Speed of Thought

I used to go to libraries pretty frequently. Some of the time the motives were purely social, but I also used the resources there for lots of school work.

Then I used to work in one. A library, that is. It was a bit heady to have all those resources, the reference listings, the microfilm, the Mil-Specs, and all the ACM and IEEE goodness any person with an IQ of 155 could possibly want, all that...information really, really close by. You want the GNP of Algeria? CIA World Fact Book is ready with your info. How about the President's secretary's phone number? Exectutive Yellow Book -- here ya go. The ABCs and 123s of a Russian SCUD missle? Please - step this way.

Those were the easy requests. The harder ones sometimes involved me leaving the comfort of my carpeted cubicle (when I wasn't taking my shift at the Reference Desk), and hoofing it to Kendall Square, Cambridge - to one of MIT's fine libraries. Granted that only happened a few times, and no - I didn't actually "hoof" it. I drove to the subway station and then rode the line to Cambridge. But still, a bit of an unwieldy way to retrieve documents. And as you might have guessed, I worked in a tech library. No story time or quilter's corner here.

This was about 15 years ago, maybe more.

In a way, what I saw, what I dealt with, was cutting edge. Back then, the average consumer did not have or even understand what HDTV was, nor GPS, nor PDA. But these were terms I saw pretty frequently in the research that I pulled together for our staff of scientists and engineers. Much of the jargon and the nuts and bolts technologywas over my head. I didn't know an array from an alogorithm. (well OK I kinda did), but I understood the basic concepts of what HD and the rest meant.

So like, that's all cool and stuff. Right?

But our methods of getting the info, though sophisticated for our time, in retrospect seems so - so --

slow?





Yes, slow, that's the word.

Today, anyone with a computer and a decent connection can get nearly the same information all by themselves - if they know were to look. Of course, tons of erroneous stuff comes up as well, it takes a seasoned surfer to discern the difference. Yeah, like I'm all that.

My mother would have loved this stuff.

Fringe Thoughts

I've been watching this show nearly every week, and you know something...it's pretty damn good. I'm glad I don't blog on it regularly. I'd get too lost, too caught up in the mythology. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just think I could get lost in it, and I don't have time for lost!

(Incidentally - I don't have time for Lost either - which is why I made the conscious decision not to follow the show at all - no offense ABC - I'm sure I'd love it to pieces like the rest of my fellow sheeples!)

Anyway, Fringe is really something. Starting with Joshua Jackson who plays Peter Bishop. Good for him! Really, good for Pacey of Capeside. Kudos to some nice acting.

OK back in the day - when Jackson's and James Van Der Beek's mugs appeared on the screen every time - IMO they were spouting some sophisticated dialog for some dudes who were supposed to be only...what...16? Or 18? Or however they aged in Dawson's Creek. Same thing for Katie Holmes' Joey. They all looked adorable and full of earnest conviction, but really were/are kids that - darn motivated and bright?

But back to Jackson as Peter Bishop. I had my doubts but he does just fine.

John Noble, who plays his dad Walter, looks like he's have a blast. Even though his character is a bit of a whack job, and has some serious baggage, it seems to be a much more lighthearted role than that of Lord Denethor in LOTR - The Return of the King. Please - the dude set himself on fire. Not very happy and shiny there. And his role as Anatoly Markov from Day Six of 24 was memorable because Jack Bauer snipped off one of his fingers for being a nasty man, so that was sort of a drag, eh?

Anna Torv, who plays Agent Olivia Dunham is very lovely to look at, she has the kind of face like Cate Blanchett - who is more beautiful than pretty. Torv's acting pedigree is not as full as some of the others, and I'm not sure yet about her pure acting talents, but she seems to suit the role anyhow.

Any other fans?

Notes to the Universe

Or at least to my closest Internet Neighbors.

Step right up! Be the First to comment!


