The other day, I was watching a program on Discovery Channel called "Species Journey," or something similar. It purported to show the saga of the development of Homo Sapiens, starting with the days of Lucy the australopithecus afarensis.
Anyway, the show was moving spritedly along, like most Discovery prehistory shows, giving the viewer a rather condensed and anthropomorphic scenario of early man's life. All went well until the program got to Homo Ergaster, an early tool-using hominid with distinctive human features. I noticed that a lot of the shots of female Ergasters had blurred-out areas over the breasts. What the hell! Have we retreated so far in this culture that we now have to protect children's sensitivities by blurring caveman "naughty parts"? What are we so afraid of, in this country? I remember seeing the program over a year ago and am reasonably sure the female breasts of the hirsute madonnas were displayed in all their simian glory during the first airing.
Who is Discovery trying to protect? The folks most likely to be offended by a cavewoman's knockers are the same ones who want to push creationism through the public schools. The chances of those religiosos watching a program on evolution are only slightly greater than zero. Even in the rather tame 1960s, when I was in elementary school, the only "live" boobs we got to see were in the National Geographic specials and between the gold-clad covers of the magazine. As I recall, none of us impressionable minds was traumatized from the occasional glimpse of flopping and flapping human anatomy. I don't think any of us grew up to lust after pygmy demoiselles or low-browed cave women.
The Decline and Fall of Western Civilization, Part II. Brought to you by Edward Gibbon (Ape).
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
Spam Poetry Once More
Siegfried's Anger
Siegfried angers meetings
Afghan Volvo edifices
Arabianize unforeseen submerging sadists
traveling salesgirls flail skirts
bridegrooms rename genies
spotters baseline Lucretia
clockers blankly query
Siegfried angers meetings
Afghan Volvo edifices
Arabianize unforeseen submerging sadists
traveling salesgirls flail skirts
bridegrooms rename genies
spotters baseline Lucretia
clockers blankly query
Friday, May 27, 2005
You LOST me!
I recorded and watched the season finale of "Lost" Wednesday night. One element I noticed: the significance of the number 23. That was one of Hurley's magic Lotto numbers; it's also one of the same sequence engraved on the side of that hatch, as well as the $23,ooo reward the bounty hunter collected for Kate, and the seating aisle of Walter and his dad. I think that's the most significant thing. The OTHERS collected Walter. Walter is one of the biggest keys to what's going on.
There has been speculation on various "Lost" boards that the mystery of the island might have something to do with mining. The ship, the Black Rock, seems to have been transporting slaves to mines. That's where the survivors found dynamite, pick axes and skeletons strapped in chains. Then, there are the holes like the one Locke almost fell down last night? Even the caves might have been used by miners. And therefore, the famous hatch could lead down to some mines deep under the island's surface.
Whatever the secret, the boy is a key. Perhaps THE key. He seems to have psychokinetic powers and a sixth sense. Paradoxically, he burned down the first raft his dad built, then he warned the group NOT to open that hatch. He seemed to be able to summon creatures from the Id, like the one that appeared to chase him in one episode.
The island's famous monster seems to be mechanical, at least in part. It makes a whirring, clickety sound as it drags Locke along. Why can't anyone see it clearly? All we see is some kind of dark smoke. Is the creature cloaked in some way?
Finally, why are characters named after philosophers? John Locke? Rousseau? Anyone else noticed this? Coincidence? I doubt it....
There has been speculation on various "Lost" boards that the mystery of the island might have something to do with mining. The ship, the Black Rock, seems to have been transporting slaves to mines. That's where the survivors found dynamite, pick axes and skeletons strapped in chains. Then, there are the holes like the one Locke almost fell down last night? Even the caves might have been used by miners. And therefore, the famous hatch could lead down to some mines deep under the island's surface.
Whatever the secret, the boy is a key. Perhaps THE key. He seems to have psychokinetic powers and a sixth sense. Paradoxically, he burned down the first raft his dad built, then he warned the group NOT to open that hatch. He seemed to be able to summon creatures from the Id, like the one that appeared to chase him in one episode.
