Mark's profileA Murder Of CrowsPhotosBlogListsMore  |  Tools Help |
|
November 30 Oh, De Doo-Da Day“We shall neither fail nor falter; we shall not weaken or tire...give us the tools and we will finish the job.”
~Winston Churchill
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in, forget them as soon as you can…”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
“My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished 2 bags of M&M's and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.”
~Dave Barry
NaBloPoMo (sung to the tune of ‘Camptown Races)
NaBloPoMo’s done today
Doo-da, Doo-da,
I’m happy cuz I got nothing more to say,
Oh, de doo-da day
Not gunna blog the next day,
Nope, no fucking way,
I’m not gunna write for at least a week
Just on my couch I’m gunna lay.
A lot of new friends I have met
Doo-da, Doo-da,
So doing this insane thing I don’t regret,
Oh, de doo-da day
But for everything must come a time,
When the final bell must chime,
And so now I end this farewell song
As I have run out of things that rhyme.
November 29 NovemberThe bleak sky darkened, and all about a great melancholy arose, The dark sky fell unto the earth, and became a murder of crows. A curtain black was moving slow; its shroud drew ever near, Its dreary rain consumed all warmth; the land shrank back in fear.
Trees stood empty and unadorned; they’d conceded without a fight, Against the wind that would precede, the soon to come cold winters might. The color that had burst upon the land, and painted rich a canvas bloom, Had bled away into the ground to leave it stark, and grey with gloom.
The damp air had embraced the earth, with a dank smell of decay, It seemed all life had traveled on, never again to come this way. With nothing more that they could claim, once again wing and sky did meet, The murder of crows ascended high, its hunger now replete.
November 28 The Word for Today Is:The word for today is:
Fubar [foo-bahr] adjective Slang.
– originally attributed to WWII military as a re-interpretation of the German word ‘Furchtbar’ meaning terrible, This is an acronym meaning – Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. Politically correct definition: not working; completely messed up; bungled; confused.
Example:
‘Today when Rocas looked in the mirror after a whopping 2.5 hours sleep, he couldn’t help but think that the creature that stared back at him was fubar.’
Other examples include (but are not limited to):
‘My sleep is fubar.’
‘My commute is really fubar.’
‘My work is fubar.’
‘My income is fubar.’
‘My sanity is fubar.’
The word for tomorrow will be: Jackass
© 2007 November 27 Passage“As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters”
~Solomon Ibn Gabirol
The mother-daughter relationship is the most complex.
~Wynonna Judd
Many a man wishes he were strong enough to tear a telephone book in half - especially if he has a teenage daughter. ~Guy Lombardo
Twenty one years ago today, my Thanksgiving dinner was interrupted by the birth of our first child; DD (codename: Daughter of Darkness). It was a hard labor that lasted 17 hours (due to her facing up, instead of down), and only ended after the doctors decided it was time to perform a C-Section. Her difficult entry in to the world would serve as a lifelong model of what raising her would be like. She became the proverbial teenager at about eight years of age and is the major reason both I and my wife need to color our hair. We used to call her our Ms. Hyde because to every other living soul out side of the house, she was the sweetest person you could ever meet and these people would not hesitate to tell us so. My wife and I would look at each other and think, ‘who are these people talking about?’ , but when she got home; well let me put it this way, I was always looking out the window to see if the Exorcist was outside looking for our house.
She has mellowed quite a bit in her ‘old age’, but she can still put us through the ringer when she wants to. But she is a good kid and keeps on the straight and narrow when it comes to all those things that parents fear for their children about. She is a pretty good student, has many friends and a boyfriend that both my wife and I ADORE. With all that said, I can’t imagine not having her in my life, and even though from time to time, we might not like her so much, we always love her.
The head thumping that was always the norm between her and my wife (I usually took the boy and the dog and made for the high country), has decreased considerably. I do not believe it will ever go away completely, but then again she wouldn’t be our DD.
Happy 21st birthday hon
DD; no matter how old you get or whatever mood you happen to be in, this is the way I will ALWAYS see you in my heart.
© 2007 November 26 Leftovers“There is no sincerer love than the love of food.” ~George Bernard Shaw
“My favorite meal is turkey and mashed potatoes. I love Thanksgiving, it's just my favorite. I can have Thanksgiving all year round.”
~Cindy Margolis “Thanksgiving, man. Not a good day to be my pants.”
~Kevin James Four days down and by my calculations, another two days to go.
The end of NaBloPoMo?
I wish.