1. What is a Ponzi Scheme? No. Don't tell me - I KNOW that Madoff did it. But what the blue blazes is that? Money laundering through mall pizzerias? Fonzi's evil twin who wore Kevlar and an attitude? I Googled a little, and finding nothing, I grew bored and listless and move along to a Michelle OBama fashion gallery. Hey, she looks good, they all look good. Reminds me of Jack and Jackie, Caroline and John-John. Here's hoping they all live long healthy lives - but I digress.

2. SAGs - who saw 'em? (A separate post being worked up currently)

3. Most Bizarre Spit-take. Corinne would have loved it. Well, actually perhaps been grossed out - unless I was on stage taste-testing Kick-A-Poo Joy Juice.

- took a nice hot sip of coffee, got a tickle in my throat and convulsively coughed out a spray of Folger's (mixed with a little Newman's Own) not only ALL over my laptop, but reached about five feet beyond me, seriously. Caffiene dew-drops all over our year and a half old sofa, some paperwork sitting on the half-wall (The Young Prince will notice this - it was his school work). Ew. But funny.

4. The Colonoscopy. No need to really elaborate, that much. But if I were a writer - Oh Lordy, look at that, I am a writer - I'd devote a separate post to that. There was a lot of comedy gold there. And no polyps this time (and I thank God for that). So, this was the Happy Birthday procedure, and a follow up from the first time.

5. OK, all of these deserve separate posts. And THE FlOOD, that's another saga in the max-series that is my life.

Here's a brief look:
Ice Storm in December. Subpump failed because generator failed. Finished off sports bar basement with two inches of standing water. Ironically, (besides the XBox, which Tom was quick to save and the TV/Stereo thingies that I was quick to save) the only things really kept high and dry were the unwanted but un-sold household items/toys/books/crap that we tried to unload at our failure of a yard sale. (good stuff cheap but bad timing). Those treasures have been sitting on top of the air hockey table and foosball tables - safe as you please.

Fuck, right?

Notes on the 15 Annual SAG AWARDS

I did not watch the show from the very start, and probably missed the first award or so. But I watched the rest, as I do love these award shows.

And before continuing, I know that award shows in general are often denigrated as fixed, boring, or not a true representation of talent. And that's fine, to me part of the appeal is when you get these glimpses inside the star of the moment, unscripted joy or disbelief, admiration, and the odd flash of jealousy now and then. And I'm a sucker for the glamor and fashion too.

Just a few reactions to last night's two hours of honors:

As Kate Winslet won for Outstanding Performance in a Supporting Role for The Reader, she made a touching and most gracious speech. Golly I'd forgotten what she said but it was sweet and humbling.

Hugh Laurie, winning for his work in House, was the anti-House, yet was full of snarky (albeit lighthearted) quips as he accepted his Actor award.

For the second time this season, Heath Ledger won posthumous honors in the supporting role of The Dark Knight's Joker. (He has also been nominated for an Academy Award). Gary Oldman accepted the award on Ledger's behalf, in a quick, restrained, but classy speech.

One of the funniest speeches was from Meryl Streep, winning for her role as a strong-willed and suspicious nun in Doubt. She admitted she didn't expect to win, she hadn't even worn a dress. Streep was utterly charming in her honesty, and expressed her deep thanks and admiration for the not only the other women in her category, but for all the female actors who have done such good work in the last year.

Nip/Tuck DVD Review: Season Five - Part One

Previously posted at Blogcritics Magazine.

Part one of Season Five shows our Drs. Troy and McNamara packing up and moving from Miami where they are big fish in a small pond to glossy Los Angeles, where they nearly down in the Pacific (figuratively speaking, of course). Since LA has nearly as many plastic surgeons as it does wannabe actors, our boys Sean and Christian wait in their new ostentatious offices…and play basketball.

There are a few minor cases, but not enough to pay the expenses of their glamorous real estate. Fortunately the boys soon meet PR big fish Fiona McNeil (the wonderful blade-free Lauren Hutton) and things turn around. She finds them consulting work on a hit TV show about plastic surgeons called “Hearts & Scalpels”, and then more opportunities present themselves. Both doctors get small speaking parts on the show and more importantly, begin to capitalize on the all important networking among Hollywood’s vainest.

