The Conversationalist

Spent some time with a friend the other day and was lost in conversation. This person is a writer and has a much better vocabulary than myself but I noticed how I enjoyed every sentence. Every word. It was a memorable time.

Not so much that the topics were any different than the usual gabber everyone has but the formation of the expression was like reading a good story over a graphic novel. The mouth was not just blowing air but assembling words into jewelry of the mind. Romance in each letter.

It is a treat to sit with a person who can make a brief conversation dessert. I’ll pick up the check.

Where did everybody go?

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Sunny yet chilly day. Perfect fall day. The leafs have finally turned and would be hard to fathom that I’d racked and filled three supercans. Off to the Tummy Temple to clear my head and throat but what is this. Half of the newly paved parking lot is empty?

Where is everyone? I thought today would be the spectacular with the entire congregation battling over dead birds and cans of peaches. Wonder how many minutes it takes to thaw and cook a 25lb. bird in the microwave?

A woman gives me her now empty cart and I make her laugh. Thanks. The only folks I see are the guys who have been sent back to get that one last item while their mothers, sisters, wives, whatever’s are cooking and making a big mess in the kitchens. The gaze of deer in headlights prevail. Don’t worry about the difference in baking powder or soda. Whatever you pick up will be wrong and you’ll be right back here. The game won’t be on for hours and it is the method of getting you out of the way.

So today is the day of Thanksgiving except for the indigenous people. That means the Injuns to you uninformed. The question is: “What do you have to be Thankful for?”

For some it might be the wealth of worldly goods or the just the sign of mass consumption. For some it will be the warmth of family or animals. For some it will be their spiritual faith in the unknown. For some it will be the fear of another day of agony and pain.

Turn the tables and think this…. “What do you have to regret?”

Both questions might have the same answer?

Regret that second helping of mashed potatoes? You’ll never run off that jellyroll at the gym. Regret not saying what you meant but maybe thankful that it didn’t. Regret no one else will see this masterpiece of blooming mushrooms on the side of the road and the symmetry of fall colors and arrangements. Regret trying to cover up the lack of personal hygiene with some teenage fragrance trying to mask my stench. Regret those lines on your face. Regret the hair color change that didn’t come out of a bottle. Regret that third child. Regret that last drink. Regret bringing up the subject at the dinner table. Regret not having cranberry sauce at the tailgate cookout.

There are plenty of things we all regret but only one day to be Thank Full. It is a good excuse for over indulgence and gluttony before chasing the marketing bait.

Games on! Who wants to order pizza?

What will you do when the lights go out?

No, I don’t mean for the last time. No one knows what happens after that though there are lots of speculations.

What I’m talking about is what happened last night.

The lights flickered and I heard “Uh Oh” in that outside voice used in the dialect of speech when a baby falls down. Then everything went black.

Been spending evenings burning CDs and was on the last song of a triad when the lights went out. Sit still for a few minutes to see if someone somewhere out there in powerland will throw the switch but it doesn’t happen. Looking out the window all the neighbors are dark too. Still this is late so I’d expect their shades to be drawn but the alley light is also off. Wander down the hall and open the front door. All is dark there too. The sky is cloudy so it has a grey glow to it. There is power somewhere but just not here.

There was no sound of a crash or an explosion from a transformer, only the quick beep of the Fios battery kicking in. I could have turned around and gone back inside or even attempt to sleep but this horse I’m riding won’t allow that. It is rocking time in the dark silence.

I could pull out one of the battery operated electronic connection devices or even one of the wooden boxes with metal wire but tonight is for listening to the quiet. A light and the whoosh of a passing vehicle is an infrequent interruption to the glory of darkness. Now and then the rustle of leaves in the distance reminds me I’m visiting their territory and time.

Then, just like it left, the light is back. The party was over.

Don’t have any idea of the time and the neighbors may have slept through it only to find their clocks flashing.

The Girl Next Door

The other day I was walking to the mailbox to check my bills and junk mail when I see this young girl carrying in a box next door. I don’t know much about the guy who lives next door other than he drives a big black truck and a motorcycle and has three other guys living in the house. They have a few parties on the back deck but end early enough so as not cause no trouble with the old folks. They have shared some rowdy parties with the couple on the other side but still keep their grass cut and play a rousing game of corn hole or Frisbee or volleyball until the aforementioned lands in my yard.