No; two days from now will mark the end of the Thanksgiving holiday leftovers, and this will be a sad day indeed.
I love leftovers, and Thanksgiving is the ‘High Holy Day’ for those who celebrate Leftoverism, and being a lifelong leftoverist, I love it when there is something to go into the refrigerator for the next day. Don’t get me wrong, I love food when it comes out for its first run performance, and I do realize that not everything is as good (or even good at all), for a second curtain call, but for me, most of what I enjoy is as good or even better as time goes by. Homemade Soups, stews, meat pies and chili are the most widely accepted foods to get better with a little age; fish, salads and spaghetti; not so much.
Haggis isn’t good at anytime.
Thanksgiving, has the best food for not only multiple day enjoyment, it’s also the best in many different manifestations; turkey sandwiches of many different incarnations (lets face it, you have a lot of material to work with), turkey chili, turkey soup, turkey this and turkey that. And while my family does enjoy leftovers, they are not as strong as I am when it comes to multiple night outings; they usually can’t take it for more than one time, and that means more for me.
We’re not even talking about all the pies and cookies that await us for days to come. I do take pleasure in these, but I look at them more as ‘decoy’ food; knowing that at some point someone else may actually think about re-sampling the turkey feast, I can always count on them changing their minds to a more leaner meal after I remind them of all the ‘goodies’ that still await. I never deny my family, but I’m not above chicanery either.
While going to someone else’s home for Thanksgiving is always nice; in that you don’t have to worry about all the preparation that goes with it, the leftoverist on the other hand, pays for it dearly; a doggie bag just doesn’t cut it.
When it comes to having Thanksgiving in my own home, I can be assured of the bounty that will follow for many days thereafter.
For a Leftoverist, that’s something to be thankful for.
© 2007 November 25 If Timing Is Everything; Then I have Nothing - Part II: Son Of A Bitch“Defeat - For every winner there are dozens of losers. Odds are you're one of them.”
~Larry Kersten
“If at first you don’t succeed, failure may be your style”
~Quentin Crisp
“It could be that they purpose of your life, is only to serve as a warning to others.”
~Rocas Family Crest Motto
Well it happened, and why wouldn’t it!
As I told you yesterday, I was watching my ‘Tree of Sorrows’, very
s l o w l y
drop its leaves all over my hard fought leaf free lawn, and I swear I could hear them laughing all the way from branch to ground. Not that I could do a whole lot with them as I was still very sore of body, due to the huge amount of raking\blowing I did the day before, but it did mean that I would have to get out there once again.
As I watched the last tree finally drop it’s chemically timed- all at once discarding of leaves, ‘when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but the leaf pickup truck sucking up curbed leaves at high gear.’
Still, nothing I could do. It would be hours before the tree would finish and I was in no shape anyway. Was this the last town pickup? I’m still trying to figure that one out, but I will attempt to get out today and try to get the last big load out and ready.
And then we will wait to see which will be the winner in dealing with the curbed leaf pile: The leaf truck or the snow plow.
© 2007 November 24 If Timing Is Everything; Then I have Nothing - Part I“Life is about timing.”
~Carl Lewis
You cannot afford to wait for perfect conditions. Goal setting is often a matter of balancing timing against available resources. Opportunities are easily lost while waiting for perfect conditions.”
~Gary Ryan Blair
“You know, sometimes, when they say you're ahead of your time, it's just a polite way of saying you have a real bad sense of timing.”
~George McGovern
The day after Thanksgiving was bright and beautiful with a slight breeze, occasional short lived gusts and temps in the upper 40’s; cool, crisp, clean, and just like a fisherman or hunter will look to earth and sky to ascertain the best time to stalk their prey, I saw that it was the perfect opportunity to stalk mine; the allusive last leaf to rake.
Without a doubt, it has been an unusual fall season as everything; from cooler temps to changing leaf color, seems to be running about a month late. If timing is everything, then I think that this year nobody has it. Certainly not the leaf watchers who plan vacation times around the annual event; I’m sure that they were more than disappointed to still be looking over a vast sea of green, which may be great for Saint Patrick’s day, but very sucky for autumn.
This tardy season has also been hard on us custodians of the homestead. The town schedule for leaf pick up, which is always posted a head of time, has been thrown to the wind. All the previous posted times found no leaves to be picked up as they were still currently green and hanging from the branches. Now that the leaves have been falling for the past couple of weeks, I have had several piles picked up from in front of my house, but trying to figure out the new schedule is an impossible task. The best answer I can get, is that same one that my father used to torture us with; ‘We’ll get there when we get there.’
