Idée d’jour

The best writing is rewriting.
— E.B. White, writer (1899-1985)

Another Dream

This dream came Monday morning.

Her name isn't really Sarah, but that's what I'll call her in this dream. Once, we were an item, and seemed destined for each other. But she ultimately chose to be with someone else.

I was at an indoor stadium concert, like the third or fourth tier up. Suddenly, I saw Sarah, far below. She was in the second tier.

For some reason, I had to go under the grandstands to get to her, and there were people seated in this area as well. There were stairs, so I had to squeeze between people, sometimes narrowly missing purses and such, in order to go down.

I suppose I stepped over two or three groups of folk before I magically appeared by Sarah's side. The one she had chosen was not with her; he had chosen to stay home.

Somehow, I convinced her that it would be ok to sit together.

Then the stadium became like a large vacant house. I picked her up to carry her through a doorway. Don't remember why.

I was pretty deep in REM when this dream came. I had to really brush the cobwebs out of my mind to get moving toward my waking life.

Otherwise, I'd say this was a wish-fulfillment dream.

Or, the dream Sarah has no connection to the real Sarah, and the dream has to do with changing relationships.

Saint Willie

Saint Willie of Lastview, patron of delivery,
was last seen in shadowed blind alleys
where he lost the silver key.

Four and twenty cowbirds haunted the corners,
and reversed the signposts;
thus he was lost through their misdirection.

St Willie wandered maze corridors
for several hours
before he came to the waterfront.

It was the Lastview Carnival,
he was joined by his adoptive niece,
and they ambled the boardwalk.

The bright & shiny carnie
tempted her, and she transformed
into a crow-spirit feline.

St. Willie said the Dark Rider
is not a bad companion
so long as the moon is full of water.

The three walked under flitting fireflies
from the last lost package,
from dream into myth.

Idée d’jour

The Way is not far off but it is hard to reach its limit.
It rests together with human beings, but it is hard to grasp.
— From The Guanzi, early Taoist text, c. seventh century BCE
quoted in Parabola, Vol. 29, No. 3, Fall 2004, pg 1 (see link in "Friday's Cat" entry, immediately below.

DJ's Movie

Dame Julian, Movie Star
What you should see in the above link is very brief flash movie of Dame Julian carrying her toy spider a couple of feet, then returning for her close-up. Sorry about the poor lighting. My living room really is that dark.

Friday's Cat

Here's Dame Julian as a work of art.


DJ is a wide reader. She got the Utne Reader for an article on why people are are afraid of poetry (worth a read). She got Parabola because the theme intrigued her, and it has about four pages worth of photographs by Thomas Merton.


Here she is with the spider toy I described last week. I took a movie of her playing with it, and am in the process of putting it into a web-worthy format.


Good night, sweet Dame!

Strange Dreams

I don't normally remember my dreams. But this week, I've had a couple of curious dreams. The first, Sunday night, is getting funnelled into a poem. The second happened early Thursday morning. All the names are people I know in my waking life.

In this dream, I somehow convinced Toni on to go on a date with me. Now, I haven't seen Toni in my waking life for over three years, yet here she was making a cameo appearance in my dream. And yes, I did have a crush on her, and did really ask her out — and was very sweetly turned down.

Back to the dream: she gave me directions to her place which were of the landmark variety: "you top this hill, and there's a convenience store on the right; my house is just around the corner from that store." Amazingly, I found my way straight to her house.

Oddly, we chose to go to some fastfood Donut Hut type place. I guess it was a "coffee" date. Toni was served right away. I had to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

While I was waiting, I noticed a copy of the Yellow Pages laying on a near-by counter. Someone had written on the cover. Curious, I picked it up, only to discover it was a recipe in my cousin Kathi's handwriting. I was wondering what Kathi was doing in Moore, OK (where Toni once lived). Kathi is currently in Africa, after all; when in America, her home base is in Truckee, California.

Finally, I got tired of waiting. I told the clerk she would lose my business if I was not served within two minutes. I got served.

So, Toni and I went to a table. On our way there, I saw cousin Gerry (Kathi's brother). I called to him, and he playfully ran in the opposite direction (this seems odder when you realize that Gerry is at least 3-4 years my senior). We continued this game for a little bit, then I
convinced Gerry to come over and meet Toni.