So who was this young blonde with her hair tied up carrying clothing storage boxes into the house? Is she one of the young ladies being plied with alcohol who decided to come back for more? Maybe she is his sister who just got divorced and needed a crash pad? Maybe she is a work associate going through a bad spell with drugs or a Russian spy going undercover? Maybe she is a madam for a homosexual brothel?

Who ever she is, she has a dog. A small dog that is pretty quiet so far so good. She also rakes the leaves. This could be a sign of a romantic redo? I know. A blind date turned into a 25-year marriage.

Winter is here so will have to wait for spring to see what influence she has on my unknown neighbor. Maybe the patter of little feet? Maybe a trade-in on the Harley for a mini-van? If she stays, how long will it be before they move and I will deal with another NEW neighbor?

1957

We seem to look back and remember, what if?

What happened in 1957?

• January 1 - An Irish Republican Army attack on the Brookeborough police barracks in Northern Ireland leads to the deaths of Seán South and Fergal O'Hanlon.

• January 3 – Hamilton Watch Company introduces the first electric watch.

• January 6 – Elvis Presley appears on The Ed Sullivan Show for the 3rd and final time. He is shown only from the waist up, even during the gospel segment, singing “Peace In The Valley”. Ed Sullivan describes Elvis thus: “This is a real decent, fine boy. We’ve never had a pleasanter experience on our show with a big name than we've had with you. You’re thoroughly all right.”

• January 10 – Harold Macmillan becomes the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

• January 13 – Wham-o Company produces the first Frisbee.

• January 16 – The Cavern Club opens in Liverpool as a jazz club.

• January 20 - Dwight D. Eisenhower is privately sworn in for a second term as President of the United States.

• January 23 – Ku Klux Klan members force truck driver Willie Edwards to jump off a bridge into the Alabama River; he drowns as a result.

• February 4 - A coal gas explosion at the giant Bishop coal mine in Bishop, Virginia, kills 37 men.

• February 16 - Ingmar Bergman's film The Seventh Seal opens at cinema in Sweden.

• March 1 - Dr. Seuss’ The Cat in the Hat is published in the United States.

• March 4 – Standard & Poor’s first publishes the S&P 500 Index in the United States.

• March 7 – The United States Congress approves the Eisenhower Doctrine on assistance to threatened foreign regimes.

• March 8 – Egypt re-opens the Suez Canal.

• March 10 – Floodgates of The Dalles Dam are closed, inundating Celilo Falls and ancient Indian fisheries along the Columbia River in Oregon.

• March 13 - The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation arrests labor union leader Jimmy Hoffa and charges him with bribery.

• March 26 – 22-year-old Elvis Presley buys Graceland on 3734 Bellevue Boulevard for $100,000.00

• April – IBM sells the first compiler for the Fortran scientific programming language.

• May 15 - Operation Grapple: At Malden Island in the Pacific, Britain tests its first hydrogen bomb, which fails to detonate properly.

• May 22 – A 42,000-pound hydrogen bomb accidentally falls from a bomber near Albuquerque.

• June 1 – Three-year-old thoroughbred Gallant Man wins the Peter Pan Stakes at Belmont Park.

• June 9 – Broad Peak, in the China-Pakistan border, is first ascended.

• June 15 – Oklahoma celebrates its semi-centennial statehood. A brand new 1957 Plymouth Belvedere is buried in a time capsule (to be opened 50 years later on June 15, 2007).

• June 15 – Gallant Man wins the Belmont Stakes at Belmont Park in record time.

• June 20 – Toru Takemitsu’s Requiem for Strings is first performed, by the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.

• June 21 – John Diefenbaker becomes the 13th Prime Minister of Canada.

• June 25 – The United Church of Christ is formed in Cleveland, Ohio, by the merger of the Congregational Christian Churches and the Evangelical and Reformed Church.

• June 27 – Hurricane Audrey demolishes Cameron, Louisiana and killing 400 people.

• July - Hugh Everett III publishes the first scientifically founded many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics.