The island's famous monster seems to be mechanical, at least in part. It makes a whirring, clickety sound as it drags Locke along. Why can't anyone see it clearly? All we see is some kind of dark smoke. Is the creature cloaked in some way?
Finally, why are characters named after philosophers? John Locke? Rousseau? Anyone else noticed this? Coincidence? I doubt it....
Thursday, May 26, 2005
A Fool and His Freedom Fries Soon Parted
I just noticed the following article, listed on Michael More's Web site:
http://www.michaelmoore.com/words/index.php?id=2770
It seems that Walter Jones, the Republican congressman from Alabama who led the "Freedom Fries" movement a couple of years ago now regrets his actions, and regrets even more the 16oo American lives wasted in the war so far. It's great to hear of a Republican who can admit his mistakes (unlike Bush's crowd). Maybe he even figured out that French fries were a Belgian invention anyway....
It's a hot and sunny day today. I believe I am coming down with Spring Fever. I'm going to go ahead and get that zoo membership next week. This is a great time of year to visit one of San Diego's finest and most historical attractions.
http://www.michaelmoore.com/words/index.php?id=2770
It seems that Walter Jones, the Republican congressman from Alabama who led the "Freedom Fries" movement a couple of years ago now regrets his actions, and regrets even more the 16oo American lives wasted in the war so far. It's great to hear of a Republican who can admit his mistakes (unlike Bush's crowd). Maybe he even figured out that French fries were a Belgian invention anyway....
It's a hot and sunny day today. I believe I am coming down with Spring Fever. I'm going to go ahead and get that zoo membership next week. This is a great time of year to visit one of San Diego's finest and most historical attractions.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
New Rules
Like Bill Maher, I've decided to invent some new rules of my own.
1. If you don't want to pet the monkey, quit feeding it bananas!
Call yourself my friend all you want. Really be a friend if you care to be. But don't go back and forth between gushy sentiment and outright hostility. Like Jesus once said, "Be either hot or cold, but if you are luke warm I will vomit you out of my mouth."
2. If you don't understand something I write, ask me about it!
I enjoy using different writing styles, even in e-mails to friends. You certainly may not comprehend what I am trying to achieve, but that doesn't give you free reign to condescend.
3. Don't do me any favors, please!
The handicapped boy can get along just fine on his own. Your offers to "do good" for me are sometimes apppreciated, but not normally needed or welcomed. If I want your help, I'll ask for it! Too many offers of help may make you feel like a saint, but it mostly shows me you have inner self-worth issues you should probably see a shrink about.
4. Don't lie!
Say what you mean and do what you say.
1. If you don't want to pet the monkey, quit feeding it bananas!
Call yourself my friend all you want. Really be a friend if you care to be. But don't go back and forth between gushy sentiment and outright hostility. Like Jesus once said, "Be either hot or cold, but if you are luke warm I will vomit you out of my mouth."
2. If you don't understand something I write, ask me about it!
I enjoy using different writing styles, even in e-mails to friends. You certainly may not comprehend what I am trying to achieve, but that doesn't give you free reign to condescend.
3. Don't do me any favors, please!
The handicapped boy can get along just fine on his own. Your offers to "do good" for me are sometimes apppreciated, but not normally needed or welcomed. If I want your help, I'll ask for it! Too many offers of help may make you feel like a saint, but it mostly shows me you have inner self-worth issues you should probably see a shrink about.
4. Don't lie!
Say what you mean and do what you say.
Monday, May 23, 2005
The First Sunday of the Rest of My Life
Yesterday, the van having at last been made rideable for me again, I went to Mass with my parents at St. Gregory's. We attended the 5:00 PM "youth Mass"--the same Mass coming home from which I encountered the wayward Volvo SUV a little more than a year ago. My parents offered to bypass the near-fatal intersection and drive to chuch via the freeway route, but I decided it was high time to put the past behind me.
The intersection did not appear much altered, although the problematic left-turn light had been moved to make its signal clearer to the people waiting at the light, attending their turn at San Diego Roulette. The weather was hot and the sun a radiant yellow-orange disc, glaring in the faces of westward travelers, just as a year ago. In any respect, farewell now to all the troubles to which the recently bygone twelve months have born bloody witness.
