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This post has been a long time coming.
I was very proud to be a progressive blogger, especially in the run-up to the 2008 election, where I did my part here...and through the blogosphere, helping to elect someone that I thought would be a great president.
While I cannot imagine a world where Sarah Palin would be a heartbeat away from the presidency, I was clearly wrong in assuming that Barack Obama was the man who he said he was.
On almost every issue, Obama has governed like a moderate Republican.
I have perceived him to be horrendous on everything from his choice of finance leaders, torture, wiretapping, glbt issues (he threw the community under the bus), health care reform (mia) and now, Afghanistan.
This is not the man I voted for and I am equally appalled at the disgrace that passes for the Democratic party these days. The GOP is as loathsome as ever, but the Dems have been so awful in throwing away their majority status, and pandering to lobbyists and corporatists, that they are going to be handing the majority right back to them.
I no longer blanketly support the Democratic party, but, rather, individual progressive candidates...wherever they can be found.
As for Obama, I can no longer even listen to the sound of his voice without cringing.
Back to my roots
From 1993 to 2003, well before folks were regularly blogging, I sent out a well-read and well-respected glbt newsfeed, via e-mail, on the net. It was begun years before the days of the web. Because glbt issues have been ignored by both parties, I am going back to my roots.
For the past couple of months, I have vigorously been posting on glbt issues as my earlier online presence, leliorisen. That is where I am putting my blogging energy into.
If need be, I will focus on generic issues, but my main coverage area will be glbt issues. In America, gays are second-class citizens. I will do all in my power to see that change.
I am sorry for those that may be disappointed by the move, but I have to blog where my passion lies, and I have no will to defend anything that Obama does these days.
I do want to make things better for my gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters.
I am suspending activity on this blog officially, though I will keep it up here for those who would like to read some of my older posts, and, in case I have a reason to resurrect this site in the future.
Please visit my new blog at http://leliorisen.blogspot.com or by clicking here.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
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Saturday, September 27, 2014
Twenty years and so tired of life
Today is the 20th anniversary of the release of my favorite album of all time. There are objective measures of things like rhythm, harmony, and melody, but much of what constitutes musical preference is subjective, and much of it is a consequence of time and place. People tend to most favor music corresponding to their own early adolescence, for instance. And so it is with UTTAD. It's difficult to try and articulate how much this piece of art has helped me psychologically, emotionally, and philosophically over the years, but here we go.
I think there's a convincing case to be made that UTTAD has a timelessness that protects it against being immediately identifiable as an undistinguished piece of early-nineties rock fusion. The band outlasted most of its cohorts, and of those still around like Radiohead, Phish, and Pearl Jam, DMB is today the biggest in terms of album (an almost anachronistic measure) and ticket sales (which they've dominated for the past decade and a half). A lot of the sound from that period has more-or-less been replicated. For better or worse--and we know where I stand--DMB has not.
The following is to serve as a personal time capsule with very limited general appeal, so if the subject matter is off your radar, please do save your time.
The Best of What's Around -- When life provides lemons, make lemonade. Events beyond your control shouldn't hijack your mood. Things won't always go as planned, and that's for the better as often as not ("if you hold on tight to what you think is your thing you may find you're missing all the rest"). In any case, counterfactuals are by their very nature inevitably hazy and speculative, so why fret? The quality of your experiences are determined more by the way you approach them and the people you approach them with than are the things that physically transpire at the time said experiences occur.
Asked to offer the best non-verbal description of audible joy in a single minute, I could offer nothing other than the last 60 seconds of this song. I am simply incapable of listening to it without uplift.
What Would You Say -- Two themes. Firstly, we want to feel as though we comprehend the world around us. In some sense we do, and now more than ever before, although we've had an inkling for a long time ("because of original sin"). But in the details, we can't even come remotely close. It's as overwhelming as seeing our place in the universe is ("in the morning's rise a lifetime's passed me by").
Secondly, the unexamined life isn't worth living ("there's nobody in here; look in the mirror my friend"). Ask the titular question. Work on informing the answer by examining every source you're able to; personal, professional, scholarly, existential, empirical or otherwise.
The two strands seem contradictory at first blush. They're not. Realize, instead, that you're not going to get everything right, not by a long shot. But embarking on that journey is the very essence of the human experience. It's ultimately tragic ("everyone goes in the end"), sure. Again, though, look at yourself in relation to the universe. C'est la vie.
Satellite -- Because of After Her, it's tempting for the lyrics to come as a mere afterthought. That's a mistake. The Satellite lyrics are far better than After Her's are. Experience is fleeting and the irresistible, incorrigible passage of time renders every moment simultaneously both unique in the specifics and trivial in the grander scheme.
How to reconcile yourself to this? Don't lose your playfulness. If you expect to find happiness in technological novelty ("like a diamond in the sky"), you're bound to be disappointed ("as I spend these hours five senses reeling, I laugh about this weatherman's satellite eyes"). If the contentment you're aspiring for exists in an end game you hope to arrive at sometime in the indefinite future, spoiler alert--you'll never get there. Like a good video game or movie, the magic is in the journey. It's not in the ending, which is often accompanied by feelings of melancholy at it all being over.
Rhyme and Reason -- Sister to Digging a Ditch and cousin of Too Much, we are confronting the fact that desires always outpace our abilities to fulfill them. It's as relevant to immediate desires for things like a drug-induced high as it is for loftier ambitions like self actualization. It is part of the human condition ("Until I'm six feet underground"). Like a dog racing greyhound chasing an electronic bunny, there are times when you'll feel relatively closer to the ultimate prize; other times everything will seem impossibly far away. Whatever the distance, you'll never close it entirely. As soon as you think you have, new desires start cropping up. If I get that job, that girl, that gadget, I'll finally have everything I've ever wanted, won't I? No, you won't, not even if you're a rock star like Dave Matthews.
Typical Situation -- Probably the band's most direct engagement with the problem of modernity. You are able to maintain meaningful social bonds with roughly 150 people. When the number of people you interact with exceeds that, relationships become thin, fragmented, and shallow. Contemporary Westerners deal with far, far greater numbers of people than that on a regular basis.
There is presumably a similar dynamic at work when it comes to things. That blanket you've had since you were a baby means something to you. The attachment is deep and visceral. That comforter you got from Target last week doesn't remotely compare even though it's objectively newer, warmer, and more fashionable. To the contrary, it has a negative value attached to it ("too many choices") because it takes nothing to obtain, fosters no significant attachment or connection, and will get thrown out as unceremoniously as it came in.
The door leads to the Nothing ("it all comes down to nothing"--heh, not quite literally, though it works well enough here), but look around and you'll quickly notice everyone is traipsing towards it ("keep the big door open, everyone will come around"), lemming-like, nonetheless. What's your alternative, Jack Donovan?
Dancing Nancies -- No, you could not have been anyone other than who you are. Dwelling on the question is only tempting regret and insecurity (and dizziness!). Stress leads to cortisol production. Cortisol leads to inflammation. And, quite rarely for a topic as disputed and controversial as human health, inflammation is almost universally agreed to be a bad thing. You are who you are. There is no going back in time. There is no hacking your genetic code (at least not yet). Own it. It's the only option open to you save becoming a paralyzed human vegetable ("shoes untied, tongue-gaping stare"), and you don't want that.
Ants Marching -- Routine is comfort. Comfort is, well, comforting. It's difficult to do things that make you uncomfortable. Specifically at issue is approach anxiety ("we look at each other, wondering what the other is thinking, but we never say a thing, and these crimes between us grow deeper"), but it speaks to a lot more than just that. Hope isn't lost, though. Let that urge, that attraction, to whatever it is you want to go after, compel and then propel you into pursuing it. The first step is always the hardest one to take. Once it's been taken, though, you'll find walking is easy, natural, and a lot of fun ("lights down, you up and die").
Lover Lay Down -- The album's only love song is also it's most straightforward. I lost my virginity to it (or to Jimi Thing, depending on what specific point in the act it is considered to have gone away).
Jimi Thing -- Dave's Jimi Thing might be your Dave Thing. It certainly is mine. Know thyself. The Delphic maxim echoes through eternity, as sagacious as ever. Figure out what works for you. What motivates, inspires, invigorates, and comforts you. The ritual of morning coffee, the good feeling and self confidence exercise brings, the pleasure that figuring out puzzling details of a game elicits, whatever. Look to others for suggestions, but not for rote answers. Don't be afraid to explain why the things that work for you work for you. If others don't understand it, it's no sweat of your back.
Warehouse -- This is an epic undertaking. Like a Shakespearean play (I'm told), it's better the tenth time you read it than the first time through. It took me years to crack the code. When I finally had the epiphany, it almost brought me to tears.
The warehouse is a metaphor for the body. The song is written from the perspective of a man on his deathbed. The passion intro sets the scene. As his consciousness begins to slip away and the violin picks up, we enter a sort of extended flashback as he recalls what he's gleaned about living the good life from having now reached the conclusion of his own.
Stay curious, stay playful. Have fun with convention and superstition, but don't take life too seriously. It's short on the metaphysical speculation ("bags packed on a plane, hopefully to heaven"). And for the better--this is advice for those who are in the midst of living, not for those who have already lived. Curiously, just as you start to come into your own as an adult, you'll start to realize how ordinarily human you are ("Becoming one in a million, slip into the crowd, this question I found a gap in the sidewalk"). It's a kind of Socratic Paradox. You're going to think you have things figured out and then something new will come and threaten the integrity of the equation you spent so much sweat and tears figuring out ("I had a clue, now it's gone forever"). The song is a gold mine. It's probably the one that resonates with me at the deepest level.
Pay for What You Get -- A clever inversion of getting what you pay for, this is a mature--dare I say more nuanced--understanding of the way the real world works than the get-what-you-pay-for aphorism suggests. Another cliche, that having involuntarily lost merely frees up room for other things, ("have you heard a bird in hand is much better than any number free to wander") is discarded for the saccharine pseudo succor that it is.
On more than one occasion in the aftermath of a breakup, I recall going from here to Nancies to Satellite and finally to Best of What's Around, which I'd then play on repeat 5-10 times through.
#34 -- The iteration of the song I latched onto was devoid of lyrics. Yet the ambiance it creates is a fitting tribute to what DMB's music in general and UTTAD in particular has meant to me from my earliest pubescence all the way through to the present. It's my sanctuary, an always welcoming, refreshing refuge for a wary wayfarer muddling through life the best he can.
4 comments:
I'm clearly not as big a DMB fan but this brought back a memory. I went to school in Virginia in the early to mid 90s where they were still sort of underground playing the local college festivals and fraternities all over the mid-Atlantic etc. Used to see them live all the time without really trying.
I can still recall when "What Would You Say" broke and the surreal experience of hearing that song on the radio when I was home in Colorado. I remember thinking holy crap, those local dudes made it big. It was like the secret was out. I will say it was well-deserved because they'd worked their asses off in those early years.
Great album, though I prefer Crash and BTCS. UTAD has some amazing songs, but isn't as consistent as I'd like, with several tracks (as you said) being skippable. For me, a masterpiece album has to work as a cohesive whole with only a few (if any) missteps or blunders. Crash comes the closest in my mind, with only a couple of mediocre tracks. Regardless, it doesn't get much better than The Best of What's Around, Ants Marching, and Warehouse.
Not to criticize a band I really like, but to have continued relevance to me, a band has to keep evolving and putting out solid new music. Sadly, DMB just hasn't done that post-1990s. They have been getting by almost exclusively on their first decade or so of existence. The post-90s material ranges from solid (Busted Stuff), to decent (Big Whiskey/Away from the World) to abysmal, reputation-destroying dreck (Stand Up).
Still, those first three albums are so good that the band will continue to be one of my favorites, regardless of how long they stick around. Really enjoyed reading your analysis of the album. You pointed out a lot of lyrical aspects I had never caught onto.
- Audacious Epigone said...
Do you remember if you ever saw them play at Trax? The sound will probably be nostalgically familiar if you didn't.
UTTAD/Crash/BTCS are considered the Big Three by nancies. I've never met a serious fan who doesn't count one of them as his favorite band album. My guess is the plurality take BTCS, then Crash, then UTTAD. I'm not a huge fan of the electric guitar and the mostly personal, introspective nature of UTTAD is what I cherish most from Dave's songwriting (as opposed to songs like Last Stop from BTCS or Cry Freedom from Crash).
Also, while my two favorites, #41 and Two Step, are from Crash, for me UTTAD is the most consistently enjoyable album from start to finish. R&R and LLD are the only two I'll generally skip.
DMB has tried to keep evolving, it just hasn't been in a direction I'd prefer. They've moved away from the jazz-fusion style to more of a rock focus. Tim's one hell of a talent, but his contribution sets the overall direction of the sound in a way that is overwhelming, detrimentally so in my view. I don't like Tim as a permanent feature.
Peak creativity was in the mid-nineties, peak live performance in the early 2000s when it was the original five and Butch Taylor.
- Audacious Epigone said...
...sound will probably be nostalgically familiar even if you didn't...

