Weblog 103
January 27, 2008~ 2:00pm
We carry within us different versions of ourselves: not just frozen or fixed by time, but versions as others see us, and those remorph as well down through the years. It's a fascinating thing really, and I wonder sometimes about these sibling selves, and if they'd recognize each other if brought to life, all at the same time and filling a room- a gallery of versions.
And what if someone were to paint them? Would they look like relatives- or would they manifest as sometimes scary and sometimes benign pictures 'in the moment'- overlapping with other scenes from life. Look here at Ms. Taylor- (she of the multiple surnames)
That's how I think most of us would appear-- as montages of not only ourselves, but with ghosts there of significant others of that time as well- and sometimes we'd be at our most vivid or daring. Sometimes we'd look like a painting by a modern master. Bold as brass-
(yes, that's Elizabeth again, but how strikingly different!) I believe we each have representative versions of evolving selves in some rarely frequented gallery locked inside. So many of mine are pigtailed. Big brown eyes eating up the landscape- and later on, a young sylphlike youth who stands apart and tries to figure things out- herself, most of all.
And later and later selves, more sturdy, who more and more come to recognize the transient nature of everything-- that life is a port of leaving-- that we're all in boats waiting for departure, being bidden down, closer and closer to the shore, to see the other ones off-
and waxing and preparing our own, festooned with pictures of our past. Perhaps running up a flag so loved ones can greet us in a place we can only hope is there. We are paintings, all- and we travel in boats that suit the cut of our jib- (or 'jibs'.)
I pray we may always see how wondrous that is...not only that we change, but that we are beautiful through those changes... like the different looks of seasons, or different strains of music- some violin, some trumpet, some KAZOO just for fun, some merry doodle-ooo's. We're all of them in our chorus boats afloat on a lake of no returning, but we carry our wonders with us....yes we do.
January 28, 2008~ 6:45pm
Here we sit, right on the poking horn of the 21st century, far removed from the world of villages and smithy's, and the clip-clop of slow walking horses delivering milk and the sturdy feel of cotton on babies' rumps- and the lye-soap and the stick to push the clothes down into the tub and the feel of sweat trickling down laboring backs, and a horsehair stuffed mattress at the end of the day where we could sink, satisfied from our labors.
Oh no, we are of the mechanical/electronic/instant world of empty-handedness and useless fluff-- with spirits like river reeds, not oaks: we break easily. We are spoiled. We bore easily-- we live in a world of distractions, with hardly any substance.
I sit here like some kind of Frankensteinian monster, attached to this machine and type this out to you. And if you dare imply-- (as I am doing right now)-- that this is madness---- empty madness, I would deny it with great vehemence.
I miss a past I never had. I miss a world that's gone for good, and I've filled it with this.
Do not say it's silly, for it would break my heart. We've drilled down to what we consider 'necessities' now, things like like high-speed internet and digital TV- and YouTube funnies and the raciest celebrity rumors- we are utterly bankrupt, we- who do not have the white of flour on our hands, or blisters, or a child's sweet happiness playing Jacks in the background of our days. We are fleeting images. I am......you are......we are........diminished.
January 29, 2008~ 5:00am
Check out this final resting place in Buenos Aires, where the most illustrious Argentinians make their beds. (Yes, and "don't cry for me Argentina's" Evita, too.) Visit After Life. You know how I love cemeteries. Always poignant-- always fascinating.
January 30, 2008~ 7:45am
There is one word associated with this man.....
and it is HOPE. I don't know when we've needed it more. 'Nuff said. We must protect this one. He will be vulnerable to every crackpot radical and hatemonger. He carries our innocence with him, that long lost commodity, and we must take great care to see him safely home- to the house on the hill-
and be vigilant once he's there. I am serious here.....he IS our last, best hope.
January 30, 2008~ 8:00pm
Hope.......and more hope. That's the theme today. I found the most wonderfulwoman- site- WOMAN today- who approaches life with such a ravishing-- and I had to share this discovery with you!
Anyone who's read this blog for any length of time will know that there is that 'nunnish-ness' about me.....lol. I mean, I honest-to-Pete think I could very easily have been a nun- (or maybe I was in some other life, long, long ago; perhaps that's where my love of liturgical music and chant, and all things medieval comes from- and yes, there's a definite spiritual bent and love of the 'contemplative life')-- so I'm very excited about this find.
