BEST television theme song EVER. That's all I'm sayin'...
Guess.
Da da duh da duh duhhh, da da duh da duh
Dec 13, 2010
Oct 12, 2010
Hippie days are here again
Frisbee golf, FROLF, or "disc golf" as it is now known is back in my life. That makes me a happy hippie!
I remember playing Frisbee everything in 1972, 73, 74 on up.. 1979 was a memorable year in that we had a North American Series of competitions at Wichita State University (where we also had been playing "object oriented" Frisbee golf for a few years). I attended, competed, got the special commemorative 119g Frisbee, t-shirt, etc.
That's also the main year of our Ultimate Frisbee experiences. We played all over southern Kansas and northern Oklahoma with teams from colleges, teams of stoners (like ours) and church groups (which was strange while we were so stoned..). We spent hours practicing freestyle tricks and spinning the Frisbees on our fingers, etc.
Good times.. good times.
I'm ready for times like those to return to my daily life. It took about 35 years but the fun and spark are back. The discs used in disc golf now sort of suck.. but I'll get used to using about 25 discs now as opposed to when the two or three Frisbees we had back in the day seemed to work just fine.
There is even a division called "Super Class" that seems tailor made for us old hippie types.. you can use the old Frisbees as well as some new larger discs that don't fit in to the current disc golf routine.
More on this later also...
I remember playing Frisbee everything in 1972, 73, 74 on up.. 1979 was a memorable year in that we had a North American Series of competitions at Wichita State University (where we also had been playing "object oriented" Frisbee golf for a few years). I attended, competed, got the special commemorative 119g Frisbee, t-shirt, etc.
That's also the main year of our Ultimate Frisbee experiences. We played all over southern Kansas and northern Oklahoma with teams from colleges, teams of stoners (like ours) and church groups (which was strange while we were so stoned..). We spent hours practicing freestyle tricks and spinning the Frisbees on our fingers, etc.
Good times.. good times.
I'm ready for times like those to return to my daily life. It took about 35 years but the fun and spark are back. The discs used in disc golf now sort of suck.. but I'll get used to using about 25 discs now as opposed to when the two or three Frisbees we had back in the day seemed to work just fine.
There is even a division called "Super Class" that seems tailor made for us old hippie types.. you can use the old Frisbees as well as some new larger discs that don't fit in to the current disc golf routine.
More on this later also...
Some kind of record.. I'm sure
27 dead animals on a recent trip to North Dakota... a huge number by any standards. How often do you see a dead animal along the side of a highway? Maybe a few skunks, a dog, opossum, maybe a stray cat, etc.
ALL 27 of these were raccoons. Every last one of them. Either a massive mid west raccoon suicide pact happened or some of them were not "accidents".. if you get my drift.
WTF?! I have never seen so many road kills in one trip. I'm thinking that around 5 or 6 was the maximum I'd ever encountered on one trip before. That record has been obliterated now.
Hmm, it could be a sign of things to come. More on this later.
ALL 27 of these were raccoons. Every last one of them. Either a massive mid west raccoon suicide pact happened or some of them were not "accidents".. if you get my drift.
WTF?! I have never seen so many road kills in one trip. I'm thinking that around 5 or 6 was the maximum I'd ever encountered on one trip before. That record has been obliterated now.
Hmm, it could be a sign of things to come. More on this later.
Sep 8, 2010
Aug 19, 2010
Drive-In theaters, bad food and America
I did something last night that I’ve not done in 15 or 20 years. I went to a drive-in movie theater. In the city where I am living, there remains a two-screen theater in the south part of town. It is a theater I remember going to when I was just a teenage kid. This theater has survived somehow for all of my years and probably for a few years before I was born. As I drove in, the memories came flooding back and experiences I had – bad and good – came right to the forefront of my thoughts. The girls I had dated at this theater, how well those dates went.. or not. Fights, drug induced trips and alcohol infused time-wasting from the ‘70’s – it all came rushing back. I pulled up to an empty spot (with only a few other cars in attendance that night there were plenty of open spots), lifted the speaker from its perch – still the same crappy speakers that were always there – placed it clumsily on my dash and watched as the ads urging me to go buy some refreshments came on the screen. I must admit that for an old drive-in theater, the screen was very bright and focused fairly well. What can I say? I pay attention to these things - it's in my line of work.
These ads were the same ones that used to run on the screens back in the late 1960’s and ‘70’s. Used nowadays, I’m sure, in an attempt by the proprietor to try and preserve the feeling of drive-in days gone by. Animated drink cups, hot dogs and ice cream treats danced their way around the screen with a small animated clock that would remind the audience of the few minutes before the show was to begin. Letting us all know that there was still time to go to the snack bar and stock up! As the clock wound down to show time and the movie previews began, I slid down in my seat and thought again of just how long it had been since I was at a drive-in theater.
The opening scene of a movie came on the screen and I knew right away that the ticket taker had told me the wrong directions and I was at the wrong movie. My movie had started a few minutes earlier at the other screen. I unhooked the speaker and drove to the other screen, set everything up again and, albeit a few minutes into the show already, slid down into my seat for a few hours of visual entertainment. The movies "The Other Guys" and "Salt" sucked – both of them – so I didn’t the experience as much as I could have – but the little things that evening are what I found to be very special indeed. The speakers used were still the same ones from “back in the day” and rough, beat-up dented things metal with volume knobs that no longer worked at all. I was to hear the sound at full blast or not at all. At the beginning of the experience a message appeared informing me that, should I choose to do so, the sound was also available on an FM frequency of my car stereo. I dialed the frequency in and sure enough, the audio was there – just as crappy as the sound coming out of the smashed metal box hanging from my dashboard. I opted to turn the car off and suffer with the old school way of hearing a movie at a drive-in.
Knowing that it may be a while before I return to a drive-in, I just had to get some bad drive-in food to accompany this experience so off to the snack bar I went. One corn dog, cheeseburger, hot dog and cotton candy later ($14.50 ?!) I returned to my car and began the feast. I cannot really explain why but bad food and bad films just seem to go together very well. I sat and watched the screen as I noticed an older man coming towards my car. He passed me and went to the speaker stand a stall or two to my left. He had a small tool belt on and it became obvious that he worked for the theater. I began watching him rather than the bad movie because he looked like the personified example of an old drive-in theater. Withered, slightly bent and crooked but still functional. He disassembled the speaker boxes with confident familiarity and looked as though he had been doing so for many years. I began formulating an idea for filming a documentary about the demise of the drive-in movie theaters in America and decided right then to have this gentleman be the focus and central unifying figure in my film. He must have seen it all, this nameless man, as he was many years older than I and clearly the captain of this old drive-in ship. Having him tell the tales of his experiences and offer his opinions of what has transpired over the last 60 years would anchor my film and bring a face to the history. The he pulled out his cell phone and everything sort of dissolved away.
Those speakers. I must have seen three or four types of them hanging off of the speaker poles close by my car. Speakers are speakers and in the Midwest, nothing is replaced with new if an old one will do the job. For some reason the speakers held my attention more than anything else about the theater or the experience that evening. I simply must go back and take one from that theater for preservation and posterity. I could search the internet for pictures of those kinds of speakers but it wouldn’t be the same. These are special and there can only be so many left in this country.
After the films ended, I didn't hurry to the exit but waited and watched as the other cars left. For both screens on a Wednesday night there were only about 10 or 12 cars - hardly enough to fall into a profit zone for the theater. I can remember when this same drive-in was packed and it took 20 minutes just to wait in line to exit the place. Back then, that was a great time to socialize and try to find a car load of girls to follow for the rest of the evening. But for tonight, if the other people bought stuff at the snack bar like I did, the theater made their money the old fashioned way - through the sales of over priced, chemically enhanced, nitrate laden "refreshments".
I have many questions now. Questions about drive-in movie theaters and their state – past, present, and future. So many questions that I think I’ll film a documentary about it all. If I could only find the right face to put on this American history… and have him turn his cell phone off while we’re filming.
These ads were the same ones that used to run on the screens back in the late 1960’s and ‘70’s. Used nowadays, I’m sure, in an attempt by the proprietor to try and preserve the feeling of drive-in days gone by. Animated drink cups, hot dogs and ice cream treats danced their way around the screen with a small animated clock that would remind the audience of the few minutes before the show was to begin. Letting us all know that there was still time to go to the snack bar and stock up! As the clock wound down to show time and the movie previews began, I slid down in my seat and thought again of just how long it had been since I was at a drive-in theater.
The opening scene of a movie came on the screen and I knew right away that the ticket taker had told me the wrong directions and I was at the wrong movie. My movie had started a few minutes earlier at the other screen. I unhooked the speaker and drove to the other screen, set everything up again and, albeit a few minutes into the show already, slid down into my seat for a few hours of visual entertainment. The movies "The Other Guys" and "Salt" sucked – both of them – so I didn’t the experience as much as I could have – but the little things that evening are what I found to be very special indeed. The speakers used were still the same ones from “back in the day” and rough, beat-up dented things metal with volume knobs that no longer worked at all. I was to hear the sound at full blast or not at all. At the beginning of the experience a message appeared informing me that, should I choose to do so, the sound was also available on an FM frequency of my car stereo. I dialed the frequency in and sure enough, the audio was there – just as crappy as the sound coming out of the smashed metal box hanging from my dashboard. I opted to turn the car off and suffer with the old school way of hearing a movie at a drive-in.
Knowing that it may be a while before I return to a drive-in, I just had to get some bad drive-in food to accompany this experience so off to the snack bar I went. One corn dog, cheeseburger, hot dog and cotton candy later ($14.50 ?!) I returned to my car and began the feast. I cannot really explain why but bad food and bad films just seem to go together very well. I sat and watched the screen as I noticed an older man coming towards my car. He passed me and went to the speaker stand a stall or two to my left. He had a small tool belt on and it became obvious that he worked for the theater. I began watching him rather than the bad movie because he looked like the personified example of an old drive-in theater. Withered, slightly bent and crooked but still functional. He disassembled the speaker boxes with confident familiarity and looked as though he had been doing so for many years. I began formulating an idea for filming a documentary about the demise of the drive-in movie theaters in America and decided right then to have this gentleman be the focus and central unifying figure in my film. He must have seen it all, this nameless man, as he was many years older than I and clearly the captain of this old drive-in ship. Having him tell the tales of his experiences and offer his opinions of what has transpired over the last 60 years would anchor my film and bring a face to the history. The he pulled out his cell phone and everything sort of dissolved away.
