I suppose I should be more disciplined in posting regularly, but for the moment, this haphazard system works well for me.
I think.
I don't know. I will probably review these findings and discover that it's not working as well as I had hoped, or imagined....
(are hoping and imagining the same thing?....I guess you can imagine things that you don't hope for, or hope for things you can't imagine.....so, the answer is probably 'no'. No they're not the same thing. You're welcome.)
The thing is that a bunch of stuff keeps happening! I suppose that's what life is though, eh?
A bunch of stuff happens. All in a row. For years. (Hopefully).
At last cooler weather has prevailed here in the valley. The rainy season is upon us, and I am welcoming it with open brolley and bright yellow boots.
I love a slightly chilly, overcast day. The fall weather in all it's aromatic glory makes me feel as if anything is possible.
Unfortunately the physics of the situation reminds me that no, not everything is possible,
(like George Carlin said, "Hand me that piano.") but I tend to lean more on the side of the bare bones poetry of the thing, and ignore reality, indulging my senses in heady autumn breezes and that lifted feeling that comes with the rain.
It's as if all the sweat and grime and decay of the recently deceased summer season is being washed away. Things are clean again, and with the cleanliness comes a renewed strength.
A few evenings ago, after a full day of chasing my renewed strength all over town and trying to rope it into finding me a job, I discovered that it had been replaced with a renewed sense of calm.
(Either that or I'm too stupid to recognize a renewed sense of defeat.
(I think that Taco guy saw right through me. He knew right away that I have no real interest in making tacos. He was trying to ask how long I would actually end up working for him and by the look on his face, I knew that he knew damn well that it wouldn't be long.))
Anyways, that evening I curled up in my papasan chair, cup of tea in hand, and watched a marathon of that old game show, 'What's My Line?'. If you don't recognize that title, you can be forgiven as the show first aired in 1950.
I found it fascinating to see that what must have been social norms back then, today would be considered totally inappropriate, sexist, racist, or all three.
Still it's not without it's charm, this relic from the past.
At times it's downright super funny.
The premise is that there is a 'celebrity' panel of four that try to guess, using only questions that can be answered with yes or no, what the guest does for a living.
There are times that the whole panel, and the moderator, and sometimes the guest, are smoking. Everyone is enjoying a butt while chortling and guessing.....guessing again... smoking....
They also have a segment where they bring out a 'celebrity' mystery guest. In this case the panelists are blindfolded and are required to guess who the mystery guest is, rather than what they do.
....the quality of the image is such a grainy black and white, that everyone on the show looks like a drawing come to life.....and not really in the sense of traditional cartoons, but more like a fine art portrait come to life. Also, the people of that era seem way more pretentious than the folks that are around now.
There is a lot of name dropping on the show, and the names they are dropping are not being picked up by anyone in this day and age.
Well, maybe a few people around now will pick up those dropped names, and you can spot those name pickers immediately. They look like fine art portraits, come to life.
A little while ago I heard a woman telling a story about how this farmer she knows had bears coming out of the bushes and ransacking his nut yard.
I guess this guy raises hazelnuts....anyways, when she told this story she said the words "nut yard" many, many times. So many times that it was begining to make some of the listeners uncomfortable.
And when she said those words, she pronounced them quickly, like they were one word, "nutyard"...(maybe it is one word, I don't know)...and all I could think was,
"I've never been as close to a farmer's nutyard as those bears were that day in the bush....close to the nutyard."
Unfortunately, as humourous as the telling of the tale was, (to me at least) it didn't work out so well for the bears in the nutyard. The 'farmer' shot three of them and buried them in the very nutyard they sought out for sustenance.
I'm not absolutely sure about this, but I don't think you can do stuff like that anymore.
Gone are the days when a person can just go off willy-nilly, slaughtering the fauna at their own discretion....unless they have a license. Which to me doesn't seem exactly fair.
What other animal besides people behaves that way?
