Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Beach Yesterday
Yesterday I went to the beach twice- about 7 AM and 6 PM.
It's nice to be in a coastal town with so many options of what to do next and family nearby too.
It's nice to be in a coastal town with so many options of what to do next and family nearby too.
Numbers
Excited to get back to note-taking. Just heard a rabbinic discussion of The
Golden Calf and it reminded me of how much I love this Hebrew Bible stuff. Cecil B. DeMille notwithstanding. The real thing is so fascinating.
Here we are singing the desert blues with TTB.org and 100
languages. Wow.
I’m also looking forward to seeing my Mom and going to
McDonald’s. I’ve discovered the side
salad- ranging in price from $1.39 to $1.89.
What a great deal. Since I’m now
on the Coca-Cola diet, it fits right in.
I don’t even like the title of Numbers. But of course there is much more to it than
that. I’m fascinated with how the Bible
uses numbers- that isn’t more common in this book, though. It should probably be called Census. It’s the numbers of the people that are
recorded here.
Of course there are references to Christ throughout- but I
don’t think anybody knows that anymore.
Christ is so Hebrew that it is impossible to pretend that he’s not, but
everybody tries their best.
Inciting the mob by telling them that they don’t have
everything they want is a very old trick.
And of course it’s true. Nobody
has everything they want. But what each
person needs to realize is that life wouldn’t be better if they had everything
they ever want because they each want other people’s stuff. So they fight in the name of liberty and that
is called rebellion and all authority is God-given. So that’s our problem, isn’t it?
“People have more liberty in this country than any place or
time in the history of the world.” And
guess what, if you live for more, more, more- it’s never enough. Freedom is what will bring this nation down-
we can’t help ourselves.
Moses, the leader at the time- wanted everybody to be close
to God, but of course they weren’t- but if they were he would have been happy
to let somebody else lead. We don’t have
anyone in leadership like Moses today.
The people who want to lead are the least capable of handling it- in my
humble opinion. Like Mark Twain I’m so
proud of how humble I can be.
Jealousy is the root problem- not liberty.
Monday, March 20, 2017
Evita at Lake Worth Playhouse
So when I first came to Lake Worth, contemplating moving back- we drove by the Lake Worth playhouse that funky piece of Broadway where the porn seediness still clings after being returned to a respectable establishment. Starting out as a movie palace it's now- well, it's now a little club of patrons and performers- including me.
It would have been so easy not to audition but I did.
I walked on stage with the entire cast, sitting on movie benches and reacting to the announcement of the passing of Argentina's Spiritual Leader. I love that line- incomprehensible to me- the non-Argentinian, and a non-Catholic. I don't know about our stunned reaction, but the music is beautiful. I love in the movie how the dusty Junin road is contrasted with the actually Prague city streets meant to be Buenos Aires. Right off the bat there is the contrast between the Big Argentinian Apple and the backwoods middle of nowhere from which she came. I think the music is great for cinema. You know, we had a less belting style than the show and I really liked that. Sometimes in the rehearsal room we sounded like a choir of hundreds, and very good. And other times we sounded so bad I couldn't believe it, but the show must go on. I wonder how sensitive I am, thinking the same people can be great one minute and terrible another.
We had a great Che- and two great Evitas and a great Peron.
We had our moments. We had some style. But that's all gone now.
Listening to the Latin on the original recording- it's interesting, but I like how we sounded more choral. It's more churchy and makes more sense then, now that rock is acceptable with liturgy, even to old people. I remember the boys in our cast- well the men, not sounding like angels- and the women sometimes so angelic sounding it was awesome when the sweeping orchestra came in much louder than there liturgical sacreligious lullaby. So beautiful as the women sang "ride on my train..." I still wish we had a little girl up there- maybe with a basket- think Dorothy and Belle....
Backing up, I carried a bench off, accompanied by my Trivago look-a-like. We put the benches backstage and came back out as soldiers wheeling in the coffin. I wandered around it- with the whole cast- and then put on my army had again to wheel it out- one of four soldiers. I think it's funny that the butchest people to be found in the cast included me- but I think we pulled it off.
Then I took off the army jacket and wore a vest and tie to be Eva's brother. While Eva is zipping around velcroing into costume after costume with barely a breath- I have time in between appearances to remember where I am. In the party scene I walk on with a table and stand there until it starts- flashing a smile and trying to look bored at a party- but not bored being onstage. I'm not sure how that worked. Bu I think my smile was the best in the business.
Freezing in dismay around the coffin and carrying props- and other times of not moving, may have totally worked or cheesed it up- I don't know.
Displaying Eva Peron's every disadvantage- well, how do you do that on stage? At least we didn't have scissored edges of clothes. Walking out to sit in a chair in the front of the family portrait was fun and was a calm moment preceding the pounding in my ears when I missed the harmony- every time- at most three notes correct before slipping into the melody, as Eva's brother. I looked older than Mama, but it totally worked because why couldn't I be Papa in that scene, and then I think I stormed off confidently with the family- or capably I should say- having represented the only male of the family well. It was so much better than the initial staging which had me competing with Eva and Magaldi for attention and didn't work.
On those nights of a thousand stars, the audience never reacted to Magaldi's entrance although he did it perfectly every time. They just couldn't laugh after seeing us circling a coffin.