Those speakers. I must have seen three or four types of them hanging off of the speaker poles close by my car. Speakers are speakers and in the Midwest, nothing is replaced with new if an old one will do the job. For some reason the speakers held my attention more than anything else about the theater or the experience that evening. I simply must go back and take one from that theater for preservation and posterity. I could search the internet for pictures of those kinds of speakers but it wouldn’t be the same. These are special and there can only be so many left in this country.
After the films ended, I didn't hurry to the exit but waited and watched as the other cars left. For both screens on a Wednesday night there were only about 10 or 12 cars - hardly enough to fall into a profit zone for the theater. I can remember when this same drive-in was packed and it took 20 minutes just to wait in line to exit the place. Back then, that was a great time to socialize and try to find a car load of girls to follow for the rest of the evening. But for tonight, if the other people bought stuff at the snack bar like I did, the theater made their money the old fashioned way - through the sales of over priced, chemically enhanced, nitrate laden "refreshments".
I have many questions now. Questions about drive-in movie theaters and their state – past, present, and future. So many questions that I think I’ll film a documentary about it all. If I could only find the right face to put on this American history… and have him turn his cell phone off while we’re filming.
Jul 9, 2010
Magic and intrigue... that's what I'm missing.
Another television show that I find rather "fun" showcases the use of some deliciously low-tech in the "ultimate tech" systems at "Warehouse 13", a series on the Syfy channel that's just begun it's second season. Mechanical engineer types and those inclined to rummage through attics and basements for old magic trick paraphernalia will enjoy the brass, wood and leather antique feel of most of the devices used in this show. From the "Farnsworth" video phones the characters carry to the various security systems in place and the myriad of "artifacts" stored within it, a secret government warehouse is full of odd looking devices designed with complicated simplicity in their functions.
While viewing these things with intrigue, a story line lumbers along in the background to bring meaning to the existence of the warehouse and the duties of it's stewards. Imagination rules this show and invites unlimited possibility into the workings of any plot.
The premise is not new - dangerous objects exist that can be used for evil and paranormal mischief. When found, those objects are collected and removed from society so no further damage may be done. Each week, some object becomes the focus of a search by the good guys, or the center of a nefarious plot by the bad guys. The protagonists narrowly escape certain death, find said object, securely contain it and save the planet. The attraction is in the odd characteristics of the objects themselves and in the puzzle-solving aspects of their ultimate acquisition. In "Warehouse 13", it is the US government behind the management of all this material. In a show a couple of decades ago called "Friday the 13th" it seemed that that responsibility lied with the curator of an old antique shop somewhere back near the northeast coast.
For me, items as simple as a pair of special goggles needed to navigate the "Escher Vault" are so cool looking that I need to find a pair for me to use while riding my Harley. The "Tesla" guns are just what you would imagine a pistol sized tazer built in London in the 1850's would look like. So many things - switches to flip, buckles to buckle, toggle switches, push button triggers and primitive radio control devices - all with wood, rope, silver, leather, brass and ingenuity. I'd love to spend a week or so in the props department of this show talking with the art department and set designers!
Sure, I could keep stuff in a box with a lid.. or I could store that same stuff in an intricately designed metal and wooden masterpiece of a container with secret locking trickery built right in so only I knew the answer to getting it open.. that would be so much cooler.
While viewing these things with intrigue, a story line lumbers along in the background to bring meaning to the existence of the warehouse and the duties of it's stewards. Imagination rules this show and invites unlimited possibility into the workings of any plot.
The premise is not new - dangerous objects exist that can be used for evil and paranormal mischief. When found, those objects are collected and removed from society so no further damage may be done. Each week, some object becomes the focus of a search by the good guys, or the center of a nefarious plot by the bad guys. The protagonists narrowly escape certain death, find said object, securely contain it and save the planet. The attraction is in the odd characteristics of the objects themselves and in the puzzle-solving aspects of their ultimate acquisition. In "Warehouse 13", it is the US government behind the management of all this material. In a show a couple of decades ago called "Friday the 13th" it seemed that that responsibility lied with the curator of an old antique shop somewhere back near the northeast coast.
For me, items as simple as a pair of special goggles needed to navigate the "Escher Vault" are so cool looking that I need to find a pair for me to use while riding my Harley. The "Tesla" guns are just what you would imagine a pistol sized tazer built in London in the 1850's would look like. So many things - switches to flip, buckles to buckle, toggle switches, push button triggers and primitive radio control devices - all with wood, rope, silver, leather, brass and ingenuity. I'd love to spend a week or so in the props department of this show talking with the art department and set designers!
Sure, I could keep stuff in a box with a lid.. or I could store that same stuff in an intricately designed metal and wooden masterpiece of a container with secret locking trickery built right in so only I knew the answer to getting it open.. that would be so much cooler.
Jun 28, 2010
Act III
The "third act" of my life is coming fast and screaming around the corner at me...
You can't go home again.
I've only been back in Kansas for about 5 weeks now and already I feel the desire to leave... to go somewhere else to continue my "adventure" of life. Why I cannot seem to be satisfied with any aspect of living here is a mystery to me... but yet, it is real.
Living the past eleven years in places other than Kansas has conditioned my thought process to find time spent in Kansas as temporary. Except now that I have no resources, I cannot see any light at the end of this tunnel.
Everything about being "home" again feels wrong. No, I do not want to mow grass, fix old automobiles or run errands. No, I do not want to be the gypsy I must be to travel to where my kids are and sleep on their couches, or crash at a friend's house for a night or two while I try to spend all the time I can with one or more of my children. It just feels wrong. It feels so temporary, so disconnected, so sad.
My kids all have their lives; my friends are just that... casual friends. Any time I do get to spend with my children or my friends feels "forced" or obligatory in some odd way. I am, for the first time in a very long time, without a female companion. Maybe that's what I'm missing. Maybe for all of the talk about the benefits of being "single" for a change, and the fact that I have been with a woman for the past 27 years, maybe I am lonely. Maybe I do need the warmth of a woman's heart to fill this void I'm feeling. I suppose time will tell. The only woman I care about, whom I adore, the only girl for me… doesn’t have the room or the time in her life for me right now. It’s not her fault – she has two high school age children who take up all of her time and attention – she’s just trying her best to be a good mom. I can’t expect her to make any changes just because I’m here now and would love to spend time with her.
I'm too old to "run away". I'm too old to "start over". I'm 50. I'm unemployed. My future does not look very bright.
I'd join the circus but I ain’t no clown.
The odds of finding stimulating, challenging, meaningful work at this age are as thin as they can possibly be. Ordinarily I am usually someone who can focus on positive thinking and march right into adversity with confidence and emerge triumphant for having done so.
As I look back though, I realize that I've been able to do so (the confidence thing) largely due to the fact that I had the love and companionship of a woman by my side during those times. Actually, during all of my "times". Damn, does this mean I need to find love again to feel "normal"? And isn't that an extremely selfish reason to find love again? Love, for me, is about giving, caring and working to bring pleasure to my partner's day-to-day world. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had any other motive in a relationship.
Of course, not everything is black and white or simple in any relationship. Motives can change, and then change back many times during the course of a relationship. Hell, they can change many times during the course of a single day...
Something's got to give. If I am to be "re-born" over the next few months, as a friend who is into astrology says I am, then I must, as a part of that re-birth, be patient. I must direct my energy towards a few core fundamentals - health, mental readiness, spiritual growth, etc.
But I am restless. I have always been restless. If things around me do not change, then I change the things around me. I move on. I have always gotten my kicks from something new... new surroundings, new work, new people, new toys.
Which brings me to probably the most fundamental truth about myself - I have led my life by avoiding what I do not want, rather than going after what I do want. It is often said that one must "go for your dreams", or "have goals and try your best to achieve them", etc. but I've done the flip side of that. I don't remember having any "goals" or "dreams". I've never felt comfortable even thinking about "what I want". That scares me. I don't know what I want. But I do know what I do NOT want.
I do not want to work the same job for 30 or 40 years. I do not want to live in the same small town for those 30 or 40 years. I do not want routines. I do not want repetition of un-exciting, un-stimulating activity. I do not want to reach the end of my life full of regrets.
Somehow, even though none of us "wants" regrets at the end of our lives, we all will have them, regardless of the choices we've made during our days of living and choosing. Well, all this would be fine if I didn't have to go on living... but I do, so - where to go from here? How do I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again THIS time? I have to. It's that simple. So, I don't know how and I don't know when, but change WILL happen. Again.
Ooh, a mystery! Something new... this might get interesting. That's how I'll start - I'll convince myself of the "adventure" of figuring out how to carry on and move into the next phase of my life. Wish me luck! Or don't. How bad can a Tuesday get?
Boy, you ain't seen nothin’ yet.
You can't go home again.
I've only been back in Kansas for about 5 weeks now and already I feel the desire to leave... to go somewhere else to continue my "adventure" of life. Why I cannot seem to be satisfied with any aspect of living here is a mystery to me... but yet, it is real.
Living the past eleven years in places other than Kansas has conditioned my thought process to find time spent in Kansas as temporary. Except now that I have no resources, I cannot see any light at the end of this tunnel.
Everything about being "home" again feels wrong. No, I do not want to mow grass, fix old automobiles or run errands. No, I do not want to be the gypsy I must be to travel to where my kids are and sleep on their couches, or crash at a friend's house for a night or two while I try to spend all the time I can with one or more of my children. It just feels wrong. It feels so temporary, so disconnected, so sad.