subset: commoncrawl


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But then today I ran across a few notes I'd written before I was pregnant (when I was trying to keep track of how I felt) and remembered the strange symptoms I experienced during the three months before getting pregnant. I even went to the doctor and had blood tests taken (which of course came back normal).
Here were my symptoms that came and went throughout the months:
- dizzy
- weak
- nauseous
- extremely thirsty
Any thoughts, suggestions, ideas?


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I've been wanting to write this post for a few weeks now, but I've had a hard time putting together my thoughts and feelings about it all.... the transition from deployment life to homecoming and now to normal life.
Transitions are hard and there is always a giant unknown regarding the outcome. Will we come out of this transition stronger, weaker, tougher, sadder, exhausted, hopeless, renewed or broken? I don't know of any serviceman or military spouse who can say in the middle of a deployment how things will turn out 3, 6 or 9 months after the homecoming. The homecoming is awesome, but the days following a homecoming don't shine a truthful light to how life will be once things settles and routines get rolling.
I've talked pretty openly about our struggles in 2007 when Joel came home from Iraq. Take a peek at part one and part two to read more about that. So I knew how hard life has been for us post-deployment. My hope was that we learned valuable lessons from that experience and that we wouldn't follow a similar path. I also knew since I spoke about our struggles so honestly that those around us would be keeping a closer eye on us this time around and that we would have a better support system and accountability around us.
Well, all those things are true. Joel and I talked openly weeks leading up to his trip home about what his homecoming may and may not be. We were absolutely dedicated to keeping our marriage strong and focusing on the health of our family. We weren't going to pick each other apart for the changes that occurred over his 7-month deployment. We were dedicated to being patient, honest, loving and encouraging. We knew we'd have to give each other room and ease into our "normal" married life.
So, over the past two months, I've gotten countless emails and calls wondering how we were adjusting. That has meant a lot to us. It means a lot to know that so many people who love us, understand our past better and are willing to be there with us, no matter how good or bad things are.
Every time someone has asked how things have been, one word always comes to mind - peaceful. Things have truly been peaceful in our relationship. We are choosing not to bicker, to pick on each other's annoying habits. We are choosing to listen, no matter how hard words can be to understand. We are choosing to make our marriage, above all else our priority.
So, peace has ruled for the past two months. Our marriage is strong, despite some bumps in the road since Joel's been home. We are easing into normal life, as much as life lets you ease back. And when life pushes back and things get tense, we try to remember that we're on the same team and working toward the same goals, and that somehow works things out.
Thanks to all of you who have stood by us, prayed for us and encouraged us along the way. And keep checking-in and ask how things are going!


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collected notes
I had a dispiriting conversation with a co-worker the other day about what an awful environment my school is, especially for freshmen. I was saying that I didn't understand why certain students - the ones who end up in a lot of conflicts with teachers and are doing absolutely no school work, zero, not even moving towards getting a single credit - come to school. He said he thought that for some students, school is better than home. It's safer and less scary. To put this in context, in the three weeks since the head of the school district where I work announced a zero-tolerance policy for threats and assaults on teachers01 under which any threats or assaults get a mandatory 10-day suspension, one kid has been suspended for hitting me with a door and two more have been suspended for threatening me. Our bulletin boards get torn down within a week, and, in one hallway, there's at least one plexiglass window punched out of a door every week. There are fights between students every day, and constant casual violence that's not quite a fight. It's hard for me to imagine wanting to be there, but I think my colleague is right.
Today a girl asked if I was pregnant. No. Are you sure? YES.2 I told her I had my period, and she said, "Oh, that must be why you look pregnant."
To her, there was nothing weird about her teacher talking about her period. I can't even imagine being that comfortable with menstruation or body stuff at that age. It's a great virtue of a cultural pocket where lots of people get pregnant at all sorts of ages.
A friend from high school called on Tuesday night. Let's call him Kermit, which is clearly not his real name, but I can't come up with a descriptive pseudonym for him. I think it's because I've known him too long and in too many ways. Conveniently, that's also why I wanted to write about him. We've been friends for something like ten years. He was my prom date, he and I started a surprisingly effective single-issue political organization, he sent me letters when I was at camp in Canada, and yesterday he called to let me know that a political thing I passed on to him is going to pass. I was so happy to hear from him. So happy. And surprised, some, but mostly just happy. He's always been a really good friend to me, and I'm always a little surprised at how good a friend. Surprised? Because when we became friends, I thought of myself as someone who didn't have a lot of friends, and I didn't trust the world that much. Kermit is a prime counter-example for that.
He said, as have my parents, that he's proud or impressed or something about me teaching this year. I would feel better about that if I were doing something useful, not just baby-sitting my students through one more year of not learning any math.
Someone needs to leave a comment here.
1. As opposed to before, when they were tolerated. I wish I were joking.
2. Do you have any idea how not pregnant I am? I only sleep with my girlfriend who can't get me pregnant, I have my period, and, just in case, I got a pregnancy test last Wednesday so I could get vaccinated against HPV.


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Friday, December 21, 2007
Dear Aunt Babz,
There's a really cute older male co-worker I've talked to online outside work. We had flirted and everything and even talked about having sex together. I backed out of having sex because I got scared (I'm still a virgin, he isn't). He understood when I told him I changed my mind. Anyway, I want to ask him to a movie with me, but am afraid he'll say no. I think about him A LOT and really want to hang out with him. Thanks in advance.
Dear Friend,
You'll never know, unless you ask, right? In cases such as these, you must try not to over analyze. It is however, a good thing to put things into perspective. What I'm referring to, "Putting things into perspective" can always be used, in everything you do, every situation, where the outcome is uncertain and you have anxiety, as to how things will unfold.
OK, this is what you do; You ask yourself, what is the worst thing, the worst case scenario, what could, would or can happen? You'll possibly say that he'll say no, to your invitation? Now, you must learn to live your life, realizing that you can not make someone have matching emotions. You must always anticipate that a person has a different opinion, outlook on life and the possibility is there, that he does not think about you, as you do him, right? But let's look at this and put it into perspective...
If you ask him to the movie and he says no, it will not kill you, now will it? There is the possibility that your feelings may be hurt. Then, the next thing you'll probably do is tell yourself that there's something wrong with you and this is why he has said no.
Look in the mirror and see you, who you really are and be honest with yourself. If you are honest with yourself, you'll see a cute young woman with strong beliefs, a woman with backbone and no, you are not beautiful. I'm sorry if you thought you were. But you are not. (By the way, neither am I!)What you are is a very attractive, sporty looking sprite, who's fun, has a genuine laugh, is loyal and when you love, you love very deeply. You are quiet until you get to know someone and are a bit on the shy side. You don't have a lot of friends because you quite honestly don't care for all the gossip, competition and games girlfriends tend to play. No, you are too serious for this drivel. Yet you do have a quirky sense of humor. You are the real deal and although you don't care much for the "Dress Up" game, you do shine and clean up well. There's a side of you that thinks you are not attractive and it can and has hindered you. But the facts are, that you are attractive. You do not belong to the Popular Club, in school or at work and never really did. This is/was not because people dislike you. No, people do like you, when they get to know you but until then, they are indifferent. Why is this? It is because you are not a loud mouth, boisterous bimbo. You are, in all actuality, the kind of woman, a guy sees as "Marrying Material."
Yes, there are the "Trophy Chicks", the "In Betweens" and the "Marrying Material." See the beautiful bimbo is sought, when a man is young, dumb and you know the rest. He wants to be seen with this gorgeous girl but rarely does he take her home to meet Mom. Those girls that are within the popular circle but in between, tend to marry and divorce, very quickly. But it is the girl, every guy really wants that has backbone, isn't a sex hound, hasn't been with all his friends, has values and morals, isn't a loud mouth and he actually respects enough and is not ashamed of, that he'll take home to Mom. You are that girl.
Now, in the eventuality that this fella tells you no, you will not take it personally. You will look in the mirror and see that you are a rare breed, a treasure for Mr.Right. He just wasn't Mr.Right.
Don't worry Dear, you will not grow old by yourself, surrounded by cats. Be yourself, be real and don't change a thing. A certain fella, is gonna see you and he will cherish you, like he would a... Wildflower found in the snow.
Happy Holidays,
Aunt Babz
Written by Staff & Ask Aunt B at 8:10 AM
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When we arrive, for wonder, the tide is almost in but it's departing at jogging pace. All too soon the sandy beach extends to that familiar mud, stretching for hundreds of yards to the receding water.
We walk onto the pier (£1 each to gain access; what's that all about?) and take tea.
We continue to the mini-headland which marks the northern extent of the Land Train route.
Pleading exhaustion, we do that OAP thing and take the Land Train back to the Tropicana and our car, and return home.
|OAPs ride for £1
|Your author, not above taking it easy on the Land Train
|Now available for trips around the bay
|The sea front at Weston super Mare, September 7th 2016