• July 6 – John Lennon and Paul McCartney first meet as teenagers at a garden fete at St. Peter's Church, Woolton, Liverpool, England, at which Lennon’s skiffle group, The Quarrymen, is playing, 3 years before forming The Beatles.

• July 9 – Elvis Presley’s ‘Loving You’ opens in theaters.

• July 11 – His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan IV becomes the 49th Imam of the Shia Ismaili Muslims at age 20. His grandfather Sir Sultan Mohammed Shah Aga Khan III appoints Prince Karim in his will.

• July 14 – Rawya Ateya takes her seat in the National Assembly of Egypt, thereby becoming the first female parliamentarian in the Arab world.

• July 16 – United States Marine Major John Glenn flies an F8U supersonic jet from California to New York in 3 hours, 23 minutes and 8 seconds, setting a new transcontinental speed record.

• July 25 – Tunisia becomes a republic, with Habib Bourguiba its first president.

• July 29 – The International Atomic Energy Agency is established.

• August 5 – American Bandstand, a local dance show produced by WFIL-TV in Philadelphia, joins the ABC Television Network.

• August 21 – U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower announces a 2-year suspension of nuclear testing.

• August 28 – United States Senator Strom Thurmond (D-SC) sets the record for the longest filibuster with his 24-hour, 18-minute speech railing against a civil rights bill.

• September 3 – The Wolfenden report on homosexuality is published in the United Kingdom.

• September 4 - African-American Civil Rights Movement (1954–68): Little Rock Crisis – Governor Orval Faubus of Arkansas calls out the National Guard of the United States to prevent African-American students from enrolling in Little Rock Central High School.

- The Ford Motor Company introduces the Edsel on what the company proclaims as “E-Day”.

• September 5 – The first edition of Jack Kerouac’s novel ‘On the Road’ goes on sale in the United States.

• September 7 – NBC introduces an animated version of its famous “living color” peacock logo.

• September 9 - The Civil Rights Act of 1957 is enacted, establishing the United States Commission on Civil Rights.

• September 14 – ‘Have Gun – Will Travel’ premieres on CBS.

• September 21 – ‘Perry Mason’ premieres on CBS.

• September 24 - U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower sends federal troops to Arkansas to provide safe passage into Little Rock Central High School for the “Little Rock Nine”.

• September 26 – Leonard Bernstein’s musical ‘West Side Story’ makes its first appearance on Broadway and runs for 732 performances.

• September 29 – The Kyshtym disaster occurs at the Mayak nuclear reprocessing plant in Russia.

• October - The Africanized bee is accidentally released in Brazil.

• October 4 - Space Age – Sputnik program: The Soviet Union launches Sputnik 1, the first artificial satellite to orbit the earth.

- The sitcom ‘Leave It to Beaver’ premieres on CBS in the United States.

• October 10 - U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower apologizes to the finance minister of Ghana, Komla Agbeli Gbedemah, after he is refused service in a Dover, Delaware restaurant.

- Ayn Rand's fourth, last and longest novel, ‘Atlas Shrugged’, is published in the United States.

• October 11 - The orbit of the last stage of the R-7 Semyorka rocket (carrying Sputnik I) is first successfully calculated on an IBM 704 computer by teams at The M.I.T. Computation Center and operation Moonwatch, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

• October 21 - The U.S. military sustains its first combat fatality in Vietnam, Army Capt. Hank Cramer of the 1st Special Forces Group.

• October 31 – Toyota begins exporting vehicles to the United States, beginning with the Toyota Crown and the Toyota Land Cruiser.

• November 1 - The first (westbound) tube of the Hampton Roads Bridge–Tunnel linking Norfolk and Hampton, Virginia opens at a cost of $44 million.

• November 3 – Sputnik program: The Soviet Union launches Sputnik 2, with the first animal to orbit the Earth (a dog named Laika) on board; there is no technology available to return it to Earth.

• November 7 – Cold War: In the United States, the Gaither Report calls for more American missiles and fallout shelters.

• November 8 – Film Jailhouse Rock opens across the U.S. to reach #3, and Elvis Presley continues to gain more notoriety.

• November 13 - Gordon Gould invents the laser.