I really liked how Che played with the 4th wall by waving his hand in our faces when we were unable to see him. And that was continued when Eva and Che leaned against both sides of the pronecium in their waltz when Che finally interacts with another character. Man, we had a good Che. Artistry- not the same way over and over and so listenable unlike Broadway style, but not as casual as the movie version.
When she auditioned I realized I couldn't wait to see Eva play 15. What a contrast with the professional woman who auditioned! And the other Eva got to play her 30s. So great to have different ages in one role.
What's New?
Well I bought dance shoes. Why? Hmm. Thankfully I didn't dance so no one was embarrassed by me.
Eva learns the dance in the show, but I was offstage- thank goodness.
Beautiful dancers- the bloom of youth.
I wonder how the concept album sounded without dances.
Goodnight and thank you, but we've just started. I really enjoyed singing this one offstage and doing non-melody. And thank God Che didn't scream the whispered "F" on female. At first I thought I'd be on the steps with the lovers but that wouldn't have worked if I'm her brother. Although I was on stage many times, it did work as one character- or at least not as distracting being incongruent parts.
It was certainly possible that we created some art there. Eva's real brother was in the army. And it was fun strutting like an officer going around in another circle and hearing the audience laugh this time- especially since I had the best part an actor can ask for- getting shot in the head and falling off the chair. I don't think it was a problem that I was back on stage many other times, by then people realized they could laugh although many unfunny things happened on stage. Che dragged me offstage and Eva said I looked realistic.
When we were supposed to be Peron shouting offstage never worked but how can we sing with a tape and expect to be able to do a big musical in a little space any other way? We did what we could.
On the next night of a thousand stars, the stars stood on the stairs and balcony- great big tall pink balcony with a door in the middle of it for the coffin and the bed- and played to the audience as if they were the stadium audience. Eva's date was great- not distracting, but body language on point. Thinking about it now, it would have been a great idea to have crowd noise coming from the back of the audience to let them know they are part of the crowd at that point.
I remember Magaldi running up from the downstairs dressing room to shout Peron. Proffesional- maybe the most in the show.
We put the door onstage for Goodnight and Thank You and I climbed the creaking offstage stairs to get to my post as Army Man or Guard looking down on Another Suitcase in Another Hall.. What a great opportunity to sing harmony with a beautiful ingenue. Who would have thought? It was a great use of the set when Che and the guards or Peron and them stood up above the stage, using the doors and arches up there.
The aristocrats did another dance and some of us sang offstage.
For A New Argentina, the entire cast was onstage except me and Trivago buddy. We burst on and take Che off stage, dance around backstage and then throw him back onto the stage with a line to sing and storm off again. Once or twice the audience reacted to our line. Hmmm.... how to do it differently?
Thunderous applause ends the first act.
For another big scene, we walk out as movers and shakers who voted for Peron and stare up at them with admiration. Chills during the scene with Evita looking down at us from her glory.. I notice the original has applause but our tracks did not.
The cast backstage waltzing to High Flying Adored.
Thank goodness the girls sang Rainbow High.
Surrounding Peron looking at newspapers, dancing like an idiot and laughing at Che's accents behind the paper....
Two matinee or two matinees? I never noticed before.
I went out and took a skimmed kickback from Eva- that was fun, and made sense if I'm still playing the brother. Rollin' is fun to sing but no one ever approached the actual bass parts. They're ridiculous, but I'd like to get it.
Little guy dancing backstage during Rollin' which was the crowd-pleaser....
Quite a break and then back on stage for New Argentina reprise- quickly off and then back to cover Eva with a shroud and pull the bed back out through the door in the center of the stage- oh and we had put it on earlier.
That's it.
That's a wrap. What's next?
It would have been so easy not to audition but I did.
I walked on stage with the entire cast, sitting on movie benches and reacting to the announcement of the passing of Argentina's Spiritual Leader. I love that line- incomprehensible to me- the non-Argentinian, and a non-Catholic. I don't know about our stunned reaction, but the music is beautiful. I love in the movie how the dusty Junin road is contrasted with the actually Prague city streets meant to be Buenos Aires. Right off the bat there is the contrast between the Big Argentinian Apple and the backwoods middle of nowhere from which she came. I think the music is great for cinema. You know, we had a less belting style than the show and I really liked that. Sometimes in the rehearsal room we sounded like a choir of hundreds, and very good. And other times we sounded so bad I couldn't believe it, but the show must go on. I wonder how sensitive I am, thinking the same people can be great one minute and terrible another.
We had a great Che- and two great Evitas and a great Peron.
We had our moments. We had some style. But that's all gone now.
Listening to the Latin on the original recording- it's interesting, but I like how we sounded more choral. It's more churchy and makes more sense then, now that rock is acceptable with liturgy, even to old people. I remember the boys in our cast- well the men, not sounding like angels- and the women sometimes so angelic sounding it was awesome when the sweeping orchestra came in much louder than there liturgical sacreligious lullaby. So beautiful as the women sang "ride on my train..." I still wish we had a little girl up there- maybe with a basket- think Dorothy and Belle....