After Mass we drove to Pat and Oscar's in the mall at the west end of Mira Mesa and had dinner with my parents' Bible studies group. I ate the "Meal for One" dinner, with pepperoni-mushroom pizza, bread sticks, coke and Greek salad.
Coming up the sidewalk from the parking lot to the restaurant I met Nancy Holder, her husband and daughter. What a small town Mira Mesa is! It was great to meet someone I haven't seen in over a year. Nancy is the only really good creative writing teacher at UCSD Extension whose classes I have had the pleasure to enroll in.
Speaking of creative writing, last night was the season finale of Deadwood on HBO. The final episode had all the elements that have made the series successful, including Swearengen's swearing, double-dealing politicians, greedy miners, obstreprous Chinese, murder, mayhem and assorted mysteries. One thing took me by surprise. Swearengen at one point gives Trixie an evelope with money for the Widow Garrett's wedding present, "courtesy of her child's former tutor, in absentia." When last I saw the tutor, she was leaving Al's office, envelope in hand, followed by that bearded henchman of Swearengen's. Are we to assume the lady met with unfortunate circumstances upon her way out of town? More scruitinizing will be required before unraveling the intracacies of this plot twist.
The intersection did not appear much altered, although the problematic left-turn light had been moved to make its signal clearer to the people waiting at the light, attending their turn at San Diego Roulette. The weather was hot and the sun a radiant yellow-orange disc, glaring in the faces of westward travelers, just as a year ago. In any respect, farewell now to all the troubles to which the recently bygone twelve months have born bloody witness.
After Mass we drove to Pat and Oscar's in the mall at the west end of Mira Mesa and had dinner with my parents' Bible studies group. I ate the "Meal for One" dinner, with pepperoni-mushroom pizza, bread sticks, coke and Greek salad.
Coming up the sidewalk from the parking lot to the restaurant I met Nancy Holder, her husband and daughter. What a small town Mira Mesa is! It was great to meet someone I haven't seen in over a year. Nancy is the only really good creative writing teacher at UCSD Extension whose classes I have had the pleasure to enroll in.
Speaking of creative writing, last night was the season finale of Deadwood on HBO. The final episode had all the elements that have made the series successful, including Swearengen's swearing, double-dealing politicians, greedy miners, obstreprous Chinese, murder, mayhem and assorted mysteries. One thing took me by surprise. Swearengen at one point gives Trixie an evelope with money for the Widow Garrett's wedding present, "courtesy of her child's former tutor, in absentia." When last I saw the tutor, she was leaving Al's office, envelope in hand, followed by that bearded henchman of Swearengen's. Are we to assume the lady met with unfortunate circumstances upon her way out of town? More scruitinizing will be required before unraveling the intracacies of this plot twist.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Anakin, We Hardly Knew Ye
Today (all right, yesterday, really), I went with Joe and sat through a showing of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. Although I agree with most of the critics who praise the film as the best of the final three in this prequel series, I came away from the theater with a sad feeling: Is this all there is?
Tolkein, Lucas isn't. Hell, he's not even JK Rowling. The man cannot write a decent bit of dialog between two lovers. The scenes with Annakin and Padme fall flatter than yesterday's biscuits. "Anni, I just don't know you anymore," Padme tells Anakin in the climactic scene. This turgidity is compounded by Haden Christenson's lack of depth as an actor. Even the beauty and grace of Natalie Portman couldn't hold the love story and its tragedy together.
One critic remarked how the actor playing Palpatine (Emperor....) handles the role "like an old queen." The theme is the seduction of the young man by what the Church calls "the glamour of evil." This seduction is brought about by the "queen" Darth Sidious in mentoring Annakin. It made me think of two much better stories (and films) on the same subject: "Apt Pupil" by Stephen King, and "Gods and Monsters." In both those films an older man seduces, or attempts to seduce, one much younger. In "Apt Pupil," the glamor is Nazi violence. In "Gods and Monsters," it's the glories of Hollywood's faded golden decades.
All the above being stipulated, the movie is still a lot of fun and should be something that will "grow on" the viewer as time passes.