My kids all have their lives; my friends are just that... casual friends. Any time I do get to spend with my children or my friends feels "forced" or obligatory in some odd way. I am, for the first time in a very long time, without a female companion. Maybe that's what I'm missing. Maybe for all of the talk about the benefits of being "single" for a change, and the fact that I have been with a woman for the past 27 years, maybe I am lonely. Maybe I do need the warmth of a woman's heart to fill this void I'm feeling. I suppose time will tell. The only woman I care about, whom I adore, the only girl for me… doesn’t have the room or the time in her life for me right now. It’s not her fault – she has two high school age children who take up all of her time and attention – she’s just trying her best to be a good mom. I can’t expect her to make any changes just because I’m here now and would love to spend time with her.
I'm too old to "run away". I'm too old to "start over". I'm 50. I'm unemployed. My future does not look very bright.
I'd join the circus but I ain’t no clown.
The odds of finding stimulating, challenging, meaningful work at this age are as thin as they can possibly be. Ordinarily I am usually someone who can focus on positive thinking and march right into adversity with confidence and emerge triumphant for having done so.
As I look back though, I realize that I've been able to do so (the confidence thing) largely due to the fact that I had the love and companionship of a woman by my side during those times. Actually, during all of my "times". Damn, does this mean I need to find love again to feel "normal"? And isn't that an extremely selfish reason to find love again? Love, for me, is about giving, caring and working to bring pleasure to my partner's day-to-day world. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had any other motive in a relationship.
Of course, not everything is black and white or simple in any relationship. Motives can change, and then change back many times during the course of a relationship. Hell, they can change many times during the course of a single day...
Something's got to give. If I am to be "re-born" over the next few months, as a friend who is into astrology says I am, then I must, as a part of that re-birth, be patient. I must direct my energy towards a few core fundamentals - health, mental readiness, spiritual growth, etc.
But I am restless. I have always been restless. If things around me do not change, then I change the things around me. I move on. I have always gotten my kicks from something new... new surroundings, new work, new people, new toys.
Which brings me to probably the most fundamental truth about myself - I have led my life by avoiding what I do not want, rather than going after what I do want. It is often said that one must "go for your dreams", or "have goals and try your best to achieve them", etc. but I've done the flip side of that. I don't remember having any "goals" or "dreams". I've never felt comfortable even thinking about "what I want". That scares me. I don't know what I want. But I do know what I do NOT want.
I do not want to work the same job for 30 or 40 years. I do not want to live in the same small town for those 30 or 40 years. I do not want routines. I do not want repetition of un-exciting, un-stimulating activity. I do not want to reach the end of my life full of regrets.
Somehow, even though none of us "wants" regrets at the end of our lives, we all will have them, regardless of the choices we've made during our days of living and choosing. Well, all this would be fine if I didn't have to go on living... but I do, so - where to go from here? How do I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again THIS time? I have to. It's that simple. So, I don't know how and I don't know when, but change WILL happen. Again.
Ooh, a mystery! Something new... this might get interesting. That's how I'll start - I'll convince myself of the "adventure" of figuring out how to carry on and move into the next phase of my life. Wish me luck! Or don't. How bad can a Tuesday get?
Boy, you ain't seen nothin’ yet.
Apr 26, 2010
"Treme" television triumphs tonight.
Superb piece of television from HBO. The best TV I've seen since Weeds sprouted up. Specifically, the closing 4 minutes and 48 seconds of tonight's episode of "Treme".
If you're unfamiliar with the name, Treme is the nickname of an area within the city of New Orleans noted as an important culturally historic neighborhood from which a disproportional amount of great music came. Clean-up from Katrina (physical, political, emotional, and otherwise) is the backdrop for this series looking in on the stories of some of the people doing the cleaning.
Tonight's episode is entitled "Right Place. Wrong Time.". Dr. John makes a cameo appearance. Midway through the story, the body of a missing elderly relative of one of the characters is found in the rubble, and the next afternoon, a fitting Creole Indian ceremony takes place - not the funeral - just a ceremony outside the residence of the deceased. Just as the uplifting musical ceremony starts really taking off, a "Katrina Tours" bus rolls up, slows, and as passengers click their disposable cameras, the driver asks what the gathering is all about. Obviously dumbfounded by the sudden tourist intrusion, a few of the men tell the driver to just "drive on away from here". The driver pauses, apologizes and drives away. Closing shot is from behind the group on the street looking past them as the bus drives on. Silent.
Considering what we, the audience, have learned about the characters and their struggles, this scene is very powerful and compelling. We get to see what those tourists couldn't. We get to see the heart and soul.
So far, this series has had it's ups and downs story wise, but this episode really clicked as a cohesive show and not just some varying storyline depictions from somewhat disassociated characters. John Goodman, Steve Zahn, and a host of other actors you will recognize. I really didn't think I would enjoy a program about New Orleans and Katrina, but these first few episodes are growing on me, especially after tonight.
If you're unfamiliar with the name, Treme is the nickname of an area within the city of New Orleans noted as an important culturally historic neighborhood from which a disproportional amount of great music came. Clean-up from Katrina (physical, political, emotional, and otherwise) is the backdrop for this series looking in on the stories of some of the people doing the cleaning.
Tonight's episode is entitled "Right Place. Wrong Time.". Dr. John makes a cameo appearance. Midway through the story, the body of a missing elderly relative of one of the characters is found in the rubble, and the next afternoon, a fitting Creole Indian ceremony takes place - not the funeral - just a ceremony outside the residence of the deceased. Just as the uplifting musical ceremony starts really taking off, a "Katrina Tours" bus rolls up, slows, and as passengers click their disposable cameras, the driver asks what the gathering is all about. Obviously dumbfounded by the sudden tourist intrusion, a few of the men tell the driver to just "drive on away from here". The driver pauses, apologizes and drives away. Closing shot is from behind the group on the street looking past them as the bus drives on. Silent.
Considering what we, the audience, have learned about the characters and their struggles, this scene is very powerful and compelling. We get to see what those tourists couldn't. We get to see the heart and soul.
So far, this series has had it's ups and downs story wise, but this episode really clicked as a cohesive show and not just some varying storyline depictions from somewhat disassociated characters. John Goodman, Steve Zahn, and a host of other actors you will recognize. I really didn't think I would enjoy a program about New Orleans and Katrina, but these first few episodes are growing on me, especially after tonight.
Apr 21, 2010
It's getting very real, very quickly.
I love Hawaii. I'll be back to visit someday. It's still the most beautiful place I've ever seen on Earth.
Loaded up majority of my "stuff" Monday onto a truck bound for a ship bound for California bound for another truck bound for Kansas...
Loaded my bike onto a skid bound for a ship bound for San Diego, California today (Tuesday). Strapped her down tight and hope for the best.
Going to pick up more Hawaii Ultimate discs from Mondo tomorrow. I'll mail a few straggler packages of left-overs in the next week or two and then I'll be bound for my bike in San Diego.. to ride my "Hekili Holo" to Kansas.
Adventures await.. very real. Fairly quick.
My only regret is that I wish I could make this road trip/journey with my son and/or my other children. After all, a shared journey is much richer than one traveled alone.
Lets see.. a stop in Vegas to triple my money, then through some canyons in Utah... then.. ?!
Loaded up majority of my "stuff" Monday onto a truck bound for a ship bound for California bound for another truck bound for Kansas...
Loaded my bike onto a skid bound for a ship bound for San Diego, California today (Tuesday). Strapped her down tight and hope for the best.
Going to pick up more Hawaii Ultimate discs from Mondo tomorrow. I'll mail a few straggler packages of left-overs in the next week or two and then I'll be bound for my bike in San Diego.. to ride my "Hekili Holo" to Kansas.
Adventures await.. very real. Fairly quick.
My only regret is that I wish I could make this road trip/journey with my son and/or my other children. After all, a shared journey is much richer than one traveled alone.
Lets see.. a stop in Vegas to triple my money, then through some canyons in Utah... then.. ?!
Apr 6, 2010
..where my love lies waiting silently for me.
Once there was a way
to get back homeward.
Once there was a way
to get back home.
to get back homeward.
Once there was a way
to get back home.
Mar 28, 2010
Thinking...
Welcome to one small aspect of my brain ...
I shared this in an earlier post "Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes."
Most of the time I can function and maintain focus with things I'm concentrating on. Other times, my mind moves at a rate of speed that leaves me in the dust. I've noticed that many times my mind has accelerated to a point where all I can do is go along for the ride.
Imagery takes a prominent role when these mind-racing sessions take place. It seems as though my mind cycles through random, disassociated images at the rate of about 2 or three images per second. That's right 2 or 3 per second. There is no order, no reason for what image appears. It might be a cute little kitten and then immediately into an algebra equation written on a chalkboard followed by something from my early childhood like riding a mini-bike then right into a scene from the signing of the declaration of independence, or some other sequence of random chaos and images. Crazy stuff that cannot be explained. Seriously, "bam - flip - bam - pow - click - bam and on and on until I either fall back asleep (if it takes place when I've awaken from sleep), which is not at all easy with that going on in my head, or until something jars my thinking into concentration on something specific - but even then the barrage of imagery continues while I try to focus my thoughts on the situation at hand.
I've never had "therapy" or been in a situation to express this to anyone of any capacity to shed light on it, but it's not something that interferes with my ability to function.. it's just that sometimes it is annoying as hell.
Maybe it stems from the way my mind works, and has always worked, since as long as I can remember. I've always felt, and accepted that, when my mind is presented something that needs a solution - anywhere from a big problem to a small subtle process, the wheels kick in and options are examined, possible solutions are played out in thought and the best way to approach the issue becomes clear to me in a matter of seconds. Not minutes. Seconds. I have always been able to get to "the bottom line" about things almost instantaneously. That has made for an interesting time when debates or arguments arise. I am quick to make my case for the solution that I think is best. I remain open and eager to listen to alternative answers and solutions, and the reasoning for those alternatives, but if they do not make perfect sense as the best way to go about solving the problem, then I don't change my mind. I have been known to change my mind and go about some different plan, but that is usually because new information comes out that affects the problem. Had my mind been aware of that "new" information at the onset, I am confident that I would have arrived at the "new" solution anyway.
I realize that this can be labeled as arrogance and that by this short explanation it may seem as though I have a superiority complex, but when I'm right, I'm right and throughout my history in different facets of life - home, school, work, etc. - my solutions, after consideration by others, are the ones adopted by everyone involved. It has been very rare that some other answer or proposed action has been implemented.