Christian (Julian McMahon) is invited to pose for Playgirl, while Sean (Dylan Walsh) begins to date one of the stars from the show, Kate Tinsley (Paula Marshall – Spin City, Cupid, Californication). And the clients steadily come in for consults and surgeries. But we know that nothing on Nip/Tuck really goes as smooth and straight as the doctors’ stitches, and this first half of Season Five is filled with even more bizarre twists and turns then ever. Several fascinating guest stars are featured in these first 14 episodes include Rosie O’Donnell (who reprises her role of Dawn Budge), Oliver Platt, Portia de Rossi, Donna Mills, Sharon Gless, Jennifer Coolidge and Jai Rodriguez.

Some of the intertwining plots involve Sean (and Christian’s) estranged son Matt showing up in LA with his and Kimber’s baby Jenna. Previously the two had been involved in the Church of Scientology, and now Matt say’s he’s left the church, but not after Kimber gave all of his money to the church. Sadly it was just a ploy to get some drug money from the “two dads”, and Matt and Kimber spend it on crystal meth, and not much else.

Another arrival in LA is the radiant Julia, announcing her plans to move in with “Ollie.” Sean and Christian seem to take the news fine, until they find out that Ollie is short for Olivia (Portia de Rossi) and Julia is now a lesbian, or at least in love with one. And daughters Annie (Julia and Sean’s) and Eden (AnnaLynne McCord) are along for the fun. And Eden – it’s not enough to just classify her as a bitch, although she certainly is. It’s much more satisfying to refer to her as a heinous serpent.

What else, stalking, car-jacking, blackmailing and sex. Threesomes, twosomes, and freaky age differences. Incest, poisonings, stabbings and clawings. Pornography, drug addiction, surgery addiction and sex. Gays, Straights, and everything in-between --- yes, it sounds like a season of Nip/Tuck.

My only problem with this whole set was the actual viewing. To watch the episodes on a steady basis, say three or four in a row, can leave one a bit depressed or ill-at-ease at seeing so much off-the-wall depravity. The material was written to be viewed once a week; submersion any deeper takes its toll.

COVER ART

An eerily beautiful scene shows the two stylin’ docs in the California desert gazing down at the beautiful and scarred body of a fallen angel. What does it represent – is the blond figure meant to symbolize Julia? Olivia? Kimber? Or maybe the symbolism is more esoteric, perhaps the woman signifies all the sad debris of the harsh world of Hollywood. You decide.

FEATURES

The DVD set includes a few deleted scenes, one funny but too short set of outtakes, and a featurette called Hollywood Hedonism. It’s a 10 minute “Making Of” type offering, with supporting clips and a mildly entertaining look at the actors’ take on the new season, and what it means to the show.

My Funeral Playlist

No need to really read anything into this, but sometimes I hear these songs and think, yeah, that’d be cool to help ease me into the after-life.

I've got a couple obvious tear-jerkers, what can I say; I’m a sucker for certain songs, despite the huge commercial appeal.

Spirit in the Sky – Norman Greenbaum

Being an oldie but goodie, this song never really registered with me until I was grown up, with the family at a beach amusement park. This song was being played while we were leaving, and it struck something inside. It’s so full of joy and faith and makes me want to dance. Which, I won’t be able to do, when the time comes, actually. So, I rely on those present to dance for me.

Angel – Sarah McLachlan

I don’t know which is more heartbreaking – McLachlan’s voice full of ache and promise, or her haunting lyrics. It became a personal anthem after my father died.

The Precious Jewel – Roy Acuff.

Instrumental version by Charlie Hayden and Pat Metheny

I’d never heard of Hayden, just barely knew the name Pat Metheny. And certainly never heard of Roy Acuff. Then one day Sir Mark wrote one of his usual thoughtful Friday Morning Listen column pieces highlighting how this song came along at just the right time as he and TheWife™ were dealing with some tough family stuff. Triumph in the face of Adversity and all that is how it sits with me.