Mix the art of Illumination and calligraphy, with ZEST for teaching- for ART-- drop in a vat of happiness, and you will be looking at
Click on that to find Sister Corita Kent's Art Lesson. (I think it should be called "Life Lesson"- because to truly feel alive you must do precisely the type of concentrating on each thing in front of you- in precisely the way she describes.) And oh, click on "Immaculate Heart College Art Department Rules", written by the students in 1992. When you've finished (and after you've skipped on to her new website and feasted on all the beauty you can stand-
think for a moment about those rules.....
how we are ALL teachers
--ALL students
--how important it is to pay attention
and oh my gosh, how to make a joyful noise about it, from the toes to the skies.
Each and every day, you will find so many miracles if you're really, really looking. We've gone from Obama to Corita in one day. I'd say that's a fine trip. The kind that sticks with you, long after you're back at home again in your own head.
So 'Bon Voyage'......and think, "HOPE".
January 31, 2008~ 8:15am
When Insults Had Class
These glorious insults are from an era before a great portion of the English language got boiled down to 4-letter words, not to mention waving middle fingers.
The exchange between Churchill & Lady Astor: She said, "If you were my Husband I'd give you poison," and he said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."
A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the Gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "on whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."
"He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter Kerr
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." - Winston Churchill
"A modest little person, with much to be modest about." - Winston Churchill
"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." Clarence Darrow
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the Dictionary." - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway). "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" - Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time Reading it." Moses Hadas
"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know." Abraham Lincoln
"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved Of it." - Mark Twain
"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a Friend.... If you have one." - George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill "Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... If there is One." - Winston Churchill, in response.
"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." - Stephen Bishop
"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." - John Bright
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others." - Samuel Johnson
"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." - Paul Keating
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure." - Jack E. Leonard
"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt." - Robert Redford
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human Knowledge." - Thomas Brackett Reed
"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." Charles, Count Talleyrand
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him." - Forrest Tucker
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on It?" - Mark Twain
"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae West
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go." - Oscar Wilde
"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts.. . For support Rather than illumination. " - Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
"He has Van Gogh's ear for music." - Billy Wilder
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening But this wasn't it." - Groucho Marx
There. That oughta hold you for awhile. LOL!!
January 31, 2008~ 7:30pm
Blogger is doing weird-assed things the last two days: it takes forever to load, and sometimes times-out, and gets real pissy when you just turn off its javascript and images. (It really LIKES you to keep those. lol) I think the 'Google/Blogger' marriage has given birth to ONE TOO MANY SMARMY 'WIDGETS'! (Man, I HATE that cutesty term.)
Anyway, the reason I've persisted this evening is because I want to post a notice here- Kind of like those national 'DO NOT CALL' lists. 'Kay...here goes...
RELIGIOUS NUTS OUT
THERE!
PLEASE STOP
SENDING ME SHIT!!
You have been OFFICIALLY warned. To continue to do so will be in violation of my public and pronounced declaration that I want this to stop. 2 weeks ago, it was this lame-assed 'Prayer Rug(slash)Chain Mail' scam, asking for money. All SORTS of blessings would come my way I've I'd just mail back the 'anointed'--(though cheap, xeroxed image of the Christ) to the sender. Money, of course, would certainly make those blessings come across more easily, and if you want to get a gander at this- TONS of folks get 'em- it's all over the net--- but this link is my favorite. Jesus Prayer Rug. Favorite comment: "I received mine in the mail about 6 months ago. I poked out the eyes and wore it as a Jesus mask. Is that so wrong?- Matt" LOL!!
Ok, and now today when I reached my hand up into the mailbox- nuthin' in there.....except an unsolicited BOOK. "National Sunday Law" by A. Jan ('fucking crazy') Marcussen. Some tract about Saturdays being THE 'holy day' and not Sundays. LOTS of anti-Catholic crap, but most offensive of all, it starts out with a paragraph about 911, and how all that relates to the Beast, etc, etc..... THAT offends me. Get a LIFE, you certifiable wingnut! Saturdays, Sundays......I don't particularly care, nor do I attend church. As far as I'm concerned, every MOMENT is sacred, you horse's ass.
