Today, I make a point of packing at least one box a day. two, or more if possible. I’d like to have everything ready to roll comfortably by a week from Saturday.
First thing to attack – my books.
Also, it’s time to decide if some of those things I haven’t used in the year since I moved here get purged, or retained. I’m a terrible pack-rat. I think that the Atari ST will be trashed… I have an emulator for the PC now… and I really haven’t booted the machine since it arrived.
The reel to reel recorder can go to goodwill, along with many of the clothes I’ve not made use of.
I’m keeping the Godzilla slippers.
I’m keeping my ties, in case of a court date, funeral or a wedding. (Unless the wedding is very lax, I won’t wear my Godzilla slippies there)
Old stereo… I’ll probably toss, but will keep a few of the albums. (real albums… even if I don’t have a turntable… the nostalgia is great.)
Free-flow thought…re:walkies to the mall of the dead
Who has left this golden day,
I don’t know, but I have found it…
Beautiful morning, remember me?
Who sat here once in days of spring…not all too long ago
Flowers were everywhere here… even in the doorway…
These ruins… the Parthenons of Pompano
weeds and cans and broken bricks… and I am a child again,
across the blowing fields
On this spot three years ago in pouring rain I leapt a puddle to help a crying baby… shortly his mother retrieved him and thanked me.
strange soft day… I think now of the time when I’ll be somewhere else, and the land will still be here.
I look up and see trails in the sky , a silver plane so silent… the airships will remain here, too. I’ll miss the blimps.
Leaves blow.
Old telephone pole covered in staples…there must be thousands.
Only on a day like today do I remember to notice such obscure treats.
Walking, wandering like a breath of air… floating like a cloud.
So many old places here.
Heavens have rolled by
many seasons
oceans of pavement
long gray lines of time…
since I last really looked at this spot.
they were supposed to tear down the mall years ago
no one knows why they never did.
look at the windows
like eyes frozen half closed, in the moment before sleep.
look at the drain pipe hanging half off
look at me standing here looking at it and talking to myself.
remember blowing soap bubbles in ’96… waiting for a ride.
cross-legged and smiling
in the parking lot
unspoken words
like cheap toys
fall from my lips
footprints echo from the past,
skies stare out from my shielded eyes
daytime wear on the heels of my shoes
I am here now,
wandering in and out of myself
my mind makes invisible phone calls to parties who don’t need to answer.
it’s enough that I reach to them.
life seems to be in slow motion
and the laughter sounds like angels
shadows move before I can look at them
and reaching out of the dark
behind my back
barely touching…
ghosts of moments gone and done.
memories
barely just alive
like tingled vertebrae
scamper through the rattled junk
I may not return to this place again
even if I do… it won’t seem the same.
handy hints from Scotto as a boy –
How to make a really nifty smoke bomb – (make sure you’re in an open area, and get proper zoning permission if needed)
Combine four parts sugar to six parts saltpeter (potassium nitrate). Heat this mixture over a very low flame until it starts to blend into a plastic substance. When it begins to gel, remove it from the heat and allow it to cool. I suggest that you stick a few wooden match heads into the mass while it’s still pliable. You also add a fuse at this point. The smoke device is non-explosive and nonflammable. A pound of this mixture will produce enough thick smoke to cover a city block. Assorted coloring agents can be added for red, gold, green or darker black smoke….probably others that I don’t know of.
Watch which way the wind blows.
Hunches, intuition, subconscious perception or sensitivity…
Whatever you call that “instinct of awareness”, I feel that there’s no reasonable denying that such though processes exist and work for some people in varying degrees.
I’ve always had pretty good fortune with them, myself… going with a “gut feeling” or acting on some cues that can’t really be explained more thoroughly than just saying “it feels right” or “it feels wrong”. When torn between matters of the heart and head I’ve found that the first instinct is usually a good one to run with… but far better is taking that instinct and tempering it with logic and a little thought if the time and brainpower is available.
Having a gut feeling is like a security blanket for me… probably much like that of being very opinionated. There are some things that I have no intuition for, and those things create in me a small sense of confusion… not really discomfort, but it does set off a desire to research facts about whatever it is that is eluding my gizzard. I think that’s part of why I like a lot of esoteric trivia… looking into something that I don’t have the first inkling about.
