Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Where is Home?
Today I'm at Mom's because I thought I might be working in Baltimore yesterday. I'm taking time out from chores to say what needs to be said to this blog: that I don't feel at home at my house in Pennsylvania. I feel much more at home at Mom's, but it's somehow not quite satisfactory here either because it's not my home, or not my house anyway. At home in Pennsylvania I feel like it's my sister's turf and I'm not secure and have no room and can't relax and I'm barely even welcomed. I'm a little bit homeless right now, then. If only I were an ace with wood and could build myself a tree house.
Catch Up
Some interaction came my way in the form of an email-based chat with Russ. This is healthy for me, so I justified the time. Besides, it's a good update for this blog. Voila:
Rand: 98 degrees today. Fuck this. I may go to a movie tonight, just to get some air conditioning. (Work is fine, A/C set to about 63.)
me: Star Trek is beautiful, shows nature to great advantage.
You could watch it for the stratospheric sky-diving alone.
1:11 PM Rand: The movie? No way, I hate the franchise. Either THE HANGOVER or THE HURT LOCKER.
me: Other man-versus-nature treatments put man more in control, but Trek movie shows nature on top and with respect.
never heard of those flix.
1:13 PM Rand: Doesn't surprise me. Anyway, just a thought. I'm partial to lying in the bathtub in cool water for half an hour with a Red Hook, nice way to take down my core body temperature.
1:14 PM me: I got heat exhaustion Monday from driving around trying to get my birth certificate for work (starting new job.) Then Tuesday I risked it again going to the Dept of Transportation for my driver license. Tuesday night I presented the document at the office and was told to start in a week.
1:15 PM Rand: Well, that's some good news. Money is good? Your situation with your mother stable?
1:16 PM me: I moved back to PA, but I'll be spending [work nights] with Mom so I can be where the work is. Money is nothin'. $9 per hour. But, thanks to the President, we'll soon have health insurance.
Rand: So what happened to your crazy sister?
1:17 PM me: She got out of the hospital. They slipped the hearing by me without adequate notice so I could not testify. I begged them to do a brain scan and test for lyme disease before she got a lawyer and got herself out, but now they say there wasn't time. Bullshit.
1:18 PM Rand: So she's wandering the streets? Or shacked up with you?
me: She's with me
She's a very good housekeeper. That house would be nothing without her
Rand: I could believe that—
me: Hate to sound selfish. I'm not really. Even if she were a slob I'd want her living there
1:19 PM Rand: Sounds like the symbiosis you need.
[text omitted]
me: This is shaping up to be a good catch-up material for my blog. Can I post the conversation?
[text omitted]
1:21 PM Rand: However, because it was 94 fucking degrees out, I [text omitted]
me: Do you have AC in your car?
I don't.
1:22 PM Rand: No, but I'm not driving much either. I just open my windows about half an hour before I drive any place, try to leave it in the shade.
You want to post this conversation, leave out [text omitted.]
me: OK
1:24 PM bye now?
Hey, I'm writing a book about (shh! don't tell) an elephant who paints.
1:27 PM Rand: Yeah. OK....
1:29 PM me: See, the little boy wants to build a tree house, which gives the elephant the idea for a tree village so that humans can live side-by-side with the animals instead of destroying habitat. The elephant creates quite a stir when he paints his idea.
Pilgrims come to see the elephant, and the municipality has to host them without destroying habitat.
1:30 PM Rand: Long as your target readership is kids (and not elephants--).
me: It's not.
It's hippies
1:31 PM I could sell it in that East-meets-west book store in the U district.
I've decided to set it in India.
Rand: Well, let me know when you find a publisher.
me: All I have to do is shake the hippie tree and publisher will fall out.
1:32 PM then i'll tell him he needs a tree village so he won't keep falling out of hippie trees.
1:33 PM Rand: Have to take your word for it. Year and a half in Seattle, and you didn't get much with any hippies out here.
1:34 PM me: I hate to say it, because I dread my chores. But I should stop procrastinating and sign off soon.
1:35 PM Rand: Think of me--I'm at work.
me: Ok, catch you later.
:)
Rand: 98 degrees today. Fuck this. I may go to a movie tonight, just to get some air conditioning. (Work is fine, A/C set to about 63.)
me: Star Trek is beautiful, shows nature to great advantage.
You could watch it for the stratospheric sky-diving alone.