Tolkein, Lucas isn't. Hell, he's not even JK Rowling. The man cannot write a decent bit of dialog between two lovers. The scenes with Annakin and Padme fall flatter than yesterday's biscuits. "Anni, I just don't know you anymore," Padme tells Anakin in the climactic scene. This turgidity is compounded by Haden Christenson's lack of depth as an actor. Even the beauty and grace of Natalie Portman couldn't hold the love story and its tragedy together.
One critic remarked how the actor playing Palpatine (Emperor....) handles the role "like an old queen." The theme is the seduction of the young man by what the Church calls "the glamour of evil." This seduction is brought about by the "queen" Darth Sidious in mentoring Annakin. It made me think of two much better stories (and films) on the same subject: "Apt Pupil" by Stephen King, and "Gods and Monsters." In both those films an older man seduces, or attempts to seduce, one much younger. In "Apt Pupil," the glamor is Nazi violence. In "Gods and Monsters," it's the glories of Hollywood's faded golden decades.
All the above being stipulated, the movie is still a lot of fun and should be something that will "grow on" the viewer as time passes.
Friday, May 20, 2005
The Hammer of Pain
Looking back on
it all
now, I
find it odd to
experience
the compression
of time.
Although each and
every day
in the hospital
and bedridden
at home lingered with the
deliberate grace
of mildew creeping up the kitchen wall, when I
dwell on that
period from
the comfort of my
own desk
NOW, it's like the
events overtook
me years
ago, in a
far country.
Did it happen to
me or
to someone
else?
Was it a
play, a book, a
novel--
penned by an
author with an
unrecognizable nom de plume?
How does the mind
leave the body
And where does
it dwell when the
hammer of pain
smashes into
the iron avil
of time?
it all
now, I
find it odd to
experience
the compression
of time.
Although each and
every day
in the hospital
and bedridden
at home lingered with the
deliberate grace
of mildew creeping up the kitchen wall, when I
dwell on that
period from
the comfort of my
own desk
NOW, it's like the
events overtook
me years
ago, in a
far country.
Did it happen to
me or
to someone
else?
Was it a
play, a book, a
novel--
penned by an
author with an
unrecognizable nom de plume?
How does the mind
leave the body
And where does
it dwell when the
hammer of pain
smashes into
the iron avil
of time?
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Flush THIS!
No, I'm not going to discuss that whole Koran-flushing affair. What are people thinking? Newsweek? The Pentagon? The Administration? The nutballs in Pakistan and Afghanistan? Civilization is on a slippery slope: Put on your skis and enjoy the ride!
On a personal note, I got the tie-downs installed in the van and they seem to work fine. My first trip out (non-MTS) will be an adventure at the movie theatre, the "Mira Mesa Googleplex." I really want to see "Kingdom of Heaven."
I'm still waiting for word on the air conditioning repair. If the state wants to buy me a new compressor, I'm all for that!
On a personal note, I got the tie-downs installed in the van and they seem to work fine. My first trip out (non-MTS) will be an adventure at the movie theatre, the "Mira Mesa Googleplex." I really want to see "Kingdom of Heaven."
I'm still waiting for word on the air conditioning repair. If the state wants to buy me a new compressor, I'm all for that!
Saturday, May 14, 2005
More Found Poetry
Lindsay said leave tomorrow
Tastes like pool-water,
only
5 times worse.
No,
well, it's not a
small-ship expedition?
There are
plenty
of them where
the delectable
snack.
The bottom
line
here is pretty
simple.
The 6:30 a.m.
early risers' coffee
service
to the engineers:
Some unwanted
phrase making here--
Thomason--together
the letters form words:
"Steak,
passage of
a national flag
desecration law,
the invention of
the simple light bulb."
Much
of the day's account of
Lewis & Clark's
Corps
of Discovery
may sound silly,
but let
me tell you a real-life
example:
The popular, and
frequently displayed
symbol of the
nation.
Tastes like pool-water,
only
5 times worse.
No,
well, it's not a
small-ship expedition?
There are
plenty
of them where
the delectable
snack.
The bottom
line
here is pretty
simple.