Cast Your Fate to the Wind – Vince Guaraldi (George Winston version)

Not only is the appeal of this Charlie Brown favorite ageless, the very title is liberating.

The Long Day is Over – Norah Jones

Lovely Norah comforts with her voice, inviting a warm respite.

Glasgow Love Theme – Craig Armstrong

Trust me, it’s a very pretty song.

Fix You – Cold Play

OK, so it’s a little manipulative. But to me it’s God’s ultimate promise in Eternity.

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m looking For – U2 (Live version from Rattle and Hum)

And neither have I, quite frankly. But this gospel inspired hopeful anthem by one of Ireland’s better exports makes the quest not only bearable, but downright invigorating.

Thy Word – Amy Grant

Catchy and inspiring. Good stuff.

Run Like Hell – Pink Floyd

Because the perverse part of me insists.

Cinematic Goodness

Some gems to share:

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - directed by Milos Foreman, 1976.

Jack=Hollywood Gold. Sure, we all know that.

But don't forget Louise Fletcher as Nurse Ratched. She captured the character's manipulative, controlling, and sadistic demeanor masked with sweet-faced concern perfectly. No wonder she took home an Academy award for her work. And Danny DeVito - fantastic. And Christopher Lloyd - wow.

And then there's The Namesake - directed by Mira Nair, 2007.

I have not seen the whole movie yet, but so far it's just lovely. The cinematography pops and enhances the story of Ashima and Ashoke, who are married by arrangement in India, and move to New York City and take care of each other and their new family. The story will ultimately showcase the work of our favorite stoner, Kal Penn, but the unhurried look at his parents' love for their family and each other is a wonderful setup.

What's in a Name

An oldie but goodie Rant o' Mine.

Corporate Naming. I hate it. I really do. I was looking at a press release earlier for Fleetwood Mac's upcoming tour. And I really can't believe my eyes. Sure there's comfort in seeing Madison Square Garden and the Nassau Coliseum listed as venues. But can you imagine telling your friends, "yeah, I'm gonna hit the Blue Cross (Rochester, NY) for some fine tunes tonight." Or how about "Hey Monster Mike, I scored two tix to the Izod (East Ruthorford, NJ) - our ears are gonna bleed for sure!"

Silly indeed.

Can corporations be so desperate for market recognition that crass over-saturation is just collateral damage, and do they hold the attitude that nostalgia for the old stadium names are for the weak and unhip?

Fuck 'em.

Well, I don't think I have the chutzpah to not mention these brands when I write some entertainment pieces. I can't follow the Denver Post's lead when they refused to use the name of Invesco Field, and instead stuck to the beloved moniker of Mile High Stadium.

Or can I?

Hot Pocket!

Today I had my first ever Hot Pocket. It didn't suck, so that's a bright spot. It's not something I'd want to look forward to every day - but it didn't suck. I said that already. And it's funny, that on a day after Thanksgiving, I'd have a freakin' Hot Pocket to begin with. With all this food in the house, we have no food, to like - eat. Sure, there's some leftover pie. And the yummy mini-quiches. And some crabmeat and artichoke parmesean dip. Another yumm-o.

But, I had 3 mini quiches for breakfast. And later a mini cinnamon roll. And then later on a lemon poppy seed muffin. And I wanted something normal for lunch. But I realized the deli meat was dicey, same with the leftover chicken from the great Call of Duty 5 lost weekend. I had made a chicken casserole when our friend Dave (AKA known as "Captain Awesome") stayed over. But, umm, that was *cough* a couple weeks ago. I had planned to make chicken salad with the left over cubed up chicken, but never managed to do it. But the poor cubes still sit in their little plastic storage thingie - sick with the knowledge that they are doomed for the Top Secret penicillin experiments (covertly engineered by Massive Dynamics).

So, I peeked in the freezer. The other day I picked up some frozen/junk food type items. Taquitos. Burritos. French Bread pizzas. Yuk - nothing appealed, but then I found the breakfast Hot Pocket - and well, it didn't suck!