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Spent the evening watching PBS and it's fund raiser all about Ireland, hosted by Patty Duke and Nick Clooney. So much nostalgia with American Irish heritage in song and dance and historical highlights of former Irish/American actors and their music. The show was written by Malachy McCourt, brother of Frank McCourt, now deceased, who wrote that powerful and poignant book, "Angela's Ashes", a tribute to his Irish mother and her enduring spirit with their poverty. I couldn't finish it, it was so haunting and tragic, about his growing up in Ireland's terrible impoverishment, so gritty and gosh awful. But Colleen and I enjoyed the PBS show anyway, talking about our Irishness and how we've tried to integrate it all into the fabric of our marriage and family. So here goes another related reminiscence, while the potato soup is still hot...
"Now that I'm older and "wiser", I have a lot more questions than answers. Like what does it mean to wish someone a Happy St Patrick's Day? Have some luck of the Irish? Cheat your fate, defy your destiny, win the lottery anyway? How about find a four-leaf clover? Where did that get all its power, if the three-leaf one is supposed to represent the Holy Trinity? What's that fourth clover leaf all about? Who's that supposed to be? St Patty himself? Would make a great story - The Fourth Clover Leaf. Or now there's that salacious innuendo, to get lucky? Hey, get married, then get lucky! So many unwitting people wear that t-shirt without even knowing it's intended naughty reference. So clean up your act, citizens!
"I didn't really get into the Irish celebrations or even realize my surname Curran was Irish until I met herself, Colleen Fitzsimmons. I was singing with The Lettermen in 1969, and she was singing as Dave and Colleen in Amarillo, TX. (Dave Webber is a sportscaster at WOW-TV in Omaha). I came through town while doing some shows in the area, and stayed at the Holiday Inn where she was singing. Some of the road crew invited her over to our lounge table to hit on her, but she only had eyes for me – and my sautéed mushrooms. Who would eat that stuff? The grill was closed and that's all they had, ok?
"And because she was a good Catholic girl and I a returned Mormon missionary, we sat and talked religion all night. And 40 years and 8 kids later, the rest is history. But much of her identity was all wrapped up with her being raised a Midwestern Irish Catholic Democrat, with the Irish being at least as dominant as the others. And when she reminded me that I was Irish, I began my love affair with the auld sod - had even written a masters thesis on James Stephens, a Celtic Renaissance poet/writer from Dublin who was only 4'8" and extolled little things – an unwitting prelude I think to meeting my Irish Colleen.
"So within weeks after that first encounter and courting long distance, Colleen and I were sharing children's names, since we were already talking about families and the "M" word - yeah, I know, pretty cheesy, but I was 27 and she 25, a Mormon and a Catholic with big family ideas. But interestingly, one of my favorite girl names had always been "Colleen" which means literally "Irish girl" - and she didn't mind "Doug" that much either. But we really had a lot of kid's names in common and with Quinn being one of our favorites, we chose it for our first child when he was born a year after were married, which was six weeks after we met. Huh?
"We ultimately wound up with Irish/Celtic names for all our kids including Megan, Shane, Erin, Shannon, Caitilin, Sean and Conn (named for an old Irish king, Conn of the Hundred Battles) And little did we know that Quinn and Conn were actually root cognates, or derived from the same name – as were Shane and Sean. It was fate then? And all our girls I wanted to have "Colleen" as their middle names, much to my wife's chagrin - but I couldn't pass up the symbolism.
"And marrying Colleen meant we would thenceforth and forever celebrate St Patrick's Day as a day of veneration of our Irish ancestors and roots, though there was a secret German and Scotsman in there somewhere we don't mention much. And we would henceforth also be known as those Irish weirdos down the street, always flaunting their green stuff – no not that green stuff – just anything green we could stick up or hang or display to show our pride. But as Kermit said once, "It's not that easy being green". Not everyone was as into it as we were, but we nevertheless abandoned all pretenses and humbly showed our Irish pride, a true Celtic contradiction in terms.
"St Pat's Day usually began with Colleen demonstrating how the Leprecauns must have been in the house, because as she stirred the morning oatmeal, that little drop of green food coloring she put in the bottom of the pan made the porridge magically turn a shamrock color and thus began the fantasy. "Lucky Charms" was a favorite cereal too. Later in the day, our little brass bowl we bought from Pier I that said "Made in India" became our pot of gold, filled with gold-wrapped chocolate coins, and was hidden in the yard or in the house for the kids to find and fight over. We even called the weatherman and asked for a rainbow to hide it under – which is another reason we have no faith in those guys.
"And what would March 17 be like without a little Riverdance (my Michael Flatley imitation sucks), and watch 'Darby O'Gill and the Little People' for the kids, and then maybe watch 'Angela's Ashes' or 'The Field' for some good old adult Irish angst. Of course, we loved the funny 'Waking Ned Devine', the tear-jerker 'Evelyn' and the joyful 'Dancing At Lughnasa' - and so many others being made in Ireland, including a new one, 'The War of the Buttons'. All of this would follow one of Colleen's wonderful potato soups in green bread bowls, even corned beef and cabbage, with a few "arsh" potatoes. She visits her brother Tom in Ireland now and again in the summers, who married a former nun, Catherine McKenna, when he was 36 and she 38 – they retired to Ireland to raise their four amazing kids, but have since returned to the new sod and are at present enduring big bad winters in Bismarck ND.
"Our son Quinn was also an LDS missionary in Ireland for two years, which has galled this good Catholic uncle Tom who says he baptized Quinn Catholic as a baby, unbeknownst to us or him – and then there Quinn was in Ireland, preaching to his own. Oh the tangled web we weave! On his first day in Dublin, Quinn took the phone book and found pages and pages of Currans and Fitzsimmons, and decided he was in the right place. There was even a market chain there called Super Quinn, and he felt honored for the namesake. On slow days, he even invented a game with Guinness Stout beer lids he'd find on the street, little cork mini frizbee's he'd manipulate between his fingers called Guinno-Friz. He and his comp even created major tournaments with this pasttime. Missionary work must have been really slow.
"So we are obviously a very sick family and have had to have hours of counseling just to address this Irish obsession – until we realized it was everyone else who was missing out and were just jealous because we were Irish and they weren't! Nah na na nah nah! But the only little hitch we have found in all this Irishness is that maybe we aren't as Irish as we thought! First of all, the name Curran seems pretty legitimate, going back to that Conn of the Hundred Battles I mentioned. But Fitzsimmons? I've got to whisper here because there's a lot of sensitivity on my wife's part, and she can really get her Irish up. You see, Fitzsimmons is likely a Norman name that came up from northern France as Fils Simons, or illegitimate son of Simon. Yeah, so we don't really talk about it.
"But then I also have to admit something about the name Curran. I was reading a book called The Lion of Ireland, by Morgan Llewellyn, about how a great king of one of Ireland's divided provinces, Brian Boru, helped unite the other kings against the Viking invasion of the 10th Century, when they made Dublin their Viking capitol. Those marauders were quite a violent group of gents, probably all bi-polar and not taking their meds, who plundered and pillaged and raped and sacked and got brain damage from eating too many rotten potatoes. No wonder there was a famine! But Brian died fighting the Viking king in the last battle that finally drove them out – well at least down the street. And what was that Viking king's name? Olaf Cuaran. What? Cuaran? Curran? I'm a Viking, am I now? See Colleen, you got me back!
"No, the Vikings did not leave Ireland entirely and for sure their DNA was all over the map. And no, red hair is not Irish, it's Viking too. My 6-ft tall sister-in-law, Kathleen, is a flaming gorgeous redheaded proof! My wife's other brothers and sisters are tall strawberry blondes. She's the only dark-haired one. I have three daughters who are 6 ft tall and one 5'10" – and sons all 6-2 to 6'6" – alas no redheads however, except maybe a hint from Conn and some red highlights in Quinn as a toddler. The original Irish were darker and smaller, probably more the size of guys like Mickey Rooney and Gene Kelly.
"Oh yeah, I found out that Gene's middle name was Curran and wrote him a letter to probe a family connection. His terse post-carded reply just said "Thanks for the note. Up the Irish!" So much for the Curran connection. I think he was fed up with the IRA conflicts between north and south at the time. Well, there's always more I could say – but I'll let it be for now, unless my wife comes along while I'm typing this, then you'll never hear the end of her blarney! Yeah, I'll have to get over there someday just so I can kiss that blarney stone and learn to keep up with her jabber…uh, gab… from her gob. Colleen, you know I'm kidding, right? Right? Put down that frying pan and kiss me, I'm Irish! Colleen? Colleen? She can really get her Irish up."
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text:
|look how beautiful the skirt is when you walk.
|top of the morning to you.
|white nails for summer.
|smocking on bottom & layering with a light weight denim vest on top.
|teal pom-pom. its all in the details.
|boating style.
dress: miguelina {old, great alternative here}, vest: old navy {this style is still sold in stores, but an online alternative is here}, hat: urban outfitters, shoes: target, sunglasses: ray-ban, bag: deux lux.