So this season has forced me into a new mathematical module (which is not a good thing, since I suck in math), of knowing that the last leaf pickup can occur at anytime And that the first winter snows will more than likely be on, or before time (because that is the way the Rocas curse works). If you have ever seen snow piled on top of un-raked leaves and then plowed back up by the snow plows, then you know it is not only a very ugly sight, but also that it will be forever and a day that these leaves are all over the yard and street.
So there I was yesterday, with rake and blower in hand, getting up what appears to be the last of the big fall of leaves. Just about every tree around me is now bare and with the exception of a few stragglers still on high, I am sure that anything else after this will be just a quick blow off.
With one exception.
The ‘Tree of Sorrow’.
So named by me, this very large beech tree has leaves that never change color and will ride longer in the branches than any other tree around me. When the leaves finally do fall, it is by some strange signal given by the tree and all of the leaves fall at just about the same time. Most of the time I miss when they actually fall. I have been working in the yard and gone inside for a moment, only to come back out and find the tree bare. Every once in a while though, I have been outside when it happens and it is like being caught in a blizzard of green. I call it the tree of sorrow, because it is always the last tree I have to wait on to finish my raking and also because the tear shaped leaves give off the effect that the tree is crying.
Yesterday, the tears were still hanging in abeyance and with the weather and the pickup schedule being an uncertainty, I decided to go a head and get as much as I could done.
This was by far the largest dumping of leaves so far and regardless of my dutiful weekly removal of a great many leaves, this last endeavor took me almost four hours to complete. My back and neck are stiff and my arms will probably not talk to me for a week, but I got it done.
If timing is everything; then I have nothing.
This morning I hold a hot cup of tea in my hand and stand by the picture window to survey my most excellent job of leaf removal. Then, as if to say ‘Tada’, I see the tree of sorrow begin to shed its tears; all over my cleared off yard. To add insult to injury, it appears that unlike previous years of one great and sudden downfall, they are now dropping like a gentle snowfall where the snowflakes seem almost suspended in the air.
While this is actually an artistically beautiful scene (as my wife ogles over it), I know that at this rate, it will takes hours for them all to fall. Coupled with the fact that there is an oncoming rain front moving in and temps in the 20’s, I should say that the Rocas curse is really the only thing that I can count on.
I love trees, but if anyone even mentions the word snow, I swear I'll break out the chainsaw.
© 2007 November 23 Silence is Golden“…she's a lovely person. She deserves a good husband. Marry her before she finds one.”
~Harpo Marx
“He looked like something that had gotten loose from Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
~Harpo Marx (on Harpo)
“Harpo's funeral was the only time I ever saw my father cry.”
~Arthur Marx (Groucho Marx’s son)
One hundred and nineteen years ago today, Harpo (Adolf) Marx was born.
In honor of his birthday, the follow entry is made to a man who was a part of a comedy team, that I have been in love with since I was a child:
Nov 23 1888 - Sept 28 1964
HONK!
© 2007 November 22 Day Of The Meleagris Gallopa“Thanksgiving Day is a jewel, to set in the hearts of honest men; but be careful that you do not take the day, and leave out the gratitude.”
~E.P. Powell
“So once in every year we throng
Upon a day apart, To praise the Lord with feast and song In thankfulness of heart.” ~Arthur Guiterman, The First Thanksgiving “What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?”
~Erma Bombeck, "No One Diets on Thanksgiving,"
Today is the day we celebrate the most American of holidays:
The day my kids and I keep out of the way of the kitchen Ogre.
It used to be really nice; my mother in law had her whole brood (her three kids and their respective husbands and kids), over to a large Thanksgiving banquet. It was great, all we had to do was bring our assigned dish, and in exchange we had a wonderful – full blown feast. Turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans and on, and on, and on. Desserts would be stacked up to the yazoo; cookies, pies, cakes. My god, it was truly a gorge fest.
But like all good things, this too had to one day come to an end. While my mother in law enjoyed the whole affair; from beginning to end, it just got to be too much for her. Her kids for many years tried to tell her that she shouldn’t be doing all that she did; that it was too much for her to do on her own, but she would have no part of it.
My wife and her siblings finally got their wish.
We have all since splintered off into our own separate tribal feasts, with my mother & father in law now journeying to a different house each year, with this year finding them my brother in laws. While I do miss the family get together (I am one of those out of space & time individuals, who actually loves his extended family as much as my own blood kin), It is also nice to not have to go anywhere, and to know that their will be ABUNDANT leftovers for picking at whenever the mood strikes me.