But the funny thing about the little HP. It comes with a special 'sleeve' for crisping. Or browning. Or both. But one must do some folding and tearing with these little 'sleeves'. It's very odd. I'm not a stupid person, but it took me a minute to get it.

It's nuts though, because the Pocket itself, is not that big...it's nearly pointless to take the time to build this sleeve contraption, just so someone can 'eat it on the go'. Eat what? It'd be gone before you start your car, or put on your backpack.

So, after I started eating mine in its little sleeve (I can see why they don't call the sleeves "pockets"), I realized why it had the sleeve.

It's HOT!

I suppose some dumb kid (sorry..but they are dumb sometimes - I have two, I know) burned himself on the pastry, and now they are putting these swell sleeves in the packages. Too bad they don't keep you from burning the inside of your mouth. I guess I'm still a dumb kid too.

Love, Like a River.

She wonders:

Why does all the sadness, the frustration,

and the deep longing not seep out of my pores

like water from an overflowing basin?

How can it be that this quiet, secret love

does not drip and drip and form streams

and puddles flowing from me along the floor,

out the door, down this street and through

that grove and cover miles until

it reaches the very heel of his foot?

Would he look down and say,

“Ah, here she is.

Do I lift my foot to avoid getting wet?

Do I bend down and drink from this stream?”

"Or do I just collect the liquid love,

bottle it and keep it where I can see it

– just in case.”

(from Long Ago)
- Photo from New Zealand Hot Pools

Over Saturation on a Thursday Night

ER, last quarter hour or so. Simon has had a major freak-down and punched out a patient. Went to town on the man. The patient was nearly blinded. It was a mess of out-of-control bone on bone bloodletting.

And the staff seems to be less concerned about that, and more concerned that later he throws around some equipment. Well, sure now they have to be sterilized -- but --

OK, the thing is, he punched out the smoke inhalation guy. (The man who was an accused of and later found innocent of pedophilia). Wild stuff.

Then when the ER quiets down, Archie talks to Simon about the repercussions of his actions. And slowly, Simon starts to tell his story.

"I was ten, the first time."

Wrenching. Simon is crying, Morris tears up as he listens. The story is nauseating.

And then when we've really had enough, a scene is being played out in a recovery room down the hall. A young girl comforts an older man. They hug. He tells her, "We'll be special friends. Don't tell anyone."




And then the news...

It is NOT a damn party!

You know, I understand that TV execs, from network, or cable, to local branches are concerned about viewership. Especially the news, because it's all so available right here - on the Internet. So, viewers drift away from conventional news sources.

Got it. They want to bring viewers back; they want to keep viewers after the previous drama or comedy just ended. So, they do the following:

1) The anchors jump right in before the commercial break with a relentless couple of minutes of 'headlines.' These promo bits grab the viewer, who is probably a bit comatose from either the late hour, or the previous show (in my case, a riveting ER).

2) The female anchors and reporters dress like they are at a party. Shiny clothes, sparkly accessories, low cut tops, lots of leg. Sure they look pretty, but to me, it's pretty tacky. Big freakin' whoop that they are on TV. It's fucking NEWS, not a cocktail party. Even if every story ended in rainbows and kittens, the attire is totally inappropriate.

3) The men look a little too shiny as well. It's not a funeral, but it's not a party either. I mean shit, they might as well be hoisting martini shakers and clinking glasses.

4) A little too much glee when reporting stories. Some joker from News 7 Night Team was launching into a breaking news story last night, and the dude looked a little too happy.

Yeah, I know this trend has been around for a long time. "Dirty Laundry", written by Don Henley was released in 1982.

It's just getting worse.

I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something-something I can use
People love it when you lose,
They love dirty laundry

Well, I coulda been an actor, but I wound up here
I just have to look good, I dont have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear
Give us dirty laundry

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em all around

We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
Comes on at five
She can tell you bout the plane crash with a gleam
In her eye
Its interesting when people die-
Give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation?
Is the head dead yet?
You know, the boys in the newsroom got a
Running bet
Get the widow on the set!
We need dirty laundry

You dont really need to find out whats going on
You dont really want to know just how far its gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your dirty laundry

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre stiff
Kick em all around

Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybodys pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry

We can do the innuendo
We can dance and sing
When its said and done we havent told you a thing
We all know that crap is king
Give us dirty laundry!