• November 16 - U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower has a stroke.

• December 5 – All 326,000 Dutch nationals are expelled from Indonesia.

• December 6 – The first U.S. attempt to launch a satellite fails when the Vanguard rocket blows up on the launch pad.

• December 20 – The Boeing 707 airliner flies for the first time.

• December 22 – The CBS afternoon anthology series The Seven Lively Arts presents Tchaikovsky’s ballet ‘The Nutcracker’ on U.S. television for the first time, although heavily abridged.

• Date unknown - Three new neo-grotesque sans serif typefaces are released: Folio (designed by Konrad Bauer and Walter Baum), Neue Haas Grotesk (designed by Max Miedinger) and Univers (designed by Adrian Frutiger); all will be influential in the International Typographic Style of graphic design.

So who was born in 1957?

Katie Couric, Steve Harvey, Princess Caroline of Monaco, LeVar Burton, Spike Lee, Osama bin Laden, Sid Vicious, Scott Adams, Cindy Sheehan, Jon Lovitz, Melanie Griffith, Gloria Estefan, Peter Sellars, Bernie Mac, Caroline Kennedy, Andrew Cuomo, Donny Osmond, Ray Romano, Matt Lauer and my wife.

That may be speculation or folktale because I never saw a birth certificate. She told me 11/12/57 was the date and why would I dispute it? Without papers one can only believe. Besides she was adopted so it could have been July 3^rd or December 27^th but it doesn’t matter in this celebration.

For today, according to legend, she would have turned sixty years old.

Every decade change should be a memorable turn of life’s pages but some aren’t around to celebrate. Next year, Lord willing and the crick don’t rise; I’ll flip another page.

The whole idea of remembrance of birthdays for those who cannot attend the party is rather strange. It is all speculation of what John Lennon would be writing now or what would Mark Twain think about monument moment fuss or what would Jesus Christ say about all the mass murders?

On this day I will hold the thoughts that my wife didn’t enjoy the long train ride out West or enjoy the new windows and heat. She didn’t have to watch hours and hours of videos of people being slaughtered by bombs or guns or vehicles by people who look just like everyone else until they snap. She didn’t have the chance to sit in the newly screened porch and watch the harvest moon. She didn’t get to see the strange television persona who would tell celebrities to do awkward stunts and those who did not succeed to amuse him he fired, become the leader of the free world.

So the ‘what if’ day has come and I will celebrate what could have been or not with a slice of cheesecake and a glass of plum wine.

Happy Birthday!

2009

July 4, 2009 (Saturday)

• The Cherokee County killer claims his fifth victim in South Carolina.

• Ireland’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, Micheál Martin, calls for the immediate release of two aid workers who were kidnapped in Sudan's Darfur region.

• Bishop of Rochester Michael Nazir-Ali calls on homosexuals to “repent and be changed” and says the Church of England will not be “rolled over by culture”.

• North Korea test fires seven more missiles into the Sea of Japan.

• Torrential rain forces over 150,000 people from their homes, topples hundreds of houses and punches a hole in the spillway of a dam in southern China.

• The United Nations Secretary General Ban Ki-moon is denied access to meet detained National League for Democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi while on a visit to Burma.

• 12 militants are killed in an air raid in northwestern Pakistan.

• Nine Chechen policeman are killed after their vehicle is attacked in neighboring Ingushetia, southern Russia.

• The Iranian state-owned newspaper Kayhan calls for Mir-Hossein Mousavi to stand trial.

• 35 people are arrested in Mazandran, northern Iran, during post-election protests.

• Serena Williams wins the women’s singles at the 2009 Wimbledon Championships after defeating her sister, Venus Williams.

• Three people die as a result of contracting swine flu in New Zealand, the country's first flu deaths.

Deaths in 2009

• Patrick McGoohan • Ricardo Montalbán • Andrew Wyeth • John Updike • Ingemar Johansson • James Whitmore • Marilyn Chambers • Bea Arthur • Jack Kemp • Dom DeLuise • David Carradine • Farrah Fawcett • Michael Jackson • Karl Malden • Allen Klein • Robert McNamara • Walter Cronkite • Eunice Kennedy Shriver • Les Paul • Ted Kennedy • Patrick Swayze • Henry Gibson • Mary Travers • Gene Barry • Heather McIver Leftwich

… that is the way it was.

