Da Count - notions realized.

It's a haze at first and over time percolates enough for you to commit it to paper. Strings of words with questionable rhyme endings. You work on it some more. A tune arrives and you continue reworking so that it scans just right. Then it arrives in a realized form you listen to it and are actually amazed that the whole thing works. It happened to me this week.... songs from Frogway professionally recorded were sent to me. A private pride welled within and brought tears to my eyes. It may not mean much to anyone else but me at the moment but it's my count for the week. Can't share any at the moment as things are still under exclusive production wraps... but as soon as they are off you'll be able to hear them here. Until then... just do what you're feeling.

To find out more about Da Count... click the flashing sign above

a little more intense than first anticipated...

... but getting there. So, it'll be a little quiet around here for a while. But things are plugging along nicely. Though I can say I got anf email... the contents brought me to tears. But it's all good. Details to come.

Cheers!

O.K.... perhaps Thursday then...

... as I am still at it.

In the meantime, if you are looking for a good read - Kill the Goat - pretty damn exceptional.

Busy creating...

... for a deadline. See y'all Wednesday.

There's lots of other stuff to check out below... if you haven't already yet.

inner dialogue

: I really want to!
: I understand... but we know that patience has always done well by us.
: So, has action.
: Always tempered with thought... our successes have always been backed by that.
: What happened to spontaneity? We have been successful with that too, haven't we?
: Yes, but all our quick assertive decisions were always arrived at through the balance of logic and a calculation of probability.
: Still a gamble.
: Calculated nevertheless.
: Hmmm...
: What is that "hmmm.. " all about?
: Nothing.
: "Hmmm... you're being a spoilsport hmmm?"
: It's just a "hmmm..."
: Sure?
: Promise.
: O.K.
: So, we wait?
: Look, it's not time wasted while knowledge is actively being acquired.
: I suppose. So, what we have now is what we work with?
: Yes, it is still new... we are still learning.
: And once we have figured how it works... then what?
: Then we can determine if what we want is truly a need or just an extravagance. Besides, we should never deprive ourselves of our most effective creative trigger.
: Limitation.
: Precisely.
: Ironic.
: Totally.
: What about the gut?
: It has it's place... but not this time. So, are we in agreement?
: Done. (pause) So, why is there the perception out there that we are not reasonable?
: Beats me.

Hmmm...

TIME WASTERS:

1. That's a LOT of Pork!
2. Food Timeline

SUBJECT LINES FROM EMAIL SPAM THIS MORNING
These all appeared in my spam folder in order... and if you read them one after another a strange logic begins to emerge.

• Make your penis strong and tireless
• Our SINGLES are Naughty - please date them this week
• Cleanse your Colon of Excess Weight & Toxins
  
• Make a difference as a nurse
• Fight Back Against 'Tax and Spend' Liberals
• Learn new Creative Painting techniques this summer
• Enroll Today and Walk Away with a Pedometer

• Improve your sexual life and save up to 80% Grow Grass in the Shade or Shady Areas Guaranteed Acceptance Endless opportunities for interior designers Classes start soon!

The annual Terrace block sale.

2 streets south of where I live this annual event was in full swing this morning. I could hear early vultures gather as early as 5 in the AM.

Actually, the Terrace sale marks the end of block sale season in the hood. just about every street here has one. It usually begins in mid-April and runs till Memorial weekend. Terrace Avenue is the grand-daddy of all the block sales here and features over 4 blocks of stuff from nicks to nacks to powerboats.

It's quite the fun excursion on a Saturday morning and if you are a deal-finder you could score quite the bargain. Yeah, the vanishing point in the above picture is about 2 blocks.


Teeming with folk the usually quiet neighborhood gets just that side of wacky once a year. Below is a slide show of my impressions of this morning.

I of course went in search of food and came home to stuff my face with pork tamales and eggrolls with a little chillie garlic sauce on the side.

BURP!

BTW... pics were taken with my latest toy... er... equipment... not bad, huh?

Is that enough of a weekend read? Now go out and burn some meat, eat some watermelon... or something.