(Except for those when you open your mailbox to find you've been targeted by some lulus- who need to be medicated post-haste...before the infection spreads.)
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
We carry within us different versions of ourselves: not just frozen or fixed by time, but versions as others see us, and those remorph as well down through the years. It's a fascinating thing really, and I wonder sometimes about these sibling selves, and if they'd recognize each other if brought to life, all at the same time and filling a room- a gallery of versions.
And what if someone were to paint them? Would they look like relatives- or would they manifest as sometimes scary and sometimes benign pictures 'in the moment'- overlapping with other scenes from life. Look here at Ms. Taylor- (she of the multiple surnames)
That's how I think most of us would appear-- as montages of not only ourselves, but with ghosts there of significant others of that time as well- and sometimes we'd be at our most vivid or daring. Sometimes we'd look like a painting by a modern master. Bold as brass-
(yes, that's Elizabeth again, but how strikingly different!) I believe we each have representative versions of evolving selves in some rarely frequented gallery locked inside. So many of mine are pigtailed. Big brown eyes eating up the landscape- and later on, a young sylphlike youth who stands apart and tries to figure things out- herself, most of all.
And later and later selves, more sturdy, who more and more come to recognize the transient nature of everything-- that life is a port of leaving-- that we're all in boats waiting for departure, being bidden down, closer and closer to the shore, to see the other ones off-
and waxing and preparing our own, festooned with pictures of our past. Perhaps running up a flag so loved ones can greet us in a place we can only hope is there. We are paintings, all- and we travel in boats that suit the cut of our jib- (or 'jibs'.)
I pray we may always see how wondrous that is...not only that we change, but that we are beautiful through those changes... like the different looks of seasons, or different strains of music- some violin, some trumpet, some KAZOO just for fun, some merry doodle-ooo's. We're all of them in our chorus boats afloat on a lake of no returning, but we carry our wonders with us....yes we do.
January 28, 2008~ 6:45pm
Here we sit, right on the poking horn of the 21st century, far removed from the world of villages and smithy's, and the clip-clop of slow walking horses delivering milk and the sturdy feel of cotton on babies' rumps- and the lye-soap and the stick to push the clothes down into the tub and the feel of sweat trickling down laboring backs, and a horsehair stuffed mattress at the end of the day where we could sink, satisfied from our labors.
Oh no, we are of the mechanical/electronic/instant world of empty-handedness and useless fluff-- with spirits like river reeds, not oaks: we break easily. We are spoiled. We bore easily-- we live in a world of distractions, with hardly any substance.
I sit here like some kind of Frankensteinian monster, attached to this machine and type this out to you. And if you dare imply-- (as I am doing right now)-- that this is madness---- empty madness, I would deny it with great vehemence.
I miss a past I never had. I miss a world that's gone for good, and I've filled it with this.
Do not say it's silly, for it would break my heart. We've drilled down to what we consider 'necessities' now, things like like high-speed internet and digital TV- and YouTube funnies and the raciest celebrity rumors- we are utterly bankrupt, we- who do not have the white of flour on our hands, or blisters, or a child's sweet happiness playing Jacks in the background of our days. We are fleeting images. I am......you are......we are........diminished.
January 29, 2008~ 5:00am
Check out this final resting place in Buenos Aires, where the most illustrious Argentinians make their beds. (Yes, and "don't cry for me Argentina's" Evita, too.) Visit After Life. You know how I love cemeteries. Always poignant-- always fascinating.
January 30, 2008~ 7:45am
There is one word associated with this man.....
and it is HOPE. I don't know when we've needed it more. 'Nuff said. We must protect this one. He will be vulnerable to every crackpot radical and hatemonger. He carries our innocence with him, that long lost commodity, and we must take great care to see him safely home- to the house on the hill-
and be vigilant once he's there. I am serious here.....he IS our last, best hope.
January 30, 2008~ 8:00pm
Hope.......and more hope. That's the theme today. I found the most wonderful
Anyone who's read this blog for any length of time will know that there is that 'nunnish-ness' about me.....lol. I mean, I honest-to-Pete think I could very easily have been a nun- (or maybe I was in some other life, long, long ago; perhaps that's where my love of liturgical music and chant, and all things medieval comes from- and yes, there's a definite spiritual bent and love of the 'contemplative life')-- so I'm very excited about this find.