But there is a price to pay for this.
And so, for the past couple of years that this has been in place, my wife prepares the great turkey meal. It’s not that we haven’t had our share of invites to other family tables for our holiday, but my wife prefers to be home and doing it for us, and so it will be us with my mother and youngest brother over. It is a smaller gathering, but a happy one; just not so joyous before hand.
Did I mention that there is a price to pay here?
My wife, who I honestly cannot even think about not having in my life, becomes a person who we all cower in fear of trespassing on, in the hours of preparation before hand. She is very scientific of mind and actually works in this type of arena, so it is no surprise that she brings this kind of attitude to her holiday meal preparations. To go into her kitchen while she is busy, is tantamount to trespassing on holy ground.
You shall be beaten upon.
It’s really not all her fault. Each year, it is either this thing or that thing, which is not cooperating; the turkey is taking longer to cook than it should or whatever the cause, she starts to feel the pressure of time pressing on her. I make it my job to clean around the house so that she doesn’t have to even worry about that and to be ready to heed her bidden call when she needs me to do this or that. I make sure that I am quick to task and then to get the hell out of the way. Out of site, out of mind, is my mantra. My kids who are young adults unfortunately, have that young adult attitude. Translation: They are of no help at all. It’s not to say that they don’t try, but their attempts often interfere with the cooks flow. That is when the gates of woe open. I tell my kids that while it is too late for me, they should just hide in their rooms until the storm has passed.
It’s not really all that bad though.
It is early morning now and my wife will be up in a couple of minutes to get started. She will come up to me; smile and we’ll give each other a long and loving hug (much the way combatants will bow to each other before an epic battle begins). And like every year so far, it will be a great day.
Oh God; I think I hear her stirring.
Let the battle begin.
And to you and your family, a happy Thanksgiving.
© 2007
November 21 I Can't Stop LaughingYesterday I was depressed as hell, now I can't stop laughing (THANK YOU SIOBHAN)
Check it out, I've still got the moves!
(Note: depending on your browser, you may have to play with the url in the address window (reload, etc...). If it is still not working, get a MAC.
November 20 Castaway
“Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.”
~G. Randolf
“True friends stab you in the front.”
~Oscar Wilde
“Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.”
~Ed Cunningham
Not much in the mood for posting today, but here it goes anyway.
Yesterday, I found out that a person that I have been working with for twenty years, would be riding home with me for the last time. Artie had accepted an early retirement offer last month, and while I knew this was coming, what we both didn’t expect was that it would be 2 weeks earlier than we thought. He had some vacation days left to him, but he did not think he was going to get them because of all the projects going on, and the short time frame left until he would have to officially leave, which was to be November 30th. We were both shocked when the boss told him he was entitled to his time and that he should take it. Artie was in the type of position where he was accustomed to losing some vacation days each year, so he thought nothing of losing eight days left to him.
So yesterday, when he got out of the car, we shook hands and said goodbye. Three of us had been commuting down to Delaware and back; two hundred plus miles, five days a week for the past two years. Bud; the other fellow that I was commuting with, who I had worked with for the past ten years, retired back in July, which leaves me once again hitting the long road by myself (which I had initially done for several months while the other two closed down the old account).
This time however, there is no sense of adventure or excitement of something new. When I was commuting by myself for that period, I actually enjoyed it. I have always loved to drive, so this should not come as a big shock.
When we started to commute together, we actually had fun in the commute; we laughed a lot, slept a lot (when not the one driving of course) and we bitched and moaned about work a lot (hey, it’s the American way). But even when we were grumbling, we had fun. We even had fun getting lost when a detour from traffic would force us into alternate (unknown) route mode (which is always fun in the dark of early morning). We were the ‘Three Amigos’, who were like ducks forced into a strange new pond. The cost savings, while significant, was just a lucky byproduct of the arrangement.
I crowded my depression out yesterday by staying focused on tasks that I needed to get done and even when I went to bed, I was too tired to even think about it. But when I got into the car this morning and looked over to the empty seats that would no longer be filled, I just felt alone, like a castaway.
This morning the commute was long and troubling. The fuel cost will be prohibitive and the idea of staying down here during the week with friends or family, just does not work for me; I’m the kind of person who needs to go home everyday. That’s where my family is and where I need to be.