Bears have never decided amongest themselves, regarding us,
"There's way too many of those ransacking fucks around....we're gonna have to cull them. Go for the throats of the old ones, and the sick ones."
Oh, I know there are some people that don't even consider that they are animals. They've removed themselves from the list of known animals. And they've done this willingly.
Some people were dissatisfied with being animals....inspite of the fact that they can't change biology.
I think that there would be far less cruelty in the world if folks would embrace their animal selves, and realize that we human beings share the majority of our DNA with everything.
EVERYTHING.
Trees, lizards, dandelions, puppies, elephants, those snails people always step on on the sidewalk....we're related to those things!?
I try never to step on them.
.....wait just a minute here! Does this mean I'm related to my cat?! I'm glad I'm not closely related to her, otherwise I too might be dying of old age at the end of my 20th year.
I mean, not that I have yet to reach the end of my 20th year....rest assured I am quite beyond that.
Twenty years is a good, long life for a cat. And I'm not implying that this is the end for her. I mean, she seems to be having as great a time as a twenty year old cat can have.
I've known this little being for quite some time, and I like her quite a bit. She is a character. She is an individual. Outspoken and not at all shy, she introduces herself to guests and demands that they look her in the eye when they pet her.
At least she did demand that until a few weeks ago.. now she spends most of her time laying low in her basket, emerging to drink (a lot), eat (a little) and get her requisite quota of pets.
She has been a member of our family for a long time and we will miss her terribly when she's gone.
Still, since that day is still at a point in the future....today she will dine on Temptations Chicken treats, her favourite. She has earned a meal of Temptations. She's done her job as my cat well, and for years.
Finally for today, war, terrorism, school shootings, murder at the cenotaph, assaults, beheadings, cruelties and abominations.....my god, the news has me screaming out inside myself that I've had enough!, and then I discovered this song with that same title!
I wonder, if people did make their voices known, the world over, could that make any difference at all? Could we possibly convince governments and religions and sects and terrorists and garden variety murderers that they are doing wrong and we, the population of the planet, have had enough?
I can hope for it, but I can't imagine it.
Be Nice. It's That Simple.
I think.
I don't know. I will probably review these findings and discover that it's not working as well as I had hoped, or imagined....
(are hoping and imagining the same thing?....I guess you can imagine things that you don't hope for, or hope for things you can't imagine.....so, the answer is probably 'no'. No they're not the same thing. You're welcome.)
The thing is that a bunch of stuff keeps happening! I suppose that's what life is though, eh?
A bunch of stuff happens. All in a row. For years. (Hopefully).
At last cooler weather has prevailed here in the valley. The rainy season is upon us, and I am welcoming it with open brolley and bright yellow boots.
I love a slightly chilly, overcast day. The fall weather in all it's aromatic glory makes me feel as if anything is possible.
Unfortunately the physics of the situation reminds me that no, not everything is possible,
(like George Carlin said, "Hand me that piano.") but I tend to lean more on the side of the bare bones poetry of the thing, and ignore reality, indulging my senses in heady autumn breezes and that lifted feeling that comes with the rain.
It's as if all the sweat and grime and decay of the recently deceased summer season is being washed away. Things are clean again, and with the cleanliness comes a renewed strength.
A few evenings ago, after a full day of chasing my renewed strength all over town and trying to rope it into finding me a job, I discovered that it had been replaced with a renewed sense of calm.
(Either that or I'm too stupid to recognize a renewed sense of defeat.
(I think that Taco guy saw right through me. He knew right away that I have no real interest in making tacos. He was trying to ask how long I would actually end up working for him and by the look on his face, I knew that he knew damn well that it wouldn't be long.))
Anyways, that evening I curled up in my papasan chair, cup of tea in hand, and watched a marathon of that old game show, 'What's My Line?'. If you don't recognize that title, you can be forgiven as the show first aired in 1950.
I found it fascinating to see that what must have been social norms back then, today would be considered totally inappropriate, sexist, racist, or all three.