Backing up, I carried a bench off, accompanied by my Trivago look-a-like. We put the benches backstage and came back out as soldiers wheeling in the coffin. I wandered around it- with the whole cast- and then put on my army had again to wheel it out- one of four soldiers. I think it's funny that the butchest people to be found in the cast included me- but I think we pulled it off.
Then I took off the army jacket and wore a vest and tie to be Eva's brother. While Eva is zipping around velcroing into costume after costume with barely a breath- I have time in between appearances to remember where I am. In the party scene I walk on with a table and stand there until it starts- flashing a smile and trying to look bored at a party- but not bored being onstage. I'm not sure how that worked. Bu I think my smile was the best in the business.
Freezing in dismay around the coffin and carrying props- and other times of not moving, may have totally worked or cheesed it up- I don't know.
Displaying Eva Peron's every disadvantage- well, how do you do that on stage? At least we didn't have scissored edges of clothes. Walking out to sit in a chair in the front of the family portrait was fun and was a calm moment preceding the pounding in my ears when I missed the harmony- every time- at most three notes correct before slipping into the melody, as Eva's brother. I looked older than Mama, but it totally worked because why couldn't I be Papa in that scene, and then I think I stormed off confidently with the family- or capably I should say- having represented the only male of the family well. It was so much better than the initial staging which had me competing with Eva and Magaldi for attention and didn't work.
On those nights of a thousand stars, the audience never reacted to Magaldi's entrance although he did it perfectly every time. They just couldn't laugh after seeing us circling a coffin.
I really liked how Che played with the 4th wall by waving his hand in our faces when we were unable to see him. And that was continued when Eva and Che leaned against both sides of the pronecium in their waltz when Che finally interacts with another character. Man, we had a good Che. Artistry- not the same way over and over and so listenable unlike Broadway style, but not as casual as the movie version.
When she auditioned I realized I couldn't wait to see Eva play 15. What a contrast with the professional woman who auditioned! And the other Eva got to play her 30s. So great to have different ages in one role.
What's New?
Well I bought dance shoes. Why? Hmm. Thankfully I didn't dance so no one was embarrassed by me.
Eva learns the dance in the show, but I was offstage- thank goodness.
Beautiful dancers- the bloom of youth.
I wonder how the concept album sounded without dances.
Goodnight and thank you, but we've just started. I really enjoyed singing this one offstage and doing non-melody. And thank God Che didn't scream the whispered "F" on female. At first I thought I'd be on the steps with the lovers but that wouldn't have worked if I'm her brother. Although I was on stage many times, it did work as one character- or at least not as distracting being incongruent parts.
It was certainly possible that we created some art there. Eva's real brother was in the army. And it was fun strutting like an officer going around in another circle and hearing the audience laugh this time- especially since I had the best part an actor can ask for- getting shot in the head and falling off the chair. I don't think it was a problem that I was back on stage many other times, by then people realized they could laugh although many unfunny things happened on stage. Che dragged me offstage and Eva said I looked realistic.
When we were supposed to be Peron shouting offstage never worked but how can we sing with a tape and expect to be able to do a big musical in a little space any other way? We did what we could.
On the next night of a thousand stars, the stars stood on the stairs and balcony- great big tall pink balcony with a door in the middle of it for the coffin and the bed- and played to the audience as if they were the stadium audience. Eva's date was great- not distracting, but body language on point. Thinking about it now, it would have been a great idea to have crowd noise coming from the back of the audience to let them know they are part of the crowd at that point.
I remember Magaldi running up from the downstairs dressing room to shout Peron. Proffesional- maybe the most in the show.
We put the door onstage for Goodnight and Thank You and I climbed the creaking offstage stairs to get to my post as Army Man or Guard looking down on Another Suitcase in Another Hall.. What a great opportunity to sing harmony with a beautiful ingenue. Who would have thought? It was a great use of the set when Che and the guards or Peron and them stood up above the stage, using the doors and arches up there.
The aristocrats did another dance and some of us sang offstage.
For A New Argentina, the entire cast was onstage except me and Trivago buddy. We burst on and take Che off stage, dance around backstage and then throw him back onto the stage with a line to sing and storm off again. Once or twice the audience reacted to our line. Hmmm.... how to do it differently?
Thunderous applause ends the first act.
For another big scene, we walk out as movers and shakers who voted for Peron and stare up at them with admiration. Chills during the scene with Evita looking down at us from her glory.. I notice the original has applause but our tracks did not.
The cast backstage waltzing to High Flying Adored.
Thank goodness the girls sang Rainbow High.
Surrounding Peron looking at newspapers, dancing like an idiot and laughing at Che's accents behind the paper....
Two matinee or two matinees? I never noticed before.
I went out and took a skimmed kickback from Eva- that was fun, and made sense if I'm still playing the brother. Rollin' is fun to sing but no one ever approached the actual bass parts. They're ridiculous, but I'd like to get it.
Little guy dancing backstage during Rollin' which was the crowd-pleaser....
Quite a break and then back on stage for New Argentina reprise- quickly off and then back to cover Eva with a shroud and pull the bed back out through the door in the center of the stage- oh and we had put it on earlier.
That's it.
That's a wrap. What's next?
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Under the Stars
Tonight I've been countin' railroad cars...
Reference to Amy Grant song..