When we got to the table, Gerry immediately sat in Toni's lap and stretched back length-wise across it. He was also playfully flirting with her. Interestingly, the figure playing Toni's part no longer looked like the Toni I knew in waking life; where Toni had moderate-length blonde hair, this woman had long dark hair.

Anyway, at this point I remembered the cover of those Yellow Pages, and started to get it to ask Gerry if it really was Kathi's handwriting.

The world may never know.

I woke up.

Diet

I would eat
chicken every day
if I could.
But, you know,
Popeye's Chicken tastes
better in
Texas than
it does here.
Don't know why.

---

Overheard conversation of hospital cafeteria employees.

Two Marxist Quotes

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.
— Groucho Marx

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce.
— Karl Marx

---

Compare and contrast.

In other news, I attempted to e-mail an entry this morning, and my e-mail program choked. Will either re-create it as time allows during the work day, or attempt the e-mail option again once I get home. I'm also cobbling a new poem, loosely based on a dream I had early Monday morning.

Stay tuned.

Jerry Patterson's Letter to John Kerry

Well, Kerry's campaign has indulged in a bit of fun political theater: they sent Max Cleland and Jim Rassman to the president's ranch to deliver a letter from a number of Democratic vets in the Senate asking him to denounce the Kerry smears, in particular the Swift Boat ads. They were met by fellow vet Jerry Patterson who agreed to accept the letter in the president's behalf only if the group would accept a letter from him and other vets who support the president. Cleland decided to simply mail his letter.

Let's consider Mr. Patterson's letter for a moment, shall we? Here's one of its central criticisms of Sen. Kerry:

You can't build your convention and much of your campaign around your service in Vietnam, and then try to say that only those veterans who agree with you have a right to speak up. There is no double standard for our right to free speech.

Not much to argue with there, except the ad campaign Sen. Kerry has been asking GWB to denounce is full of untruths. It's not a question of agree or disagree. People make statements in the original Swift Boat Vets for Truth ad which are demonstrably false. As such, it seems fair to characterize it as a smear campaign, and ask that it be denounced. Since Sen. Kerry has denounced similar ads coming from MoveOn.org (and others), there would seem to be the exact opposite of a double-standard.

The letter also talks about what has been the foundation of these attacks on Sen. Kerry — his testimony before the Congress in 1971. Here's how the letter puts it:

we are ... concerned about the comments you made AFTER you came home from Vietnam. You accused your fellow veterans of terrible atrocities — and, to this day, you have never apologized.

This claim that Sen. Kerry accused people of terrible atrocities is not exactly accurate, either. Then private citizen and former soldier Kerry was reading summaries of testimonies from service men given in Detroit at the Winter Soldier Investigation, which had taken place several months earlier. Mr. Kerry did not accuse anyone of anything. He was merely reporting what service men had witnessed, or had confessed. A fuller report on Mr. Kerry's testimony may be read here. Mr. Kerry's actual testimony may be read here.

I suppose if My Lai and Lt. Calley are in today's history books, the claim would be that this was a singular occurrence, perpetrated by a few "bad eggs". What the Winter Soldier Investigation made clear is that My Lai was more common than any civilized human being would want to believe. No one need apologize for telling the truth.

The Swift Boat Vets, however, might want to consider apologizing for telling lies.

I dearly wish Sen. Kerry had not made his service in VietNam such a lynch pin of the Democratic Convention. Every single night of those four days, we heard about that friggin swift boat and how he pulled some poor sod out of the water while the boat was under fire. I understand why he did it, but one could be excused for believing it's the sum total of his campaign. It's no wonder the Rovian attack dogs are gnawing at it.

I do hope the next two and half months are not spent rehashing VietNam. Sen. Kerry, it's time for you to put Rove, GWB, et al, on the defensive by telling the truth about our crumbling economy, the failed Iraq policy, etc etc.

Mark Twain on Prophecy

...prophecies which promise valuable things, desirable things, good things, worthy things, never come true. Prophecies of this kind are like wars fought in a good cause — they are so rare that they don't count.
— from "Comments on the Killing of 600 Moros," written circa 1906, collected in Mark Twain on the Damned Human Race, ed. Janet Smith, © 1962, Hill and Wang, New York.