I guess I seem arrogant about this because I have been positively reinforced by the world around me time and again. Honestly, I am not egotistical about this, I am happy to have problems solved. That's all.
The same sort of rapid-fire thought process (without the disjointed image sequencing) takes place even when I'm doing things that ordinarily should require no thought at all. Things as simple as adjusting the volume of a video I'm watching. In a matter of nano-seconds (it seems to me), my mind analyzes the most efficient method for making any adjustments to the equipment involved.
I may have a volume control at the source (a media player on my computer), another control at the computer output and yet another at the speakers. Taking into consideration the desire for optimal sound quality and limited distortion throughout the signal path, I think of the pros and cons of different adjustments at different places along the signal path. I make split-second calculations in my mind and then make other calculations based upon the first calculations, etc. - Will adjusting the volume here affect the quality of the resulting sound here at this point? And, if so, would some other adjustment at somewhere else along the path be a better choice to insure the maintenance of the best sound quality possible? Etcetera, etcetera.
This all takes place in the time it takes for me to raise my hand to take some action related to adjusting the damn volume!
I tell you I scare myself sometimes with what takes place inside my brain. Don't even get me started on what it's like when I'm driving! Years of taking and teaching defensive driving courses have made every second of every minute I drive any vehicle a constant exercise in composing exit strategies and what-if scenarios. All taking place simultaneously while I carry on conversations with passengers or sing along with the radio...
Am I normal? Wait.. don't answer that. Because I really don't care about your answer to that question or what you think of me! Sorry, but I believe in the reality of being interested in, and concerned with, only that which I can control and not bothering myself, or my brain, with things I have no control over - like what other people think of me. Unless, of course, they can convince me of a need to change something about myself.. and can do that convincing in the most efficient way possible...
I guess I am interested in finding out if other people have a similar experience with their minds. Do they think in "fast forward" like me?
I may never know.
Hmm that gets me to thinking...
Next up: Procrastination - why am I so good at it?
I shared this in an earlier post "Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes."
Most of the time I can function and maintain focus with things I'm concentrating on. Other times, my mind moves at a rate of speed that leaves me in the dust. I've noticed that many times my mind has accelerated to a point where all I can do is go along for the ride.
Imagery takes a prominent role when these mind-racing sessions take place. It seems as though my mind cycles through random, disassociated images at the rate of about 2 or three images per second. That's right 2 or 3 per second. There is no order, no reason for what image appears. It might be a cute little kitten and then immediately into an algebra equation written on a chalkboard followed by something from my early childhood like riding a mini-bike then right into a scene from the signing of the declaration of independence, or some other sequence of random chaos and images. Crazy stuff that cannot be explained. Seriously, "bam - flip - bam - pow - click - bam and on and on until I either fall back asleep (if it takes place when I've awaken from sleep), which is not at all easy with that going on in my head, or until something jars my thinking into concentration on something specific - but even then the barrage of imagery continues while I try to focus my thoughts on the situation at hand.
I've never had "therapy" or been in a situation to express this to anyone of any capacity to shed light on it, but it's not something that interferes with my ability to function.. it's just that sometimes it is annoying as hell.
Maybe it stems from the way my mind works, and has always worked, since as long as I can remember. I've always felt, and accepted that, when my mind is presented something that needs a solution - anywhere from a big problem to a small subtle process, the wheels kick in and options are examined, possible solutions are played out in thought and the best way to approach the issue becomes clear to me in a matter of seconds. Not minutes. Seconds. I have always been able to get to "the bottom line" about things almost instantaneously. That has made for an interesting time when debates or arguments arise. I am quick to make my case for the solution that I think is best. I remain open and eager to listen to alternative answers and solutions, and the reasoning for those alternatives, but if they do not make perfect sense as the best way to go about solving the problem, then I don't change my mind. I have been known to change my mind and go about some different plan, but that is usually because new information comes out that affects the problem. Had my mind been aware of that "new" information at the onset, I am confident that I would have arrived at the "new" solution anyway.
I realize that this can be labeled as arrogance and that by this short explanation it may seem as though I have a superiority complex, but when I'm right, I'm right and throughout my history in different facets of life - home, school, work, etc. - my solutions, after consideration by others, are the ones adopted by everyone involved. It has been very rare that some other answer or proposed action has been implemented.
I guess I seem arrogant about this because I have been positively reinforced by the world around me time and again. Honestly, I am not egotistical about this, I am happy to have problems solved. That's all.
The same sort of rapid-fire thought process (without the disjointed image sequencing) takes place even when I'm doing things that ordinarily should require no thought at all. Things as simple as adjusting the volume of a video I'm watching. In a matter of nano-seconds (it seems to me), my mind analyzes the most efficient method for making any adjustments to the equipment involved.
I may have a volume control at the source (a media player on my computer), another control at the computer output and yet another at the speakers. Taking into consideration the desire for optimal sound quality and limited distortion throughout the signal path, I think of the pros and cons of different adjustments at different places along the signal path. I make split-second calculations in my mind and then make other calculations based upon the first calculations, etc. - Will adjusting the volume here affect the quality of the resulting sound here at this point? And, if so, would some other adjustment at somewhere else along the path be a better choice to insure the maintenance of the best sound quality possible? Etcetera, etcetera.
This all takes place in the time it takes for me to raise my hand to take some action related to adjusting the damn volume!
I tell you I scare myself sometimes with what takes place inside my brain. Don't even get me started on what it's like when I'm driving! Years of taking and teaching defensive driving courses have made every second of every minute I drive any vehicle a constant exercise in composing exit strategies and what-if scenarios. All taking place simultaneously while I carry on conversations with passengers or sing along with the radio...
Am I normal? Wait.. don't answer that. Because I really don't care about your answer to that question or what you think of me! Sorry, but I believe in the reality of being interested in, and concerned with, only that which I can control and not bothering myself, or my brain, with things I have no control over - like what other people think of me. Unless, of course, they can convince me of a need to change something about myself.. and can do that convincing in the most efficient way possible...
I guess I am interested in finding out if other people have a similar experience with their minds. Do they think in "fast forward" like me?
I may never know.
Hmm that gets me to thinking...
Next up: Procrastination - why am I so good at it?
Mar 7, 2010
Rhythms of my ancestry
In anticipation of my father's birthday - March 17, I've been listening to some Irish music recently. My roots are as Celtic as can be.. most likely Scandinavian before that. I feel deep down that I must come from those bad ass Norsemen who are now mistakenly referred to as Vikings. Yeah, they raided and pillaged and plundered all over Europe from Greenland all the way to Baghdad and back.. but it is what it is. Um, sorry?
One of the bands I've re-discovered is "Kila" (Pr. "Key-Lah") - they're fantastically Irish, but "new" somehow.
I was going to put a link to a YouTube video or two in here.. but the videos on YouTube do not do the band justice. They're not bad, but not as good as the music itself. I am partial to their instrumental tunes rather than the ones with vocals, but I'm sure those will "grow on me" in time.
Kila is just one of the bands I've been seeking out as of late.
Also worth investigating are:
Shooglenifty, Seven Nations, Wolfstone, Rock Salt & Nails, and Bongshang to name a few.
Maybe I'll share more if the mood strikes me...
Meanwhile, "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, etc." ... Éirinn go brách my friends.
Or, Scotland Forever.. whichever suites your tastes. Personally, I lean towards Scotland.
Thomas Samuel Owens - March 17, 1933 - April 29,2005
One of the bands I've re-discovered is "Kila" (Pr. "Key-Lah") - they're fantastically Irish, but "new" somehow.
I was going to put a link to a YouTube video or two in here.. but the videos on YouTube do not do the band justice. They're not bad, but not as good as the music itself. I am partial to their instrumental tunes rather than the ones with vocals, but I'm sure those will "grow on me" in time.
Kila is just one of the bands I've been seeking out as of late.
Also worth investigating are:
Shooglenifty, Seven Nations, Wolfstone, Rock Salt & Nails, and Bongshang to name a few.
Maybe I'll share more if the mood strikes me...
Meanwhile, "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, etc." ... Éirinn go brách my friends.
Or, Scotland Forever.. whichever suites your tastes. Personally, I lean towards Scotland.
Thomas Samuel Owens - March 17, 1933 - April 29,2005
Feb 26, 2010
Here . . .
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of day, the world moving on its way
Without her
You sitting there staring into the distance
Like you’re putting up some kind of resistance
But you better seek the dawn
It’s like this river that you’re on
Here where the sorrows flow, with all you will never know
About her
Here, you’re here
The city waking up off in the distance
They’re all working on some other existence
But you can’t quite seem to care, like you know they’re not going anywhere
Here were the sorrows flow
Here where the questions grow, with all you will never know
About her
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of dawn, the world moving on
Without her
- Jackson Browne
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of day, the world moving on its way
Without her
You sitting there staring into the distance
Like you’re putting up some kind of resistance
But you better seek the dawn
It’s like this river that you’re on
Here where the sorrows flow, with all you will never know
About her
Here, you’re here
The city waking up off in the distance
They’re all working on some other existence
But you can’t quite seem to care, like you know they’re not going anywhere
Here were the sorrows flow
Here where the questions grow, with all you will never know
About her
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of dawn, the world moving on
Without her
- Jackson Browne
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 23, 2010
Dec. 13, 2004 to Feb. 23, 2010
Fuck. How many days is that? Somewhere around 1896?
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 19, 2010
I miss being involved with live television...
I'm a former director, camera op, etc., and even though it was mainly with a public access station about ten years ago, I will say this - Live TV is the shiznit.
No drug comes close to the adrenaline you feel when the countdown begins.. 10, 9, 8, 7.. the absolute best.
Waxing somewhat nostalgic for those days led me to seek out gems on YouTube... and I recently re-discovered one of my favorite live television sketches of all time.
In late '54 or early '55, on his show called "Caesar's Hour", Sid Caesar and Nanette Fabray performed a skit live (everything was live back then) which, in essence, was an argument set to Beethoven's 5th, in my opinion, one of the classic television comedy skits of all time.