text:
My house was built in 1964. Unlike the home portrayed, it is a small structure with a third of an acre of land, a pond I put in, a free-standing two-car garage and a crumbling concrete driveway. Its first owner paid $24,000 for it. I paid substantially more many years later, and have never regretted it.
My house talks to me almost all the time. It's a chatterbox of a home that loves to whisper, and at any given moment can tell me how it's doing. There are purrs, creaks, whistles, the occasional thumping and whirring, the scratching of squirrels on the roof and the scrapping of branches against the eaves. Sometimes there are soft sighs, and more rarely powerful and strange rumbles and the rattling of window.
The washer, an ancient Maytag, thumps like a wheel with a flat spot whenever it hits the rinse cycle while the fluorescents in the laundry room hum. The furnace motor that pushes masses of hot or cold air depending on the season has a voice of its own. It clicks, engages, revs and relaxes a hundred times a day and at times the vents whistle shrilly. The sink in the kitchen makes a strange slurping noise as it empties but the one in the laundry room with its huge drain emits at best a quiet gurgle. Both toilets have voices too. The old one in the basement is slow and stately, the one upstairs near the bedroom is often recalcitrant if not downright unfriendly.
The cat knows to scratch at the kitchen door when it wants in but will sit by the kitchen window quietly purring with expectancy when he wants to be in the yard.
In the basement is a room where I play and record music, sometimes alone, other times with friends. This space has its own discreet cacophony. The Peavey single-speaker amps hum despite years of trying to establish a solid ground, and the big Fender monitor speakers are masters of the hiss. I have tried everything to make the room quieter—better cabling, attenuators, padding—to no avail and now I consider its noises part of the house's symphony.
It's been snowing the last couple of days which mutes all the exterior sounds save those of my Albanian neighbor who recently bought a set of drums and practices twice a day, mistaking thrashing loudness for talent.
My home is a living entity housing a parasitical entity—me—and I am lucky to have it, with all its noises, refrains and tics.


text:
Thursday, June 10, 2010
It's the Truth.
To her this declaration sounds arrogant. I am not really sure what to do about.
20 comments:
- Joe (Defend Us In Battle) said...
I think that is a common wall to get over with others.
A co-worker and I recently had this discussion and he kept flipping it to the Relativism argument... "Well it's YOUR version of TRUTH, but I don't believe it, so it isn't true for me."
Sometimes you have to start at the base. Are their moral truths... and usually folks will diverge at some point. That is why I have found that our job in evangelization is less about CONVINCING or CHANGING minds, as it is planting seeds, watering those seeds, and being a great example.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 2:08:00 PM
- skeeton said...
Don't back down from your assertion. It is the Truth! After all, our Church was begun by a Man Who referred to Himself as the Truth. So in Mass, when we purge ourselves of our urges, our desires, and our sins - when we die to self - and we go forward to receive Him Who is Truth, we are transformed into His Presence. And we become witnesses to the Truth for the rest of the world. So when your friend expresses exasperation, give her this little bit of sacramental theology. Soon she'll come to understand that her problem is not with the Church. It's with the words and intention of Her Founder.
I'm with you, though, this is not an arrogant assertion. Nor is it elitist. This life of grace is open to anyone who wants it. And it's FREE!!! It doesn't matter if you're a CEO, homeless, a white male heir, a single black mother, a virgin, a promiscuous heterosexual, a struggling homosexual, American, Samoan, 9 years old, 99 years old, or 199 years old... this life is available for anyone who wants it. The Catholic Church truly is "Here Comes Everybody!"
Also, remember in John 6 that Jesus repeats His teachings on the Eucharist multiple times and in different ways, but at the end of the day, some people just couldn't accept it. And because Jesus is Justice incarnate, He allowed them to walk away. We, too, must be willing to give people a chance to embrace the Truth, but we shouldn't be surprised when some of them turn and walk away.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 2:15:00 PM
What sounds arrogant to me in that statement (especially "the Truth" line) is that it sounds like the Roman Catholic church has a lock on holiness. Whether one believes it or not, it comes off as a pretty arrogant statement when said to someone who doesn't believe the same.
That said, being from a tradition that gets referred to as "the country club at worship", I have to say I highly dislike such "private club" statements because I find them to be poorly informed generalizations about who we are as Christians.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 2:25:00 PM
- Tim said...
The first step is to find out if they believe in objective truth. You may have to explain to them what objective truth is. If they don't believe in objective truth then ask them if their belief that "all truth is subjective" is true for everyone. If they say yes then tell them they believe in an objective truth. Then let them stew on that for a while.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 2:56:00 PM
- Marcus said...
The whole notion of religion being a "private club" matter, or, to use another example, the notion of "shopping for your philosophy" seems entirely postmodern in its approach and assumptions. It's tantamount to attributing the characteristics of fashion and societal fancy to that which is concerned principally with "the way things are."
Heaven forbid we should appeal to the existence of a correspondence between reason and reality in this day and age.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 4:02:00 PM
- Anna Williams said...
Have you read Evelyn Waugh's great novel Brideshead Revisited? In it, a young Catholic named Sebastian and his then atheist/agnostic friend Charles have a funny conversation, which your post reminded me of. Here it is:
[Sebastian:] 'I wish I liked Catholics more.'
[Charles:] 'They seem just like other people.'
[Sebastian:] 'My dear Charles, that's exactly what they're not...It's not just that they're a clique...but they've got an entirely different outlook on life; everything they think important is different from other people. They try and hide it as much as they can, but it comes out all the time. It's quite natural, really, that they should.'"
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 4:11:00 PM
- Julie D. said...
What about this approach?
That if you don't believe your religion reflects the most truth then you shouldn't follow it. So naturally Catholics believe their faith is Truth.
(Which she should be able to relate to, one hopes.)
That then opens the door for a question about what exactly she means by "country club" since anyone can join who believes those Truths? Just as with any other religion.
It isn't the Catholics fault if they love and believe in their faith. It is the fault of those who belong to other religions if they don't believe their faith is the Truth. We can't help that.
And you'd, of course, be happy to help clear up any questions about which part of the Truth she doesn't understand from the Catholic POV.
Anyway, that's what occurs to me.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 4:11:00 PM
- Just another mad Catholic said...
too true, we die to ourselves and the faith takes over
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 5:18:00 PM
I am not really sure what to do about.
Nothing, really. Because referring to Catholics as private club members and calling the virtue of zeal or conviction arrogant isn't an argument, it's a canned potshot. If she fomulates an actual point in sincerity, try to answer as best you can, but let the insults just roll off your back.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 5:19:00 PM
- joan said...
See Real Catholic TV.
"Catholics Don't Play Nice 05-05"
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 5:25:00 PM
- 3puddytats said...
Having being raised Protestant I can relate to the "country club" or "private club" comment...it is rooted in hard-core Protestantism which oftentakes a "minimalistic" approach...Protestant churches are often plain, with very few decorations. The resounding snark that I was taught growing up concerning Catholics was how could they have such expensive churches etc when there are so many poor people around....Jesus was born of poverty in a manger in a stable, and never had any form of wealth even as an adult..and it is hard to justify expensive churches, golden chalices, and elaborate artwork. I still have problems with it even now...
That is why I guess plain jane monasteries and little poor mission chapels are so calm and peaceful to me, very little visual distractions..
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 7:16:00 PM
- The Crescat said...
I know her well enough not to take her claim of arrogance personally. We have a relationship where we can be completely candid.
Anna; your illustration is PERFECT for the dynamic we have. Catholics to her are very weird and our faith influences everything we see, feel and think. I think that is what she refers to as the "club" mentally of Catholics.
The arrogance she refers to is the self assured way we can never be convinced of anything other that what we know as Truth.
I would appreciate some charity in the comments toward her, she is like family to me. We talk about religion all the time and she is genuinely curious. I just think I frustrate her in my immovable faith.
I think the whole view on life that Catholics have baffles her. It's not just a religion, it can't be separated from our personalities.
To her it's just another preference... republican or democrat, liberal or conservative, baptist or Lutheran.
I just wish I could explain it better to her. I can't even articulate it myself.
- Thursday, June 10, 2010 8:13:00 PM
- Jamie said...
Just a quick comment to 3puddytats: A former Southern Baptist on EWTN said that our churches should look like palaces, since the King of Kings resides there in the Blessed Sacrament. :) I thought that was a beautiful thought.
Anyway, I find it extremely hard to understand a Protestant mindset. I think the best thing you could do would be a good Catholic witness and pray for her like crazy! :) I will be too!
- Friday, June 11, 2010 5:18:00 AM
- gretchen said...
Wow, I could have written this post as I have struggled with the exact same thing.
My friend in question is Lutheran. She feels "put out" that she is not welcome to go to communion at a Catholic church. She attended my oldest daughter's First Communion, but kind of under protest and hurt feelings, decided to attend only the party for my second daughter's First Communion.
In three weeks my oldest two daughters and I will be going to Italy with this friend and her husband and son. I have gotten tickets for all six of us to see the Pope (thank you for the info on that, Kat!) and we have lots of Catholic things planned. I know it will be interesting!
I love my friends as family, too. Please pray that the Holy Spirit gives me the words I need when I need them!
- Friday, June 11, 2010 10:55:00 AM
- Lola said...
My baptist brought up daddy can't fathom why a Lutheran or an Evangelical could be 'put-out' about not being able to recieve communion at a Catholic Mass, "They should know better. They shouldn't want to get communion at Mass, because they're not in communion with what you belive."
Your sweet friend probably does appreciate the fact that you are unmovable on your faith. It's part of your charm and sparkle. And yes, being Catholic permeates our whole being, as insense lingers on my clothing after mass at the Abbey.
By comparison so much of the world is so movable it "wiggles like a jello on a plate" as my Bacie used to say.
- Friday, June 11, 2010 12:10:00 PM
- Rick said...
The Church's teachings now are as unpopular it they were then - as skeeton referenced. But the Lord did not mince His words, water them down, make them inclusive or politically correct. It's light or darkness, salt or soil, life or death, high road and low road - no middle of the road, compromised tepid humanly engineered serendipity hogwash.
- Friday, June 11, 2010 2:08:00 PM
- 3puddytats said...
I've had several "traddies" comment that I wasn't a "real" Catholic since I was a "convert"..it takes "generations" to be a "real Catholic."
I'm still too "contaminated" by my Protestant upbringing...
I wonder what "THOSE" folks think of the ongoing missionary work in Africa and the Far East...Not "Real Catholics" either...even though those areas are BURSTING with vocations..
I wonder what the Holy Father would think of comments such as those..
Sign me Sara the Unreal Catholic...I guess that gives me a good reason to love the NO Mass :)
- Friday, June 11, 2010 9:57:00 PM
- Anthony S. "Tony" Layne said...
I have one of those "my truth/your truth" friends myself. I've learned to let it go, although I have a hard time keeping from needling him when, in discussing capital punishment, he forgets he's a subjectivist and starts treating murder as objectively evil.
With all respect to the former Protestants in the audience, I think it's much more than the material richness of the churches ... er, "worship spaces". The orthodox Catholic culture and viewpoint is so different that a person not completely enculturated will feel excluded even when and where she's explicitly welcomed. I'll have to work that one through on my own blog.
- Friday, June 11, 2010 11:55:00 PM
- TCN said...
Oh for Pete's sake, if we didn't think it was THE TRUTH we wouldn't be Catholic. I do wish folks would quit apologizing for their faith. Jesus said we would catch hell for it, and that's often just the way it is going to be.
Charity does not lie in watering down the Truth.
- Monday, June 14, 2010 11:38:00 PM
- Dominic Mary said...
'The Church is the only Club that exists for the benefit of non-members' !
- Thursday, June 17, 2010 3:29:00 AM