Oil Shortage

Brother Dave sends along this quote:

"For the world as a whole, oil companies are expected to keep finding and developing enough oil to offset our seventy one million plus barrel a day of oil depletion, but also to meet new demand. By some estimates there will be an average of two per cent annual growth in global oil demand over the years ahead along with conservatively a three per cent natural decline in production from existing reserves. That means by 2010 we will need on the order of an additional fifty million barrels a day. So where is the oil going to come from?"

This comes from a speech given by Dick Cheney to the Institute for Petroleum a little over a year before he became Vice President.

One doesn't have to be a geologist or Adam Smith (Wealth of Nations) to realize that oil is a finite resource. We act like it's in infinite supply, and fuss now that we're paying almost $2 a gallon for gasoline, but no new dinosaurs are dying to produce oil. The date Mr. Cheney suggests is shockingly liberal — others have estimated 2006 – 2008.

More on the oil shortage can be read in this BBC article: Is the world's oil running out fast? Can oil producers keep up with demand, or should the world brace itself for a dramatic surge in crude oil prices?

From Mr. Cheney's bold honesty, it's a short leap to the realization that the nation that controls the remaining oil is going to be pretty powerful. Now, add in the Project for the American Century (Cheney was one of the signatories), which basically says America is the sole remaining Super Power and needs to act like it, and the adventures in Afghanistan and Iraq might take on a different aroma. And I'm not talking about the sweet smell of refinery pollution.

You don't have to be Michael Moore or a conspiracy theorist to connect those dots. Why, a three-year old could do it.

Idée d’jour

It is as impossible to translate poetry as it is to translate music. —
Voltaire, writer (1694-1778)

---

I suspect Jonathan Mayhew would agree, regardless of the source. I know Dr. Omed would agree, as his position has long been that a translater merely writes his or own poem losely based on the original.

Blue is the Color of Death

How long did I journey to find
these bright eternal pastures of green?
I have walked for miles without rest.

I carry talismans from the river:
Lincoln penny, Kennedy half dollar.
Blue is the color of death.

Carry also the traditional scars —
pale thin lines snaking from elbow to wrist —
I have walked for miles without rest.

The journey circles: a line of stones is the measure
from my father's house to my father's grave.
Blue is the color of death.

Blue eyes sealed beneath foreign coin;
blue sky sliced by telephone lines.
I have walked for miles without rest.

Upon the border stand invisible —
red morning cleansing the night —
I have walked for miles without rest
and blue is the color of death.
 3rd draft, Sept. '93

---

This is one of a small group of poems concerning the death of my father. I've often considered collecting them into a mini-chapbook, which would be a sub-division of Saturn Sequence (my electronic chapbook). It's been a while since I've counted all the poems in this series, but I would guess around ten. That's why I refer to it as a mini-chapbook. And I couldn't swear that all the poems are really worth preserving.

Actually, there is already a poem from this series under "Selected Other Poems" on that page — "Death of the Father". So, the question is whether I want to add this one and others.

Anyway, this poem came a little over a year after Padre passed away (Jan. 1992). The first line came to me as I was mowing the back yard. And it was reinforced when I took a shower after the mowing, and was still seeing images of the grass whenever I closed my eyes. My wife and I had a rather large back yard, and it took me about two hours to mow it and the front yard. But I liked mowing, because it gave me time to myself to just think. The sound of the mower is a sort of white noise, and your thoughts can drift as they will. I also like mowing because it's easy to see what one is accomplishing. It's a sort of immediate gratification, in that way.

One of the things Padre taught me about mowing was to do it in circles, with the thrower pointed toward the unmown portion of the lawn — this was a form of mulching. So, after walking in circles for two hours, I probably felt like I had walked for miles without rest.

The other repetend — "Blue is the color of death" — was inspired by an anthropology text. On the cover of this book was a Zaire boy of the Kota with his face painted blue. According to the note on the back cover, this was part of the rite of passage; the boy's face was painted blue, the color of death, to symbolize the death of childhood, so he may make the transition to adulthood.