A link: Argument to Beethoven's 5th
Of course there are many, many other funny memories from early television, but that skit appeals to my strong feelings about visual communication. Successful visuals can be dis-assembled and each piece will still hold up and communicate on it's own.
Images can, and should, tell a story without words or sound so that when sound is added, the end result is complimented by the addition of the sound. Many times, the opposite is true - a well thought out sound scape can be the main ingredient in telling a story so that when visuals are added, they compliment and/or enlighten the storytelling process. I used to use those theories when teaching or instructing others how to produce television programs. I might start by giving the students a baseball, bat and glove and ask them to build a drama with those elements alone - no actors, no words, etc., or I might just ask them to tell me a story without sound or dialogue using settings or materials of their choice. That exercise would always surprise me with the inventiveness of the students - if they got my meaning.
I am so grateful that my father helped me find my interest in film/movie making/editing when I was young. Thanks to him I could write, shoot and edit 8mm & 16mm film before I turned 10 years old. That passion has never left me.. it's been sidetracked by life getting in the way, but the passion still burns within.
To think of the "old days", the early days of television and film production in America is a wonderful way I enjoy spending some of my time. Yes, I do wish I could have been around the industry back then - blah, blah blah.. and I do feel very fortunate to have grown up when I did. If you are familiar with a TV show called "The Wonder Years" well, that was my life.. right down to the brother who was two years older than I and the hippie sister who was part of the revolution.. The girl's name wasn't Winnie.. but I was friends with a girl named Winnie back then...
Anyway, today I find myself missing those years, those thoughts and feelings and the excitement of live TV.
No drug comes close to the adrenaline you feel when the countdown begins.. 10, 9, 8, 7.. the absolute best.
Waxing somewhat nostalgic for those days led me to seek out gems on YouTube... and I recently re-discovered one of my favorite live television sketches of all time.
In late '54 or early '55, on his show called "Caesar's Hour", Sid Caesar and Nanette Fabray performed a skit live (everything was live back then) which, in essence, was an argument set to Beethoven's 5th, in my opinion, one of the classic television comedy skits of all time.
A link: Argument to Beethoven's 5th
Of course there are many, many other funny memories from early television, but that skit appeals to my strong feelings about visual communication. Successful visuals can be dis-assembled and each piece will still hold up and communicate on it's own.
Images can, and should, tell a story without words or sound so that when sound is added, the end result is complimented by the addition of the sound. Many times, the opposite is true - a well thought out sound scape can be the main ingredient in telling a story so that when visuals are added, they compliment and/or enlighten the storytelling process. I used to use those theories when teaching or instructing others how to produce television programs. I might start by giving the students a baseball, bat and glove and ask them to build a drama with those elements alone - no actors, no words, etc., or I might just ask them to tell me a story without sound or dialogue using settings or materials of their choice. That exercise would always surprise me with the inventiveness of the students - if they got my meaning.
I am so grateful that my father helped me find my interest in film/movie making/editing when I was young. Thanks to him I could write, shoot and edit 8mm & 16mm film before I turned 10 years old. That passion has never left me.. it's been sidetracked by life getting in the way, but the passion still burns within.
To think of the "old days", the early days of television and film production in America is a wonderful way I enjoy spending some of my time. Yes, I do wish I could have been around the industry back then - blah, blah blah.. and I do feel very fortunate to have grown up when I did. If you are familiar with a TV show called "The Wonder Years" well, that was my life.. right down to the brother who was two years older than I and the hippie sister who was part of the revolution.. The girl's name wasn't Winnie.. but I was friends with a girl named Winnie back then...
Anyway, today I find myself missing those years, those thoughts and feelings and the excitement of live TV.
Feb 17, 2010
Killer set-up lines for a film...
Some of the best film "set-up" dialogue I've heard in a long time:
"He's come to collect."
"I thought so. He's early.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing."
"Must be something. How many days left?"
"Three. You know, you're gonna have to tell her soon."
---
The above occurs at 13:44 into "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus" by Terry Gilliam.
A very short sequence, but perfect in it's purpose.
I think it's brilliant. This simple bit of dialogue introduces the "person with a problem" aspect with immediacy and nervousness. It then brings a sub-plot into the expectations of the viewer and begins to lead the viewer on into the journey that is storytelling through film. Questions flood the brain; "Who's coming? What does he intend to collect?, What's the deadline about?, Who is this "her" that the character needs to "tell soon"?
Brilliant.
"He's come to collect."
"I thought so. He's early.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing."
"Must be something. How many days left?"
"Three. You know, you're gonna have to tell her soon."
---
The above occurs at 13:44 into "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus" by Terry Gilliam.
A very short sequence, but perfect in it's purpose.
I think it's brilliant. This simple bit of dialogue introduces the "person with a problem" aspect with immediacy and nervousness. It then brings a sub-plot into the expectations of the viewer and begins to lead the viewer on into the journey that is storytelling through film. Questions flood the brain; "Who's coming? What does he intend to collect?, What's the deadline about?, Who is this "her" that the character needs to "tell soon"?
Brilliant.
Feb 16, 2010
Scan this...
There seems to be quite a bit of press lately about the full-body scanners at airports and the "legality" of such devices. Many people feel that our rights are being taken away from us - our right to privacy, etc., well what would you rather have - your privacy or your safety?
Seriously, if we ever expect to see airline travel that is safe from someone blowing the plane up.. if we ever want to be able to board an airplane without that fear, we will need to allow infringements upon our rights and let the scanners see whatever they need to, to be sure that no one will be exploding anything while the plane is in the air.
Until an entirely different approach to air travel is implemented world-wide (my proposal is outlined below...), we all will need to eagerly comply with whatever "screening methods" the powers that be choose. Just shut the h*ll up and drop your trousers, cough, turn around then pick 'em back up and get on the friggin' plane.
I have a much simpler solution to this problem. Upon check-in for any flight, each passenger will be informed of the fact that "this flight will be a napping flight" and if you do not wish to follow the rules for the flight, you will forfeit your seat on the flight and will need to make other travel arrangements.
Of course this proposed solution will never be possible as it infringes upon your personal rights in almost every way imaginable, but.. it could work.
ALL flights will be "napping" flights in that each passenger will be given a pill prior to boarding that, once the flight is taxiing for take-off, will lull the passenger to sleep for the duration of the flight (different pills for different durations of flights..). Once the aircraft has landed safely at the destination the passengers will start waking up, refreshed and ready for their connecting flights or exiting the airport.
None of the usual annoyances of flying will be felt by any passenger - loud children, crowded aisles/bathrooms. No flight attendant will ever have to worry about handing out drinks or pretzels. Nor will they be required to "deal with" unruly passengers. It's a win-win situation for all parties involved! And, nobody will have an opportunity to detonate anything because everyone will be asleep.
Special situations will require special solutions - at risk travelers with health problems, medication interactions, etc. but I'm sure all potential problem areas can be solved. Or, do away with the pill idea and just gas the lot of the passengers right before take-off. Then pump in fresh oxygen and wake everyone up when the plane has landed.
Of course we'll still need to be scanned and screened and poked and prodded before every flight.. but that's just the way it will have to be.
Seriously, if we ever expect to see airline travel that is safe from someone blowing the plane up.. if we ever want to be able to board an airplane without that fear, we will need to allow infringements upon our rights and let the scanners see whatever they need to, to be sure that no one will be exploding anything while the plane is in the air.
Until an entirely different approach to air travel is implemented world-wide (my proposal is outlined below...), we all will need to eagerly comply with whatever "screening methods" the powers that be choose. Just shut the h*ll up and drop your trousers, cough, turn around then pick 'em back up and get on the friggin' plane.
I have a much simpler solution to this problem. Upon check-in for any flight, each passenger will be informed of the fact that "this flight will be a napping flight" and if you do not wish to follow the rules for the flight, you will forfeit your seat on the flight and will need to make other travel arrangements.
Of course this proposed solution will never be possible as it infringes upon your personal rights in almost every way imaginable, but.. it could work.
ALL flights will be "napping" flights in that each passenger will be given a pill prior to boarding that, once the flight is taxiing for take-off, will lull the passenger to sleep for the duration of the flight (different pills for different durations of flights..). Once the aircraft has landed safely at the destination the passengers will start waking up, refreshed and ready for their connecting flights or exiting the airport.
None of the usual annoyances of flying will be felt by any passenger - loud children, crowded aisles/bathrooms. No flight attendant will ever have to worry about handing out drinks or pretzels. Nor will they be required to "deal with" unruly passengers. It's a win-win situation for all parties involved! And, nobody will have an opportunity to detonate anything because everyone will be asleep.
Special situations will require special solutions - at risk travelers with health problems, medication interactions, etc. but I'm sure all potential problem areas can be solved. Or, do away with the pill idea and just gas the lot of the passengers right before take-off. Then pump in fresh oxygen and wake everyone up when the plane has landed.
Of course we'll still need to be scanned and screened and poked and prodded before every flight.. but that's just the way it will have to be.
Feb 11, 2010
Worse than imagined...
Now for the "Tell me something I DON'T know" department:
From "The Atlantic" magazine web site in an article titled
"How a New Jobless Era Will Transform America" written by Don Peck:
---
Heidi Shierholz, an economist at the Economic Policy Institute, notes that if the recovery follows the same basic path as the last two (in 1991 and 2001), unemployment will stand at roughly 8 percent in 2014.
“We haven’t seen anything like this before: a really deep recession combined with a really extended period, maybe as much as eight years, all told, of highly elevated unemployment,” Shierholz told me.
“We’re about to see a big national experiment on stress.”
(Regarding the college aged youths who will be entering the job markets in the next few years):
"..It is intuitive to think that youth will be spared the worst of the recession’s scars. But in fact a whole generation of young adults is likely to see its life chances permanently diminished by this recession."
People who entered the workforce during a recession “didn’t switch jobs as much, and particularly for young workers, that’s how you increase wages,”
This behavior may have resulted from a lingering risk aversion, born of a tough start. But a lack of opportunities may have played a larger role, she said: when you’re forced to start work in a particularly low-level job or unsexy career, it’s easy for other employers to dismiss you as having low potential. Moving up, or moving on to something different and better, becomes more difficult.