Mix the art of Illumination and calligraphy, with ZEST for teaching- for ART-- drop in a vat of happiness, and you will be looking at
Click on that to find Sister Corita Kent's Art Lesson. (I think it should be called "Life Lesson"- because to truly feel alive you must do precisely the type of concentrating on each thing in front of you- in precisely the way she describes.) And oh, click on "Immaculate Heart College Art Department Rules", written by the students in 1992. When you've finished (and after you've skipped on to her new website and feasted on all the beauty you can stand-
how we are ALL teachers
--ALL students
--how important it is to pay attention
Each and every day, you will find so many miracles if you're really, really looking. We've gone from Obama to Corita in one day. I'd say that's a fine trip. The kind that sticks with you, long after you're back at home again in your own head.
So 'Bon Voyage'......and think, "HOPE".
January 31, 2008~ 8:15am
These glorious insults are from an era before a great portion of the English language got boiled down to 4-letter words, not to mention waving middle fingers.
The exchange between Churchill & Lady Astor: She said, "If you were my Husband I'd give you poison," and he said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."
A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the Gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "on whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."
"He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter Kerr
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." - Winston Churchill
"A modest little person, with much to be modest about." - Winston Churchill
"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." Clarence Darrow
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the Dictionary." - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway). "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" - Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time Reading it." Moses Hadas
"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know." Abraham Lincoln
"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved Of it." - Mark Twain
"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a Friend.... If you have one." - George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill "Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... If there is One." - Winston Churchill, in response.
"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." - Stephen Bishop
"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." - John Bright
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others." - Samuel Johnson
"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." - Paul Keating
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure." - Jack E. Leonard
"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt." - Robert Redford
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human Knowledge." - Thomas Brackett Reed
"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." Charles, Count Talleyrand
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him." - Forrest Tucker
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on It?" - Mark Twain
"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae West
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go." - Oscar Wilde
"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts.. . For support Rather than illumination. " - Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
"He has Van Gogh's ear for music." - Billy Wilder
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening But this wasn't it." - Groucho Marx
There. That oughta hold you for awhile. LOL!!
January 31, 2008~ 7:30pm
Blogger is doing weird-assed things the last two days: it takes forever to load, and sometimes times-out, and gets real pissy when you just turn off its javascript and images. (It really LIKES you to keep those. lol) I think the 'Google/Blogger' marriage has given birth to ONE TOO MANY SMARMY 'WIDGETS'! (Man, I HATE that cutesty term.)
Anyway, the reason I've persisted this evening is because I want to post a notice here- Kind of like those national 'DO NOT CALL' lists. 'Kay...here goes...
THERE!
PLEASE STOP
SENDING ME SHIT!!
You have been OFFICIALLY warned. To continue to do so will be in violation of my public and pronounced declaration that I want this to stop. 2 weeks ago, it was this lame-assed 'Prayer Rug(slash)Chain Mail' scam, asking for money. All SORTS of blessings would come my way I've I'd just mail back the 'anointed'--(though cheap, xeroxed image of the Christ) to the sender. Money, of course, would certainly make those blessings come across more easily, and if you want to get a gander at this- TONS of folks get 'em- it's all over the net--- but this link is my favorite. Jesus Prayer Rug. Favorite comment: "I received mine in the mail about 6 months ago. I poked out the eyes and wore it as a Jesus mask. Is that so wrong?- Matt" LOL!!
Ok, and now today when I reached my hand up into the mailbox- nuthin' in there.....except an unsolicited BOOK. "National Sunday Law" by A. Jan ('fucking crazy') Marcussen. Some tract about Saturdays being THE 'holy day' and not Sundays. LOTS of anti-Catholic crap, but most offensive of all, it starts out with a paragraph about 911, and how all that relates to the Beast, etc, etc..... THAT offends me. Get a LIFE, you certifiable wingnut! Saturdays, Sundays......I don't particularly care, nor do I attend church. As far as I'm concerned, every MOMENT is sacred, you horse's ass.
(Except for those when you open your mailbox to find you've been targeted by some lulus- who need to be medicated post-haste...before the infection spreads.)
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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