As I type this, I remember a time Padre turned blue. This happened 10-15 years before he died. Padre was an aspirin addict, you see. According to the doctors at the time, there is a chemical in aspirin that binds to the oxygen cells in a person's blood stream. For most people, it just washes out. Padre had taken so much that his body didn't have a chance to wash it out — the chemical was cutting off his oxygen supply. And before you correct my science, I will say my information is third hand.

I wonder whether these poems really are worth collecting. Does this one speak to you? Do you wonder at the line "Carry the traditional scars"? Well, it is a personal symbol, as are the Lincoln penny and the Kennedy half dollar. Do those personal symbols muddy the water so much you don't care? Or does the mystery make the poem as intriguing to you as a L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poem?

Dame Julian

"I wonder if I could dig my way out?"


Here, DJ is on her blanket, and is about to pounce on my shoe. A word about that blanket: it is a very soft baby blanket, which had been left behind by one of the previous tenants of this house. I laundered it exceptionally well before I passed it on to this new "baby". I thought it might make nice bedding for DJ, but she doesn't seem to use it for that purpose (near as I can tell).

We've got a new game. She has a rabbit fur spider that she especially loves to attack. This past week, she has been bringing it conveniently within my arm's reach. She drops it, I pick it and dangle it, then toss it across the room. She runs and gets it, then brings it back to my side of the room. She eventually will drop it close to me, and the game begins again. I wouldn't go so far as to claim that she's playing "fetch", but it's as close as a kitten is likely to get.

Idée d’jour

A man is not old until his regrets take the place of dreams.
— Yiddish proverb

---

I know it's been a light week of entries. I've had some depression this past week, and had no confidence in my words. The depression may have something to do with a persistent cough that's been lingering longer than healthy. The cough is gradually diminishing, and I'm getting more rest, so I may be posting more next week.

Blogger has put a new bar on the top of the page, which was messing up the title portion (and covering the author picture). I borrowed a bit of stylesheet code from StickPoet (Hi, Mike!), and that fixed the problem.

In other news, I've got a couple of new pictures of Dame Julian, which will be posted within the hour.

Stay tuned.

Subliminals

1. Server :: crash
2. Charlotte :: North Carolina
3. Jackson :: Andrew
4. Resentment :: burning
5. Controlling :: urge
6. Intense :: debate
7. November :: election
8. Donkey :: Kong
9. Weave :: warp
10. Satisfies :: completely

"Subliminals" are a weekly feature at Unconcious Mutterings

Blue Day

It's a blue day.
He's wearing blue
and walks in green.

He smooths his hair.
He drinks green tea
with honey.

He wades through
intricate verbal courses
toward the afternoon.

He tilts his head.
He's wearing blue.
It's a blue day.

Saved by the Cat

Dame Julian, aka "DJ," earned her keep this week. It was Tuesday morning, and I had a few minutes to sit in the living room as she playfully raced around. I was holding my cup of tea in my right hand, dangling off the edge of the recliner. DJ was running around the room, dashed across the couch (on my right), then bumped my tea. Which then spilled on my dress slacks.

I was not amused. It was now closing in on the time I normally leave for work, and I wasn't sure I had the time to change pants. On the other hand, I couldn't very well go through the morning with a wet spot near my lap. So, I went into the bedroom to see how bad it was.

That's when I realised the pants didn't match my shirt. Ooops! So, I quickly changed, gave DJ a "thank you" pet, and rushed out the door.


Here, we see the Lady in a calmer moment. Few creatures can relax as completely and thoroughly as a cat. And her relaxation was an inspiration for me.

The interesting thing about the above picture is that it's one of a series in which I held the camera a reasonable distance from myself in hopes of capturing a good picture of my feline companion. This is one of a couple successful shots.


Lest we be mislead into believing the Dame is helpless, she here displays her agressive side. Either that, or she's tired of modeling (again).

Idée d’jour

In America, anybody can be president. That's one of the risks you take.
— Adlai Stevenson, statesman (1900-1965)

Kerry's Response

My heart sank when I heard John Kerry say he would have voted for the resolution giving the Resident authority to attack Iraq, even knowing what he knows today. Rob, over at Emphasis Added, cogently states many of my objections to this statement, but I'm still wondering why Kerry would give this answer.