“Graduates’ first jobs have an inordinate impact on their career path and [lifetime earnings],” wrote Austan Goolsbee, now a member of President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers, in The New York Times in 2006. “People essentially cannot close the wage gap by working their way up the company hierarchy. While they may work their way up, the people who started above them do, too. They don’t catch up.” Recent research suggests that as much as two-thirds of real lifetime wage growth typically occurs in the first 10 years of a career. After that, as people start families and their career paths lengthen and solidify, jumping the tracks becomes harder.
---
OK, my immediate future is fucked. The prospects for my children and their future employment seem equally fucked.
Something's got to give. Where is the WPA for this age? Why can't our government step up and hire all of us out of work people to help fix our aging infrastructures and build new networks for the communications future? It's simple really, and it works.
(The information below is from Wikipedia.. I know, probably the worst place for "facts".. but quick and convenient nonetheless).
---
The Works Progress Administration (renamed during 1939 as the Work Projects Administration; WPA) was the largest New Deal agency, employing millions to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads, and operated large arts, drama, media and literacy projects. It fed children and redistributed food, clothing and housing. Almost every community in the United States had a park, bridge or school constructed by the agency, which especially benefited rural and Western populations. Expenditures from 1936 to 1939 totaled nearly $7 billion.
(Hmm, 7 billion. That's quite a bit LESS than we gave to the banks and financial robber barons recently.. Surely we can benefit more by dedicating funds to something that helps the masses rather than the "banks".)
Created by order of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the WPA was funded by Congress with passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935 on April 8, 1935. The legislation had passed in the House of Representatives by a margin of 329 to 78, but was delayed by the Senate.
The WPA continued and extended relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC), which was established by Congress in 1932 during the administration of Roosevelt's predecessor Herbert Hoover. Headed by Harry Hopkins, the WPA provided jobs and income to the unemployed during the Great Depression in the United States. Between 1935 and 1943, the WPA provided almost eight million jobs.
Until ended by Congress and war employment during 1943, the WPA was the largest employer in the country. Most people who needed a job were eligible for at least some of its jobs. Hourly wages were the prevailing wages in each area; the rules said workers could not work more than 30 hours a week, but many projects included months in the field, with workers eating and sleeping on worksites. Before 1940, there was some training involved to teach new skills and the project's original legislation had a strong emphasis on training.
---
It's called a jump start.. and it's along the lines of the "something.. ANYTHING" train of thought.
one word: HELP!
From "The Atlantic" magazine web site in an article titled
"How a New Jobless Era Will Transform America" written by Don Peck:
---
Heidi Shierholz, an economist at the Economic Policy Institute, notes that if the recovery follows the same basic path as the last two (in 1991 and 2001), unemployment will stand at roughly 8 percent in 2014.
“We haven’t seen anything like this before: a really deep recession combined with a really extended period, maybe as much as eight years, all told, of highly elevated unemployment,” Shierholz told me.
“We’re about to see a big national experiment on stress.”
(Regarding the college aged youths who will be entering the job markets in the next few years):
"..It is intuitive to think that youth will be spared the worst of the recession’s scars. But in fact a whole generation of young adults is likely to see its life chances permanently diminished by this recession."
People who entered the workforce during a recession “didn’t switch jobs as much, and particularly for young workers, that’s how you increase wages,”
This behavior may have resulted from a lingering risk aversion, born of a tough start. But a lack of opportunities may have played a larger role, she said: when you’re forced to start work in a particularly low-level job or unsexy career, it’s easy for other employers to dismiss you as having low potential. Moving up, or moving on to something different and better, becomes more difficult.
“Graduates’ first jobs have an inordinate impact on their career path and [lifetime earnings],” wrote Austan Goolsbee, now a member of President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers, in The New York Times in 2006. “People essentially cannot close the wage gap by working their way up the company hierarchy. While they may work their way up, the people who started above them do, too. They don’t catch up.” Recent research suggests that as much as two-thirds of real lifetime wage growth typically occurs in the first 10 years of a career. After that, as people start families and their career paths lengthen and solidify, jumping the tracks becomes harder.
---
OK, my immediate future is fucked. The prospects for my children and their future employment seem equally fucked.
Something's got to give. Where is the WPA for this age? Why can't our government step up and hire all of us out of work people to help fix our aging infrastructures and build new networks for the communications future? It's simple really, and it works.
(The information below is from Wikipedia.. I know, probably the worst place for "facts".. but quick and convenient nonetheless).
---
The Works Progress Administration (renamed during 1939 as the Work Projects Administration; WPA) was the largest New Deal agency, employing millions to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads, and operated large arts, drama, media and literacy projects. It fed children and redistributed food, clothing and housing. Almost every community in the United States had a park, bridge or school constructed by the agency, which especially benefited rural and Western populations. Expenditures from 1936 to 1939 totaled nearly $7 billion.
(Hmm, 7 billion. That's quite a bit LESS than we gave to the banks and financial robber barons recently.. Surely we can benefit more by dedicating funds to something that helps the masses rather than the "banks".)
Created by order of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the WPA was funded by Congress with passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935 on April 8, 1935. The legislation had passed in the House of Representatives by a margin of 329 to 78, but was delayed by the Senate.
The WPA continued and extended relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC), which was established by Congress in 1932 during the administration of Roosevelt's predecessor Herbert Hoover. Headed by Harry Hopkins, the WPA provided jobs and income to the unemployed during the Great Depression in the United States. Between 1935 and 1943, the WPA provided almost eight million jobs.
Until ended by Congress and war employment during 1943, the WPA was the largest employer in the country. Most people who needed a job were eligible for at least some of its jobs. Hourly wages were the prevailing wages in each area; the rules said workers could not work more than 30 hours a week, but many projects included months in the field, with workers eating and sleeping on worksites. Before 1940, there was some training involved to teach new skills and the project's original legislation had a strong emphasis on training.
---
It's called a jump start.. and it's along the lines of the "something.. ANYTHING" train of thought.
one word: HELP!
Feb 8, 2010
False Evidence Appearing Real
.. or FEAR.
I'm so afraid right now.
Afraid about; my health, my future - or lack thereof, my inability to kick myself in the ass and get f*cking moving..., afraid of myself.
I've been here before. I'm not the best at picking myself up, dusting myself off and starting all over again. I am very well practiced at self-pity. Back "in the day" I used to just dissappear when I started feeling this fear. I'd dissappear for several days or a week or more, and think and meditate/contemplate and ultimately come to terms with myself.. on my own terms.
This is the first time I have not been able to just take off into the wild and escape myself and all that surrounds me. I'm on an awfully damned tiny island for f*ck's sake.
Gotta get back to the lower 48. I absolutely L O V E Hawai'i, but I'm done living here. I'm afraid of the unknown. This is not like me. I have always been pretty rock solid and capable of dealing with whatever came my way. But this is, in some ways, exactly like me - just not the public version. As far back as I can remember I've had these "episodes" of self doubt, or fear every so often that I would deal with, overcome and hide from everyone. As I get older I fear that my fear grows stronger in spite of my efforts to reduce it's influence upon my waking life.
I used to be able to recognize the fact that I was entering one of these phases and adjust accordingly (plan my disappearance) for the inevitable "down time", and plan, with complete confidence, on moving through the phase and emerging ready for battle on "the other side"...
Now I'm not so sure. The "complete confidence" aspect is missing.
So much of what I always thought was important changed dramatically when I had the heart thing.. ok, when I died. My only honest answer to the question "What is important?" is: my four children and the quality of their lives. Seriously, I can think of nothing else that matters to my heart, mind and soul.
I am afraid that I will not have the level of positive influence or impact on my kids' quality of life as I had hoped and dreamed. I'm afraid I will end up being just another father who didn't make enough money to help his kids have comfortable lives, who never became famous enough to have any notoriety shadow or color their time, who didn't leave an undeniable legacy of joy and happiness for them to be proud of.
Yes, I am afraid right now.
.. but it will probably pass sometime soon.. I hope. :)
I'm so afraid right now.
Afraid about; my health, my future - or lack thereof, my inability to kick myself in the ass and get f*cking moving..., afraid of myself.
I've been here before. I'm not the best at picking myself up, dusting myself off and starting all over again. I am very well practiced at self-pity. Back "in the day" I used to just dissappear when I started feeling this fear. I'd dissappear for several days or a week or more, and think and meditate/contemplate and ultimately come to terms with myself.. on my own terms.
This is the first time I have not been able to just take off into the wild and escape myself and all that surrounds me. I'm on an awfully damned tiny island for f*ck's sake.
Gotta get back to the lower 48. I absolutely L O V E Hawai'i, but I'm done living here. I'm afraid of the unknown. This is not like me. I have always been pretty rock solid and capable of dealing with whatever came my way. But this is, in some ways, exactly like me - just not the public version. As far back as I can remember I've had these "episodes" of self doubt, or fear every so often that I would deal with, overcome and hide from everyone. As I get older I fear that my fear grows stronger in spite of my efforts to reduce it's influence upon my waking life.
I used to be able to recognize the fact that I was entering one of these phases and adjust accordingly (plan my disappearance) for the inevitable "down time", and plan, with complete confidence, on moving through the phase and emerging ready for battle on "the other side"...
Now I'm not so sure. The "complete confidence" aspect is missing.
So much of what I always thought was important changed dramatically when I had the heart thing.. ok, when I died. My only honest answer to the question "What is important?" is: my four children and the quality of their lives. Seriously, I can think of nothing else that matters to my heart, mind and soul.
I am afraid that I will not have the level of positive influence or impact on my kids' quality of life as I had hoped and dreamed. I'm afraid I will end up being just another father who didn't make enough money to help his kids have comfortable lives, who never became famous enough to have any notoriety shadow or color their time, who didn't leave an undeniable legacy of joy and happiness for them to be proud of.
Yes, I am afraid right now.
.. but it will probably pass sometime soon.. I hope. :)
Jan 30, 2010
copycat films... why?