SixtyNine

Sixty-nine years are 820 months or 25,185 days. Sixty-nine years are 604,440 hours, give or take daylight savings time. How much was accomplished or how much of that time was wasted will be the job of some data manager or gravedigger.

The sun came up and the clouds cleared and the day broke to chilly and breezy weather. Another milestone had been met. Morning ride was brisk noticing how many leaves have turned in one week. Time to start making piles like in my younger years since the city doesn’t want to pick them up now. There is a freeze warning tonight so Mommy Nature I don’t mind putting on long johns in November if you just keep the sunshine coming. An afternoon rides to get lunch and avoid the backward driving. Great sandwich with lots of onions so both ends will be blasting all night. As the sun fades will retire indoors to cake and ice cream (no hats or noisemakers) and await another day. That is how life goes on.

Do You Dream?

I do.

Don’t remember scary dreams of the youth or many other dreams but I had one last night I will share with you.

I don’t have dreams of flying or falling but through the years I realize I have dreams of conflict. Trying to solve some problem in a large building or an industrial setting.

That was not what last nights dream was about.

I try to figure out what did I eat or drink or when did I go to bed or what was I reading or listening to before sleep to create such an illusion of reality.

Some say dreams are the mind trying to sort out the problems of the day to prepare for tomorrow. I believe that. Some say dreams are the mind’s attempt to justify the inner self that cannot be discussed with others. I believe that. Some say a dream is the soul communicating with the body. That could be but I’m not totally sold on that one.

So what I can remember I went to bed about the same time as usual. I’d been reading stuff on the new threads (duh) and scrolling over pictures of puppies and flowers and avoiding political nonsense. I unlinked a group that was somewhat interesting discussions on guitars but was overwhelming my timeline. I had a friend request from some beauty but on closer review had nothing in common or in this case, no information at all so I reported it as spam and shut down the computer.

It normally takes me two or three minutes for the radio sound to become muffled in my own snoring and twitches and leg shakes. Usually at around 3AM I awake for a bathroom break, a cup of coffee and another review of the wondrous world of the Internet to see if anyone has reported the world has ended before I go back to the eternal sleep.

Last night was a bit different.

I did wake up at the regular time but didn’t want to leave the dream.

Let me detail the situation I found myself in. A large white beach house feeling rather Victorian but rustic that was full of people that I believed were family. A comfortable yet somewhat stressful situation to be in due to all the people but I was at the beach. Everyone is dressed in formal attire and shuffling around to tables lined in hallways for some dining occasion. There was much commotion and chattering but I never hear any language or understand any statements. Talking is not necessary when the dream is all about atmosphere.

I feel pressured to pace down the hallways and back again as if waiting for something or looking for something.

The time period seems in the 1940s from the gowns and the hairdos.

A sailor walks up some open steps into this crowd. He is wearing one of those white sailor hats but his striped shirt is torn and looks dishevel. He seems dazed and confused and perhaps bruised. Several of the women gather him up and move him into a back room all the time chattering unintelligently. A group of men stand in a circle after the event smoking their cigars and pointing to the entrance of this new member as if evaluating what cause the action and apparent results to the sailor.

Then there was this girl.

How do I describe this without sounding like a pedophile? There was this innocent face, no smile but an interesting look leaning against the rail on the deck with the ocean in the background. She was dressed in casual beachwear as not old enough to be wearing one of the fancy formal gowns and not young enough to be wearing the kids attire as they ran around in their antics to entertain the adults.

There are those people in life that attract attention and this was one of those magnet moments. There was nothing said but just the companionship felt right. Somehow we felt like two strangers in a sea of confusion. Her calm smile and demeanor offered an opportunity to feel at ease in what otherwise was a family logistical nightmare. She gave me an unrequested surprise kiss drew back and smiled.

Again, no words had been spoken (I never talk in my dreams) but the feeling was right.

I was drawn away by some assignment from an elder and the moment ended.

When I turned back she was gone.