Actually I was counting stars, thinking of Abraham. It's a shame that the semi-colon button doesn't work on this laptop, but hey- I can totally read every letter without glasses. Thank you Arnold Ehret and Dr. Chang and Jesus.
I was wandering around Boynton Beach tonight and it occurred to me how many places I've walked around or eaten at a cafe outside or just enjoyed being there- not in a certain place, but enjoying the climate. I remember sitting outside looking at two castles while eating. That was in Bavaria where the crazy king lived as a child and constructed his own unfinished fairy tale castle on a neighboring hill. I wonder what the Bavarian connection is to the Illiminati? I keep coming back to YouTube conspiracy theories and they are fascinating. And Bavaria is something that comes up but with no explanation.
I remember the ten sainted kings of Europe depiction there. Did he (the builder) think he was going to be the eleventh?
Tonight I walked along the boardwalk and saw the stars, and walked along a shopping center that is partly dedicated to a career college, and saw a lit carnival midway a little way away but separated by parking lots and probably canals. It's easy not to notice that this whole area is divided by canals. We go by them so often but since we're not fishing in them or standing alongside them watching the sun set or the light twinkle on the water, or boating through them, we just pass them by. Every once in awhile I notice one because it seems to be the border between one town and another, but South Florida is basically one connection of cities between beach and undevelopment, and it all flows together despite county, city, town and unincorporated lines. The lines are more neighborhood patchworks- by age, occupation and race- and there's a little of each kind in each political entity, and very little evidence of politics in my world. I'm sure it's here, but it's not like Orlando's interests- tourist and native, Disney and not, county and city. It is more of a patchwork.
There's a dividing line somewhere, of principalities I suppose- that happens at Northlake Blvd or PGA Blvd. I guess that's the frontier, and everything north of that is not what I mean when I say South Florida. It might start at the Thomas B. Manuel bridge but wherever it starts I totally feel it. It's not the familiarity to places I've grown up around, it's the geography into which my familiarity from childhood is placed. It's something I didn't notice until I moved away to another Florida nation- or region- or something- Tallahassee.
In Westgate, all the streets had Indian names, and that included Seminole. Then I became one and realized that Florida had different regions. I moved from South to North and then settled in Central, and now I can't decide which principality to submit too but I'm constantly reminded that all authority is God-given. Damn that is hard to believe but impossible to argue with.
Tonight I heard a Jewish expositor discussing the Golden Calf episode and it reminded me of when racism was part of God's plan- and that was something that ended with the Exodus- only to be revived again by the anti-Jewish Jewish philosophers of Askenazi/Khazar Europe in the 18th century through today. It's totally the dumbest philosophy I can think of at least from my perspective, because I see that it has no merit every single day, while other philosophies seem to have truth in them to me- at least in part.
Today in Juddy's sermon we heard a discussion of rationalism gone off the rails and it hit home. We're in a transition phase- a post-Christian phase in our society, in which skepticism is so agreed upon that people band together into little tribes just because they agree on something. "No, no... don't speak to me...." people seem to say, at the first sign of disagreement- because then they have to agree that there is nothing anyone knows for sure- yet, we agree on so many things but get lost in decrying whatever pre-supposition somebody else has, without acknoledging our own.
The one Mason I know said that Jesus was the greatest man who ever lived. We can agree on that, except for the capitalization. Jesus is the greatest Man who ever lived- and He said He was the only way. It's so hard to understand that, unless Jesus is everything- but He clearly also said He wasn't. So Jesus is either a liar or He's the One God. I don't think that enters into many people's thinking. There is still a respect for Jesus in popular society and until that fades, Christians are lulled into a belief that there can and was a Christian society. But like Liberalism, Christianity only works for the marginalized. When people realize that each one individually needs restoration, then there's a personal choice. A Christian is a person- and can't be a society. The only reason everyone isn't one is how badly we've behaved, accepting the sow's ear and eating the pearls instead of sitting at the banquet table with our neighbors.
I remember walking around each of the four Central Florida Disney parks- most recently exulting in the Star Wars music. Boy they did a great job combining music, sound- projection of movies on the buildings, a little fireworks and some heat effects. When Dark Vader breathed behind us, we didn't need to see anything- we just knew he was there, coming for me specifically- thought each one. It's probably a pretty cheap show- how expensive can it be to take a few clips and shine them on a building rather than a screen? but it is great fun- entertainment right how we need it here in the age of quick attention spans.
I remember Disney at night, nearly alone- especially when I went out to Frontierland to clean a popcorn machine with apple juice and forgot the paper towels- and seeing the trucks roll into the park another time. I remember evenings in Tallahassee looking at a hurricane from the fire escape and watching snow fall that would barely hit the ground from the second story walkway between the music buildings. I remember a night in Cairo with the natives sipping orange drink and seeing the Red Sea from the shower in Hurgada? I thought I'd never forget the name but I have.
I remember evening in Paris, and seeing the Dome of the Rock from the hotel room- during Ramadan- in Jerusalem. At night the light was the same, but during the day the City has a golden glow. There was the snow on the mountain on the way to Hitler's bunker, and the snow on Lookout Mountain in Tennessee and the snow on some mountain in Greece we saw from the tour bus- and those crazy two weeks in Jersey and Manhattan where I finally saw a real winter.