I do not pretend to be a good film critic. I have very vague criteria for what constitutes a "good" film in my mind. Something I like about one film may be what I hate about another. Consistency does not have a ticket on this train. That being said,
"Crazy Heart"... I really like Jeff Bridges as an actor. I think he's one of the best there is. I can think of many films he's been in that rank near the top of my favorites. However, "Crazy Heart" - with an excellent portrayal by Jeff of a country musician on the downhill side of his career - is a poor attempt at copying the successful story format of Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" starring (another favorite actor of mine) Mickey Rourke. The storyline similarities are numerous and transparent... the personal struggle with substance abuse, the "long lost" kid from a failed relationship back in the heyday, the frail relationship with a woman with a kid... etc., etc., etc.
Hmm, down on his luck former "star" has trouble with fading fame and substance abuse, finds possible redemption and opportunity for another chance at love, lets self-destructive habits ruin any progress, hits bottom or something like it, starts the long road to sobriety (conveniently depicted via short montage or slow fade with "blank months/years later" graphic), realizes that happiness and success come in very small doses, learns to accept mediocrity, lights another smoke and heads toward the sun - with or without the girl - usually without. Audience leaves feeling good about themselves and their lives because at least they are not "him"...
While the Aronofsky film used silence, nuance and atmosphere to great effect, the Scott Cooper rip off - "Crazy Heart" just tossed in some bland stereotypical ingredients and stirred until a froth appeared. Then promptly sprinkled some bankable names on top. Adding the great actor Robert Duvall to a film does not guarantee quality (think "Gone in 60 Seconds"...). Maggie Gyllenhaal as the Marisa Tomei character helps a little (who doesn't like Maggie when she's cast right? - Secretary, SherryBaby, and many more), but not enough. And briefly tipping the hat to some great songwriters like Townes Van Zandt doesn't make it all better either.
(Don't get me started about the use of music in film and how that has become superficial and meaningless...) I suppose I could have made the same point about this film by just saying "I liked it better when it was called "The Wrestler", but that wouldn't be as much fun now would it?
Maybe I'll soon share my lists... my lists of films - good and bad - and why I feel one way or another about certain films.
I will leave with this: My top three, no, five films:
Quest for Fire, Citizen Kane, Cinema Paradiso, She's Gotta Have It, Wizards.
Reasons? Coming soon.
---
April addition:
OK, it pains me to omit "My Mother's Castle" and "My Father's Glory" from my little "top films" list. These two fantastic French cinematic masterpieces belong in anyone's list .. near the top. OK so call it "top seven films"...
"Crazy Heart"... I really like Jeff Bridges as an actor. I think he's one of the best there is. I can think of many films he's been in that rank near the top of my favorites. However, "Crazy Heart" - with an excellent portrayal by Jeff of a country musician on the downhill side of his career - is a poor attempt at copying the successful story format of Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" starring (another favorite actor of mine) Mickey Rourke. The storyline similarities are numerous and transparent... the personal struggle with substance abuse, the "long lost" kid from a failed relationship back in the heyday, the frail relationship with a woman with a kid... etc., etc., etc.
Hmm, down on his luck former "star" has trouble with fading fame and substance abuse, finds possible redemption and opportunity for another chance at love, lets self-destructive habits ruin any progress, hits bottom or something like it, starts the long road to sobriety (conveniently depicted via short montage or slow fade with "blank months/years later" graphic), realizes that happiness and success come in very small doses, learns to accept mediocrity, lights another smoke and heads toward the sun - with or without the girl - usually without. Audience leaves feeling good about themselves and their lives because at least they are not "him"...
While the Aronofsky film used silence, nuance and atmosphere to great effect, the Scott Cooper rip off - "Crazy Heart" just tossed in some bland stereotypical ingredients and stirred until a froth appeared. Then promptly sprinkled some bankable names on top. Adding the great actor Robert Duvall to a film does not guarantee quality (think "Gone in 60 Seconds"...). Maggie Gyllenhaal as the Marisa Tomei character helps a little (who doesn't like Maggie when she's cast right? - Secretary, SherryBaby, and many more), but not enough. And briefly tipping the hat to some great songwriters like Townes Van Zandt doesn't make it all better either.
(Don't get me started about the use of music in film and how that has become superficial and meaningless...) I suppose I could have made the same point about this film by just saying "I liked it better when it was called "The Wrestler", but that wouldn't be as much fun now would it?
Maybe I'll soon share my lists... my lists of films - good and bad - and why I feel one way or another about certain films.
I will leave with this: My top three, no, five films:
Quest for Fire, Citizen Kane, Cinema Paradiso, She's Gotta Have It, Wizards.
Reasons? Coming soon.
---
April addition:
OK, it pains me to omit "My Mother's Castle" and "My Father's Glory" from my little "top films" list. These two fantastic French cinematic masterpieces belong in anyone's list .. near the top. OK so call it "top seven films"...
Jan 27, 2010
Gone and back again
October 20th, 2003. (26 years to the day from the Lynyrd Skynyrd plan crash..)
I died.
I came back a little less then three minutes later - with the aide of several electric shocks to my chest.
My discovery? - Vast, infinite emptiness.. We are all simply energy. But we are ALL the same. We are not human. An absolute sense of being a part of something.. the ultimate sense of "belonging" - yet belonging as a connected mass.. not as a human.
Ours is an existence of happenstance.. chaotic culture.. existing not as individuals, but as elements - a part of something as large as any definition of the human concept of size...
Yin and Yang.
Orgasmic despair.
Pure bliss via the absence of any human connotations.. of ANYTHING.
This experience allows me - in life - to be fearless of "death".. to be at ease with my thoughts about the experiences of all my loved ones who have passed. There is no "suffer". There is no "heaven" save for the revelation of our true nature and the "comfort" of knowing that we are not "people" and cannot "know" anything.
I am not afraid of death. I do NOT want to feel ANYTHING close to the pain I felt with my heart attack.. but my apprehension is about the pain.. not the inevitable "destination".
---
Others who have had similar experiences:
"Bob Schriever, co-founder of the Sudden Cardiac Arrest Association, was refereeing a high school football game seven years ago when he went into cardiac arrest, died and was revived.
He, too, questions the dream explanation. "Why are so many people dreaming the same thing? How can so many people, and there's hundreds of thousands of people who have experienced this, how can we all be dreaming the same thing and describe the exact same thing?"
Schriever says these experiences are so profound that only someone who has gone through them can truly understand.
Seven years later, he is still consumed with his own near-death experience.
"I think about that every morning when I wake up, first thing, during the day, I don't know how many times and every night before I fall asleep. I think about that. People do not understand or appreciate what we go through."
For Mrs. Geraghty, it's a daily struggle to put the pieces back together again.
"I've been someplace that not everybody can go, and there's not a lot of people you can sit down and have that conversation with," Geraghty said. "My own daughter tells me, 'It's freaky, Mom.' I've literally lost friends over this the minute they hear it."
Geraghty says she became depressed once she left the hospital because her perspective on her entire life changed. She still gets depressed, she says, and is on medication.
"I actually went to my doctor and said to her, 'I think I'm losing my mind. This can't be really happening,' you know, and she said it's OK, it's very hard to understand when you've been through an experience like that."
---
Depression? OK, I'll bite. But depression because of being privy to the fact that we are not what we seem to think. Possessing knowledge of the futility of it all.. how can I NOT be a little depressed?
What purpose life then?
I think, to release the energy within as love and compassion for the collective whole. Energy never stops.. it just changes.
I died.
I came back a little less then three minutes later - with the aide of several electric shocks to my chest.
My discovery? - Vast, infinite emptiness.. We are all simply energy. But we are ALL the same. We are not human. An absolute sense of being a part of something.. the ultimate sense of "belonging" - yet belonging as a connected mass.. not as a human.
Ours is an existence of happenstance.. chaotic culture.. existing not as individuals, but as elements - a part of something as large as any definition of the human concept of size...
Yin and Yang.
Orgasmic despair.
Pure bliss via the absence of any human connotations.. of ANYTHING.
This experience allows me - in life - to be fearless of "death".. to be at ease with my thoughts about the experiences of all my loved ones who have passed. There is no "suffer". There is no "heaven" save for the revelation of our true nature and the "comfort" of knowing that we are not "people" and cannot "know" anything.
I am not afraid of death. I do NOT want to feel ANYTHING close to the pain I felt with my heart attack.. but my apprehension is about the pain.. not the inevitable "destination".
---
Others who have had similar experiences:
"Bob Schriever, co-founder of the Sudden Cardiac Arrest Association, was refereeing a high school football game seven years ago when he went into cardiac arrest, died and was revived.
He, too, questions the dream explanation. "Why are so many people dreaming the same thing? How can so many people, and there's hundreds of thousands of people who have experienced this, how can we all be dreaming the same thing and describe the exact same thing?"
Schriever says these experiences are so profound that only someone who has gone through them can truly understand.
Seven years later, he is still consumed with his own near-death experience.
"I think about that every morning when I wake up, first thing, during the day, I don't know how many times and every night before I fall asleep. I think about that. People do not understand or appreciate what we go through."
For Mrs. Geraghty, it's a daily struggle to put the pieces back together again.
"I've been someplace that not everybody can go, and there's not a lot of people you can sit down and have that conversation with," Geraghty said. "My own daughter tells me, 'It's freaky, Mom.' I've literally lost friends over this the minute they hear it."
Geraghty says she became depressed once she left the hospital because her perspective on her entire life changed. She still gets depressed, she says, and is on medication.
"I actually went to my doctor and said to her, 'I think I'm losing my mind. This can't be really happening,' you know, and she said it's OK, it's very hard to understand when you've been through an experience like that."
---
Depression? OK, I'll bite. But depression because of being privy to the fact that we are not what we seem to think. Possessing knowledge of the futility of it all.. how can I NOT be a little depressed?
What purpose life then?
I think, to release the energy within as love and compassion for the collective whole. Energy never stops.. it just changes.
Time to bounce...
Life is not about how fast you run or how high you climb, but how well you bounce.
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
"Either that wallpaper goes or I do." - Oscar Wilde's final words.
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
"Either that wallpaper goes or I do." - Oscar Wilde's final words.
where to begin?
Hmm.. only eight years ago...