text:
Damn, I have been so sick. Walking dead sick. Hit me Monday evening and has hardly let up. I'm a bit bleary now as I write this Thursday morning - wondering where the hell two days went.
Ray Doraisamy called me out on my Backstage post with this quibbling point: "Those who ask 'where do you get your ideas from' may be seeking the answer to 'what's your process - what mistakes have you made that we can learn from before we make those same mistakes ourselves?' "
The question is my fault. I wrote in the post that outsiders tend to think that composition (writing, music, art, whatever kind of creation being done) is easy for the composer . . . and I failed to state clearly afterwards that original composition is NOT easy, it's difficult and aggravating for everyone. Going a step further, original composition defies process, since whatever methodology you've used in the past for other compositions, it invariably fails when you try to apply it to something new. Part of the creative process is the creation of a new 'process' for every creation.
In my book, How to Run, I propose an argument that in order to create your world, you have to think about it. At length. You should brainstorm, writing down as many ideas as you can accumulate over a period of weeks before beginning to create. The idea is to create hundreds of ideas, without measuring them or confining yourself to one limited perception. This takes practice - particularly in keeping yourself from becoming fixated upon a single idea in exclusion to all others. Moreover, all this practice can only occur inside your head.
Because you are a very different person than me, you will eternally view this process differently from me. There's no getting around that. Even if we stumble across the same idea, we will approach it from our personal viewpoints, creating problems which are equally personal.
Creativity is not 'science.' Two investigators in science will inevitably find themselves facing the same issues in resolving a matter because those issues occur outside their experience. The problems are created by the world, not the scientists. But where it comes to composing, we create our own problems - because of what we choose to see as a problem than needs to be solved.
I'll try an oversimplified example. Suppose we each decide to write a story about a homeless man living on the streets of the same city, where the man's wife and daughter have died, leaving him without the will to gather his life together and move on. Certainly, we can both imagine coming to the same specific circumstances behind our individually proposed novels; even a few changes in those circumstances won't matter much.
The question is, how will you and I solve the homeless man's dilemma? Some might feel his problem is disassociation, that what he needs is a family of some kind to support him - thus they write a novel on how this man finds a family. Others may feel he's disenchanted with the world and that in order to regain his pride, he needs to help the world make a change. Others may feel the man's problem is insolvable, preferring to write the novel in terms of the homeless man circling the drain until he dies, to highlight the horror in society. Still others will view the homeless man's recognition that he's never accomplished anything, so he changes himself to be a better person. And so on.
None are right. None are wrong. They are all individual, as individual as the creator. The value isn't in the idea of the book or in its manifestation, but in the alacrity of the story telling and the design. A great idea will do nothing for you as a composer. Nor will a really great theme. You've got to make the story valuable yourself, through having the skill to compose the thing.
You'll find, very quickly, that giving the thing true merit will mean changing yourself as a person in order to rise to the occasion. Producing the How to Run book changed me! It forced ME to see the game differently, to self-examine and accept that what I knew before was secondary to the new knowledge I was gaining. This is what good composition does. It changes the composer.
I can't tell YOU how to avoid the mistakes I'm making because you're not writing the same composition. The mistakes are unique. It may sound well and good to think that there are a finite number of mistakes to be made in the world, and that once you stop making them you'll be a great composer, but that's nonsense. There are far, far more mistakes to be made than I could ever point out - hell, I don't even know the mistakes you're going to make in your career! I'm on an entirely different path.
This was my point before - that there are no short-cuts. There are no right ways. Mistakes are necessary - beneficial, even, in that they produce a composer with unique skills. The endless question, "How do you do it?" is begging for a cheat code. And there is no cheat code.
I'll say this about my writing and making money from it. I didn't quit. Everyone else around me that also wrote or played an instrument or dreamed of making it big someday, they mostly quit. One by one. All the ones I know now who are still at it, they have some level of success. Like me, not a great level of success, but some.
So don't quit. The biggest mistake is quitting. Best advice I can give.


text:
CERGY, France (AFP) - - US airline Continental and two of its employees are to stand trial for manslaughter over the crash of an Air France Concorde airliner in 2000 that killed 113 people, officials said Thursday.
A former French civil aviation official and two senior members of the Concorde programme will be tried on the same charge, with proceedings expected to start early next year and last two to three months, judicial officials said.
The New York-bound Concorde crashed in a ball of fire shortly after take-off from Paris Charles de Gaulle airport on July 25, 2000, killing all 109 people on board and four workers on the ground.
A French accident inquiry concluded in December 2004 that the disaster was partly caused by a strip of metal that fell on the runway from a Continental Airlines plane that took off just before the supersonic airliner.
The Concorde ran over the super-hard titanium strip, which shredded one of its tyres, causing a blow-out and sending debris flying into an engine and a fuel tank.
Continental Airlines is charged over a failure to properly maintain the aircraft along with two US employees: John Taylor, a mechanic who allegedly fitted the non-standard strip, and airline chief of maintenance Stanley Ford.
But the former Concorde officials and French civil aviation boss are also accused of failing to detect and set right faults on the supersonic aircraft, brought to light during the investigation and thought to have contributed to the crash.
Henri Perrier, 79, was director of the first Concorde programme at Aerospatiale, now part of the EADS group, from 1978 to 1994, while Jacques Herubel, 73, was Concorde's chief engineer from 1993 to 1995.
Both men are accused of having underestimated the importance of a string of prior incidents involving burst tyres on Concorde aircraft.
Finally Claude Frantzen, 71, director of technical services at the civil aviation authority DGAC from 1970 to 1994, is accused of overlooking a fault on Concorde's distinctive delta-shaped wings, which held its fuel tanks.
The trial will aim to pin down the share of responsibility of the US airline, the Concorde and French aviation officials.
There will be few civil plaintiffs in the case, since most of the victims' families agreed not to take legal action in exchange for compensation from Air France.
Throughout the eight-year investigation, Continental pledged to fight any charges in the case. A successful prosecution is expected to result in millions of euros (dollars) in damages against the airline.
For Olivier Metzner, lawyer for Continental Airlines, "any plane in good condition would have resisted that metal strip, but the Concorde was a wreck. But of course you can't say that because it is a national treasure."
But the lawyer for the DGAC, Daniel Soulez Lariviere, dismissed as a "fantasy" suggestions that faults on the Concorde were overlooked because of national pride.
"The tearing-off of the reservoir panel is something that had never happened before, and that we did not not know was possible."
The Concorde crash began the process which led to all Concordes, both French and British, being taken out of service in 2003.
The plane, born of British and French collaboration, embarked on its maiden commercial flight in 1976. Only 20 were manufactured: six were used for development and the remaining 14 entered service, flying mainly trans-Atlantic routes at speeds of up to 1,350 miles (2,170 kilometres) per hour.


text:
funny short people!
On my way home from work yesterday I ran into one of my favorite comedians of all time, Zach Galifianakis. He was sitting on a window ledge outside a Starbucks with his laptop, picking up their WiFi so he didn't have to go inside and pay 8 bucks for it. I stopped and introduced myself and found out he's a really nice guy. We talked about Dog Bites Man, Comedians of Comedy, and his recent move back to the City. He said he'll be doing the UCB a lot so I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of him in the future.
Then an hour later I went down to the UCB for Bro'in Out, a very funny talk show with Leo Allen (SNL) and Tony Camin (Marijuanalogues). Tom Scharpling (writer for Monk and Tom Goes to the Mayor) was hilarious, as was Pete Holmes (Best Week Ever), but the star of the show was Chris Parnell. Among other things, he talked about his favorite SNL memories (touching Jennifer Garner's ass after Jimmy Fallon took his hand and pushed it on her) and the worst host (Tom Green- apparently Lorne thought he was going to be the next Andy Kaufman, so he let him do what he wanted with the show and he turned it into the Tom Green show, resulting in a show that Parnell didn't think was very funny). After the show I talked to him for a while and he was one of the nicest, most genuine, down to earth guys I've ever talked to. He said SNL had to cut 10 million from it's budget, resulting in the departure of him, Finesse, maybe Horatio (depending on whether or not he gets the Update seat), maybe Maya, and maybe Darrell. And of course Tina and Rachel left to do Tina's show, and he said Lorne's not adding anyone, so it'll be interesting to see how it plays out. It definitely won't be the same without him. When I asked him what he's up to now, he said he's just looking for work, and he's not sure if he'll be able to find enough work in the City or if he'll have to move back out to LA. But he said it in such a downtrodden way that I wanted to just hire him on the spot. Maybe in 20 or so years I'll have that oppurtunity. Stay tuned!