Da Count - dementia & memory loss

Granted these are strange things to count. They relate to my Mum who is going through it now. Let me explain. For a few years I worried that she was going to shuffle off this mortal coil as a sad and bitter person. Until about a year ago... this would have been the case. But something gradually happened in this process... her feelings and memories of "not being given a fair shot" began to slowly erase. For the most part it has been replaced by a sweetness and gratitude.

I use to stock the fridge with 5 gallon tubs of ice-cream... that she would devour in 3 days or less. I had to stop this as it was causing water retention and swelling up her feet. When I told her this last week she claimed that a "little girl" would come into the house 5 or 6 times a day to eat the ice cream. I couldn't help but smile at this. I guessed that the combination of dementia and memory loss had conjured up the little tomboy she used to be. The one who used to climb trees in her grandfather's house and get into all sort of scraps. The same one who loved home-made hand churned ice cream that was a specialty of my great grandfather who whipped up a batch every Saturday afternoon.

She is pretty lucid (or at least appears to be) for the most part. Now I am mindful that the combination of memory loss and dementia mixes in past, present and yearning into one clump. Yes, there are other aspects of her condition that continue to be challenging. Though for now what her brain is pulling and mixing in with the present are some of the happier memories of her childhood... and that is definitely worth counting. So now, once a week she gets a treat of ice-cream... not a 5 gallon tub... but maybe a quart on a Saturday afternoon.

To find out what Da Count is all about... click the flashing sign above.

it's 5 AM...

... and I'm up looking at the first glow of the day begin to warm the sky. The pollen count was so high yesterday that I carried a numb headache for most of it... though it was evident at rehearsal last night that I was not alone. Hopefully today will bring some relief... but that may be too much to ask.

There has been a constant no-show at Suicide Lounge rehearsal... sad as it may be is not really surprising. We move on.

Supplies have been stocked up again. The big find were yellow mangos... the kind I grew up eating in Malaysia. (Third row down... second from the right.) This was the local variety that was commonly found. The flavors were not as intense as others but no less delicious. I also spotted the sour green mangos but demurred from buying any this time. It's my favorite. I can just eat one of those with a little dab of salt. An uncle of mine had a tree of those in his front yard that seemed always laden with fruit. Great for pickling and brining.

There was a time growing up when a dwarf mango tree of an exotic variety (anything but local) growing in one's front yard was quite the status symbol back home. If one was invited over for dinner it was a guarantee that one would be lead to the plant by the proud owner. He would then tell of his great adventure acquiring and growing it. Of course, it was quite the insult if one didn't admire it and say something like, "Wow, you are very lucky. That variety is tough to find/grow here." This would fill the owner with beaming pride and you would be promised a fruit as soon as they were ripe. I wonder if this trend still survives.

I've always thought of the mango as a very sexy fruit. The shape. the taste, the aroma... something very earthy about it all. Today, I plan on skinning and slicing the ones I found and chilling them in the fridge for a bit. Then, after lunch I will quietly indulge myself... savoring the sweet tartness of paradise.

EDIT: Images of my walk to the store and back this morning. OK, they may not be as interesting as Zonthar's recent travelogue to the British Isles or as fascinating as Cosima's Hong Kong adventures... but hey, they are pictures! Something to look at, right? Anyway, I usually bike to the store... today I walked. Feel free to click on them for larger sizes.

This is the path that began the journey. ::swell of music - theme from Lawrence of Arabia::

I ran into my friend and neighbor Chef Tony. We chatted a bit then we both went our separate ways. BTW it was his day off.

Ah... it's being sold. Jeffery Dahmer's mother used to live here... really! She was here when news of him being offed in prison came. The neighbors were very protective and parked their cars on the street so that the News vans couldn't camp out in front.

One of the oldest gas stations in the big No. It's actually designated as a historical landmark. Was once the "last chance gas" places before you hit the wilderness heading north. I love that the old ice room and pumps are still here.

This used to be on the edge of the wilderness... now it leads to one of the upscale old neighborhoods in mid town.

One of my favorite signs.

Mural with tagging on the side of the store.

Lion guarding a 4-plex.

One of my favorite adobe styled houses on my block.