(ok.. seven and a half...)
- written during one of my "What the hell am I going to do?" times...
--------
Sat, 24 Aug 2002 - 6:26 pm
Here it is.
I feel like I've fallen into a classic existential crisis. Life seems to have no point or higher purpose. After years of working, I have exhausted my enthusiasm. I'm like an actor who's lost the motivation for his part, a ghost among many.
I feel no passion for anything or anyplace on earth.
Inspiration, I fear, is a thing of the past.
I struggle daily to hold tight my slight grasp on a thin line of hope.
A trait bred into me from my inception I'm sure.
I have no idea whatsoever of how I'll survive this, I can only convey my heart's absolute trust that, somehow, I will.
"Help", from anyone, is irrelevant and impossible, for this is as much an individual conflict as there possibly can be.
There are many people whom I love completely and wish great things for. But right now, I feel powerless to advance "the cause".
Self-medication isn't working as well as it has in the past. Hell, I can't even get motivated by sedation.
Just now, as I was writing this, a lightning storm knocked out power to the entire neighborhood. I sat on my symbolic throne of a porch and watched out over my concrete kingdom as elegant streaks of the purest light I've ever seen blaze across the sky, hundreds of miles in fractions of a second. Arcs, bolts, circles and shapes of white fire followed shortly by the most resonant rumblings of thunder, deep and soul shaking to the core. My neighbor notices me and calls me a "brave soul". Could that be true? Is bravery inherent within me?
It's been said that you cannot possess courage unless you are frightened. I feel no fear save for that of a listless complacent existence devoid of wonder, holding no inspiration, emptiness that spills over and floods my mind. Life, at this point, has soured my alternate plan of living a vicarious life through my children.
I'm a few weeks away from thrusting one of my silly childhood dreams upon my eldest son. Assigning him responsibility which he did not ask for. Foregoing the usual training involved with mastering a motorcycle and asking him to care for this one object I've held onto for the past 25 years. In essence, asking him to carry that weight.
Options for overcoming obstacles in my immediate path are hidden to me. I think they exist, but if so, they seem as far away as outer space.
What miracle comes now? Which "thing" is the "right" thing?
How do I explain "me" to my family?
--------
Then.. in 2004, I wrote this...
Don't know why, ain't no sun up in the sky...
I'm hypnotized by this sky tonight. No other sky like it anywhere, none. Cancun was close. Hawai'i's skies were broken into small pieces and reassembled ever so gracfully over the ocean. An Arkansas night is almost too bright with stars. Downward glances fill the skies in New York and Philadelphia, down past Delaware, Jersey, Baltimore and D.C.. This ain't Hawai'i. This is Kansas.
This sky growls. It screams and cries and says goodbye.
"Why am I here, again?" Because I'm drawn here as surely as a magnet to the north right now. Maybe a last fling with home and all it holds captive in what's left of my heart. Don't know why. Stormy weather. Storms build inside then explode, ever so gracefully, into the sky tonight.
Destiny awaits. Molded by my desires, just the way I like it.
Too bad I kill it so easily...
Rushing in and swimming against the tide of time, I rummage through my little treasures and am reminded of the beautiful ugliness of it all - the past, the future, the transfer of one to the other and the speed at which it crawls by.
Searching for gasps of air over shudders of emotion ringing in my heart, I long to understand things which can never be explained. My mind accelerates once more. I can't stop the years. I can't stand my fears. I'm overwhelmed by the mundane and bored with the chaos.
Have you been there? It ain't no picnic sparky, let me tell 'ya.
----
(.. just found this that I wrote in 2006)
10/13/2006 (these digits add up to 13.. go figure)
Waialua wandering, wake to surf sounds, break these walls down.
My nemesis is staring at me in the bathroom mirror.. he laughs at my tears, then tosses in a few more years. What are the odds that I would land here in such a perfect place, only to be longing for a far away face. Pretty good odds I would guess. That's how I "roll".. never content, hell bent for something else.
Should I swim? Should I float? Should I try to find a boat?
Decisions are best left to others as I would rather watch my fate from a distance.
I miss my father.
Three in college now, my youngest at "that age".
Where is the passion? Where is the rage?
This world is not the one I wished for. I wanted my offspring to be free to explore. The rest of the world cares not for us 'mericanos, on the contrary, they want us gone.. thanks to the fumblings of just one man. That beast. He stole my children's future away from them.
Hope is such a cruel idea. Dreams are just a fleeting image on a screen. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Give it all back!"
Truth will always win this game of hide and seek. Hidden for as long as they want it to be. For as long as we let it, which is usually forever.
To my kids: Please prove me wrong. Please show me that it will all be ok, in the end. For my end is near. To the women I love: Love me or hate me, but please learn from me. My heart is not like any other.
I can't remember where it was that I wanted to go so long ago.
Is this it?
I've got a gut feeling that I belong in other lands, in other hands, listening to other bands. Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes. Focus is something you do with a lens. My lens is too big.., or not big enough. Sleep with stars above, wish happiness for the ones I love.
I miss my father.
---
(Back to 2010)) - I made it through all of that, and so many other times of doubt and struggle.. I suppose things will be alright.
(ok.. seven and a half...)
- written during one of my "What the hell am I going to do?" times...
--------
Sat, 24 Aug 2002 - 6:26 pm
Here it is.
I feel like I've fallen into a classic existential crisis. Life seems to have no point or higher purpose. After years of working, I have exhausted my enthusiasm. I'm like an actor who's lost the motivation for his part, a ghost among many.
I feel no passion for anything or anyplace on earth.
Inspiration, I fear, is a thing of the past.
I struggle daily to hold tight my slight grasp on a thin line of hope.
A trait bred into me from my inception I'm sure.
I have no idea whatsoever of how I'll survive this, I can only convey my heart's absolute trust that, somehow, I will.
"Help", from anyone, is irrelevant and impossible, for this is as much an individual conflict as there possibly can be.
There are many people whom I love completely and wish great things for. But right now, I feel powerless to advance "the cause".
Self-medication isn't working as well as it has in the past. Hell, I can't even get motivated by sedation.
Just now, as I was writing this, a lightning storm knocked out power to the entire neighborhood. I sat on my symbolic throne of a porch and watched out over my concrete kingdom as elegant streaks of the purest light I've ever seen blaze across the sky, hundreds of miles in fractions of a second. Arcs, bolts, circles and shapes of white fire followed shortly by the most resonant rumblings of thunder, deep and soul shaking to the core. My neighbor notices me and calls me a "brave soul". Could that be true? Is bravery inherent within me?
It's been said that you cannot possess courage unless you are frightened. I feel no fear save for that of a listless complacent existence devoid of wonder, holding no inspiration, emptiness that spills over and floods my mind. Life, at this point, has soured my alternate plan of living a vicarious life through my children.
I'm a few weeks away from thrusting one of my silly childhood dreams upon my eldest son. Assigning him responsibility which he did not ask for. Foregoing the usual training involved with mastering a motorcycle and asking him to care for this one object I've held onto for the past 25 years. In essence, asking him to carry that weight.
Options for overcoming obstacles in my immediate path are hidden to me. I think they exist, but if so, they seem as far away as outer space.
What miracle comes now? Which "thing" is the "right" thing?
How do I explain "me" to my family?
--------
Then.. in 2004, I wrote this...
Don't know why, ain't no sun up in the sky...
I'm hypnotized by this sky tonight. No other sky like it anywhere, none. Cancun was close. Hawai'i's skies were broken into small pieces and reassembled ever so gracfully over the ocean. An Arkansas night is almost too bright with stars. Downward glances fill the skies in New York and Philadelphia, down past Delaware, Jersey, Baltimore and D.C.. This ain't Hawai'i. This is Kansas.
This sky growls. It screams and cries and says goodbye.
"Why am I here, again?" Because I'm drawn here as surely as a magnet to the north right now. Maybe a last fling with home and all it holds captive in what's left of my heart. Don't know why. Stormy weather. Storms build inside then explode, ever so gracefully, into the sky tonight.
Destiny awaits. Molded by my desires, just the way I like it.
Too bad I kill it so easily...
Rushing in and swimming against the tide of time, I rummage through my little treasures and am reminded of the beautiful ugliness of it all - the past, the future, the transfer of one to the other and the speed at which it crawls by.
Searching for gasps of air over shudders of emotion ringing in my heart, I long to understand things which can never be explained. My mind accelerates once more. I can't stop the years. I can't stand my fears. I'm overwhelmed by the mundane and bored with the chaos.
Have you been there? It ain't no picnic sparky, let me tell 'ya.
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(.. just found this that I wrote in 2006)
10/13/2006 (these digits add up to 13.. go figure)
Waialua wandering, wake to surf sounds, break these walls down.
My nemesis is staring at me in the bathroom mirror.. he laughs at my tears, then tosses in a few more years. What are the odds that I would land here in such a perfect place, only to be longing for a far away face. Pretty good odds I would guess. That's how I "roll".. never content, hell bent for something else.
Should I swim? Should I float? Should I try to find a boat?
Decisions are best left to others as I would rather watch my fate from a distance.
I miss my father.
Three in college now, my youngest at "that age".
Where is the passion? Where is the rage?
This world is not the one I wished for. I wanted my offspring to be free to explore. The rest of the world cares not for us 'mericanos, on the contrary, they want us gone.. thanks to the fumblings of just one man. That beast. He stole my children's future away from them.
Hope is such a cruel idea. Dreams are just a fleeting image on a screen. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Give it all back!"
Truth will always win this game of hide and seek. Hidden for as long as they want it to be. For as long as we let it, which is usually forever.
To my kids: Please prove me wrong. Please show me that it will all be ok, in the end. For my end is near. To the women I love: Love me or hate me, but please learn from me. My heart is not like any other.
I can't remember where it was that I wanted to go so long ago.
Is this it?
I've got a gut feeling that I belong in other lands, in other hands, listening to other bands. Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes. Focus is something you do with a lens. My lens is too big.., or not big enough. Sleep with stars above, wish happiness for the ones I love.
I miss my father.
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(Back to 2010)) - I made it through all of that, and so many other times of doubt and struggle.. I suppose things will be alright.
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