There were nights in Cambridge, slipping in to the college though it was closed, having found cucumber sandwiches to be the only thing in the whole town available- what was it nine of clock? and the city was asleep? And a particular neighborhood in New York where they seemed to go to sleep at nine as well. And then on another trip, the silly fake BBQ place and TGIFriday's near Time Square- and nights at the ballet in Vienna, London Les Miserable and Andrew Lloyd Webber's -two B's- not sure
Reference to Amy Grant song..
Actually I was counting stars, thinking of Abraham. It's a shame that the semi-colon button doesn't work on this laptop, but hey- I can totally read every letter without glasses. Thank you Arnold Ehret and Dr. Chang and Jesus.
I was wandering around Boynton Beach tonight and it occurred to me how many places I've walked around or eaten at a cafe outside or just enjoyed being there- not in a certain place, but enjoying the climate. I remember sitting outside looking at two castles while eating. That was in Bavaria where the crazy king lived as a child and constructed his own unfinished fairy tale castle on a neighboring hill. I wonder what the Bavarian connection is to the Illiminati? I keep coming back to YouTube conspiracy theories and they are fascinating. And Bavaria is something that comes up but with no explanation.
I remember the ten sainted kings of Europe depiction there. Did he (the builder) think he was going to be the eleventh?
Tonight I walked along the boardwalk and saw the stars, and walked along a shopping center that is partly dedicated to a career college, and saw a lit carnival midway a little way away but separated by parking lots and probably canals. It's easy not to notice that this whole area is divided by canals. We go by them so often but since we're not fishing in them or standing alongside them watching the sun set or the light twinkle on the water, or boating through them, we just pass them by. Every once in awhile I notice one because it seems to be the border between one town and another, but South Florida is basically one connection of cities between beach and undevelopment, and it all flows together despite county, city, town and unincorporated lines. The lines are more neighborhood patchworks- by age, occupation and race- and there's a little of each kind in each political entity, and very little evidence of politics in my world. I'm sure it's here, but it's not like Orlando's interests- tourist and native, Disney and not, county and city. It is more of a patchwork.
There's a dividing line somewhere, of principalities I suppose- that happens at Northlake Blvd or PGA Blvd. I guess that's the frontier, and everything north of that is not what I mean when I say South Florida. It might start at the Thomas B. Manuel bridge but wherever it starts I totally feel it. It's not the familiarity to places I've grown up around, it's the geography into which my familiarity from childhood is placed. It's something I didn't notice until I moved away to another Florida nation- or region- or something- Tallahassee.
In Westgate, all the streets had Indian names, and that included Seminole. Then I became one and realized that Florida had different regions. I moved from South to North and then settled in Central, and now I can't decide which principality to submit too but I'm constantly reminded that all authority is God-given. Damn that is hard to believe but impossible to argue with.
Tonight I heard a Jewish expositor discussing the Golden Calf episode and it reminded me of when racism was part of God's plan- and that was something that ended with the Exodus- only to be revived again by the anti-Jewish Jewish philosophers of Askenazi/Khazar Europe in the 18th century through today. It's totally the dumbest philosophy I can think of at least from my perspective, because I see that it has no merit every single day, while other philosophies seem to have truth in them to me- at least in part.
Today in Juddy's sermon we heard a discussion of rationalism gone off the rails and it hit home. We're in a transition phase- a post-Christian phase in our society, in which skepticism is so agreed upon that people band together into little tribes just because they agree on something. "No, no... don't speak to me...." people seem to say, at the first sign of disagreement- because then they have to agree that there is nothing anyone knows for sure- yet, we agree on so many things but get lost in decrying whatever pre-supposition somebody else has, without acknoledging our own.
The one Mason I know said that Jesus was the greatest man who ever lived. We can agree on that, except for the capitalization. Jesus is the greatest Man who ever lived- and He said He was the only way. It's so hard to understand that, unless Jesus is everything- but He clearly also said He wasn't. So Jesus is either a liar or He's the One God. I don't think that enters into many people's thinking. There is still a respect for Jesus in popular society and until that fades, Christians are lulled into a belief that there can and was a Christian society. But like Liberalism, Christianity only works for the marginalized. When people realize that each one individually needs restoration, then there's a personal choice. A Christian is a person- and can't be a society. The only reason everyone isn't one is how badly we've behaved, accepting the sow's ear and eating the pearls instead of sitting at the banquet table with our neighbors.
I remember walking around each of the four Central Florida Disney parks- most recently exulting in the Star Wars music. Boy they did a great job combining music, sound- projection of movies on the buildings, a little fireworks and some heat effects. When Dark Vader breathed behind us, we didn't need to see anything- we just knew he was there, coming for me specifically- thought each one. It's probably a pretty cheap show- how expensive can it be to take a few clips and shine them on a building rather than a screen? but it is great fun- entertainment right how we need it here in the age of quick attention spans.
I remember Disney at night, nearly alone- especially when I went out to Frontierland to clean a popcorn machine with apple juice and forgot the paper towels- and seeing the trucks roll into the park another time. I remember evenings in Tallahassee looking at a hurricane from the fire escape and watching snow fall that would barely hit the ground from the second story walkway between the music buildings. I remember a night in Cairo with the natives sipping orange drink and seeing the Red Sea from the shower in Hurgada? I thought I'd never forget the name but I have.