There you have it. Oh yeah... I got cookies and milk. Oh, and I can't wait till tomorrow... just saying. ::swell of music again as screen goes to dark and credits roll::

I miss not going to...

... the local java joint. Perhaps if I get my chores done early tomorrow I will. The whether is perfect right now and it would be nice to see the gang for a bit.

All the old routines I used to engage in have shifted dramatically. I'm not complaining... this shift was necessitated by circumstance. Actually, I don't miss the old too much... but a break from the present would be refreshing. Just for a change of pace if nothing else.

I wasn't as distracted today and did some needed cleanup around the house. These simple accomplishments made me feel a load better. Yes, there is a lot more to be accomplished and I'll take focused stabs for a couple of hours every day until I feel that the "unnecessaries" have been discarded. Lots of those around here at the moment. How and why do we accumulate all this stuff?

Like... why do I have 6 trench coats? Yes, I am a bit of a fan of noir... and Bogey does cut a fine figure in one... but 6 trench coats? Down the line I'll probably ask the same question about the piths I presently treasure.

Anyway, even after these accomplishments I was still not quite focused... so I popped in The Red Violin and watched it again. I quite enjoyed it again. of late I've once again taken up to watching movies in my DVD collection. Something I haven't done in over 6 months.

Hmmm... perhaps something with Bogart tomorrow.

I felt so distracted today...

... I did the laundry twice. At least I know the clothes are doubly clean now. I really don't like being distracted. Though it could be argued that dealing with any sort of creative activity is actually a form of mega-distraction... at least within the conventional world. When one is in the frenzy of a creative project there actually is purpose to the distraction. Not like today... it was useless distraction all around... except for really clean clothes.

A friend recently commented that I have the patience of Job. I do. It's a trait that I inherited from my father. The common logic shared was that fretting, nagging and stressing over something that is not in one's control didn't make it move any faster. There are exceptions to the rule though... tardiness and flakiness. That's just inconsiderate and plain rude. The irony is that I live in a state where "Dude, I flaked." is actually considered a legitimate excuse.

Mum Update: She's been doing pretty well over the last few days. I think getting breakfast to her earlier in the mornings may have something to do with it. Though in certain quarters I know I'm still being judged with not doing enough for her... but that ain't my problem.

Well, I think that takes care of the randomness for today. Now to catch the season finale of "Heros".

and in the end...

... the love you take, is equal to the love you make. - the Beatles.

It's lines like that that I really want to believe in. I remember first hearing that album (Abby Road) when I was 12 and recall how the simple profundity of it hit me sideways. "Of course it's true! It must be... it's so simple it just has to be."

I was also at the age when I believed (along with several hundred people) that a reddish hued little being (not unlike a leprechaun) had appeared under a tree just by the fence of a school in my old neighborhood in Malaysia. Story had it that a man in his 50's had saved this being from a vicious dog who had cornered it up against the tree. After chasing the dog away the man felt a weight in the pocket of his pants. He slipped his hand in and pulled out a thousand dollars in cash. The being smiled, thanked him for his kindness and disappeared. Then, there was a woman who had offered a cup of water to it was rewarded with gold jewelry. A little local boy with a harelip who had befriended the being was instantly cured. News of this phenomenon soon spread like wildfire in my old neighborhood that there was a "supernatural little man" who was granting wishes 3 blocks away.

When I got there by 10 that morning of the first day a sizable crowd had already gathered. Everyone was focused on a reddish brown stone about 5 inches in diameter. Rumor had it this foot and a half tall being (description varied by no more than 6 inches from several "witnesses") had shape shifted into this jagged object and would choose to show itself and grant wishes when it was good and ready to do so.

By 2 in the afternoon someone had fashioned a little hut out of planks and placed it over the stone to shelter it from the hot equatorial sun. At 4 PM just as I was leaving to go home an ice cream cart was doing a brisk business from gawkers and onlookers now numbering about 200.