The 6:30 a.m.
early risers' coffee
service
to the engineers:
Some unwanted
phrase making here--
Thomason--together
the letters form words:
"Steak,
passage of
a national flag
desecration law,
the invention of
the simple light bulb."
Much
of the day's account of
Lewis & Clark's
Corps
of Discovery
may sound silly,
but let
me tell you a real-life
example:
The popular, and
frequently displayed
symbol of the
nation.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Congratulations, Jan and Karine!
Today I attended the wedding of my friends Jan Amtrup and Karine Megerdoomian. The ceremony was held at Saint John Garabed Armenian Church on 30th Street in San Diego (North Park area, as best I could tell). Upon arriving at the church, I was rather surprised by its mundane exterior. It reminded me of the Linda Vista Methodist church I attended as a child; the appearance was that of a blocky, green and gray utility building that had been converted to ecclesiastical use. Somehow I always expect Orthodox churches to be elaborately decorated with gold, mosaics and icons.
I arrived at 10:40, which was quite early, for the service that was held at noon. So, I took a few moments to stroll up and down the sidewalk and check out the neighborhood. Other than a few quaint homes from the early 20th century, I didn't notice anything remarkable. Lots of storefronts with peeling paint, a barber shop, some kind of clinic. I would have traveled farther but the sidewalk a few yards from the church was pretty broken up. It is an old sidewalk, of course, but one wonders how much longer the city government can continue to allow the urban infrastructure to decay.
My friend Harold lives 5 blocks from the church, but with MTS Access it's difficult to arrange multiple trips in the same day. Plus, some of the "homeys" in the neighborhood didn't look too friendly. Anyway, Harold and his kids were off in Borrego Springs for the weekend, so visiting him was a moot point.
We got the air conditioning repair estimate for my van yesterday. Good thing the state is paying for it--I need a new compressor! On Wednesday, Harold will drive the van up to Poway to a shop called Golden Boy. This is the business that will install the manual tie-down straps in my van so I can tool around town as a passenger in the vehicle I once used to drive (until my accident one year ago tomorrow).
There are a lot of places I'd like to go, once I get the van back. I need new shoes, since my right foot is just too "lumpen" to accomodate my old black leather dress shoes. I currently have been wearing white tennis shoes, size 9W. My usual size is 7W. I want to get measured at an actual shoe store and see what I can fit into now.
I also need to take my glasses prescription to Costco and buy new sunglasses. My previous pair were trashed in the accident.
Then there's the zoo. As soon as I can, I'm renewing my membership and visiting the zoo and Wild Animal Park frequently.
Oh, back to the ceremony. The wedding was conducted almost entirely in Armenian. The non-Armenians among the attendees mostly tried to follow along a printed program and stand and sit at the appropriate times. The Orthodox ceremony is very rich, full of chanting. The bride and groom receive crowns at the end, marking them as "King" and "Queen" of their new family.
None of the traditional western wedding music was played by the organist. No Mendelssohn, no Purcell. And, praise be to God--no "Wedding Song!" If the Pope had any backbone he would banish the "Wedding Song" from any Catholic ceremony forthwith and henceforth!
That being said, the music was rather slow and almost funereal. Besides the organist, there was a cantor who sang or chanted accompaniment. Inside the sanctuary, seven chandeliers hung from the ceiling. I'll have to do some research to figure out what their significance is to the liturgy.
The priest was an older, white-haired man, with a kindly, patriarchal voice. He said all the expected things during the (thankfully English) homily. He did manage to get in two little "digs" at the happy couple, however. Once during his homily he mentioned how Jan and Karine had been "married singly" but now they are married "as God wants." Then at the end, he said "I have the pleasure to be the first to announce Mr. and Mrs Jan...." [whispers from the bride and groom]... "Willers Amtrup and Karine Megerdoomian." It seems the priest couldn't quite accustom himself to the notion that the bride and groom would preserve their own last names.
At present, the reception is going on at the Prado in Balboa Park. I would have loved to attend it, but I could not risk the crazy scheduling of MTS.