I remember evening in Paris, and seeing the Dome of the Rock from the hotel room- during Ramadan- in Jerusalem. At night the light was the same, but during the day the City has a golden glow. There was the snow on the mountain on the way to Hitler's bunker, and the snow on Lookout Mountain in Tennessee and the snow on some mountain in Greece we saw from the tour bus- and those crazy two weeks in Jersey and Manhattan where I finally saw a real winter.
There were nights in Cambridge, slipping in to the college though it was closed, having found cucumber sandwiches to be the only thing in the whole town available- what was it nine of clock? and the city was asleep? And a particular neighborhood in New York where they seemed to go to sleep at nine as well. And then on another trip, the silly fake BBQ place and TGIFriday's near Time Square- and nights at the ballet in Vienna, London Les Miserable and Andrew Lloyd Webber's -two B's- not sure
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Cletha C
Yeah I guess I was wrong.
You would recognize this place. I came back from Disney and somebody had rammed their car through the cement wall on the outside of this place. I don't know why there's a wall there anyway since people hoist themselves over it, but there is it.
I wanted to use a semi-colon but I pushed the dash/hyphen key instead.
Oh well, like is full of sacrifice.
And then there is the guy that was shot. Yep. over on the opposite side of us- you know those apartments you said looked like baby shit when they painted everything a nice new color that you hadn't picked out- yeah, maybe in the same apartment where that other guy was shot-
You would recognize this place. I came back from Disney and somebody had rammed their car through the cement wall on the outside of this place. I don't know why there's a wall there anyway since people hoist themselves over it, but there is it.
I wanted to use a semi-colon but I pushed the dash/hyphen key instead.
Oh well, like is full of sacrifice.
And then there is the guy that was shot. Yep. over on the opposite side of us- you know those apartments you said looked like baby shit when they painted everything a nice new color that you hadn't picked out- yeah, maybe in the same apartment where that other guy was shot-
Fabulous First Paragrpah - Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson
Early November. It's nine o'clock. The titmice are banging against the window. Sometimes they fly dizzily off after the impact, other times they fall and lie struggling in the new snow until they can take off again. I don't know what they want that I have. I look out the window at the forest. There is a reddish light over the trees by the lake. It is starting to blow. I can see the shape of the wind on the water.
I'm looking forward to reading Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. It has been awhile since I've read any fiction that I have fallen in love with. Maybe this is it.
I like the cover and think it will be good to read a book that has been translated- although I don't know why that appeals to me.
My keyboard on this laptop has developed an issue. A few weeks ago a key came off- I think it was the T. I could type pretty well without the key on it because there is a little button under that I guess- it just feels weird but putting my finger in the same place without the key actually present produces the same result. When I just clamped down on the T it snapped back into place and I forgot about it. Then yesterday the semi-colon stopped working. There is probably a crumb trapped underneath it that I have mashed in between the key and the button the key is supposed to press- or more likely- a crumb that I have flattened into a buffer between the edge of the key and the base of the keyboard so that even when I press the semi-colon the key can't quite lower down far enough to press the tiny button that the key is supposed to press.
I like the first person of the paragraph and the violence that contrasts with the nature scene. I like the idea that the narrator posits that the birds are trying to take something from him, when I'm sure that isn't the case at all. Going through my Mom's things or trying not to - I relate to the idea that people are coming to take away her crap that no one wants- because that is what old people think, isn't it. Like I want twenty of the forty eight candles that were dustily lying on top of the 52 doilies, tea-towels, wash cloths, crocheted pimpernels and crotchety handtowels. Like anyone wants them- particularly the crone who thinks they are of value to me and that's why I moved them rather than the truth- which is I washed the stupid cloths and packed up the candles to get them out of my sight and reduce some of the dust covered surfaces by one one thousandth in this catacomb of sadness of soft absorbent smelly surfaces into which I am deposited.
There are worms too, or are they centipedes- dried up or wriggling along the ceiling or caught midway between there and the floor on the edges of the walls scrimpling up looking for what I have no idea. So I'll just settle for the dash key or is it the hyphen key or is it some other key that I'll use instead of the semi-colon key whose grammatical use I never learned very well anyway. No colons or semi-colons for me these days.
I'm looking forward to reading Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. It has been awhile since I've read any fiction that I have fallen in love with. Maybe this is it.
I like the cover and think it will be good to read a book that has been translated- although I don't know why that appeals to me.
My keyboard on this laptop has developed an issue. A few weeks ago a key came off- I think it was the T. I could type pretty well without the key on it because there is a little button under that I guess- it just feels weird but putting my finger in the same place without the key actually present produces the same result. When I just clamped down on the T it snapped back into place and I forgot about it. Then yesterday the semi-colon stopped working. There is probably a crumb trapped underneath it that I have mashed in between the key and the button the key is supposed to press- or more likely- a crumb that I have flattened into a buffer between the edge of the key and the base of the keyboard so that even when I press the semi-colon the key can't quite lower down far enough to press the tiny button that the key is supposed to press.