I know that the depression I’m feeling will, as it usually does, subside, but I don’t think I will ever regain the great feeling I once had in the commute or in the job. It’s funny; I’ve been working with these people in Delaware for almost three years now, and I can honestly say that they are great people and that I enjoy working with them. I have always been made to feel like I've always been a part of the team; but not today.
Today I feel more like a stranger in a strange land.
© 2007 November 19 The Color Of Snow“Its fine Scottish weather we're having. The rain is falling straight down and kind of to the side like.”
~ From the movie ‘Braveheart’
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful…”
~Lyrics from ‘Let it snow’
~Bill Connolly
Yesterday was cold, wet, dark and brooding; what I like to refer to at home as a ‘Fine Scottish Day’. I especially love it when it happens on a Sunday after a long week of work because, it gives me the perfect excuse not to do anything but lay about the house reading, writing or just watching some old movies on the brain-drainer; but usually I like to write.
I don’t know what it is about this type of weather that just stirs the creative blood in me. I feel connected to everything and yet cozily protected in my abode, all at the same time. I like to think that it is the creative Scottish spirit that dwells within. My wife says that while it is Scottish, it is the spirit of the Single Malt Scotch that dwells within me.
She could be half right there.
This kind of weather always calls for SMS intake to warm both bone and spirit. It’s a natural combination like milk & cookies, green eggs & ham, Hope & Crosby and coke & cola.
MMmmmmmmm Scotch; Scotchy, scotch, scotch.
So there I was, right in the middle of rekindling a close relationship with a long neglected mystery novel, when my daughter walks into the room and states with the slyest of grins:
“Do you want to know how I know it is almost Christmas?”
This is a loaded question in my house. For those of you who know me, Christmas; or as I refer to it: Xmas, is not my favorite holiday, I will not go into all that again, but if you really have to know, you can find that five part series of bitching and moaning right aboooouuuuuuuuttttttttttt--------------------------------à Here
Now my Daughter DD loves Xmas and has since she was a child. What’s so unusual about that, says you?
She would watch taped Xmas shows and play Xmas music all year long, says I.
All FFFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKIIIIINNNNNGGGGG Year Long!
Until my eyes & ears would ooze pus and the walls would drip blood. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she found this holiday movie called ‘Prancer’ which is about a little girl (just like her), who loves Xmas so much (just like her), that she plays (just like her), holiday music (just like her),
All FFFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKIIIIINNNNNGGGGG Year Long!
I have discovered that if you play this movie backwards, it is actually a demonic chant!
DD, at 21 now, is no longer this obsessed with Xmas, but when the holiday rolls around (which now a days seems to be just after the 4th of July), she gets that old spirit back again that I must once again endure.
And so with one eye squinted shut and my teeth clenched, I say:
“How do you know hon”
Her voice gets all excited; “Because it’s snowing outside!”
I get up from my chair and look out the window to the most amazing sight; white snow falling against a backdrop of the most where-the-fuck-were-you-in-October colored leaves. Brilliant reds, yellows, and yellow-orange leaves swinging in the branches, with dancing white all around them.
I am stunned.
My wife walks in a looks out casually stating; “Oh yeah, I remember when it used to do this all the time around my birthday (October 22nd), but I haven’t seen it happen in a while.”
“I lived no more than 6 blocks away from you growing up, and I never remember this ever happening!” , says I.
“‘I think your just getting too old to remember”, says she.
“I think I’m going to have to start marking the liquid level on the Scotch bottle, because its obvious to me that I’m not the only one partaking! , says I.
The snow didn’t last more than a half hour and leaves no trace behind. It was a sight I will never forget and, I also learned three things:
1st; The Lord never ceases to amaze me.
2nd; I may dislike the holidays, but I will never tire of seeing Christmas reflected in my daughters eyes.
3rd; My wife must be sneaking into my scotch supply, even though she claims that the only thing that tastes worse than it, is gasoline!
(“Now how would you know that?!”, says I.)
© 2007 November 18 Stuck In My Head Sideways “You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.”
~Mahatma Gandhi
“I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process.”
~Vincent Van Gogh
“Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most”
~Mark Twain
Have you ever had one of those days when you get a song (usually the last one you hear), stuck in your head and you can’t get it out? You know; when you try everything to eradicate it, including listening to another song, using mind over matter, concentrating on other tasks, sticking a red hot screwdriver into your eardrums, etc.
Well I seem to be having one of those weekends, not with songs though, but with things that I remember hearing and reading from way back when I was a kid.