I arrived at 10:40, which was quite early, for the service that was held at noon. So, I took a few moments to stroll up and down the sidewalk and check out the neighborhood. Other than a few quaint homes from the early 20th century, I didn't notice anything remarkable. Lots of storefronts with peeling paint, a barber shop, some kind of clinic. I would have traveled farther but the sidewalk a few yards from the church was pretty broken up. It is an old sidewalk, of course, but one wonders how much longer the city government can continue to allow the urban infrastructure to decay.
My friend Harold lives 5 blocks from the church, but with MTS Access it's difficult to arrange multiple trips in the same day. Plus, some of the "homeys" in the neighborhood didn't look too friendly. Anyway, Harold and his kids were off in Borrego Springs for the weekend, so visiting him was a moot point.
We got the air conditioning repair estimate for my van yesterday. Good thing the state is paying for it--I need a new compressor! On Wednesday, Harold will drive the van up to Poway to a shop called Golden Boy. This is the business that will install the manual tie-down straps in my van so I can tool around town as a passenger in the vehicle I once used to drive (until my accident one year ago tomorrow).
There are a lot of places I'd like to go, once I get the van back. I need new shoes, since my right foot is just too "lumpen" to accomodate my old black leather dress shoes. I currently have been wearing white tennis shoes, size 9W. My usual size is 7W. I want to get measured at an actual shoe store and see what I can fit into now.
I also need to take my glasses prescription to Costco and buy new sunglasses. My previous pair were trashed in the accident.
Then there's the zoo. As soon as I can, I'm renewing my membership and visiting the zoo and Wild Animal Park frequently.
Oh, back to the ceremony. The wedding was conducted almost entirely in Armenian. The non-Armenians among the attendees mostly tried to follow along a printed program and stand and sit at the appropriate times. The Orthodox ceremony is very rich, full of chanting. The bride and groom receive crowns at the end, marking them as "King" and "Queen" of their new family.
None of the traditional western wedding music was played by the organist. No Mendelssohn, no Purcell. And, praise be to God--no "Wedding Song!" If the Pope had any backbone he would banish the "Wedding Song" from any Catholic ceremony forthwith and henceforth!
That being said, the music was rather slow and almost funereal. Besides the organist, there was a cantor who sang or chanted accompaniment. Inside the sanctuary, seven chandeliers hung from the ceiling. I'll have to do some research to figure out what their significance is to the liturgy.
The priest was an older, white-haired man, with a kindly, patriarchal voice. He said all the expected things during the (thankfully English) homily. He did manage to get in two little "digs" at the happy couple, however. Once during his homily he mentioned how Jan and Karine had been "married singly" but now they are married "as God wants." Then at the end, he said "I have the pleasure to be the first to announce Mr. and Mrs Jan...." [whispers from the bride and groom]... "Willers Amtrup and Karine Megerdoomian." It seems the priest couldn't quite accustom himself to the notion that the bride and groom would preserve their own last names.
At present, the reception is going on at the Prado in Balboa Park. I would have loved to attend it, but I could not risk the crazy scheduling of MTS.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Found Poetry of the Net
Ever notice those spam e-mails that contain all kinds of phrases, cobbled together? I get lots of them, and am certain the spammers must employ some kind of script to mangle random text they have gathered from somewhere, probably from some unsuspecting victims' Web pages.
Well, the other day I got one, and started reading it. While perusing the nonsense I was struck by an epiphany. This is almost poetic! So, you will find below a "poem" I carved out of spam and sewed into whole cloth. Enjoy!
Did Chrystal also sent you this?
Old, acquired by Lindblad
from the defunct Exploration--
they don't eat much--
but can't seem to
lose weight.
Rocky banks.
We visited the Nez Perce
Museum that
had eluded the founders of
flag protection then,
we dressed to the nines for
dinner every night.
Flapping in the ocean breeze,
how many of you have
day excursions or lectures?
If that wasn't sufficient,
most out of your life, you deserve.
In fact, dehydration
for bodybuilders, overweight
people wanting to lose
fat changes in structure
and a lot of changes in lifestyle:
the third or fourth read-through.
Fourthly, it sucks
Expeditions' Sea Lion -- which
we recently sampled
about the ship.
She was such a beautiful vessel,
with your knowledge of
arcane symbolism.