I like the first person of the paragraph and the violence that contrasts with the nature scene. I like the idea that the narrator posits that the birds are trying to take something from him, when I'm sure that isn't the case at all. Going through my Mom's things or trying not to - I relate to the idea that people are coming to take away her crap that no one wants- because that is what old people think, isn't it. Like I want twenty of the forty eight candles that were dustily lying on top of the 52 doilies, tea-towels, wash cloths, crocheted pimpernels and crotchety handtowels. Like anyone wants them- particularly the crone who thinks they are of value to me and that's why I moved them rather than the truth- which is I washed the stupid cloths and packed up the candles to get them out of my sight and reduce some of the dust covered surfaces by one one thousandth in this catacomb of sadness of soft absorbent smelly surfaces into which I am deposited.
There are worms too, or are they centipedes- dried up or wriggling along the ceiling or caught midway between there and the floor on the edges of the walls scrimpling up looking for what I have no idea. So I'll just settle for the dash key or is it the hyphen key or is it some other key that I'll use instead of the semi-colon key whose grammatical use I never learned very well anyway. No colons or semi-colons for me these days.
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Jesus and Long Hair
There's a reason God came to earth before photography. I have been seeing reports of how porn changes the mind and it reminds me of something I used to say in my computer literacy classes.
Do you see how impatient we are now? Not having a cell phone is an affront to people. They want the option of calling me any time of day or night. They're not going to do that... but they want the option. And me not giving them that avenue of communication hits them in the head like a two by four. They just can't believe it.
So they think something like, "Well, he's a monk," or "He's not tech savvy." Those things might be true, I say as Uncle Al Jr., but maybe I just don't want to be locatable 24 hours a day. That's part of it also.
There was a scientist who wanted to study the effects of porn on the male brain and he couldn't. In order to study something, you want to find one group that does it and one that doesn't and he couldn't find anybody in the control group. Well, why not compare seeing people to blind people? What's going on in the brain before and after exposure to photography?
I grew up with Jesus. And in my world, it was normal for me to think of Jesus as the ultimate man- not macho, but masculine and strong. There's a continuum there or a sliding scale, but even though I couldn't have defined it- Jesus wasn't a sissy or a softie, but he was nice; kind and gentle but from a position of strength. I don't know how to be that exactly or what that would have looked like but that was the ideal and He was ideal.
Jesus was also always pictured with long hair.
I always wanted long hair. Other than that, I'm not sure how much I wanted to look like Jesus, but I definitely wanted long hair.
The barber's son didn't like haircuts. He didn't like that smell that the black case had with it's white crinkly "bib" and that round black haired wooden handle brush-- nah, wait- I did like that.... and the smell of oil on the clippers which my Dad was always careful to maintain and that horrible sound it made, nearly intolerable when approaching the ears..
Maybe I didn't like all those things then because I didn't want to be a man yet. Now I like that hum of the clippers and can almost fall asleep in the chair. But then; on nights after dinner before Walt Disney or Grand 'Ole Opry, it was a punishment like spanking and I wanted the option of avoiding it; the control.
Today it seems as if we're at the tail end of the Christian age. People still know what Jesus looks like when they see His picture and hear His name; but who under 30 knows the stories?
If we really knew what Jesus looked like, there would be an added dimension to everybody wanting to look a certain way.
Here's a scholarly version of anthropological reconstruction.
If Jesus was dark, I used to think that would end racism. End racism? What even is it? It's always going to be an expression of exclusion- and racism is just one type of it. But we combine a few types of exclusion and call it that one thing- so it's confusing and evil and twisted up into something that means not much. It's there alright. But it's not defined. But if Jesus was dark, Christians would have to not be colorist. But isn't that already a symptom of the real Christian? I suppose if we had a picture, there would be many who would argue that it wasn't the real picture or it was developed too darkly or they would ignore it, and other people would use it as a proof of what they wanted to believe- that people are equal regardless of color.
But what about hair? The woolly hair and the straight hair debate would have some fodder.
Today on TTB.org on the Numbers series; Dr. J. Vernon McGee reminded me of Paul saying it's a shame for a man to have long hair.... yet in Numbers (and Leviticus) long hair is voluntary for consecration. So what did his audience think? Did they think that Jesus and John the Baptist had long hair for their mission- willing to undergo shaming for a higher purpose? Did the disciples and believers "copy" Jesus' long hair or did He not have it?
The willingness to undergo shame that Jesus displayed is beyond my comprehension. There's the "for our sake became poor" idea, but that's nothing compared to being crucified naked- or being punished at all. There is so much potential for taking offense from this life He subjected Himself too... when we think about who He was and what people said to Him. and how they treated Him...
I think if there were selfies of Jesus, people would try to copy them. And other people, in our superficial way, here in a world saturated with visuals- some people wouldn't like Him because they didn't like His hair. And then again, some people would.
Having just finished "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant, I am struck by the superficiality of our age.
If there were reliable paintings, even, of Jesus; I think the fashion industry would be build around and in reaction against, what we know of how He looked.