His Name is Sal

Something was hinted at earlier this season, and tonight was the night that we learned Turtle's first name. Entourage's Jerry Ferrara's alter ego is Sal.

And not just Sal.

Sal from Queens' who answered a booty call from a miss Jamie-Lynn Sigler, and who is now looking a lot like a girlfriend.

That Sal.





(Photo ESPN.com)

Wisdom from the 80's

Got to pull out a Ferris Bueller here:

" Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it"

Life DOES move too fast, and you know what? WE LET IT HAPPEN!

The Spin, the Sizzle, the Story

When I watch a movie, read a book or invest myself anything involving a story; I find myself increasingly absorbed by the telling of the story while the plot, climax and denouement become secondary interests. I know that storytelling has been around since figures were carved on cave walls or symbols scratched onto papyrus. Were there favorites among these artists and scribes?

And when histories and fables were passed on by oral tradition, surely some performed better than others? I do know of this Jewish guy, before the glory days of the Borscht Belt Catskill comedians, who excelled at stand up. (Although he often sat down among his audience.) He could craft a story that had crowds enthralled, asking questions, wanting more. He'd perform tricks too, well not really tricks - no Houdini stuff. He caused a bit of a stir at a wedding once - switching jugs of water with wine - something like that.

But the thing is, the basic theme of his stories was not so unusual, it was his delivery that impressed folks back then. Even today, he's quoted often. Good stuff from that carpenter/story teller. Good stuff.

And still, it's the process that intrigues. Why will one filmmaker use lots of bridging shots, and another favors the slash cut? CGI? Animation? Gritty urban dialogue or drawing room monologue?

This all goes to my frustration towards the average consumer and/or critic. When someone dismisses an effort, let's say a film - for example M. Night Shyamalan's apocalyptic The Happening - they might say, "goofy plot", "not enough gore", "woeful clunker of a paranoid thriller*". OK, fair enough. To each his own and all that. Personally I hesitated after hearing all this panning. So, I ended up seeing The Happening on the small screen. Well it was amped up a little bit. Surround Sound and a 40" flat screen.

But here's the point. Shyamalan's work is fascinating. The story itself was flimsy. That didn't bother me. Flimsy has it's place. But it had so much going for it. Zooey Deschanel's eyes. (Yeah, her big sister Emily is the title character on Fox's Bones.) Anyway, Zooey's got a crazy kind of flat-affect delivery, but I find it charming. Her eyes though, they were really sooo - appealing in The Happening. She could express so much with just her huge eyes. Also - the falling bodies. Amazing shot, that. Chilling in a -- straightforward way. Hey, I could go on and on. But I'm trying to keep to a point, as hazy as that's starting to become.

There is an old adage among the admen. "Sell the sizzle, not the steak." So does that imply that the message is better recieved in a slick package? It just could be so.

*This from The Wall Street Journal's Joe Morgenstern

Been Too Long, My Dear.

It's not that I don't need to catch up on these pages. It's not that I don't like to write. It's not that I don't have plenty - I mean plenty to say.

I'd just rather be sleeping is all.

But here I am in the very, very early morning hours, trying not to be pissed off at insomnia, trying instead - to seek the sun. Not that big orangey-yellow star that I do love. No, I'm trying to see the goodness in all things. I'm trying to be accepting of what is in front of me.

Although I love the concept of acceptance, and I freely advice, cajole, or lecture those around me that "it is...what it is", I have an ultra-hard time following this myself.

But I try.

And yes, it's been too long.

Oh, and another thing I work on. Or is it the same? Anyway, lately or maybe it was just the last painful 24 hours, I have been a swirling vortex of negativity. And I know it's wrong. I think being positive is the bee's knees. But my own knees are crap, and bees annoy me, so although I try to think happy shiny stuff - it's not happening so much.