1:11 PM Rand: The movie? No way, I hate the franchise. Either THE HANGOVER or THE HURT LOCKER.
me: Other man-versus-nature treatments put man more in control, but Trek movie shows nature on top and with respect.
never heard of those flix.
1:13 PM Rand: Doesn't surprise me. Anyway, just a thought. I'm partial to lying in the bathtub in cool water for half an hour with a Red Hook, nice way to take down my core body temperature.
1:14 PM me: I got heat exhaustion Monday from driving around trying to get my birth certificate for work (starting new job.) Then Tuesday I risked it again going to the Dept of Transportation for my driver license. Tuesday night I presented the document at the office and was told to start in a week.
1:15 PM Rand: Well, that's some good news. Money is good? Your situation with your mother stable?
1:16 PM me: I moved back to PA, but I'll be spending [work nights] with Mom so I can be where the work is. Money is nothin'. $9 per hour. But, thanks to the President, we'll soon have health insurance.
Rand: So what happened to your crazy sister?
1:17 PM me: She got out of the hospital. They slipped the hearing by me without adequate notice so I could not testify. I begged them to do a brain scan and test for lyme disease before she got a lawyer and got herself out, but now they say there wasn't time. Bullshit.
1:18 PM Rand: So she's wandering the streets? Or shacked up with you?
me: She's with me
She's a very good housekeeper. That house would be nothing without her
Rand: I could believe that—
me: Hate to sound selfish. I'm not really. Even if she were a slob I'd want her living there
1:19 PM Rand: Sounds like the symbiosis you need.
[text omitted]
me: This is shaping up to be a good catch-up material for my blog. Can I post the conversation?
[text omitted]
1:21 PM Rand: However, because it was 94 fucking degrees out, I [text omitted]
me: Do you have AC in your car?
I don't.
1:22 PM Rand: No, but I'm not driving much either. I just open my windows about half an hour before I drive any place, try to leave it in the shade.
You want to post this conversation, leave out [text omitted.]
me: OK
1:24 PM bye now?
Hey, I'm writing a book about (shh! don't tell) an elephant who paints.
1:27 PM Rand: Yeah. OK....
1:29 PM me: See, the little boy wants to build a tree house, which gives the elephant the idea for a tree village so that humans can live side-by-side with the animals instead of destroying habitat. The elephant creates quite a stir when he paints his idea.
Pilgrims come to see the elephant, and the municipality has to host them without destroying habitat.
1:30 PM Rand: Long as your target readership is kids (and not elephants--).
me: It's not.
It's hippies
1:31 PM I could sell it in that East-meets-west book store in the U district.
I've decided to set it in India.
Rand: Well, let me know when you find a publisher.
me: All I have to do is shake the hippie tree and publisher will fall out.
1:32 PM then i'll tell him he needs a tree village so he won't keep falling out of hippie trees.
1:33 PM Rand: Have to take your word for it. Year and a half in Seattle, and you didn't get much with any hippies out here.
1:34 PM me: I hate to say it, because I dread my chores. But I should stop procrastinating and sign off soon.
1:35 PM Rand: Think of me--I'm at work.
me: Ok, catch you later.
:)
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Messages to the Future #1
Dear Future People,
As you sift through the amazing mountain of 1's and 0's we've left you, don't forget to look for the ways in which the meanings of things change. One example that lept out at me today was that sweet little song, "Be My Baby" by -- who was it? -- some Phil Spector act was once regarded as a "bad girl" song! Or so it was rumored to me.
Here's another artifact for you: Ladies used to say "Well, I never!" when their dignity was threatened. But then someone said it to the Fonz (I think it was Shelly Long as love-interest Cynthia,) and Fonzie replied, "Well, honey, maybe that's your problem!" And the expression quickly went out of use.
Yours Truly,
Kitty
As you sift through the amazing mountain of 1's and 0's we've left you, don't forget to look for the ways in which the meanings of things change. One example that lept out at me today was that sweet little song, "Be My Baby" by -- who was it? -- some Phil Spector act was once regarded as a "bad girl" song! Or so it was rumored to me.
Here's another artifact for you: Ladies used to say "Well, I never!" when their dignity was threatened. But then someone said it to the Fonz (I think it was Shelly Long as love-interest Cynthia,) and Fonzie replied, "Well, honey, maybe that's your problem!" And the expression quickly went out of use.
Yours Truly,
Kitty
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Mike
A man in the grocery store was talking to the clerk about Michael Jackson, saying that, for those of us who had grown up with him, Michael was a part of us. "He is a part of us." I chimed in. And there it is -- a retrospective on Jackson is by nature a personal one, unique to each fan. Music and entertainment happen at the intersection of stimulus and perception. When I was a child I must have realized this, because I fancied (incorrectly) that for this reason music must make no sense to animals.