text:
This guest post is written by Chris White, filmmaker of Thomas McConnell's "A Proof for Roxanna" for the Expecting Goodness Short Film Festival at HUB-BUB on March 24. Chris hand-makes nano-budget, artistically ambitious films for friends. Trained as a theatre artist and screenwriter, Chris aims for Criterion Collection quality through an organic, improvisational process. He lives in the Upstate of South Carolina (USA) with his wife and writing partner, Emily, and three children: Gibson, Whitaker, and Harriet.
When I first read Thomas McConnell's World War II-era short story, "A Proof For Roxanna," I was looking for math.
The word "proof" makes me think of resolution, fact, truth. I like my big questions to be answered stone cold and certain.
Tom's story gets at the logical fallacy of too easy answers, of false proofs. To his daughter's knee-jerk dismissal of all that is holy in the face of all that is evil, the father rebuffs her flawed logic:
"One life proves something only about he who lives it….nothing more."
This idea captured me, and has motivated my work—from adapting Tom's story into a six and a half page screenplay, to casting the actors who would inhabit his characters, to the two-day shoot in Anderson County last week, to our post-production work this week.
With the life I've been given…this one chance at living…what will my life prove?
My cinematographer Jessica Hollingsworth is, primarily, a still photographer. When she and I discussed shooting the film, we agreed that black and white would serve the story best.
We wanted the film to emphasize the actors' faces, the textures of those faces…the physical and spiritual contrast found in lives being lived at their bitter end.
We spoke quite a bit about shot composition…the size and scope of the moving pictures we would assemble to tell our story.
The film is set in the past, and is framed by flashback—the young adult Roxanna remembering what happened to her family at the dawn of war, 1939. Jessica and I framed and lit every shot from this woman's point of view: part memory, part myth, part history.
Frederic Chopin's "Nocturne No. 1 in B Flat Minor, Op. 9" provides the film's score.
I went looking for a piece of music from Poland…the country our film is set in. Chopin is Poland's most famous classical composer, and many of his more dramatic piano compositions seemed well suited for our story.
As you listen, see if you agree. It really does evoke a sense of loss, wonder, and memory.
This week, I will finally see the piece integrated into our dialogue and images…but I'm even more excited to share the completed film with you, March 24 at The Showroom!
–Chris White


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Department of Engineering, Construction Services, Code Enforcement and Community Development
33 Washington Street
Office HoursMonday-Friday 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.
The Department of Engineering, Construction Services and Code Enforcement consists of four divisions and several boards, all related to the overall development of the township. The department includes engineering, planning, zoning, conservation, community development, construction services, affordable housing and code enforcement. It also provides administrative services to the Planning Board, Zoning Board of Adjustment and the Environmental Commission. The purpose of these divisions and boards is to promote and ensure the reasonable and appropriate use of our lands and environmental resources.
Code Enforcement:
The Division of Code Enforcement provides regular inspections throughout the township to ensure compliance with township Codes. Typically, inspectors look for code violations such as illegal signs and properties in an unsafe condition or state of disrepair. Inspectors can respond to complaints and inquiries from residents about conditions that may not conform to ordinance standards. Year-round and seasonal housing is regularly inspected to ensure safe and habitable conditions exist in dwellings that are rented rather than owner-occupied. The division staff is there to protect all residents and business from unsafe and unsightly conditions in order to make Toms River a better place to live.


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Originally posted on August 17, 2007 @ tatsukida.pitas.com
Narazaki is meditating on top of the building when he notices Yukari as male entering the building with Ryou. He exclaims that he has already returned. Then, he noticed that both Ryou and Yukari seems to be blushing-smiling at each other. In the president's room, the president thanks Yukari for her hard work. She says it is nothing though she is really surprised to have seen Youko in Morocco. She even got to talk with her so she is very happy as well as her mother. A flashback of her mother accompanying her to watch Youko's movie before. Yukari confesses that her mother is a fan of Youko. Yukari then exclaims that she is really surprised that Ayaori and Ryou are alternates to the play. The president says she is mistaken for the alternates are Ryou and Youko. Yukari is stunned as she thought that it would seem that Ryou is becoming an 'actress'. The president says while conscious, it could be said that Ryou and Youko will 'combine' but Youko should not lose. In the studio, Ryou is practicing his dance/moves. Then, he lies down on the floor remembering Youko saying about the two young men having talent. Ryou wonders if Youko had watched the movie, that is why she has awaken again, if it is true. He remembers the two of them reading to Youko. His thoughts continue, if it is true, could it be because of him [Ayaori]. Yukari then peeks in and calls out to Ryou. Ryou sits up. Yukari breaks the news to him.
Ryou becomes gloomy that it is another female role and he might really live as an 'actress'. Yukari says not to worry for Ryou can become like a guy. Ryou weeps, like a guy. Yukari gives him a thumbs up. Yukari cheers him up for being in the same role as Youko, he is already near [the goal] and he should be more confident. Ryou laughs and says, that is right. Ryou gets embarrassed being cheered up like that. To Ryou's surprise, Yukari is also blushing over him. They were interrupted when Narazaki appears from behind. Narazaki draws his bokuto and tries to hit Ryou. Yukari made Ryou trip backwards to avoid Narazaki's attack though Ryou hit the floor hard. ^^;; Narazaki says slice after he had missed. Yukari screams at Narazaki that what he did is really dangerous, it is okay trying to hit him/her but why does he have to hit Ryou and even saying 'slice'. Narazaki blushes at her and welcomes her back. Yukari shouts I'm back though this isn't the time for saying this. Narazaki asks what had happened in Morocco. Yukari stammers as she says yes..yes..a lot of things. Still blushing, Narazaki says that he/she has changed and has become more pretty. This take Yukari by surprise that she starts to blush over what he just said. Narazaki was about to say but... He then quickly evades Ryou's shoe that is thrown at him. Ryou quickly grabs blushing Yukari and runs out of the studio. As they run out, Narazaki touches his chest and asks, but..why..do I feel pain? While Ryou is still running, Yukari is all dizzy and says that Narazaki just said something strange. Ryou tells her not to mind what Narazaki said for he is a weirdo for Yukari should be defined as 'cute'. This surprises Yukari. Ryou stops running as he realizes what he just said. The two are blushing even more as Ryou apologizes to her.
At the hospital, Youko seems to be in the ICU as all sorts of tubes are connected to her. The president worriedly looks at her. Youko smiles and says why is he having such an expression. She tells him to relax for she doesn't plan on sleeping yet. The president slightly smiles and says Yes. Back at the apartment, Ayaori greets the two upon their return. Ryou asks didn't he have a shooting. Ayaori says he will leave in a moment for there is still a bit of free time. He then asks why are their faces all red. The two were shock as they exclaim that it is nothing. Ayaori doesn't seem to buy it as he stands up and prepares to go out. Ryou asks if he is leaving already. Ayaori says yes for it is already time. Somehow, Yukari has already changed clothes and tells Ayaori to wait for a while. Ayaori wonders what's up. Yukari quickly takes some rice and makes some onigiri [riceball]. She gives three of them to Ayaori as she tells him to eat it while shooting so that he won't become hungry. Ayaori is surprised then he smiles while blushing a bit. Ayaori says, yes. Ryou notices Ayaori's gentle expression. After he left, Yukari asks what's wrong with Ryou who kept still and didn't greet Ayaori to take care [on his way]. Ryou says it is nothing. Yukari happily says that she still has to cook dinner and do some house chores. She wonders what should she cook for dinner. Ryou is still thinking about Ayaori's reaction when the doorbell rang. Ryou answers it as he shouts if Ayaori forgot something. To his surprise, two men in black with sunglasses tells him to go with them. After the shooting, everyone is awed by Ayaori as everyone greet each other good work. His manager asks if he wants to eat something before going home. Ayaori says he will just eat at home. Then, a couple of men in black also came to get Ayaori as well as other Penguin actors.
In a ship, inside an audience hall, it turned out that it is the president who called them. He laughs and asks if he has startled them. Narazaki is happy that he is seated beside Yukari. The president thanks them for coming there after work for this is an entrusted work. He says that because of everybody's work, 'Dream Stairway' has become a success and things flowed smoothly as Peacock's 'offering' and the next 'offering' is now the stage drama 'Dream Stairway' wherein the cast is Ayaori, Ryou and Youko. Ryou looks a bit nervous. He tells them that everyone has a 'substitute' so if they can't act it is okay but in this offering, it would be a rare experience so he would hope that they would all participate that is why he needs their strength. Everyone is a bit nervous of the challenge. Fukadu [number 8 peacock] asks if everyone there are already the chosen ones, he finds it a great honor. The president thanks him. Yukari is awed by Fukadu's confidence. Then, they heard an announcement that they have already arrived in their destination. The president tells them that they are now in the place where they will practice for the place so that they will come up with great performances. He opens the windows as he mentions that it is already sunrise. From the window, they see an island. The president says that this is Peacock's deserted island where the play will be done. A narration says now starts the strict training.


