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29 November 2003

Loosh sent me her great grandmother's photo...
and a moustachioed maybe murdered great uncle (think he's a great uncle... someone, anyway)

I spent some growing-up years just outside Philadelphia in the 1960s, and I remember strongly some things about that time and place that I saw on the tube. Lead paint warning commercials -- I remember one with a child in a window picking off the flaking paint and eating the chips. Philadelphia was a big gang place -- there were public service announcements-- one with a boy in wheelchair. He'd been shot, and was serving as a warning. Sister Falaka Fattah -- how she opened her house as a safe zone and almost single-handedly changed the city. I wonder if she's still out there doing that. I have admired her for almost my whole life.

The rain is actually soaking my bed, now, which I think is pretty hilarious. It's only the end left-foot corner bit -- but it's been thoroughly soaked twice now -- the first time I was sleeping on the couch, so when I did encounter the wet corner the rain was gone and I couldn't quite believe it. This time I was watching (Bergman) The Magic Flute and the drips became apparent. I have never cared much for The Magic Flute, however I'll take all the Mozart that's going, thanks. I watched La Nozze di Figaro twice the day before. Too bad Mozart didn't make it to my age -- I'd be interested in his take on it. Something bizarre fell through that I'm not going to talk about, in my NEW! IMPROVED! blog of extreme joy. It fell through, as I said: a mixed blessing, but shit -- I'll take what I can get!

28 November 2003

Make a Picasso-ish Flash Thingy

not sure how I feel about this but I do like Flash

Turkey Day at the Flemings

Vivian says:
oh hi!
Vivian says:
I'm just getting my email
Vivian says:
what are you doing?
Vivian Kendall says:
what time did you leave Connie's house
Vivian says:
oh, did you have fun?
Vivian says:
did you watch a movie?
Vivian says:
No reason
Vivian says:
just asking
Vivian says:
oh cool!
Vivian says:
Was it any good?
Vivian says:
No cute guys.
Vivian says:
Vivian Kendall says:
Vivian Kendall says:

27 November 2003

The Good People Do Good Things -- then they forget about it because it's not out of the ordinary but just who they are. Thank You to all of you.

I collected $50.00 today from T - - and B will give me $30.00 for a tee and a jumper when I can deliver them - - - looks like a total of about $900.00 to me [raising money to send my students to an art workshop] - - -but I am so punchy/tired that I could be hallucinating. There were wrecks on the way home - - both I-5 from Lacy and 101 between Oyster Bay rd. and Shelton. It took me 2 1/2 hours to get home form Pacific Avenue!! I just about shat!!

More will be revealed - - it was sure good seeing you today - - too brief however!Lemme know how it goes on Saturday. I love you, M

What a rotten drive home -- we have to be thankful, I guess for small mercies in this traffic that gets worse every year. $900 is good so far! You have been your usual standout! You know, it keeps popping into my head -- that time you made soup to try to tempt my mother's appetite, and how much that meant to her and me. I want to thank you again for that -- you are A Number One with me. L, V-ness

Thanks V - - Guess what - - I have absolutely no memory of making soup for your Mom - - and guess what else - - you are still the best - - over the top - - the best!!

I actually feel sick today - - I think it was the drive that did it -- after dark when I cannot see. I am trying to get myself together here - - but I think I shall call L and beg off - - stay in bed with a can of tomato soup for my dinner - - otherwise I shall not make to Rapid City on Thursday.

I am very thankful for you in my life - - and my goose down bed today!! M

Raising Money to send My Students to Centrum
Also raising money by selling groovy student-designed T-shirts -- these 5 and other designs

25 November 2003

Give me a C-R-A-N-K-Y -- cranky! cranky! o-ver-tired!