Ok all you perverts putting a Lolita spin on this dream; forget it. All you romantics trying to image a sensitive romantic tryst, you are all wrong because this is my dream.

More crowded hallways and endless wandering lead me to this next scene. A women/girl in a red dress (yes, I dream in color) standing very rigid was staring at me. Was this the same girl? She looked so different? I tried to remember the previous face but it seemed a collection of many images composited from memories.

The magnetism took over and we were kissing. I could smell her perfume and taste her lips and tongue. Her skin was as silky as her dress. It was like one of those 80s MTV videos with lights and dancers all surrounding a still moment in time (I think I know where that comes from but I’ll have to refer to my shrink).

By the way, this was a wonderful dream and ‘no’ I didn’t wet the bed.

Then I woke up.

I closed my eyes again but I couldn’t go back.

I got up and checked my empty email box while the images spun in my head. Who was that girl? Where was I? What about the sailor? These are thoughts that create books and movies.

It was still dark and I had some more nighty-night to perform so I climbed back under the covers hoping to go back and return but that is not how dreams work.

Finally awake to the point of physical motion but with a smile on my face of a brief astral projection adventure. Whoever you are out there maybe we will meet again?

Second star on the right, straight until morning.

Lipstick

Hey girls…. I mean ladies…. no, gals… or women… whatever term you want to use; I have a question to your gender. Why do you wear lipstick?

When I walk into a club or a fine dining establishment or even a disgusting juke joint, I look at the faces and only the women are wearing lipstick. My question is “Why?”

Even with all the applications of colors or powders or creams or hair adjustments or weird eye treatments, the consistent difference between you girls and us guys is lipstick.

I know the history of facial decoration through the eons and fully understand it is a cultural requirement to look attractive or distinctive but why the bother? 

Ancient Sumerian men and women were possibly the first to invent and wear lipstick, about 5,000 years ago. They crushed gemstones and used them to decorate their faces, mainly on the lips and around the eyes. Also Egyptians like Cleopatra crushed bugs to create a colour of red on their lips. Around 3000 BC to 1500 BC, women in the ancient Indus Valley Civilization applied red tinted lipstick to their lips for face decoration. Ancient Egyptians wore lipstick to show social status rather than gender.

Throughout most of the 19th century the obvious use of cosmetics was not considered acceptable in Britain for respectable women, and it was associated with marginalized groups such as actors and prostitutes. It was considered brazen and uncouth to wear makeup.

In the 1850s, reports were being published warning women of the dangers of using lead and vermilion in cosmetics applied to the face.

Dark red was one of the most popular shades throughout the 19th and 20th century. Flappers wore lipstick to symbolize their independence. Lipstick was worn around the lips to form a “Cupid’s bow,” inspired by actress Clara Bow. At that time, it was acceptable to apply lipstick in public and during lunch, but never at dinner.

In the early 1930s, Elizabeth Arden began to introduce different lipstick colors. She inspired other companies to create a variety of lipstick shades. In the 1930s, lipstick was seen as symbol of adult sexuality. Teenage girls believed that lipstick was a symbol of womanhood. Adults saw it as an act of rebellion. A study in 1937 survey revealed that over 50% of teenage girls fought with their parents over lipstick.

In the mid-1940s, several teen books and magazines stressed that men prefer a natural look to a made-up look. Books and magazines also warned girls that wearing cosmetics could ruin their chances of popularity and a career. The implication of these articles was that lipstick and rouge were for teen girls who acted very provocatively with men. Despite the increased use of cosmetics, it was still associated with prostitution. Teen girls were discouraged from wearing cosmetics for fear that they would be mistaken for “loose” girls or prostitutes.

In the 1960s, lipstick was associated with femininity. Women who did not wear lipstick were suspected of mental illness or lesbianism.

Black lipstick became popular in the late 1970s and into the 1990s. In the 1950s actresses in horror films wore black lipstick. It became popular again due in part to punk and Goth subcultures.

In Australia, Aboriginal girls would paint their mouths red with ochre for puberty rituals.

Lipstick is a cosmetic product containing pigments, oils, waxes, and emollients that apply color, texture, and protection to the lips.