Stuart Smalley would not be so proud of me. Some daily affirmations typically include: "ya big dufus, why did you sleep so late?" Or, "yer a bloody eejit who spent too long Googling shit instead of writing shit!"

I don't want to be in denial about my real failings, but I don't suppose these hateful messages are healthy either.

So, this was my round-about way of saying that I am aggravated that I haven't posted that much.

But it's funny that I looked in my 'draft' sections here, and I have some juicy stuff started. I just wish I knew where my mind was going - so I could have finished the posts.

Hey, just for fun, I'm going to go ahead and put up my Olympics post and see how it looks. Why not?

OK I did it. You'll have to scroll a bit to find it. Not very far though.

Next is something I wrote, or started to write about the...I don't know...smugness?...of the U.S. Unfortunately, I can't remember my initial intent, so I have no idea how to end the piece. I guess I will keep it in 'draft' for a while longer.

The Landscape of Grief

Writing has always been a cathartic exercise, and a look around bookstore shelves or right here on the blogosphere will testify to that.

So, on this day of September 11, the gorgeous weather gives us the same incongruity as it did seven years ago, how can we reconcile such beauty with such horror? Many years ago, I attended the funeral one of my husband's best friends. He had killed himself, so this was such an uneasy tragedy. I also remember the sunny day felt like a slap in the face. How can nature dare be pleasant, when so many were in pain?

Of course, there is no answer to that. But I'd like to think that when the sun is shining so beautifully, it'll give comfort, and guide us through the murky grief landscape we all must travel.

I wrote the following piece, which was published yesterday at Blogcritics Magazine.

A Wednesday Afternoon Listen
Dropkick Murphys – The Meanest of Times

With respect and homage of sorts to my friend Mark Saleski – I am borrowing his well-done column idea for my own today. It just seemed the right thing to do.

Tomorrow being September 11, my thoughts naturally drift back in time. I was talking to my older son, discussing why 9/11 was not a national holiday. I said that we need to send a message that we are not cowering, not whimpering. Memorializing and praying, yes. But we are surviving. Maybe even business as usual. We are defiant in the face of terror, however muted with time it might be.

It’s that quiet, somber reflective feeling that gives me the strength to feel that defiance. Seven years of healing helps. But on this same day, my husband prepares to help and support his friend and colleague Jim, by attending the wake of his son Joseph.

Joey Larracey, 16, collapsed after a football scrimmage last Friday night, Sept 5^th and died later that evening. And his parents, family, and the whole community are lost on the most treacherous grief terrain. They don’t have the sedating comfort of time that smoothes the rough footing of this savage landscape.

The Dropkick Murphys have felt all of that. I don’t even have to know them personally to know that they suffered. It’s in their songs. You hear it in their adaptation of “Green Fields of France” (Warrior’s Code), a poignant anti war song. You can’t miss it “Last Letter Home” (also from Warrior’s Code), a collection of real letters to and from Andrew Farrar, a Marine who died in Fallujah in 2005. DKM sounded absolutely pissed off in that song. Damn straight.

But today as I drive through the beautiful September sunshine, I listen to “Never Forget” from Meanest of Times. And I play it full blast.

“When you got love and we got family
Keep 'em close and don't forget
To hold them right there in your heart
When you got love and family”

May all the strength of God, friends, family and Love support the Larracey family in these very meanest of times.

Random Olympic Thoughts - Opening Ceremony

Immense.
Precision.


Intriguing culture.
Hopeful.


(Photo: Chang W. Lee/The New York Times)


Although I care about human rights, and cannot let China off the hook for whatever their government(s) have done or not done in the name of human suffering, I could never boycott these events. The Olympics will never be entirely free of some taint. Hello, humans running the show here.

But this is about patriotism. And not just for one's own country, not just honoring the host country's magnificent efforts, these Olympics are about world patriotism. Or if you don't like that phrase, something more simple - something that every Boy Scout or Miss Universe hopes for:

World Peace.