The roof thing is stupid -- they started when it was nice, then stopped. The metal is ripped up and banging in the wind (when the wind is from the wrong direction). I emailed my landlord last Tuesday and he said a roofer had fallen off the roof and injured his foot but is nearly better. He said he, the landlord, had been laid off and would help the roofers finish. I* emailed again today and said, "When??? I don't need the whole roof finished but someone needs to stop the terrible noise!" The metal roof is going over top of the old roof, and yes, I'd bet there was a cheap deal in there somewhere. A cheap deal that is getting expensive, if you think about the damage probably letting water in, and the renter (me :-) about to ... I don't know what. The evil roof is quiet so far...may get some sleep tonight. Josie asked me what I was doing for T'giving. I said I was going to Con's to have T'g with her and her family. She said, "Where's your mother?" Children are so innocent. I'm watching Fellini's 81/2 (Otto e Mezzo, apparently) from the library. Marcello Mastroianni was such a beautiful man.

*dossed down on the crummy couch with earplugs and tylenol pm and pillow over my head -- still no sleep........

23 November 2003

OK... Liberian not Nigerian... and I think sometimes when I'm a little down I really can get quite stupid.

On a lighter note: FBI agents have nabbed a Sunnyvale encryption software developer who allegedly made death threats against a Canadian Internet company he wrongly believed responsible for sending him penile enlargement ad e-mails.

I took E shopping today at slaveways. We did the "add by calculator" rounds from the opposite end of the store from last time (as we didn't make it all the way around last time). I sent E through a checkstand and I went through the one next to it. Then it turned out the check from the payee was 40 not 50 as always before, and for some reason I got the idea that was the only check she had -- paid the difference, then found she had three 50 dollar checks... not sure why I thought she didn't... except I don't see them or have them, I don't know. I am trying not to feel like it was a mix-up that was all my fault and reveals a terrible character flaw -- maybe it was, but I'm not sure I can quite be responsible for it. Plus in truth it doesn't matter much. Told E I would go through the checkstand with her from now on, and she agreed as she'd felt somewhat overwhelmed. Connie took her to have her hairs snipped yesterday, and it looks very good. Yay!

22 November 2003

Not Drunk, But Should Be
To Lunica:
Yeah, yeah -- blind Nigerians. How .. uh.... uh.... mmm... what happened to the blind Nigerian girls? Couldn't they sing? What if one were blind but not musical? What if one could see fine, but one's latent talents were only likely to be exposed if one were blinded? If all my stupid questions were laid end to end in 72 point type, would they reach further than Tenino, or can't I escape even in that meaningless way? What about larger type? Christy last year while doing the 7th grade yearbook page needed a big number. I suggested a 666 point type size and it was just right. If all my stupid questions were laid end to end in 666 point type would they reach Nigeria? Can anybody reach Nigeria? What size type are they using? How big is their computer monitor? Is it an lcd? Are their questions more stupid than mine? By a factor of what?

How about 999 point type? Can I get Nigeria to move closer?
And Then My Head Exploded...

No real difference though.

Previous Email to Lunica:
...people lied a lot in the past and thought the lies would never be exosed (i.e. T.E.Lawrence) -- is everything too exposed now? We regard lying to make yourself interesting as a weak, crummy thing to do. But couldn't it be a poetic thing instead? I want to trust what I'm told -- if I ask a direction I don't want to be told the wrong way (away from instead of into town) -- but if a person lied and the lie was never exposed, well... what then? What about husbands who always tell their wives the wives look lovely. What if that... ISN'T THE TRUTH??? Do we have too great a reliance on truth because our imaginations are too small? Are there different grades of lie? Why does a lie seem disappointing? I wasn't there anyway -- so if you told me you saw a flying pig today, what would be the real difference to me if you told a lie or the truth? Is the real nature of the world happier with lies? Are lies rich and fertile, or thin and watery? The truth is only to be pinned down with much effort. The myths and stories of mankind attest to the way we encase the truth in lies -- to make it more interesting, perhaps. Exaggeration is a form of lying -- essential to art -- but it also reveals the truth. Can you separate the sea from the shore? Why would you? Are we hung up on this? Because we think the truth will help us? Because we tolerate one kind of lie (say, science fiction, or graphic art) but not another (check's in the mail, I had a vasectomy)? Can pigs fly? Why or why not? As long as there's a discrepancy between what can be and what I can imagine, lies have got to exist. Otherwise I'd have to shut up.