Many colors and types of lipstick exist. As with most other types of makeup, lipstick is typically, but not exclusively, worn by women. Some lipsticks are also lip balms, to add color and hydration.

Although the name originally applied to the baton (stick) of material, within a tubular container, usually around 10mm in diameter and 50mm in length the term has now generally transposed to the material itself, regardless of method of application.

OK, I get that this is part of the fashion society creating a female culture that must have lipstick to complete the facial presentation and will even agree with soothing oils softening the lips, but why just the girls?

I don’t know any guys… dudes… boys… men, oh fuck this gender thing is too difficult to keep up with; who wear lipstick.

Maybe they do in the secret places but I don’t remember seeing the football team throwing sweaty towels and stinky jock straps applying a thin coat of moisture color to their lips. I didn’t stay in the locker room very long.

I remember waiting for a date while she ‘got ready’ primping and spraying and preparing herself as a vision to sit in a dark theater or mixing it up in the back seat of a car and the lipstick didn’t matter. Social conformity and peer pressure continues with this strange habit for the female gender to place a red line on her lips.

If the genders are to be accepted as equal should we both drop some of these out-date traditions? If all the makeup disguises your flaws, what happens in the rain?

Maybe this would be a step to equalize disparage or even the suggestion of vulnerability to unwanted advancements. Our uniqueness and individually shouldn’t rely on the fashion industry to tell us what makes us attractive.

Cultural changes will take generations to adjust to the new world order and following the trends of celebrities or walkways fed by the couturiers and the chemical cosmetics industry.

In the meantime, keep applying the red stuff to your lips that will rub off on your cigarette and drink glass showing your ‘new’ friend where to drop the pill. 

And while I’m at it… what the Mother, Mary and Joseph are you still wearing these things for?

Lost In The Music

Not a bad day. Wandered downtown to the big hardware store but for some reason they didn’t have what I was looking for. They only had Christmas decorations.

So the next step was the Carytown Crawl, which I try to do every year. I waited for the tourist to decide where they were going to go but finally had to go around them to be later followed by these wandering spectators.

First stop was a small shop of kitchen items and in the upper class presentation to the folks I did not fit in, I wandered through the store to be greeted by Rachael, a cute young proprietor of the shop welcoming folks to purchase her goods. It was worth the look in for I found teaspoons and a knife and enjoyed the conversation enough to pay the ‘Carytown’ price.

Next stop was to drop into the local guitar store and converse with the ones who know and play much better than me. Lots of toys but I’ve already filled my wish list so pleasant parting and on to the next stop.

The local taco restaurant surrounded by Thai and processed food places that are a desert haven. The atmosphere was empty but I was treated like a guest and enjoyed the conversation of daytime television.

Since the temperature had warmed and the power was still off outside, lunch was had in the dark running on batteries.

Another ride to the Tummy Temple for refreshments with thoughts of curtains and paints and sweats pants for future ventures. Got there at a different time for a different crowd and traffic pattern. Stopped to stare at a lady who was striking but I didn’t tell her that. Need to learn that lesson.

After a long venture winding through the streets of history and the past to cool down and redress to the warmer way of life.

Some yard work in the dark and yet it never gets done. A couple of hours of raking, scraping, filling and brushing before taking another refreshment and rest seem possible and preferred. 

The porch offers a haven for relaxation from the sweat and those weird pains in the back and legs. As the sun goes down and the neighbors rush into their buildings I bid adieu to the sun and welcome the moon before moving indoors myself.

That is when it happened.

While checking the nonsense on social media I came across a YouTube post of some music. I placed the headphones on my ears and was lost in sound.

Once it starts it never seems to end.

The eyes close and the music flows and then another and then another. Hours pass without a notice but a click of the mouse. Rock and roll turns into hillbilly banjo to an Eastern drum beat to a acapella harmony to funk bass to some weird drum beat the music never stops.

I know enough about music and can make most instruments with a pluck or a strum or a bang make some sort of noise but once in the zone am lost to the sound. I dissect and decompose and rearrange and add new parts without effort. The tune may be played hundreds of times with each version being different in my head.

My fatality forces me to remove myself from this wondrous place but know that the echo will reverberate in my head until I climb back into the virtual reality world of magic.