Assorted that you eat--
This is an interesting one!
Well, the other day I got one, and started reading it. While perusing the nonsense I was struck by an epiphany. This is almost poetic! So, you will find below a "poem" I carved out of spam and sewed into whole cloth. Enjoy!
Did Chrystal also sent you this?
Old, acquired by Lindblad
from the defunct Exploration--
they don't eat much--
but can't seem to
lose weight.
Rocky banks.
We visited the Nez Perce
Museum that
had eluded the founders of
flag protection then,
we dressed to the nines for
dinner every night.
Flapping in the ocean breeze,
how many of you have
day excursions or lectures?
If that wasn't sufficient,
most out of your life, you deserve.
In fact, dehydration
for bodybuilders, overweight
people wanting to lose
fat changes in structure
and a lot of changes in lifestyle:
the third or fourth read-through.
Fourthly, it sucks
Expeditions' Sea Lion -- which
we recently sampled
about the ship.
She was such a beautiful vessel,
with your knowledge of
arcane symbolism.
Assorted that you eat--
This is an interesting one!
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
News for the New Month
April, the cruelest month, with its sweet showers has passed into history.
My step-grandfather, whom we called "Pepere" also passed away last Thursday. He was in his late 80s and had lived a full life. Those comments never really satisfy, when engaging a panoply of someone's life. I remember him as a hard-working man who was deeply religious and cared for his family very much. When he and "Memere" lived up in Hawthorne, we used to drive up there (when I was a teenager) and spend the night. We enjoyed many hours playing cards--Euchre, Hearts, Spades, Blackjack. There were dice games too.
I was always struck by his French Canadian sense of humor, the folk songs played on the harmonica. Memere and Pepere had a very warm household, where family was always welcome. Lots of relatives would visit during the holidays. When they retired and moved to 29 Palms, their lives didn't slow down all that much. They owned a nice little three-bedroom home and the vacant lot next to it on Persia Avenue. The landscape was dry and dessicated. I could never quite figure out what former Vermonters saw in that desolation, but they fit right in with the people there and, I am certain, enjoyed the perpetually sunny weather.
For quite a while, they took care of their old French Canadian neighbor, Mr. Meunier. Mr. Meunier was pretty much an invalid and they helped him with eating and chores. Their acts of kindness no doubt kept that neighbor alive longer than he would have survived otherwise.
The funeral will be Wednesday. If you read this, please keep Roland Marcoux in your prayers.
I did get some good news today. The state finally got off its keister and approved the work on my van. This week I will get the AC inspected and see if I can get the tiedowns installed. As Mel Gibson once shouted.... "FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMMM!!!!"
My step-grandfather, whom we called "Pepere" also passed away last Thursday. He was in his late 80s and had lived a full life. Those comments never really satisfy, when engaging a panoply of someone's life. I remember him as a hard-working man who was deeply religious and cared for his family very much. When he and "Memere" lived up in Hawthorne, we used to drive up there (when I was a teenager) and spend the night. We enjoyed many hours playing cards--Euchre, Hearts, Spades, Blackjack. There were dice games too.
I was always struck by his French Canadian sense of humor, the folk songs played on the harmonica. Memere and Pepere had a very warm household, where family was always welcome. Lots of relatives would visit during the holidays. When they retired and moved to 29 Palms, their lives didn't slow down all that much. They owned a nice little three-bedroom home and the vacant lot next to it on Persia Avenue. The landscape was dry and dessicated. I could never quite figure out what former Vermonters saw in that desolation, but they fit right in with the people there and, I am certain, enjoyed the perpetually sunny weather.
For quite a while, they took care of their old French Canadian neighbor, Mr. Meunier. Mr. Meunier was pretty much an invalid and they helped him with eating and chores. Their acts of kindness no doubt kept that neighbor alive longer than he would have survived otherwise.
The funeral will be Wednesday. If you read this, please keep Roland Marcoux in your prayers.
I did get some good news today. The state finally got off its keister and approved the work on my van. This week I will get the AC inspected and see if I can get the tiedowns installed. As Mel Gibson once shouted.... "FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMMM!!!!"
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