I have two theories: 1)Kerry wants to appear consistent, in response to the charge that he flip-flops; (2) Kerry perceives the fall of Saddam as an unmitigated good.

The problem with that first possibility is, this is one issue on which Kerry can afford to flip-flop. For one thing, the way the question is framed allows for it: "Knowing what you know now, would you?" assumes a person might change his mind based on new information. For another, if Kerry had said he would have voted against it, he would have been in line with a majority of poll respondents, who have said they think our attack on Iraq was a mistake.

I disagree with candidate Kerry if he responded based on my second theory, that the fall of Saddam is an unmitigated good (regardless of the motivation). For one thing, it's an absurd statement to make until you see the result. So far, the result has not been positive. I can't predict what will happen come January 2005, but I wouldn't be surprised if civil war occurred within months of that date. For another, even if deposing Saddam is a positive, what gives America the right to take that action? Saddam clearly posed no threat to America, and precious little threat to America's allies. There is every reason to believe that inspections would have proven what we now suspect - no WMD - if GWB had not lost patience with the process.

As I have said any number of times, even if America is going to be the self-appointed policeman of the world, we've been damned inconsistent in how we enforce the "law". Saddam falls, but Kim Jon Ill is still in power. As are dictatorships as bad (or worse) all across the world. Meanwhile, the man who we claim is the evil mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks - Osama bin Laden - still runs free in south Pakistan.

Look, if having a baaaaad leader is grounds for invasion, what is preventing Canada or France from invading the U.S.? GWB, until very recently, has thumbed his nose at the concept that America might be a member of the world community (rather than its rightful king). His environmental policies harm the world. In another era, the treatment of foreign prisoners at Gitmo would be grounds for war. Meanwhile, U.S. citizens find more and more of their rights slipping away.

You know, based on GWB's logic, Canada or Britain really should invade the U.S. Save us poor benighted Yanks from ourselves.

How would I have responded to GWB's hypothetical question, if I had been John Kerry? With an unqualified "no". Which I would then follow with the recognition that we are there, it's our mess, and we are likely to bear the brunt of fixing it. Well, it might be politically expedient to leave out that final truth. Regardless, I believe the foundation of a solution for Iraq is two-fold: employment and restoration of basic services. Require Halliburton, et al, to hire Iraqis to do the work of rebuilding their own country. Support home-grown efforts to improve the situation. In terms of security, law enforcement is more needed than military force; therefore, continue to work with other countries to train an independent Iraqi police force. Get those men and women on the streets as soon as possible.

The answer is not strength of arms, Senator Kerry. The answer is electricity and water, and food, and the assurance that one can walk the streets safely.

Idée d’jour

In a consumer society there are inevitably two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.
— Ivan Illich, priest (1926-2002)

Idée d’jour

On the one hand:
The wise are instructed by reason, average minds by experience, the stupid by necessity and the brute by instinct. — Marcus Tullius Cicero, statesman, orator and writer (106-43 BCE)

On the other:
You can educate a fool, but you cannot make him think — The Talmud

Friday's Cat

Elsie took today's picture yesterday evening, around 9:00. DJ was being very sweet and cute, resting on my chest, and Elsie ran to get the camera. Being a modest cat, DJ tried to run away from her latest modeling gig. Here, we see her in mid-dash.

If you look very closely at the right edge of the picture, you can see a bit of my salt-and-pepper beard. You can clearly see the farmer's tan on my left arm, and how pale the inside of my right arm is.

The great thing about this picture is you can judge how big Dame Julian is (for reference, I'm about 6' tall). The "author" photo at the top left shows DJ the evening I adopted her, a little over a month ago. You may not be able to tell, but I could fit her in my hand.

Not any more!

Bushism d’jour

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we," Bush said. "They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."

---

I've seen a number of citations for the above, first from Daily Kos, which lead me to the story on MSNBC.

Do ya suppose his nose grows longer when he tells the truth?