Yesterday I had that stupid riddle that was hounding me all day; not because I didn’t know the answer, but because I kept repeating to myself over and over again, the sing-song part of it:
“Brothers and sister I have none, but that mans father is my fathers son”.
I was able to finally get it knocked out by posting it and being done with it.
Today however, it has been replaced by something else; not a riddle, but a poster that my cousin TD had hanging in his room. TD’s room was always an entertainment center; festooned with posters and slogans, there was no place where the actual walls could be seen. These were either thought provoking (‘What if they had a war; and nobody came’), to the off color and funny; which is what I’m dealing with today.
He had this one poster that I never got tired of reading, and to this day; no matter how childish it may be, I still get a chuckle out of it.
Well today I’ve been laughing to myself all day and unfortunately, at several very inappropriate times (and after I finish here and shake this newest pest from my head, I have to go and pamper the wife profusely and make sure she knows that I truly think she still has a sexy BOD).
So without further adieu (I always thought this was a funny word too), I give you my latest brain fart:
‘I was awakened in the morning, still tired, beat and worn,
When a robin perched upon my windowsill, to greet the coming morn.
He sang a song so sweetly, great hope and joy was his refrain,
That the daylight seemed to brighten more, at his joyful music strain.
And then there came a time between the notes, when he paused for a moments lull,
That I gently pulled the window down, and crushed its fucking skull.’
I’m not quite sure why these particular items from the Jurassic are haunting me now, but I’m sure that the universe is trying to tell me something. I wish it would just come out and say it, because I swear; if I start hearing the song ‘Muskrat Love’ in my noggin, I’m going to…
Oh Shit! Where’s my screwdriver!
© 2007 November 17 Riddle Me This“A writer is someone who can make a riddle out of an answer.”
~Karl Kraus
“I am a man of few words, but many riddles.”
~Frank Gorshin
“You know what your problem is, it's that you haven't seen enough movies - all of life's riddles are answered in the movies.”
~Steve Martin
I’ve had this riddle floating in my head all day. It was a favorite of both my father and grandfather and even when you would get the answer; it would lead to arguments and second guessing yourself. They would also argue about the setting and where exactly each person was; all things that had nothing to do with the riddle, but that’s Pennsylvania folk for you. Regardless, it always lead to good entertainment and more laughs then the riddle itself did.
I will present it the way my dad always did (I’m sure my grandfather’s ghost will haunt me over it tonight because ‘I got it all wrong’ (god damned Pennsyltuckians).
And so for your Saturday night pleasure (and to get it from out of my head)…
Oh and before I forget; alcohol is usually helpful here, especially if you have heard it before…
A prisoner looks out of their cell window and sees a person arriving at the prison for a visit. This prisoner turns to their cell mate; points at the arriving individual outside and says:
“Brothers and sisters I have none, but that mans father is my fathers son”.
What is the relationship between the prisoner and the person outside?
Good night and have fun.
“OK Grandpa, I’m ready for you; bring it on!!
© 2007 November 16 Bloggers Prayer“Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one's weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.”
~Mahatma Gandhi
“Prayer… will help strengthen us for the journey ahead.”
~George W. Bush
“When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.”
~Oscar Wilde
Oh great god of crapapolooza hear my cry
My reservoir of blog ideas has quite run dry,
I sit here now in front of this screen
And wonder what it all could mean.
I’ve still got 15 days more left to daily post
And so far, I’ve given it the very most
Best effort that I could make to insure,
That my duty to NaBloPoMo would so endure.
My fingers are poised and ready to go
Of what I can write, I do not know,
In the past when this came over me
I’d pray to you to make me see.
As you can observe, I’m only half way there
And I’m about ready to pull out all my hair,
Nothing today inspires and therefore words I lack
So please help me from looking like Kojack.
And so I prepare now for this solemn task
To enter your presence and there to bask,
And to give you the respect that you are due,
I bow my head, and start my prayer to you:
 Now I sit here at my desk
And I do not mean to be a pest,
Will you help me, and make the guano flow
Because if you don’t, you really blow.
Amen. © 2007 November 15 One Year Old & Half Way There“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”
~Epicurus
“Dreams are like stars...you may never touch them, but if you follow them they will lead you to your destiny.”
~Anon.
“Really great people make you feel that you, too, can become great.”
~Mark Twain
‘A Murder Of Crows’ is one year old today; a milestone I wasn’t sure that I would reach. It started as an experiment to see if there was any creative ability still left inside me after being dormant for so long, and while I have not been consistent with the experiment, I can honestly state that; Yes, I do believe there is something still left to be salvaged.