The Dead

It seems more likely that everyday there will be reports in the news media of another mass slaughter by some deranged gun totting folks or some infrastructure failure or mother earth not liking some beach front or offshore drilling. Locals will try to capture the disaster on their phones posting videos on the social media before a professed qualified and trained journalist can show up to get a body count. 

 

We, as a society, seem to have a fanatic want to see the faces of the deceased. Their profile just increases the agony and pain of those lost too early. Even if we never heard of the person(s) we will hold vigils and burn candles and make messages of how we grieve for strangers. 

 

Publishing the faces seems to bring closure to the event and allows us to move on.

We seem to be obsessed with displaying the corpse. In the ole West, when a bandit or scalawag was killed, the town would display the bodies like some hunter’s trophy display on the wall. Morticians and churches feed off the deceased with carting out the body for all to view and tell stories over. It is OK because they are not listening.

Then we put the dearly departed in a hole and it becomes a lonely place lined up with others who had reached the end of the line. 

 

The question is: What about the wounded?

 

Yes the grieving families will mourn for their lose, but there are other families who must also adjust their lives for the disruption and suffering and cost of the wounded. The injured yet surviving the occasion may have a brief moment to tell the experience first hand, but will fade into oblivion while still faced with years of pain and therapy dragging their family and friends to new assessments of relationships.

Maybe there is not enough paper to print or fileserver space to store all the faces. The journalists only have a deadline before the next event takes the headlines as it has done today.

Digging Up The Roots

Woke with a foggy head and a left over buzz hangover from staying up too late and watching black and white television after the game that was not the last. Stumbled in to make some hot water turn dark then sit in front of the screen when I hear this truck coming down the alley. I’d not received a call but maybe this was the second part to the guys who looped down some wood earlier in the week. Looking out the window there he was. A guy was in the yard opening the gate. How did he get in the fortress? I normally put locks on all the gates, but there he was. I whip on some trousers and slip into some slippers to confront this invader. A young burley man with a long red beard was staring at the ground when I approached. “I didn’t get a call?” I questioned but was relieved he was there. He checked my request and was told of a power line not explained in the quote and was left alone to do his work. I went back inside glad this was going to begin and end but there was no noise. Even the new double pane windows should make some reverberations to a power tool, but there was nothing. By the time I decided to get fully dressed and comb and brush and shake off the cobweb, the gate was shut and he was gone. First of the month so I still have to go out and pay my bills and replenish the critter’s grub. I pull my pony out as the sun starts to break the clouds. The air seems to refresh my head and I got back to my usual routine without wondering where the red beard had gone. Seemed like more traffic than usual or just suspicion of the ‘terror’ attack from the previous day. Always cautious I can wait. Mailed my envelopes and found my supplies for the day to notice long lines at the check out. I can wait, so I venture back and forth through the aisles until the traffic jams cease. By now the ride home was more than refreshing in the cool air and clear skies. Peering down the alley, the truck had not returned. “Maybe it had come and gone again or maybe it won’t come back”, I thought. Put out the critter banquet and went in to stare at a lighted screen showing me what I already knew. Then I heard the sound of wheels on the gravel and the root slayer had returned. The monster grinder the size of a tank compared to my wimpy tiller squeezed through the gate with inches to spare. I again established boundary lines and what I want to accomplish and he and his machine were free to desecrate the ground. I went back insider my haven listening to the motor and the grinding and drinking one after another. I repeat myself when I’m distressed. I repeat myself when I’m distressed. Then it was lights out. The red beard had hit the extension line and I was left in the dark. Put another ‘to-do’ project on the list. As I close the gate I’m left with piles of dirt and a few lasting stumps. As anticipated with some raking to do tomorrow and a phone call to make but today is left to finish another project. The trellis comes down along with miles of intertwined wines. As I fill the trash receptacles I ponder the fact that I am undoing what has taken years of planting and patient weaving of live plants building shelter for birds and shade for the back porch. “Simplify your life,” I kept telling myself as reasoning for the destruction of a true artist. At the end of the day it is porch time with music from a slab of glass and a tin of burp juice. Several people (neighbors?) walk by unaware of what had happened today. The battle with the grasses will continue but the war of emotions never ends.