The next morning the story circulated that 25 or so of the faithful who had kept vigil overnight were each rewarded with a hundred dollars a piece by the being. A story also floated around that the man who had built the little hut went home to be reunited with his repentant wife who had run off 2 months earlier. By the time I got there the throng easily numbered several hundred. Offerings of food and burning sticks of incense now sat in front of the little hut. The hushed reverence present the day before was now replaced by a wild jibber jabbering of fantastic stories of wishes granted among the crowd.

The demographic cut across the board. All stratas of society, races and religions were equally represented. There were even a couple of chauffeur driven society types present. Everyone milled and chatted about this amazing phenomenon after paying respects to the red stone. Suddenly, there was an audible swoon from a section of the crowd. 5 women in tears were claiming that they could see the little man. The air became electric with similar claims. "Yes, there he is!" "He smiled at me!"

Within half an hour the police arrived and set up a perimeter to hold the crowd back. I left to go home for lunch. By the time I returned I couldn't get within 200 yards of the place. Nevertheless, I stayed until six that evening just soaking in the intoxicating buzz.

For two weeks the narrow dirt road just outside the fence was festooned with a multitude all focused on a reddish brown stone. The numbers that turned up proved to be such a distraction that the school closed for 3 days. But as per usual, patience for the spectacular to occur was lost and interest waned. Then one day the reddish brown stone was no more and everything was back to how it was before. Theories of what the being was and where it came from were bandied about for months in the local coffeeshops.

I never saw the little man but for those first couple of days I experienced something quite unusual... people were genuinely nice to each other. Any tensions between class, religion and race ceased to exist... replaced by a mutual respect through the sharing of stories. I distinctly remember being given a free Popsicle "on the house" by the ice cream man to provide relief from the sweltering afternoon sun. I found out later that his entire stock for the day had been bought by one of the chauffeur driven types and that anyone approaching him to buy was to be given one for free.

All this goodwill inevitably gave way to something more selfish by day 3. It was evident that curiosity of the fantastical was now being replaced by fortune seeking. The free ice cream stopped and various vendors were now upping the prices of their wares. People began pushing to get to the front of the crowd. Soon, the tension in the air became so thick I decided not to return... plus the presence of the cops just squeezed all the fun out of it. Coincidentally around the same time the being stopped appearing and granting wishes. At least any new stories stopped. Now stories of the phenomenon shifted to fights and arguments over who had the right to lay claim to the stone.

But for me during those first couple of days, that line from that Beatle song came alive. All the original stories of wishes granted had a common theme. Each one was always tied to a favor or kindness done without being solicited. Not one of the stories had any of the recipients being granted an outrages fortune. The "gifts" all seemed to provide a simple and modest measure of comfort. But even more than that, for a sliver of time, there existed the possible vision of genuine connection between humanity. Perhaps that is why the little man stopped granting wishes... people forgot to make and began coming just to take.

I don't know if that line in the Beatle song is truth... but it certainly couldn't hurt to hold on to the simple ideal embodied within.

Da Count - the little things

It's been quite the week. Never a dull moment around here. I don't see the ride stopping anytime soon... just brief sojourns of quiet and solitude before the next episode revs forward. Just have to go with it.

Times like these I can't help but think about the little things that make all the difference. I am very appreciative of the big ones though I don't value the small ones any less.

You know what I'm talking about. The smile and nod of recognition. The call or note to inquire. The door held open for one to enter or leave. The forgotten favor done. The touch of reassurance on the shoulder. The offer of a simple glass of water on a sweltering day. A compliment, an apology or a verbal hello when it's least expected. Sharing food. Just the right "look" at a crucial time. A quiet presence. There are so many more... (feel free to add your own to the list)... none earth shattering but making every difference to enriching the quality of this brief time we share in this life.

To find out more about Da Count click the flashing sign above.

EDIT: TIME WASTER OF THE DAY
Time To Trip Out
.

OK... back.

If you came by earlier and I wasn't here it's because I was migrating my blog to a different server. Hope I didn't scare you too much. Just doing some geeky web related stuff that I'll go into later. Let's just say that I've decided to impose the learning curve back onto myself. All part of forward movement.

sometime in the AM perhaps

test

blogger is being a bugger so it's time for mexican beer.