With each new entry, I feel the flow to be more natural and even when I can do nothing more than stare at the computer monitor, I find that this too has merit to my writing.
(NOTE: when this affliction happens, I have learned to pray to the great god of crapapolooza; who hears my cries of woe, and gives me words to let the guano flow).
The subtitle in my banner states ‘A Journey Through The Valley Of Shadow’. Partly it was about the shadow of the uncertainty to life; with the joys and sorrows encountered along the way. But in a bigger sense, this ‘valley’ reflected my shadow of doubt about rekindling a dream. As I said in my first post, this was a self initiated exile from the ‘Paper & Pen’ that I had made 30 years ago, for reasons that I have not yet made clear.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not.
What I do know for sure, is that the shadow of doubt is departed, and whether or not my writing ever amounts to anything more than this, I am truly thankful for these first steps actually taken. Thanks to Josh, as of today, my banner subtitle will have the Douglas Adams quote:
"I rarely end up where I was intending to go, but I often end up somewhere that I needed to be."
For this new year ahead, these are the words that I will build upon.
More importantly, I have made new friends here in the cyber sphere that are as important to me, as the friends I have in the corporeal realm; you have made my journey worth the trip, with your words of encouragement and even criticism (and I know who you bastards are! ;). I am especially grateful to my younger brother who started this whole mess (although he didn’t realize it at the time) when he started his own blog a month previous to mine. I had been working independently in getting it started (A.K.A.: Thinking about doing it with little evidence of actually making it happen). It was his launch that spurned me on and made it a reality. Even today, I find myself dusting off an old goal of mine; to write and publish a children’s book. I guess the old adage ‘Better late than never’ would be the title to my story.
There are also two of you out there, that are more like sisters to me; and for a person who grew up without that special touch of a feminine sibling hogging the bathroom and phone all the time; that makes you all the more special. And somewhere out there is a brother with a really big shoe and an even bigger heart, who seems to be lost somewhere in the evil misty domain of Bill Gates. – O’ Brother, Where art thou?
Some are more recent friends who drop by only every now and then, or even just once; know that your presence here is equally appreciated.
I have enjoyed visiting your pages as much as I do visiting friends and family at their homes. I often feel neglectful in that I do not get around to visit everyone in a timely manner. I will strive to be more diligent in the future; even knowing that I will fail at this. If I had to give this place a title, it would be that we are a ‘Family of Friends’.
This day also marks the halfway point through November Madness (A.K.A: NaBloPoMo). While I have to admit that this has been a lot more fun than I thought it would be, I can’t wait until it’s over and I can breathe again! After a lethargic summer (writing wise), this is the boot camp style work out that I absolutely needed. Most of what was, and will yet be produced during this period may be complete crap, but it’s my crap.
Of all my posts, I think the one that I personally consider my best is ‘Through Her Eyes’; not due to any great literary achievement; there are actually others that I think are better written, but because it is one about my dad, who has been absent from our lives for 16 years this month. It is a story about us; a story about continuing on.
And in that spirit…
November 14 Holy Smoke“Among the notable things about fire is that it also requires oxygen to burn - exactly like its enemy, life. Thereby are life and flames so often compared.”
~Otto Weininger
“Fire is the most tolerable third party”
~Henry David Thoreau
“I stare into the fire bright; its dance entices me,
To look back through the veils of time; where I may once more see”
~Mark Alexander Oliver
For as long as I can remember, I have always loved to do yard work. Mowing the lawn, pruning, raking; it didn’t matter. Yard work has always been a catharsis for me, a way to decompress from the outside world and be productive at the same time. Shoveling snow is a different matter. Snow is a dumping (by a mischievous God) of a beautiful white blanket that is also just as evil in its makeup. I love it when it snows; watching it fall from the big picture window with a big mug of tea in hand and classical music playing in the background. There just is no better experience. Even the shoveling can be fun too, but that kind of fun is short lived, if you end up re-doing your work over and over again. But eventually it will end and that’s when the evil part sets in; it is either so cold afterward that it freezes up to be like the hardened surface of a volcano and hangs around until July or, it thaws so fast that it leaves behind a sloppy, slushy mess. So you see shoveling snow is not really so much yard work, as it is forced labor.
The best time to do yard work is in the fall, when the air is crisp and the skies are leaden. And of all the chores to do outside that one can do, raking the leaves has always been at the top of the list. It is a very labor intensive task, but I find being outside in this kind of weather makes any yard task desirable. I remember when I was small jumping into leaf piles and breathing deep the earthy aroma, and I enjoyed it just as much as a young father would, watching my small children doing the same. Growing up in New Jersey, I can remember back to a time when it was legal to burn your raked up leaves in burn barrels and the whole neighborhood would have a smoky haze to it.