Quote d’jour

I thought about work as prayer. ... Why not? Not in the pious sense of nice, polite requests up to a capricious Godhead; rather a force, vital and alive, part of the quotidian fabric, producing — at a depth unknown to pollsters, spin doctors demographers, and other calibrators of human emotion — widespread outcomes throughout society? Innumerable small acts of generosity and goodwill, binding us closer, motivating us, giving us little boosts of hope and faith in each other. Changing the world, even.

Why not indeed? For a man who didn't see the everyday world as separate from the sacred. Who saw God everywhere, shining out from the down-to-earth and battered and untidy and defeated. Who was a commonsense saint, a saint of what could be done, not should be done, a practical saint, a saint of imperfection.
— Tony Hendra, Father Joe, © 2004, pp 202-203, Random House

Idée d’jour

Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
— Norman Cousins (1915-1990)

Free Lady Liberty!

In spite of an increased terrorist threat against New York's financial districts, the Statue of Liberty was re-opened this past weekend. One must ask, what does Lady Liberty stand for today?

Can Lady Liberty abide terrorist threats that are based on three-year old information? Threats that seem carefully timed to keep the public fearful and reluctant to change?

Did Lady Liberty stand in the "Free Speech Zones" in Boston? The protestors where literally in cages beneath an overpass. This sounds more like a variation on an interment camp than free speech to me. By definition, Free Speech cannot be restricted to one "zone" or another.

Does Lady Liberty stand with ordinary American citizens who have been jailed for displaying anti-Bush sentiments during the Chickenhawk-in-Chief's public appearances? (See also this editorial from the Springfield News-Leader)

Does Lady Liberty stand with those who love America?

Is Lady Liberty proud to be an American, or does she long to return to France? Well, maybe not France, but you get my point.

Note that my final two links are to Patti Davis and Ron Reagan, Jr (in that order), both children of Ronald Reagan, 40th President of the US. Both have harsh words to say about the man who briefly tried to wear a Reagan mask. I think it's a safe bet that we'll hear a lot more about Pres. Reagan during the Repugnant Convention later this month. In fact, I'll make a bold prediction:

We will hear as much about Pres. Reagan, favorably comparing the Chimp-in-Chief to him, as we heard about John Kerry's little foray up the Mekon.

Will Lady Liberty attend the Repugnant Convention? Only if she signs the appropriate loyalty oath, pledging to vote for the Chimp. Only if she is prepared to turn her back on every ideal she ever symbolized. Only if she is taking very strong anti-nausea medications.

Idée d’jour

Just as a whirlwind roaring down a valley leaves nothing behind it, so the ear is to have nothing to do with right and wrong. Just as the moon only reflects its light in a pool, so the mind, empty and unattached, does not know itself and the outside world as two things.
— from The Gospel of Zen, Robert Sohl and Audrey Carr, © 1970, Signet, p. 108

Colliding Blog Picture

In my entry "When Blogs Collide", I mention that pictures from a historic meeting would soon be posted.

To review, and save you the trouble of clicking back & forth — about two weeks ago, I attended the Conestoga Science Fiction Convention in Tulsa, OK, and was a member of a blogging panel. I was there at the behest and invitation of the Rt Rev Dr. Omed; we were joined by the justly famous Paulapalooza, her husband James, and her children Thing One and Thing Two.

The good doctor and I attended high school around the same time, and have been friends ever since. Ms. P and Dr. Omed became acquainted through the Salon community, and have become good friends within that community. As fun as it was to see Dr O again, it was especially exciting to meet Paula and her family. And impressive that she would drive almost two and a half hours for the dubious distinction of meeting us.

Pictures were taken, and one is now available at Dr. Omed's Tent Show. Paula is the pretty one. Dr. Omed is wearing a name badge and clerical collar. I'm the one who looks like an extra from The Exorcist: The Beginning.

Idée d’jour

The only devils in this world are those running around in our own hearts, and that is where all our battles should be fought.
— Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948)

Quote d’jour

When God laughs at the soul and the soul laughs back at God, the persons of the Trinity are begotten. When the Father laughs at the Son and the Son laughs back at the Father, that laughter gives pleasure, that pleasure gives joy, that joy gives love, and that love is the Holy Spirit.
— Meister Eckhart, quoted in Father Joe, pp 108-109, Hendra, 2004, Random House