The other night, when Danny and I went out and about, we were driving through the rich area of Deerfield by the beach, looking for a place to eat. With Rose Red on my mind these last few days, I queried him about his feelings about an afterlife… anything ranging from the existence of souls, haunted houses, or reincarnation… something that he and I have never really discussed much. His response was a little disconcerting to me… along the lines of “I don’t know, and I prefer not to think about it”. I didn’t quite know what to make of that reply. It was honest, anyway. I suspect that he doesn’t like to think about it because he might think that it may reflect on his faith, somehow. That said though, had us change discussion topics to something else.
I don’t get how that mindset works, though. How do you opt not to think about something? Is it like changing the topic of conversation? If I don’t know something, I like to ponder it at least a little bit, do a little research and form an opinion or hypothesis if possible. I can’t say as there’s any topic that I’m not wanting to learn more about, in some way.
listening to old episodes of the shadow radio program… blue coal had a special “trial offer” of just one ton of coal for your furnace.
How long did a ton of coal last back then, in an average-sized coal-burning home? a week? a month? I really haven’t got a clue, being an adult Floridian in the 21st century.
Protected:
Kitty-foot-snuggles makes it *very* hard to get up.
So I won’t, for the moment…. instead, I’ll play a little happy pill.
but it’s spelled doughnuts! not donuts!
Happy Birthday, ly!
This morning’s walk was pleasant… stopped at the grove and got some OJ for the return trip home. I’ll miss Mack’s being so nearby… I’d wager that there’s some little mom & pop place where I can get juice or a bagel in the morning within walking distance of my next place… there always is.
I should know tonight if the place by my brother’s is mine. Odds are really good that I’ll get it… I’d say… 80% or greater?
They’re taking out the carpet, and tiling it… I think it’s just a question of lighting a fire under ’em to get it done in time for me to move in.
I woke craving those little chocolate-covered doughnuts… I haven’t had ’em in years, but something set that off….I suspect that I’ll have to buy a little roll of them the next time I pass a gas station or a 7-11… or at least a real doughnut somewhere else. Maybe even the gigantic Entenmann’s version… but if I do that, I’ll need milk too.
I send my love a kiss on the wind… The next breeze she feels will also contain my caress.
Nigh nigh, dear journal.
The First One Seemed So Innocent
And only when the invasion was well under way did the sinister truth become known. If only the significance of the floating silver ball had been understood . . . See the Associated Press story.
Off to work, dear journal… have some Homer MMMmmms… hope today is a good ‘n.
eh?
Up and have Newtie and myself holed up in the bedroom while the maintenance man replaces the front door. It didn’t really need replacing, but the new owner wants them all to match. I got my quiz wrong the other day… Dan was offered the chance to have a bit of cadaver bone added, or to have the bone taken from himself. no mention of plastic was made.
http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/animals/Animalbabies.shtml
Talked to Doug & Cathy Wu online tonight… weird hearing from them both after all this time, but nice, too. They want to do some online gaming… 40’s supers, I told ’em I’d give it a try… it might be like old times. I wonder what Ray and Kathleen are up to… I hope that they’re doing well and are happy. Kind of a shame how we parted ways, but that year was a weird and stressful time for everyone. A pity that Dan isn’t more online.. he’d probably dig chatting with the Wu’s, too. He and Cathy were big buddies, and Doug and I always got along better.
Of that gaming group, I think that Ray and I were of the most similar minds… same stripe of weirdness and dark humor. Kathleen I admired too, because she was probably the first girl gamer I met that didn’t always play the skulky assassin-thief hybrid… plus, she actually role-played was just *nice*. I think I liked her even more because she and Ray were such a great couple… you could see that they really were in love. They offset each other… quite complimentarily, too. When it came down to my teaming up with another player or two, they would certainly be at the top of my list at that time. I could bounce banter off of either of them, and it worked out well. Kat’s Dr. Mid-nite and my Green Lantern, Kyoko & Trism, Blare & Khudrin, Spring & Zero, Ghost & Minimax. Great team-ups, all, under Ray’s GMing. probably some of the best times I had in role-play. We could team up as one group, the Wu’s could pair off as a second. I never could effectively run for Ray and Kathleen as a duo, though… Ray liked to get himself killed (it’s nigh impossible to have gotten one of the other GMs at the time to allow a killing blow), and my storytelling skills at that time weren’t the best.
The Colinas… I really liked them a lot. It’s too bad about how things worked out at the end. I’d like to rewrite that last three months or so, if I could.