The case of Mexican beer courtesy of my friend, Trashed, who visited on Sunday. Bloody blogger issues... an on going headache that really chapping my hide at the moment.

See, I'm trying to finish off a web design project for a couple of musician friends of mine. (Yeah, a paying gig.) Blogger will be used as the "news & gigs" component that they can easily update themselves. Trouble is that uploading the template has just been a bitch. OK... enough geek talk. (Promise I'll post the site once it's completed.)

So, be assured that this post will take on a somewhat random stride.

Revelation: I'm close to something but it's not there yet. What is it they say? An inch is as good as a mile?

I was chatting with a fellow blogger earlier and the subject of a succubus came up. (Yeah, talk about random.) Anyway, I suddenly began visualizing a succubus having her way with guys on the street in broad daylight. Can you just see the facial contortions and hip grinding spontaneously occurring? Talk about the Ministry of Silly Walks coming alive.

An unrelated but equally bizarre idea was bandied about for a sketch comedy a few weeks ago when the lovely Mia was in town. It involved the Department of Homeland Security hiring meth addicts to reconstruct shredded documents.

I think that's all the randomness for this week... or at least today... or this hour.

not quite at wits end... but getting there

It's been a challenging week. Yesterday for instance, started with Mum packing up her things putting it in front of the house and saying good-bye to the neighbors. For the past week she has been obsessing that I have sold the house and that someone has bought her property. All of this was transpiring while I was trying to set up a Mother's Day lunch in the front yard. (More on the lunch later.) In the evening, convinced that I was an ogre for refusing to drive her to said property she began canvasing the neighbors to take her to this elusive new abode.

This morning after I had served her breakfast I got on the computer for a bit in my office in the back. As per usual I went to check up on her on the hour to find her gone. One neighbor had seen her heading in an easterly direction. I walk around the block and see nary a sign of her. This same neighbor offers to drive me to locate her. 3 blocks away we find her... get her into the car and get her back home. Again, she was heading out to her elusive phantom property... not actually having any idea as to where it actually is.

So, now I have to get a latch for the front door (that is out of reach to her) so that these episodes do not occur again without me knowing. If she his going to leave it will have to be by the back door where I am in eyeshot from my garage office. I would now go into my daily routine of laundry, dishes, cooking, etc but won't lest I be accused of self congratulatory indulgence.

THE UPSHOT
My neighbors have been gems about all of this. Because I have been involved between daily house chores and trying to eak out a living on my computer I have neglected the care of the front yard. This Saturday a couple of neighbors took care of that. The others are aware of Mum's condition and will keep a watchful eye on her.

A couple of friends like APJ have been of great assistance in facilitating many practical needs... groceries, etc. Kowboi, Mustang and Steph have come over to help pick Mum up whenever she has fallen. Then good folks like Thereminman will call every so often just to say "hi" and offer support. His lovely wife has also been a wonderful font of information on social service resources. Aunts of my ex-wife come by every week just to say Hi. RP and wife are planning to come by to help with some cleanup. Many of you online have left comments of support that is much appreciated. Others like Trashed and family (who live 400 odd miles away) came by after their trip to Yosemite to spend lunch with Mum yesterday. Mum thrives on company so this was a special treat for her. That was the really nice part of yesterday.

So, if you live in the big NO and want to help (yes, I'm asking)... even coming by to spend half an hour chatting with Mum or taking her for a drive... do so. She loves company. She may not remember you but try not to take that personally.

last night I was thinking about food...

... perhaps the real question should be... when do I not? It was spurred on by something that Mum said yesterday as I was sharing a meal with her. "You have become quite a good cook." I beamed because that is indeed high praise coming from one's mother.

I was thinking about how I learned to cook pretty early in life. By the age of 8, I could whip up a pretty decent fried rice. By my teen years I had amassed a good stash of recipes and was able to lay out an entire (and balanced) meal for the dinner table off the top of my head. (No recipe books for this boy.) I loved (and still love) the physical act of cooking. The prep... deciding what goes in and in what proportions... and when it's done and ready to serve. I think it was the the magic of combining various food elements to produce a certain distinct taste that first grabbed me.