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Leaving my village
In this blog I want to tell you about leaving Burkina Faso. After Camp GLOW I returned to my village for a few days to pack up the things I would be taking home and to get the house ready for my replacement. Lindsay, the woman who will be moving into my house and spending the next two years working there is, amazingly, from the Cleveland area! Here is another example of how common coincidences are. Peace Corps sends you to a small country in West Africa, and the person you are replacing is practically a neighbor, not only from the same state, but from another suburb of Cleveland. Here we are, together. As you can see, she is much younger than I am.
Farewell Party
On the day before I left my site I wanted to have a chance to say goodbye to people I had worked with over the two years and to throw a party for the neighborhood. I asked my community homologue if she would be willing to organize it for me. I started passing out invitations before I went to Camp GLOW. We had the party in the courtyard of my good friends and neighbors, the Taogo family. A group of women started preparations on Thursday by baking "cake," small pieces of a sweet dough that is deep fat fried.
On Friday they made shrimp chips and the hot pepper sauce (to add to the sauce, as we might add pepper) They also fried the fish for the sauce.
One woman was occupied with cutting up the greens for the sauce.
A couple of young men got the job of killing and preparing the chickens for the pot.
On Saturday there were about 10 women working all morning. They put a measure of each of the kinds of drinks in small plastic sacks. You get a drink by biting off a corner of the sack and sucking out the contents.
The big task was to make the rice. In the end there were four big kettles of it.
The party was announced for 1:00 and I imagined it being rather like an open house with people dropping in. My Burkinabè friends insisted there had to be a ceremony, and I was to be the first speaker. After I thanked the folks for coming, and for being so hospitable for the past two years, I was informed there was to be a toast, and I was to lead it. When everybody had something to drink I said we should drink to friendship between Burkina Faso and the United States.
Then the inspector of the schools presented me with a certificate saying I had done good work in the town. It can't be a ceremony unless there are certificates…
I received several small gifts which you will see if you come to one of my talks about my experience. Then everybody was served heaping plates of rice and sauce, or spaghetti, or couscous.
The functionaries such as teachers sat together
the men sat together,
the women sat together,and the children sat together.
I was really pleased by the turnout and the chance to bid farewell to folks I have known for the past two years.
Some of the men who work at our one tourist site brought their drums. I thought all you musicians might get a kick out of this photo of the drums sitting in the sun to "warm up." In our band we will do just about anything to keep our instruments out of the sun!
There was also the man with the stereo system who played popular African music while the drummers drummed along.
The women and children danced to the music.One of the ladies even got this old fellow up to dance.
The next morning I had planned to do some last minute packing, but people kept stopping by. My good friend, Nadine, gave me two sets of clothes, a matching pair of pants and shirt in the Burkinabè style and a dress made from hand woven strip cloth. Here I am wearing it when I went out to dinner in Ouaga.
I had arranged for a taxi from Ouaga to come pick me up with all the things I had to return. The taxi man arrived a half hour early, and my friends and neighbors came even earlier, so I was not finished with my packing. I ended up throwing things in a couple of suit cases to deal with in Ouaga. The taxi-man took this picture of me with my Burkinabè family just as I was about to leave.
In Ouaga I went out to dinner with the friends in the picture above. These are the folks who had been so hospitable to me, taking me to Tabaski and out to see the wet lands around the reservoir for Ouaga. They gave me this stunning dress that I wore to the swearing in of the new volunteers. Here I am with the woman who will replace me at my site, Lindsay.
I had lunch with another friend who gave me this very comfortable dress. This is the woman who is one of the script writers for the soap operas to change behavior,
I also wore it for the final Peace Corps event for volunteers who are finishing their service. There were eight of us finishing our service that week.
After the staff reminisced about us, and we were given Peace Corps pins and badges. The main thing people had to say about me were related to my age. Let me tell you, retirees, Peace Corps is a great thing to do if you still have your health!
The very last thing before going to the airport was having dinner at the fancy restaurant near the transit house. There were six volunteers enjoying the meal, but I did not get everybody in the shot.
FYI I made it back to the USA with a minimum of problems. We sat on the runway at JFK in New York for nearly an hour, waiting for there to be a gate where we could disembark. Fortunately I had lots of time between flights so I did not panic. It is good to be home!
Need a Program for your organization?
One final note. I will be giving talks to various groups over the next few months and if you know of a group who would like to hear something about Burkina Faso and serving in the Peace Corps, I would be happy to arrange a talk and slide show (no speaker's fee) for you. Drop me an e-mail and we can make arrangements. Thanks for your encouragement and for reading this blog.


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Out Magazine Profiles Sam Sparro
Read the full piece here.
SS recently collaborated with Annie.
Visit Sam Sparro on MySpace.
MP3: Sam Sparro - Black & Gold (RC Mix)
Labels: interview, out magazine, sam sparro
Labels: interview, out magazine, sam sparro
Once I played wow, I did not know how to get strong, someone told me that you must have wow gold. He gave me some World of Warcraft Gold, he said that I could buy wow gold, but I did not have money, then I played it all my spare time. From then on, I got some warcraft gold, if I did not continue to play it, I can sell cheap wow gold to anyone who want.


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Things to do in Westport this weekend
Don't let the weekend go to waste, particularly with the comfortable temps and blue skies that are predicted. Here are suggestions to keep you on the move in Westport:
Put a "Mirror to Nature" and take in the latest exhibit by Cara Enteles at Amy Simon Fine Art, 1869 Post Road East. The artist will be on hand for Friday's opening reception from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Visit amysimonfineart.com for more information.
Or, get you nature fix first-hand, as the Friends of Sherwood Island State Park celebrate the 100th birthday of the state park system from 6 to 10 p.m. Friday at the Sherwood Island Nature Center -- Sherwood Island is the oldest park in the state park system.. There will be a "Best of Connecticut" auction and raffle. Find more information at www.friendsofsherwoodisland.org
Do a little bargain hunting this weekend at the many tag and estate sales going on in town. To get started, visit an estate sale at 73 Clinton Ave. from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday or a barn-estate sale at 4 Hales Road from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.
Take a trip with the "Way Back Machine" Saturday night at the Black Duck Cafe, 605 Riverside Ave. The free musical performance starts at 9:30 p.m. Call 203-227-7978 for more information.
End the weekend with a free concert Americana and blues music at 2 p.m. Sunday in the Westport Library, 20 Jesup Road. Performing will be Professor Louie & the Crowmatix. Visit westportlibrary.org or call 203-291-4800 for more information.


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BELLFLOWER - The St. John Bosco Braves football team defeated Orange Lutheran last Friday night 21-6 and improved their league record to 1-0 and overall record to 2-4.Although Bosco has won all six of their games on the field, their first four wins were forfeited due to an ineligible player participating in each of those games. As of Oct. 8, St. John Bosco is currently ranked 7th in the C.I.F. PAC-5 Division poll and first in the Long Beach Press Telegram poll. Coach Jason Negro certainly has his team playing at a high level. (Coach Negro's mother, Anna Negro, works with me at East Middle School in the office.) Orange Lutheran scored at the 5:24 mark of the first quarter after a snap for a Brave punt went through the hands of punter Richard Cole at the Brave 37 yard line. The ball rolled around and ended up on the St. John Bosco three yard line. Lancer quarterback Luke Langdon scored two plays later on a one yard keeper. The extra point was no good but Orange Lutheran took a 6-0 lead. The Braves marched the ball down the field on their ensuing possession and scored on a Darren Walker three yard touchdown run. The extra point was good and St. John Bosco took a 7-6 lead at the 2:23 mark of the first quarter. The two teams exchanged the ball and field position for the entire second quarter with no one scoring. St. John Bosco took a 7-6 lead into the locker room at halftime. St. John Bosco kicked the ball off to Orange Lutheran to start the second half. The Lancers could not sustain a drive and were forced to punt the ball back to St. John Bosco. The two teams, once again, exchanged the ball and field position. Walker scored his second touchdown of the game from six yards out at the :51 second mark of the third quarter. The extra point was good. The Braves led at the end of the third quarter 14-6 and appeared to have the momentum on their side. St. John Bosco sealed the win on a 19 yard pass play from Brave quarterback Josh Rosen to A.J. Holman at the 3:40 mark of the fourth quarter. The extra point was good and Bosco won 21-6. Rosen finished the game 12/23 passing for 143 yards and one touchdown. Brave running back Darren Walker finished the game with 17 carries for 91 yards and two touchdowns. The Braves will play JSerra this evening in another Trinity League game.
********** Published: October 11, 2012 - Volume 11 - Issue 26