Rik Landis… he, I still see online now and then… a swell guy, and I’m glad he found a nice wife and has his world in order. I gamed with him a few times after the main group broke up, but he was doing D&D 2nd ed… not my thing. I still like to see him yearly at the RenFaire, though. He’s my favorite monopod. A good hammy actor, well suited for boisterousness and such. Does a good wookie growl, too. A good-natured fellow.
Dan’s characters were always Dan’s. The Weasel… Zircon, Jasper… Man of Iron. Just nuts. Entertainingly so, usually… fortunately. I never really got into his epic fantasy school of GMing, but he did a good job with the cooperative cyberpunk universe, and his props were really nice. His NPCs were not the best, and stuff could drag on, but he was well prepared, and social banter at the table made things go pretty nicely.
Doug’s games I liked for the pure nostalgia side of it… he knows *everything* about the silver age of comics, and a heck of a lot about most everything else, too.
I haven’t thought much about those games in a little while.. those were some really good times.
In other news, Dan’s dad’s going in to have a whipple procedure done, and I hope everything turns out ok. I know Danny is quite concerned about it.
ugh, I’m drowsing here. Nigh nigh, dear journal.
my life in 160×146, 2 colors… mental pictures from today
Spidah-main!
A fellow lurker, waiting for the bus
Also Hanging out at 10th and Federal
A birdie
question and answer
fixed a year later due to dead picturetrail links.
oooh… good day, Sunday.
There’s an opening right next door to my brother’s apartment… I’d be two doors over from him, if I get it!
How cool would that be? very!
I hope it works out… it’s right near los olas, and downtown ft. lauderdale, but far enough away to be away from the crime and noise. Nearby bus routes and better amenities. *crossing fingers*
I’ll know more Monday night.
No dice on getting together with the hippies today, but I had a wonderful lunch and video-game session with the bro… not to mention just hanging out and talking.
Barbie collectors
Today’s NY Times has an article about the 22nd Annual National Barbie Doll Collectors Convention in Denver.
Some of the observations will resonate for Philip K. Dick fans; he was definitely on to something in “The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch.”
“It’s all about projecting themselves onto the Barbie. The most refreshing aspect of this event was hearing the participants acknowledge – even volunteer – that self-analysis. “I can’t afford a Mackie,” Ms. Ballard said.
“I can’t afford a Versace. But my Barbie can. And I can imagine myself wearing it.” No denial at this show. Terms like “vicarious,” “role-playing” and “projection” were tossed about like vinyl replacement parts.”
On the other hand, there were attendees that could afford Mackies and Versaces, but can only enjoy them in a Barbie state of mind.
“If this were a Hollywood movie, Ms. Baumer might be cast as an unfulfilled suburban housewife, fleeing to Denver, where Barbie could block out the emptiness of her existence. But she’s actually a physician and chairman of the family medicine department at the largest public hospital in Fort Worth.
Ms. Alegre is a registered nurse heading up two units at Ventura County Medical Center in California. She flew herself to Denver in her own Beechcraft T-34. And each woman raised children while pursuing her career.
But sometimes, they just want to have fun.
“We were really active in the feminist movement,” Dr. Baumer explained. “But it tended to ignore sexuality, which was kind of silly.” There were very few housewives at this convention. Most were successful professionals – ambitious overachievers eager to slip into four-inch pumps and marabou swing coats, toss back a couple of bonbons and savor the brief heady taste of a blissfully unambitious, Barbie lifestyle.”
Across the country there are housewives that are “closet collectors,” keeping their Barbies hidden in the upper shelves among the sweaters and spare blankets.
“They sneak off from families and husbands to nestle in among the shoe trees, pull down the treasured boxes and compose elaborate dioramas: Barbie facilitating a brainstorming session, Barbie treating trauma victims in the emergency room, Barbie embarking on a mission to outer space.”
There is a large peripheral industry supplementing the Barbie universe. Top designers are commissioned to produce signature gowns to Barbie dimensions, and every year there is a new wedding dress. Mattel is not the only manufacturer anymore. Although they are not licensed for the most part, there are companies that design clothing and accessories to Barbie dimensions for the enthusiast.
Whenever dolls crop up in horror or fantasy, the focus is on the eeriness of the doll itself. However, I find it is the relationship to the doll that is fascinating.