trip to remote regions though. Have a good time and thanks for your kind remarks.

  3. Congratulations, man. Your obsessions are my pleasure. And yours too, mostly, I hope.

  4. Anatole,

    Thanks, man.

    Your comments make you part of the obsession.

    Here’s to the next 100 days – and beyond.

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