How manly is He supposed to be? Those depictions of Him as beautiful... well, is he the first transgender as Sarah Silverman said? Is he a manly man that every woman wanted? All the men wanted to be around Him, or did they want to be Him? Our idea of attraction is so centered around sex and appearance that we're getting away from the natural idea that we might have wanted to be friends- there is an attraction of friendship. There is an attraction of truth. There is an attraction of peace. People gravitate away and toward other people- apart from appearance.
I don't want to know what He looked like. I want to know Him because I'm getting more like Him and when I'm close to Him I feel like what I'm becoming.
And I wish I had long hair- with no bald beanie, yamulke of baldness on the top of my head; because I'm superficial and want to look good.
It's impossible for me to picture Jesus looking in a mirror and trying to work up a better look.
I'd like to remember that.
Technology is constantly changing and we see how we have changed technology over the years. But technology has also changed us.
Do you see how impatient we are now? Not having a cell phone is an affront to people. They want the option of calling me any time of day or night. They're not going to do that... but they want the option. And me not giving them that avenue of communication hits them in the head like a two by four. They just can't believe it.
So they think something like, "Well, he's a monk," or "He's not tech savvy." Those things might be true, I say as Uncle Al Jr., but maybe I just don't want to be locatable 24 hours a day. That's part of it also.
There was a scientist who wanted to study the effects of porn on the male brain and he couldn't. In order to study something, you want to find one group that does it and one that doesn't and he couldn't find anybody in the control group. Well, why not compare seeing people to blind people? What's going on in the brain before and after exposure to photography?
I grew up with Jesus. And in my world, it was normal for me to think of Jesus as the ultimate man- not macho, but masculine and strong. There's a continuum there or a sliding scale, but even though I couldn't have defined it- Jesus wasn't a sissy or a softie, but he was nice; kind and gentle but from a position of strength. I don't know how to be that exactly or what that would have looked like but that was the ideal and He was ideal.
Jesus was also always pictured with long hair.
I always wanted long hair. Other than that, I'm not sure how much I wanted to look like Jesus, but I definitely wanted long hair.
The barber's son didn't like haircuts. He didn't like that smell that the black case had with it's white crinkly "bib" and that round black haired wooden handle brush-- nah, wait- I did like that.... and the smell of oil on the clippers which my Dad was always careful to maintain and that horrible sound it made, nearly intolerable when approaching the ears..
Maybe I didn't like all those things then because I didn't want to be a man yet. Now I like that hum of the clippers and can almost fall asleep in the chair. But then; on nights after dinner before Walt Disney or Grand 'Ole Opry, it was a punishment like spanking and I wanted the option of avoiding it; the control.
Today it seems as if we're at the tail end of the Christian age. People still know what Jesus looks like when they see His picture and hear His name; but who under 30 knows the stories?
If we really knew what Jesus looked like, there would be an added dimension to everybody wanting to look a certain way.
Here's a scholarly version of anthropological reconstruction.
If Jesus was dark, I used to think that would end racism. End racism? What even is it? It's always going to be an expression of exclusion- and racism is just one type of it. But we combine a few types of exclusion and call it that one thing- so it's confusing and evil and twisted up into something that means not much. It's there alright. But it's not defined. But if Jesus was dark, Christians would have to not be colorist. But isn't that already a symptom of the real Christian? I suppose if we had a picture, there would be many who would argue that it wasn't the real picture or it was developed too darkly or they would ignore it, and other people would use it as a proof of what they wanted to believe- that people are equal regardless of color.
But what about hair? The woolly hair and the straight hair debate would have some fodder.
Today on TTB.org on the Numbers series; Dr. J. Vernon McGee reminded me of Paul saying it's a shame for a man to have long hair.... yet in Numbers (and Leviticus) long hair is voluntary for consecration. So what did his audience think? Did they think that Jesus and John the Baptist had long hair for their mission- willing to undergo shaming for a higher purpose? Did the disciples and believers "copy" Jesus' long hair or did He not have it?
The willingness to undergo shame that Jesus displayed is beyond my comprehension. There's the "for our sake became poor" idea, but that's nothing compared to being crucified naked- or being punished at all. There is so much potential for taking offense from this life He subjected Himself too... when we think about who He was and what people said to Him. and how they treated Him...
I think if there were selfies of Jesus, people would try to copy them. And other people, in our superficial way, here in a world saturated with visuals- some people wouldn't like Him because they didn't like His hair. And then again, some people would.
Having just finished "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant, I am struck by the superficiality of our age.
If there were reliable paintings, even, of Jesus; I think the fashion industry would be build around and in reaction against, what we know of how He looked.
How manly is He supposed to be? Those depictions of Him as beautiful... well, is he the first transgender as Sarah Silverman said? Is he a manly man that every woman wanted? All the men wanted to be around Him, or did they want to be Him? Our idea of attraction is so centered around sex and appearance that we're getting away from the natural idea that we might have wanted to be friends- there is an attraction of friendship. There is an attraction of truth. There is an attraction of peace. People gravitate away and toward other people- apart from appearance.
I don't want to know what He looked like. I want to know Him because I'm getting more like Him and when I'm close to Him I feel like what I'm becoming.
And I wish I had long hair- with no bald beanie, yamulke of baldness on the top of my head; because I'm superficial and want to look good.
It's impossible for me to picture Jesus looking in a mirror and trying to work up a better look.
I'd like to remember that.
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