Still it's not without it's charm, this relic from the past.
At times it's downright super funny.
The premise is that there is a 'celebrity' panel of four that try to guess, using only questions that can be answered with yes or no, what the guest does for a living.
There are times that the whole panel, and the moderator, and sometimes the guest, are smoking. Everyone is enjoying a butt while chortling and guessing.....guessing again... smoking....
They also have a segment where they bring out a 'celebrity' mystery guest. In this case the panelists are blindfolded and are required to guess who the mystery guest is, rather than what they do.
....the quality of the image is such a grainy black and white, that everyone on the show looks like a drawing come to life.....and not really in the sense of traditional cartoons, but more like a fine art portrait come to life. Also, the people of that era seem way more pretentious than the folks that are around now.
There is a lot of name dropping on the show, and the names they are dropping are not being picked up by anyone in this day and age.
Well, maybe a few people around now will pick up those dropped names, and you can spot those name pickers immediately. They look like fine art portraits, come to life.
A little while ago I heard a woman telling a story about how this farmer she knows had bears coming out of the bushes and ransacking his nut yard.
I guess this guy raises hazelnuts....anyways, when she told this story she said the words "nut yard" many, many times. So many times that it was begining to make some of the listeners uncomfortable.
And when she said those words, she pronounced them quickly, like they were one word, "nutyard"...(maybe it is one word, I don't know)...and all I could think was,
"I've never been as close to a farmer's nutyard as those bears were that day in the bush....close to the nutyard."
Unfortunately, as humourous as the telling of the tale was, (to me at least) it didn't work out so well for the bears in the nutyard. The 'farmer' shot three of them and buried them in the very nutyard they sought out for sustenance.
I'm not absolutely sure about this, but I don't think you can do stuff like that anymore.
Gone are the days when a person can just go off willy-nilly, slaughtering the fauna at their own discretion....unless they have a license. Which to me doesn't seem exactly fair.
What other animal besides people behaves that way?
Bears have never decided amongest themselves, regarding us,
"There's way too many of those ransacking fucks around....we're gonna have to cull them. Go for the throats of the old ones, and the sick ones."
Oh, I know there are some people that don't even consider that they are animals. They've removed themselves from the list of known animals. And they've done this willingly.
Some people were dissatisfied with being animals....inspite of the fact that they can't change biology.
I think that there would be far less cruelty in the world if folks would embrace their animal selves, and realize that we human beings share the majority of our DNA with everything.
EVERYTHING.
Trees, lizards, dandelions, puppies, elephants, those snails people always step on on the sidewalk....we're related to those things!?
I try never to step on them.
.....wait just a minute here! Does this mean I'm related to my cat?! I'm glad I'm not closely related to her, otherwise I too might be dying of old age at the end of my 20th year.
I mean, not that I have yet to reach the end of my 20th year....rest assured I am quite beyond that.
I've known this little being for quite some time, and I like her quite a bit. She is a character. She is an individual. Outspoken and not at all shy, she introduces herself to guests and demands that they look her in the eye when they pet her.
At least she did demand that until a few weeks ago.. now she spends most of her time laying low in her basket, emerging to drink (a lot), eat (a little) and get her requisite quota of pets.
She has been a member of our family for a long time and we will miss her terribly when she's gone.
Still, since that day is still at a point in the future....today she will dine on Temptations Chicken treats, her favourite. She has earned a meal of Temptations. She's done her job as my cat well, and for years.
Finally for today, war, terrorism, school shootings, murder at the cenotaph, assaults, beheadings, cruelties and abominations.....my god, the news has me screaming out inside myself that I've had enough!, and then I discovered this song with that same title!
I wonder, if people did make their voices known, the world over, could that make any difference at all? Could we possibly convince governments and religions and sects and terrorists and garden variety murderers that they are doing wrong and we, the population of the planet, have had enough?
I can hope for it, but I can't imagine it.
Be Nice. It's That Simple.