Yeah, OK; I realize now the reasons why this is no longer allowed, with everything from the re-enactment of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow kicking over the lantern to health concerns; but look at all the other crappy things we do to our bodies in the name of enjoyment anyway. It may not have been a good thing, but I remember it with fondness. When we take road trips out to see my aunt in Pennsylvania, I often see the ancient rite of leaf burning going on and I feel cheated (my kids do not understand this and my health conscious wife thinks I am insane).
Today, while I may not be able to burn my leaves, I can take enjoyment in the fact that I can burn all my downed branches in my chimenea; and believe me; I got a whole lot of them. All during the year, I collect them as they fall and pile them neatly, to await ‘The Burning Times’.
There is something soothing about controlled fire & smoke. Fire we have all gazed into; whether it was a camp fire or fireplace, and lost ourselves to time & tide, as we journey off inside our heads to somewhere or some-when else. But it is the incense of the smoke that lingers long after our eyes are torn away from the flames. It lingers in the air and on our cloths and I know of few people who, after leaving the fires side, doesn’t relish bringing their shirt front up to their noses and inhaling deep the wood smoke aroma.
The day was just like this on Sunday past, and I had the fires burning from early morning until late in the afternoon, only to stop then because we had friends coming over for dinner.
With a bumper crop of leaves on the ground, I raked the whole time under the watchful eyes of the leaves that were still in the trees; waiting their turn to dump on me. But unlike those bombardier birds who like to express themselves all over your newly washed car, I do not mind knowing that another onslaught of leaves are not far behind in covering my newly cleared yard. I’ll be there with a rake in one hand and a match in the other.
I once wrote how music is a catalyst for my time traveling. Fire and smoke do the same thing, except that I am not immediately transported to any specific event as the music does to me. With fire & smoke, I seem to glide through many times and places, and I am able to enjoy the ride much longer than the final musical note could allow.
© 2007 November 13 Watch The Skies“I hate birds, I hate mice. Anything that moves quicker than I do.”
~Sheree Murphy “Watch the skies, everywhere! Keep looking. Keep watching the skies!”
~Last line from the 1951 Sci-Fi Classic: ‘The Thing From Another World’
“A bird in the hand is safer than one overhead.”
~Captain Obvious
The next time you walk out to your clean car and find that the birds have honored you with an original Jackson Pollock of their own creation all over your car, and after you cuss up a storm because not only did they get you good, but they got you right in the spot on the windshield where your eyes need to be when driving, look around the car.
Not only did they not get the car or cars parked right next to you, they also didn’t get a speck of crapolla on the ground.
You could actually be the only car in the lot and they will get you and nothing else.
Zip. Zero. Nada.
If only the military were as good, there would never be any civilian casualties.
Zip. Zero. Nada.
© 2007 November 12 The Witch Of November“No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, - November!” ~Thomas Hood
“When chill November's surly blast make fields and forest bare.” ~Robert Burns
“T'was the witch of November come stealing”
~Gordon Lightfoot
I knew it would happen. Despite my best intentions to make this month a celebration of the dead rather than a mournful time, I knew it had happen. It’s almost like the wild animals of the world which kill for food or dominance, November just cannot help itself; it is just in its very nature to hunt down those within my sphere of family and friends, and to claim them and lay them down. And despite this latest blow to a friend who has just lost a father, I will continue to keep my new outlook for this reaping time year. I will just need to learn how to temper this joyful new time of remembrance, with the sorrow that must be shed over a new loss (that will always mark this time of year), of a stilled hand.
“Time & Tide Waits For No Man” ~John Skot
© 2007 November 11 Nothing Part Deux: Love StoryThe critics rave: "I Like my whisky old and my women young. "
~Errol Flynn "Always carry a large flagon of whisky in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake."
~W.C. Fields
"Friendship is like whisky; the older, the better."
~Anonymous "There are two things a Highlander likes naked, and one of them is malt whisky."
~Scottish proverb “I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis.”
~Humphrey Bogart (reported to be his dying words)
Staring:
Lagavulin
Aged 16 Years
Body is full, smooth and firm
Scent is like that of the sea
Kiss offers the sweetness of sherry and the saltiness of desire
Come on baby, light my fire…
© 2007 |
|
|