Though it was only in my early 20's that I began to appreciate and understand the subtleties and nuances that affect the palette. Until that point in time cooking was more of a functional joy. But the more I cooked the more secrets were revealed to me. For instance, how chopped, sliced and crushed garlic all provide a different value to a dish. Sure, I could have read up about it (and eventually did) but it was the pure joy of discovery through doing that made these revelations akin to the apprentice uncovering the dead wizard's secrets. One day it seemed as if the unprepared food was communicating with me. I was infused with the innate knowledge of what, when, why and how much... and all of this was coming from the food itself.

ONION: If you are thinking of using me in that cucumber salad... slice me wafer thin... and a slight sprinkle of salt will bring out my sweetness. A squeeze of lime as a dressing will hide it until the fresh crunch of the cucumber dissipates... then my true nectar will bloom to its fullness.

It was this that occupied my slightly deranged mind last night... how when we eat several sensation explosions occur. Taste, smell, touch... this series of little explosions... perfectly timed and building one upon another that provides the total sensuousness to the act of eating. This in turn triggers a euphoria... further releasing various chemical secretions into the rest of our physical being that causes us to shut our eyes in delight and moan wistfully as we implode into the complete surrender of the moment to the meal ... not unlike that exquisite sexual experience. And when sharing a meal with someone else this communion becomes a menage a trois with the meal having it's way with both of you simultaneously.

::wiping my brow::

And while I was thinking about all of this... I came up with an idea for a play about a terrorist chef.

EDIT:
And to all you Mamas out there... be celebrated... be very celebrated... you deserve it! Cheers!
.

Da Count - limitations

Hushed conversations imagined upon reading the title of this post.

"Limitations for da count???!!" "I think he's finally lost it. Totally gonzo!" "Perhaps he's just come up to his limit of counts." "What's so good about limitations?" "He's a damn pinko commie... that's just unAmerican, I tell ya!"

Yes, it is "limitations". You read it right. Those that force you to get creative. In fact, limitations count as the primary impetus, motivation and inspiration for most of the creative ideas mankind has ever had. Without limitation there would not have been a need to create something to meet that need. The need to sit created the chair that you are sitting on that in turn resulted from the limitation of a place to park our butts.

From the practical to the aesthetic... it has always been limitations that have spurred on inventive solutions. In the world of the arts it has often been the imposition of limitations that have often created the exquisite. So, my count today is limitations. May they always exist to continually fuel our creative energies and juices.

To find out more about Da Count... click the flashing banner.

EDIT:
WIDGET CRAZY... which is what I did last night. Created one for Jungle Webs and one for this blog. If you are insane enough to add these to your blogs... go ahead. Just click "get widget"... and if you do you can customize the look for your own blog. Think of these Blidgets as a direct feed.

I love my black jeans (a HNT rerun) and all but...

... the temps hit 96F (35.5C) today. This officially means that shorts season has arrived in these parts. I went on a hunt for shorts in one of half a dozen locations at the homestead. I admit that I wasn't looking very hard after I had found a pair that was featured in THIS HNT. So that's what I'm wearing now. I'll look for a more socially acceptable pair tomorrow... my dress shorts as it were. If you want to comment after viewing the HNT... hit the back button... come back over here to do that. Yeah, it's a rerun from 2005.

Cheers and Happy HNT!

I'm feeling much better now.

(You know, I always felt that should have been the iconic line from the movie The Sixth Sense... instead of the "dead people" line.) There are still a whole load of challenges up ahead but I'll deal with them one at a time. Thank you all who left supportive comments. I am not usually the whine-meister but I allowed the last wave of feeling overwhelmed get the better of me. It incapacitated me and I despise feeling like that. Anyway, that's over... for now.

My day was pretty low key. I did cook however... a rice noodle soup that both Mum and I quite enjoyed. It was a nice change for both of us and was something that neither of us had had in quite a while. Now that I make it a point to share at least one meal a day with her its nice to watch her enjoying her food. I think there is enough for lunch tomorrow as well.

I'm guessing that tomorrow will be pretty low key too. I have several projects to complete. All in the creative vein so at least I will be engaged. The trick though is to get an early start on things.

and then what?

