Stream of Consciousness Wednesday

I know that it’s not Saturday, when Linda G. Hill posts her Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. But as you’ll read below, I wrote some stream of consciousness thoughts as I was waiting for a new battery to be installed in my iPhone. Here is what I wrote:

I’m sitting in my car outside of an cellphone repair store having the battery in my iPhone replaced. Remember the good old days when you could just open up the back of your cellphone, pull out the old battery and replace it with a brand new one? Well, those days are long gone. Now you need to go to a store that specializes in repairing cellphones just to replace a worn battery. They said it would take about an hour. Sheesh!

But I had no choice, really. The battery on my iPhone was dropping below a 20% charge by early afternoon each day. Given that I spend much of my waking time on my iPhone, that was unacceptable. So it was either spending more than a grand to buy a new iPhone or going to a shop that can install a new battery in an iPhone and having them replace the old battery with a new one for about 10% of the cost of a new iPhone. No brainer, right?

Right now I’m composing this post on an old iPod. Not an old iPhone or an old iPad, but an old iPod. Remember those? I’m offline because my iPod has no cellular capabilities and there’s no WiFi connection in this car or anywhere near where I’m sitting.

I really feel isolated. I can’t even call or text my wife to let her know that it will take an hour for them to crack open my iPhone, remove the old battery, and replace it with a new one! And I can’t access to draft this post because, again, no access to the internet. No newsfeed, no Google. Just me, sitting in my car tapping away at the virtual keypad on my ancient iPod!

The good news, though, is that I was able to pair my iPod via Bluetooth to my car’s sound system, so I can serenade myself with my vast collections of songs in iTunes on my iPod.

Only a half hour left. I hope you don’t mind helping me kill time until my new battery has been instaled and I can get my iPhone back with its brand new battery. I can’t wait.

On an entirely different note, today is Sadje’s birthday. She’s 61. So why don’t you stop by and wish her a happy birthday? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.

15 minutes left. You know what? I’m going to go inside and sit in the lobby of that repair shop. I bet they have WiFi there.

Post script

My iPhone was done, new battery installed, early. Yay. And it seems to be working fine. It’s 1:50 pm and I’ve still got 75% of battery life left.

But I did notice one thing that gives me pause. This notice keeps popping up on my iPhone’s screen:

Uh oh. Did I make a mistake?

SoCS — Monkey Business

787C7029-85E3-4A94-9535-79EFB7ED75CF“I need some money,” Dick said. “What would you say would be a fair monetary value for the services I rendered?”

“What services are they that you think you rendered?” Ed asked in his typical monkish monotone.

“You sound sanctimonious to me,” Dick responded. “The last thing I need from you is some kind of sermon.”

“Fair enough,” said Ed. “Go ahead with your demonstration.”

“Among other things,” Dick said, “I have spent months training these common monkeys to shell almonds and to make lemonade from lemons.”

“As monotonous as I find your monologue, I have monitored your progress and I am experiencing a certain sense of harmony,” Ed said. “Therefore, I have summoned my jeweler and asked him to fetch a diamond suitable for monarchs and monsters alike.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Dick said. “That will be a big help with respect to my alimony payments.”

“Good,” said Ed. “Now please join me for dinner tonight. We’re serving salmon and monkfish. And perhaps for dessert you’d like two scoops of either cinnamon or spumone ice cream.”

“That would be monumental,” said Dick.

This bit of silliness wash written for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. The challenge was to use the letters “mon” in a word or use it as a word by itself.

A Man of Many Words


I am a contradiction.

In the real world, I’m something of an introvert. In social situations, I tend to stumble and bumble may way through conversations. I listen to the discussions going on around me. Sometimes I may react to what people are saying. But only occasionally will I contribute to the dialogue.

I am not someone who seeks to be the center of attention or who tries to draw others to his side while leading lively discussions on engaging topics. I’m more of an observer than an active participant. One might characterize me as a man of few words.

Contrast that with how I am when sitting at my desk tapping away at my keyboard. There, I am a god, the ruler of my universe, reaching out to my minions and waxing on about nature, life, and society with myriad words expressing profound wisdom and unparalleled wit.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit over the top.

What I’m really saying is that, when it comes to the written word, I’m a man of many — not few — words. Maybe even too many words. That’s because brevity of the written word goes against the grain of the way I’ve been writing all of my life.

Sure, I over-explain things and I often use more words than may be necessary to make my point. But I’ve always felt that my style of writing, verbose though it may occasionally be, adds color and life to what I write, and demonstrates that I’m an intelligent and articulate writer with an excellent command of the language.

And perhaps ― just perhaps ― that I am someone with a slightly exaggerated sense of self-appreciation.

The late Al Neuharth, founder of, and columnist for, USA Today, wrote that “long-winded stuff loses the attention of listeners and readers.” He quoted FDR, Henry David Thoreau, and Mark Twain, all of whom made comments about how difficult it is to be concise in one’s writing. Twain, for example, said, “If I had more time, I’d write shorter.”

I find it much easier to write in a stream of consciousness manner than it is to be concise. I usually start out writing whatever pops into my head about a subject and then try to edit that free-flow of words into something cohesive. But that process is often more a matter of moving things around than actually cutting out words.

Removing what some might consider to be unnecessary words from my writing is difficult for me because everything I write is, in my humble opinion, germane to the subject matter. Thus, nothing is unnecessary. For me, removing words, phrases, and especially entire sentences is akin to asking a mother to choose which child she’s willing to edit out of her family.

So you see, while I consider myself to be a writer who has a way with words, what I should be striving to be is a writer who knows how to do away with words.

Today’s one-word daily prompt is bumble.