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Fwd: [An_Alternative_Read] PROMO - Contemporary, Romance, Tarot - Home Port: Tarot - Four of Wands (PG-13)
April 1st. Book-A-Day-Giveaway at The Romance Studio http://groups.yahoo.com/group/theromancestudio/ for Paula Calloway's Dark Hope. Good Luck!
April 10th. Yahoo Group E-mail Party at eXfactor http://groups.yahoo.com/group/theexfactor with eXtasy Books authors
http://www.extasybooks.com/ - Reigning Fools for April Fools Party (click here http://www.paula-calloway.com/February2008.htm for more details). Join us! I hope you enjoy the two excerpts below the story and character introductions. For hotter excerpts, visit my site or my publisher's site.
Paula Calloway
Due to a longtime feud, rivalry results in a ship carrying Mitchell out to sea while the land builds barriers around Anna. Small towns carry many secrets and uncovering such can lead to the opening of old wounds and the truth. Time passes and a young man discovers more lay hidden beneath the surface than most suspect. When Jason hands his stubborn and fearful parents another chance, will Anna and Mitchell open their eyes or will lies undermine love again?
Home Port: Tarot - Four of Wands
(Contemporary, Romance, Tarot)
Story Introduction
Tired of painful memories from a deep cutting past it hurts to face, Mitch steps up to the plate and demands a resolution. Her world revolves on a foundation of lies and, when slammed by the past, Anna closes her eyes, but the truth won't go away. When the truth makes itself known and a long buried secret rises to the surface, will Mitch and Anna rediscover love?
The Hero
Six foot two, muscled and jilted, Mitchell is a captain with a deep tan complexion, cobalt blue eyes and shoulder length dark auburn hair.
The Heroine
Five foot three, curvy and alone, Anna is a single mother with a pale complexion, deep brown eyes with gold flecks and waist length mousey brown hair.
Home Port: Tarot - Four of Wands http://tinyurl.com/2rb3tu Contemporary, Romance, Tarot
3 cups from Coffee Time Romance, 3 hearts from Night Owl Romance
An open wound left untreated will fester and can never heal. Sixteen years ago, love lived in two young hearts and thrived in the beginning of a life. Sixteen years ago, a rivalry surfaced that sent Mitchell to sea and left Anna to give birth.
The passing of time can assuage grudges, uncover hidden motives, heal wounds and reveal family secrets. But when ties are tested and relationships strained by the opening of old injuries, can love endure rough and stormy seas?
Seas rage and storms batter, but love's anchor endures.
* look back *
(Setting - Jason raids the newspaper office with his best friend.)
Jason took the paper. "Thank you, Ma'am. Let's go. Come on, Alex." He entered the room, sat and turned on the computer as he set the journal on the table. His fruitless search through paper after paper for one name in particular earned his growl.
Alex opened the journal and gawked at the photo. "Bang, bang, choo choo train, back it up so I can hit that thing." He froze. "Is this your mom? How old was she then and how old is she now?"
"Yes. Just turned fifteen and thirty-one."
"Damn, she was a hottie!"
"Still is." Jason eyed his friend. "Don't get any ideas about chasing my mom, man."
Alex grinned. "I won't, but..."
"Were you breastfed?"
Jason slugged his friend's arm. "Back off."
"Ouch." Alex rubbed the promised bruise.
"By the way, yes I was."
"Lucky you."
Jason tilted his head and shot his friend a deadly look. "Did you say you want the next one in your mouth?"
Alex raised his hands in surrender. "No. What are we looking for?"
He returned to his task. "Just checking. The name Colton. Mitchell Colton in particular."
"Okay. Hey, stop there. Top article right hand page."
"Speed reader." Jason read aloud the words of the article in reference to a ship heading out to sea. "The Amber Star, commanded by Angus Colton and co-captained by his son, Darrel Colton will be joined by the third generation captain in training, Mitchell Colton. The ship is expected due back in six to eight months." His cross reference of the date with his birth earned his sneer. "The jerk made it back in time." He slammed his hands on the table. "I friggin' hate the man!"
* face-to-face *
(Setting - Mitchell confronts Anna in the jailhouse.)
Mitchell rose from the corner of the desk. "Miss Alden."
The patrolman raised his hands. "You two need to take a few breaths and keep it calm."
"I am cool, but is she?"
"As ice, Mr. Colton." Anna strode over, balled up her fist and drew back.
Mitchell ducked, stepped behind her and seized her wrists. With her hands swiftly bound in one of his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist. The
feel of her back against him surged fire through his veins. "Settle down,
"Let me go, you bastard!" She struggled against his hold, but without avail.
The familiarity of his warmth, his scent and his touch clouded her mind. Recollection of his expedient departure ripped through her heart.
"If you calm down, I will." Disappointed by the relaxation of her tense muscles, he opened his hand, withdrew his arm and stepped back.
Anna leapt away. "Best put me in a cell, Jake, before I do something we all regret."
Poised and ready, Mitchell expected her to try again. "You charged me."
"Yeah, and I have no objections to shooting you right now either."
"Little town secret, love, he keeps his gun unloaded."
Jake flinched. "Damn it, Mitch. Anna, I told you about the threats."
Anna sneered. "If he uses anything other than my proper name, I want him charged with assault."
"Assault on what?"
"General purposes, Jake. Or I'll raise the issue this town is nestled in the back pocket of every Colton male in it."
Mitchell folded his arms over his chest and rose to his full height.
"Actually, the name should be Alden. Your father has always owned more control over what's what in this town than my father or grandfather ever possessed."
Anna ignored the law officer who directed her into a cell and shut the barred door. "Perhaps you should look back at the past, Mitch."
"Perhaps you should open your eyes, Anna." He shook his head, pivoted and left the building.
"The Alden family never had control. Jake?"
Paula Calloway
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Meadowland (2015) Free Watch
In the hazy aftermath of an unimaginable loss, Sarah and Phil come unhinged, recklessly ignoring the repercussions. Phil starts to lose sight of his morals; Sarah takes off on a potentially disastrous journey, falling deeper into her own fever dream.
Release Date: 2015
Duration: 105 min
Country: USA
Genre: Drama
Director: Reed Morano
Writer: Chris Rossi
Stars: Olivia Wilde, Juno Temple, Ty Simpkins
IMDb: TT3529656
Rating: 5.9/10
Meadowland Streaming Video
Meadowland Streaming Servers
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Going Postal: A Novel of Discworld (Paperback)
On Our Shelves Now
Suddenly, condemned arch-swindler Moist von Lipwig found himself with a noose around his neck and dropping through a trapdoor into . . . a government job?
By all rights, Moist should be meeting his maker rather than being offered a position as Postmaster by Lord Vetinari, supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork. Getting the moribund Postal Service up and running again, however, may prove an impossible task, what with literally mountains of decades-old undelivered mail clogging every nook and cranny of the broken-down post office. Worse still, Moist could swear the mail is talking to him. Worst of all, it means taking on the gargantuan, greedy Grand Trunk clacks communication monopoly and its bloodthirsty piratical headman. But if the bold and undoable are what's called for, Moist's the man for the job—to move the mail, continue breathing, get the girl, and specially deliver that invaluable commodity that every being, human or otherwise requires: hope.
About the Author
TERRY PRATCHETT is the acclaimed creator of the global bestselling Discworld series, the first of which, "The Colour of Magic, " was published in 1983. In all, he is the author of fifty bestselling books. His novels have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he is the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal, as well as being awarded a knighthood for services to literature. Worldwide sales of his books now stand at 70 million, and they have been translated into thirty-seven languages.


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Write Your Weatherman and Demand Change
15 comments → Write Your Weatherman and Demand Change
Yeah, I've been pining for things like Crisp Breeze and Crunchy Leaves and Sweater Weather lately. I need an excuse to drag out the cardigans, cuz it was something like eighty-four here today and I was not a happy camper.
We all know the weathermen make the weather, so they should get on this.
p.s., i am still jealous of your cursive typewriters.
p.p.s., i'm coed age and the booty shorts repulse me too, i'm not understanding this trend.
Huh. It hit 83 here in Minnie-snow-da. The world's gone topsy-turvy, I tells ya!
Monda said... September 15, 2009 at 5:15 AM
You need a cursive machine, Julia. And I'm going to shut up about the booty shorts because there may be some incriminating pictures from the 70s out there.
What in the world is up with that, Olivander? Shouldn't you guys have snow by now?
Here in Maine, we've already got nights in the 40s and are sipping fresh cider at country fairs under ruddy trees.
Love the old photo!
deek said... September 15, 2009 at 7:49 AM
Here in Indiana the mornings and evenings are both quite crisp, so I can't complain.
And my backyard already has a light dusting of crunchy leaves...
As a matter of fact, Sept 15 is the earliest date that I have experienced snow since I've lived in MN. Not likely for at least another couple of weeks, however. We dallied around with the 40s last month, and now we're making up for it. We Lutherans have to pay penance for everything we enjoy, donchaknow?
FYI, I've done some flipping through dusty pages, and I'm 99% certain that our water maiden is working with a Densmore, either No.4 or 5.
Word ver: blograf: troublemaking bloggers.
Nuts to you guys. 98 yesterday and back up into the 100's this weekend. Hell, we still have a whole other MONTH of Summer. But oh how I long for crisp air and drinking hot cider guilt-free.
Also, even as a man and an admitted fan of booty, I have to say that those short are a but much. Let's leave something to the imagination, shall we?
Same here Speegs, its still hot as hell. Humid too. But the pay off is coming right just not yet.
The shorts are just fine in my eyes... I am a bubby kind of guy but IMO nothing wrong with a little bum showing lol. But I will use being 22yrs old as an excuse.
Monda said... September 15, 2009 at 10:54 PM
Speculator's killing me. I want to live in Maine - at least through October.
Deek - the leaves are down already? We're so behind.
I knew you'd ID that typewriter for us, Olivander.
Mike, you must live in the Congo. It gets hot down here, but we're enjoying the gift of a little respite. I'm half afraid to say anything lest it break the spell.
James, 22 is it's own best excuse for a great many things. you're a lucky fella.
Come on up and visit, Monda!
When the winds start to chill, we duck into tea rooms, pubs, and cafes. And of course there's always clam chowder and pea soup.
As the old saying here goes, "there's no bad weatha, only bad clothing."
Monda said... September 17, 2009 at 12:35 PM
Tempting, especially today when it's a tad tornadoey outside.
We have that same saying down here, except "weather" is pronounced with at least four syllables. Viva la dipthong, and such.
Oh Spec... Your making me want to visit home!!! I am thinking November or something I will fly back and admire the actual fall in all it's glory!
Anonymous said... September 18, 2009 at 6:23 AM
This time of year always has me remembering New England autumns even though I haven't lived there since 1972. In fact, northern Virginia has had a pretty mild summer but I still miss New England with those first cool mornings, 200 year old taverns serviing hot cider, and macintosh apple roadside stands. (SIGH!)
Come October, we're taking a drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway. There should be some color by then. And we plan to visit a luthier whose shop nestles against the mountains. Can't afford his guitars but I hope to pick up a bowed psaltery and maybe a simple plucked dulcimer.
The booty shorts (didn't know they had a name) are fine. Of course this is a distant admiration partly because at my age the girls can all out run me and partly because my wife is a darn good shot.
NaNoWriMo is coming up in a month and a half. (So soon?) I like to take the Olympia SM4 to a local park with covered picnic tables. Early morning, cool to cold temps and crisp dry air, a thermos of coffee and plenty of color from the oaks and maples while I type away for a couple of hours. It is heavenly.
deek said... September 18, 2009 at 12:01 PM
Nah, not all down, yet, but there is enough in my backyard to rake a little pile. Which also means a bit more than one can just ignore...
Monda said... September 20, 2009 at 2:14 PM
Ah, the NaNo. I'm already feeling guilty.