And even now, fresh fighting has erupted in South Ossetia, and there's turmoil in Pakistan.

Even knowing that the Chinese have some skilz with fireworks - their pyrotechnic display at the end of the ceremony was really jaw-dropping. And the last torch, the lighting of the Olympic cauldron - couldn't get any better.


*Note - this never got posted during the actual Olympics. But I don't want to rob the world of my unique take on those days, right? (stop laughing)

God Greed

“The God I believe in isn’t short of cash, Mister!”

- “Bullet the Blue Sky”, U2, The Joshua Tree.

I know I’m not alone in loving those words, that line spoken by Bono with a nice bit of snarl. It’s sickening what man does in the name of God. We can expect our good U2 frontman to address this, in the same way he does the shout out for other social causes, with conviction and often -humor.

Now, I have nothing against tithing. I believe that everyone can scrape a bit of money to help their church/clergy/temple/ashram/guru do some good work. You know how you watch those feel good movies were some kind benefactor steps in at the last moment and saves the orphanage? Or how community teamwork helps get that church built? Lilies of the Field anyone? (another Sidney Poitier gem).

Charity is a wonderful thing and it works. It really does take a village. Have faith, share, make Stone Soup, think loaves and fishes, and work together Yaddah, freakin’ yaddah. Y’all know the drill.

But some know it all too well. Them shysters, those flim-flam men – con men. Slick and smart and masquerading as The Lord’s workers. These men and women will convince you that you can only find the way if you pave it in a lil’ gold first.

Speaking of that, back in my college days (read, still young and stupid) I joined up with this group of nice happy shiny kids and decided I was going to temporarily throw off my Catholic shackles and really, really learn the Bible. I went to meetings on and off campus, and it was all nice. I had been introduced to the group by a fellow alumnus of my high school, and he was a decent guy, so – it’s all good, right?

Wrong. (You knew I was going to say that, right?)

More next time.

Some Interesting Shit

Seriously --

There's an organization that investigates consumer services - and they take the complaints, and whittle them down NCAA style with brackets and seeding - and they decide on a coveted (not-so-much) award called The Golden Poo. Read More.

The Times had an interesting piece on consumer friendly people and the sites they run. Check that out too.

The Random Tuesday in July

The following is I came across it this evening, totally looking for something else - but thought it was interesting.

The Haves and the Have-Nots

Now, I'm not espousing one party or government over another. But this - well you certainly can't call it a 'newsflash' - piece has merit because we can't forget that the extreme economic disparity that exists in the U.S., it's...what - shameful? Unnecessary? Just throwing in a little conscience.


And, the Wants and the Needs-

But all that lovely Socialist chat aside - let's talk about me.

I want to:

Take Sir Brewster's advice and go rent The Seven Samurai (or Shichinin no samurai) by that Kurosawa gent they always rave about.

Justify the coolest shite I bought at Marine Specialties in Provincetown, by finding a home for it. I tell you, I had to have that Czech medicine bottle, and that pillow, and those couple of cobalt pieces - Don't you Just Love a Bargain? (Ha, wrong store!).

Write.
Write about my vacation. (Well, you know where I shopped at least), write about the upcoming television season, write about the environment, about the most sublime oatmeal-walnut-raisin cookie, share the experience that is guitarist Dan Byrnes...delve deep into the lake of love, the subtle currents, the cold shocks, and all the sunny goodness that make up that emotion.

Set more time aside to play Lego Indiana Jones on the XBox with the boys. They love watching me f*ck up. I always jump too far and land in the water with the crocs or in the mine shaft or I accidentally whack Indy with my saber/wrench/shovel. (and then he whips me). Good times.

I need to:

Get the Young Prince motivated for summer reading/book reports

Buy new pillows for the trailer. Some of them have been around since the Carter Administration. Ok, maybe just one. And maybe it's only since the Sr. Bush's time -- but man...it's old!

Ditto the pillowcases

Sort out those damn pesky hospital bills

Call Bryan for some network help

Write those reviews.
Write those emails
Write anything.