21 November 2003


Marty: | Greetings Valued Customers,
| We wanted to send you an email acknowledging what you may have already
| realized, that your website(s) were down for approximately 4 hours today.
| This outage was caused by a router failure at the datacenter that houses
| the servers for many hosting companies on the east coast of the US. I can
| assure you it was not a problem with our services.
| We apologize for your inconvenience.
| Kindest regards,

Me: Yeah, I noticed -- however I reckon that's the risk of any web-based endeavor.

Marty: We appreciate your understanding, thanks!

Friend: i was just sure you'd want to know we were temporarily croaked today. . .but all is well now. . .

Me: I knew that because I am always doing things. I saw my several sites were down, no mail, and checked yours -- saw it was down, too. The web is just like that -- nothing to be done, really. It's a miracle of information dissemination, and sometimes someone has a condom.

20 November 2003

Ridiculously small amount of snow -- going to work.

19 November 2003

I'm as Mad as Hell But I'm Sure I'll Continue to Take It

Tiff:> I am in favor of Gay Marriage but hate that it has
> come up one year before the election. It will be a
> rallying cry for George and the conservatives. People
> will vote feeding tubes, gay phobia, abortion, the
> ten commandments, and guns--UUUGGGHHH!!!! The war
> will be lost in all the stupid social issues.

Me: If there were only more homosexual people there'd surely be a Democrat in the White House. The Dems should come out in favor of guns, but only when they're used to shoot Republicans (or Ralph Nader supporters). I'm against feeding tubes -- especially political ones. Outlaw lobbying! No man should have any say in abortion. And that includes Jesus. Actually, I'm in favour of government backing off totally from marriage, as there seems to be no social reason for them to be involved. People can go to their own institutions (or not) to get hitched.

18 November 2003

Bye Bye, Jocelyn

I was sorry to see that Jocelyn Dohm died yesterday as I liked her. She had a little letterpress business in Olympia, and I took my students to see it once or twice. She started the business with a friend, and they bought what was, for a print shop, an old crummy press, but was the start of a 60-odd year adventure for her. She and her father built the little wooden building that wound up chock full of presses, types, stacks of paper, ink, and decorative cuts. Last time I was there I guess there were maybe (uh... don't really remember) 3 or 4 presses, and I'd never before seen the diabolically clever way the press sucked up a sheet of paper, swung it onto the bed, printed, rolled on ink, etc. How delicious! Later I lived at Ward Lake and my landlord had an outbuilding with a press, lots of type, and other things, that I believe his father had used to print various things like Christmas cards. I know not where that press is today. Lunica took a letterpress class, and printed a groovy broadside as a Christmas present. I love type and printing and so one, theoretically, but trying to reorganise type that's got mixed is a horrid nightmare and takes forever. I have an etching press at school, and we use it to print monotypes, which is about the ideal to me. After the Flood, the school was rebuilt, and the architects asked us what we wanted. I had suggestions for the whole school, but many for my own room -- and I got them all, including the etching press, which was built by Takach Press Company in Albuquerque. I went down there to visit, and went through the entire factory, videotaping the very comprehensive tour given Judy and me. I was staggered that they took what seemed to be rusty well casing and machined everything to make beautiful presses. And their ball-graining machine was an incredible thing to see all by itself! Other things I asked for and got were: a flatfile, a storage room, no carpeting, two sinks, tons of cupboards. Of course, I was ousted from my room before last school year, and now I'm in the hottest room in the building (according to the vice-p), which is... well....................................ok.

I saw Kathy, Skunky's wife and my former student, today, with Cecelia and Kathy's two tykes. Kath and Cec were both students I had a lot to do with a million years ago.