Floating in this swirl of uncertainty is really starting to get to me. Now I fully understand that there are no guarantees in life but I'm twirling at the end of a thread more so than I have ever done so before. It is not a new occurance in my life but the difference this time is that I have someone depending on me. I knew the present shift I am in would be extreme but it really feels like a free-fall. But where there is life there is hope, right? Excuse me while I hold my breath until the glow appears at the end of that seemingly endless tunnel.

BTW... the issues from the last post were finally resolved. So, perhaps there really is some forward motion.

There is much to be thankful for though. People mostly. Those who remind me that I have made a lot happen... and that I can again. The difference this time is that I need to make it happen for me.

So, those of you who come by... forgive my indulgence in these postings. I do not apologize for them. I have not and will not apologize for honestly expressing how I feel. At least I can still do that.

so, I am a little irritated...

... at the moment. Promises made were not kept and no word as to why... from anyone. I may not be the fastest guy in the world but I do deliver the goods... and they do get there on time. Somehow that courtesy does not apply to me. Possession is nine tenths of the law, isn't it? I wonder how fast stage lighting equipment will sell on ebay?

Once Was Enough

Or... 10 things I had a wonderful time while I was doing them... but which I wouldn't do again.

Here they are in random order.

1. being born.
2. catching a 10 foot python with my other 11 year old neighborhood pals at an abandoned mining pool.
3. once being married.
   
4. starting an arts festival.
5. engaging in a "liaison" on baggage carousel number 3, terminal 2, SF airport... while that section was under renovation.
   
6. performing at the Kennedy Center.
7. attending and graduating from university.
8. riding the Greyhound cross country from Fresno to Boston in the dead of Winter.
   
9. becoming a King Scout.
10. writing a deeply personal angst ridden play.

EDIT: 9 PM
So, last week for the first time ever I actually watched an episode of Ghost Whisperer. It was one of those "to be continued" episodes and I turned it on tonight as the storyline was somewhat intriguing. My question is... what is with Jennifer Love Hewitt's wardrobe? Look I'm not against flaunting one's assets... but doing so with every costume in every scene is just a little distracting. Do the producers just not trust the material or is there a special "push the tatas" clause in the contract?

Da Count - the outreached hand

I am not known for being helpless but I am (and have been) facing a period in my life when I do feel that way. So, my count is for those who have (and continue to) reach out to me to offer and to help without having to be asked. I just wanted you to know that you are pure gems.

A Musical HNT

Back for this one with a musical HNT...

RIGHT HERE

click here for more from
Royal Fingerbowl

Cheers!

The year of 'letting go"

It was my prediction at 12:01 on New Years. It certainly has been that for me. Some others have also intimated that it has been that for them as well.

The process of letting go is an arduous one. For instance, couples who are still battling it out in and out of divorce court have really not let go. The fact that they profess to "hate" someone now... someone that they cared for and made vows to not so long ago... still feel something. They still "care". (Yeah, considering how ugly these things can get this may sound strange.) They are still holding on (no doubt in a warped way) to hope. That through their 'hateful actions" they will (if nothing else) be noticed.

Hate is a passion... as strong as love. If you are investing energy in it... you have not let go. The opposite of love is not hate... it is indifference... the absence of feeling or of caring. Sad and extreme? Yeah... but unfortunately true.

Letting go in that type of situation is probably one of the toughest experiences that anyone can go through. Ego is wrapped up in a complicated swirl of emotions. No one likes feeling rejected. No one likes feeling unwanted. No one ever wants to be placed in that position... weather it be a familial, love, friendship or even in a work or professional situation. Generally most of the problems arise when people decide to skip the grieving process and jump straight to the anger stage. Nothing wrong with being angry... except how we choose to act on it.

That being said... not all of letting go is as traumatizing as that of a romantic love relationship. But they all do involve giving up attachments that our ego deludes us into believing defines who we are.

EDIT: OK... you just have to see the video at Cosima's place. It'll only take 15 seconds of your life.

And... HERE, HERE & HERE are some amazing and amusing time wasters.

I'll try...

... to get a post up in the AM