When the Jacksons' debut album was blossoming (all year, wasn't it? throughout 1970) on the radio my mother told me who was singing -- "Michael, the youngest of the Jackson 5." I imagined that sweet voice belonged to a much younger child than eleven-year-old Michael. I had two infant sisters at the time. By Autumn, eighteen-month-old Angie could do Michael's voice amazingly well. Angie grew up to be a professional singer. I just told her yesterday at an audition that the first time I knew she had talent was when she was a baby and she did MJ.
And then there was Ben. My mother promoted the song to me, as something she didn't want me to miss. She bought the single so I could give it to my cousin Katie for her birthday. Katie also got a shetland pony named Ben, and we all rode Ben until I got too big for him and the others quickly followed suit. I think Mom also bought a copy of the single for me to keep, but if so I don't know where it is. Finally one day I saw the movie, which I scarcely remember.
I don't have any particularly good memories associated with "Off the Wall," although I kinda enjoyed it and, looking back, I appreciate it as very good music.
But I was thrilled with "Thriller." I think I have two copies of the LP, one of which should still be in my Pennsylvania house somewhere. If I were on a shorter leash, I might go up right now to the Goucher College campus, where I studied computer programming back in the day, to remember "Thriller" in full bloom with "Human Nature" grabbing all the airplay. The song had a relaxed sense of wonder about it. I know that sounds funny, but if you've heard the song maybe you can relate.
And if I had more time, I'd probably have more to say. Like -- oh, here's one. I had thought at one time that Michael was cleverly named after an angel because he had Klinefelter Syndrome -- which in fact he did not have. He fathered three kids naturally, so there's no way he has Klinefelter. I thought he was a K man because of his high, gentle voice, slight frame, and effeminate dimeanor. I hope Mike wouldn't mind my having thought so!
When I was working at the factory with the jail birds (and others,) a girl who was the daughter of the most infamous malefactor there -- a serial killer -- asked me how old I was and when I told her she said, "Ooh! Did you like Michael Jackson?!" And we shared a smile. Of course I did. I love Michael.
When the Jacksons' debut album was blossoming (all year, wasn't it? throughout 1970) on the radio my mother told me who was singing -- "Michael, the youngest of the Jackson 5." I imagined that sweet voice belonged to a much younger child than eleven-year-old Michael. I had two infant sisters at the time. By Autumn, eighteen-month-old Angie could do Michael's voice amazingly well. Angie grew up to be a professional singer. I just told her yesterday at an audition that the first time I knew she had talent was when she was a baby and she did MJ.
And then there was Ben. My mother promoted the song to me, as something she didn't want me to miss. She bought the single so I could give it to my cousin Katie for her birthday. Katie also got a shetland pony named Ben, and we all rode Ben until I got too big for him and the others quickly followed suit. I think Mom also bought a copy of the single for me to keep, but if so I don't know where it is. Finally one day I saw the movie, which I scarcely remember.
I don't have any particularly good memories associated with "Off the Wall," although I kinda enjoyed it and, looking back, I appreciate it as very good music.
But I was thrilled with "Thriller." I think I have two copies of the LP, one of which should still be in my Pennsylvania house somewhere. If I were on a shorter leash, I might go up right now to the Goucher College campus, where I studied computer programming back in the day, to remember "Thriller" in full bloom with "Human Nature" grabbing all the airplay. The song had a relaxed sense of wonder about it. I know that sounds funny, but if you've heard the song maybe you can relate.
And if I had more time, I'd probably have more to say. Like -- oh, here's one. I had thought at one time that Michael was cleverly named after an angel because he had Klinefelter Syndrome -- which in fact he did not have. He fathered three kids naturally, so there's no way he has Klinefelter. I thought he was a K man because of his high, gentle voice, slight frame, and effeminate dimeanor. I hope Mike wouldn't mind my having thought so!
When I was working at the factory with the jail birds (and others,) a girl who was the daughter of the most infamous malefactor there -- a serial killer -- asked me how old I was and when I told her she said, "Ooh! Did you like Michael Jackson?!" And we shared a smile. Of course I did. I love Michael.
Percival's Problem
Percival's Problem was that he was a biological entity; if his needs weren't met he couldn't turn in the kind of performance that would keep him out of even more trouble.
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