Fourth Big Power Outage

I was just sitting here working on some graphics and everything went black. That was about 9 last night. It was difficult getting from here to the kitchen, but I did it, and found the candle stubs (note: buy more candles). I decided to eat dinner, so got a packet of chicken luncheon meat, and spend some time hacking it open with scissors. Then the stuff wouldn't come out except in little wads, and I was frustratedly squashing them onto a blueberry bagel when it occured to me -- Relax. This is your entertainment for the evening! The loose piece of metal roofing that manifested itself a week ago had built up from its former height of stage thunder noise to the unable-to-be-beaten-I-hope sound of a garbage can rolling down a cobblestone street. Ceaselessly. I tried to sleep, but didn't, then leapt up when the power came on at 2:45 to get the time off car and set the clock and alarm for work. Grabbed my pillow and came into the living room to doss down on the couch. Slept about 15 minutes (but not all those minutes were together), then leapt up as the alarm went off at 6:30. Went to work and emailed my landlord in an exhausted snit. He replied, "I will be helping K. finish the roofing job as soon as the wind and rain die down. B. is recovering from the foot injury resulting from his fall. Since I got laid off from my regular job, I suddenly found so much time on my hands. I'm adjuting to this new found freedom." Arriving home today I saw that Other pieces of roofing have partially disengaged from what might be referred to as "the roof" but only in the way someone might refer to the last American presidential "election."

17 November 2003


I think if I designed a house I'd want (I'm thinking here on this spot or a similar facing-water location) the water-side walls to be glass. The paint on the walls would have Bucky balls or something mixed in with it so you could touch anywhere and turn the clear glass translucent all the way to opaque. I don't like ceilings, so the roof would be clear -- maybe with water flowing over it so it would keep cool and there'd always be that beautiful water sound. All the glass would have little cleaning robots on it.

Fooling about in There as usual. Got a new shirt. Even though I thought I wouldn't want anything I hadn't designed myself, I saw this and liked it...

16 November 2003

Power Out Again -- Third Time [I only count big ones.]

From about 11am to 7:34pm. I was dying to wash my hands, and had spent part of the dark time reading by the light of a beeswax candle, which was slow going. Now I'm nuking and toasting and surfing -- better get my trizzities fix in while I can. It was made worse by the flapping piece of sheet metal above my bed -- stage thunder all day long. May the wind keep quiet, now. In my cave with no power, heat, water, and the extreme noise of stage thunder, I had plenty of time to think about Mankind's past. I'm lucky to be living in this time of lights, as I really don't like the dark (just because I'm an artist and like to SEE -- not from fear). I don't like candlelight* either for the same reason. Maybe I'd've felt differently had I been born in a time of dim lighting, but all I can say is -- give me the bright lights, baby.

*never seems romantic to me, just dim

15 November 2003

what kind of social software are you?

14 November 2003

Which Suits You Best: Pliers or Tweezers?

Looper says she'd be a bomber before she'd be a sniper! Especially if a dreamy guy wanted her to bomb something. However, I'd be up in a tree somewhere --as antisocial as I am. I was brought up to refer to those long-nosed pliers as "snipe-nosed pliers," after the bird. I have amused my students for many years by telling them (when the subject comes up which isn't often) that I pluck out bristly hairs on my chin with pliers. Snipe-nosed pliers, actually. Shock and awe! Then the children say their mothers pluck out similar hairs with tweezers. I reply that I'm much more a pliers than a tweezers person. I like tools, art supplies, machines, large animals, etc. I don't like makeup, cheap metal implements, cheesey cheap-lace trim, bobble fringe, etc.

13 November 2003


I watched The Mozart Brothers, a Columbian movie (forget title), and Cria Cuervos the day before yesterday with Tiff, then watched Mozart B again yesterday -- untraditional opera director staging Don Giovanni -- reminded me of Waiting for Guffman. Was good, but every bit of music made me want to see the damned production never mind the movie.

12 November 2003

Beautiful Lakecam shot just now...

Are You a Bomber or a Sniper?

From Looper: I have been thinking about what you said in the blog about lab rats and the president. One of the movies last night (about the Weather underground) had footage of Nixon, and you realize how truly spooky he was. But he wanted the job, a truly horrible job that no one in his right mind would want. The movie was a good time capsule (I wondered how I could have been so out of it that I had not known, really, about these bombings) though a romanticized one, which skirted the shadows, particularly about Bernardine Dorn. Most of the women were too resolute; a few men questioned what it was, if anything, they accomplished.

And the movie about girls in prison was good too--similar to Hoop Dreams in structure.

Reply: There was so much else going on at that time that the Weather Underground didn't have center stage. Nixon truly was horrible. In Philadelphia we had Rizzo as mayor at the same -- evil former police chief Rizzo -- how can one place be so benighted as to deserve Rizzo and Nixon? The only "good" one at that time was Angelo Bruno -- we were so low in the depths that the mafia was a force for good in some ways. It was a street war in the city. Very violent. The cop cars were literally falling apart. The cops felt, I'm sure, as if they could do anything -- supported by their own in office. They were just one social segment in a city of many separate sections divided and full of hatred for each other. I can remember feeling hatred and fear of the Philadelphia cops, and admiring the NYC cops (relatively), who seemed more part of the community, understanding, and watched over by higher-ups who didn't give an automatic stamp of approval to any awful thing. I was aware of the Weathermen, but it seemed as though they were just another violent voice in a cacophony -- and a periodic one at that. I don't think I ever thought blowing things up was a good idea. I would think that if a person is willing to do serious damage to things, a blunt instrument like bombs is too crude. Better to have one target and a rifle. I mean, I guess.* It still wouldn't make the person RIGHT, but it would be more effective. But -- although I didn't see the movie and I can't claim to remember exactly what they felt they'd accomplished -- maybe mere social disruption was their desire.

*when school went to see Clinton in Tenino (during the Zodrow years) I saw men in black with rifles, and I said, "Are you snipers?" -- which of course they were, but they didn't answer. We weren't supposed to think of them as snipers. They were SS bodyguards, I reckon. But I've got more of a sniper personality than a bomber mentality. That should be reversed -- sniper mentality and bomber personality -- since bombers (I'm making this up) are social, and snipers are not. I think theatre majors in uni would all be bombers, and art students would all be snipers. I should make a quiz out of this. Are you a bomber or a sniper? One would think writers would fall into the sniper category.

10 November 2003

I had a weird dream last night wherein Scarpia was dressed like Tosca, in a heavily beaded gown of a strong yellow. Tell me that's not enough terror for one person.

I remember Mario said, "You've got to be kidding!"

09 November 2003

The lake two minutes ago.

As it was uploading a bald eagle flew in front of my window.

It's amusing that, when I'm playing opera CDs, there's a mental note every time a spot is reached that was where a vinyl record ended. Even after so, so long -- and I first got a CD player in 1989 -- the end-of-the-record spots are noted.

Invited to a playing of crystal bowls, but I think I won't go. It's too tied in with a funeral the crystal bowlers are going to today, and how I'd need to call to see if what time I should be there -- and I don't want to call because it's too much of an intrusion... etc. Too complicated, I reckon.

I was reading about Italian politics, about which I don't know enough. Well, I hate politics. When I was married I remember telling my husband that being enthusiastic about a new president was like lab rats being happy about a change of scientist. Anyway, I was thinking about an interview I read a month or two ago, wherein an ex-pat Italian said he no longer felt connected to his home town, although he had spoken of it with great love. I have wondered about it, all this time -- could what he said somehow be connected to the Italian political situation? Is that a huge, "Duh!" I hear? Then I was thinking (unrelated) about the place near Milan where pollution on a huge scale involving dioxin rendered an entire area, for all intents and purposes, dead. So I went to Google and put in "Milan dead dioxin valley" and it came right up. 1976, Seveso. If you do good it seems you must keep at it: you can't stop for an instant. If you are intent on evil, however, once is enough -- it keeps right on going.* Good is like protecting something -- doesn't seem to exist outside the present moment. Evil is like killing someone -- do it once and it's done forever. Evil seems to be more time-based. So it's easier to do evil, I'd reckon. It's heartening, in a way, that there is as much beauty in the world as there is -- people must have a greater percentage of good than evil in their makeup, otherwise the world would be a scorched, ribbon-built, chain-stored, polluted, uglified place all over instead of just in bits.


So... does that reveal anything useful about Time? Say, that Time is evil, or Time something else, or Time doesn't exist?

Isotope Half life
Strontium-90 28.1 years
Caesium-137 30 years
Uranium-235 710 million years*
Plutonium-239 24,400 years

08 November 2003

A. volunteered to take E. to the rendez-vous for the volleyball team -- she picked E. up at 6:30 am. Very, very kind of her. She also said she would take her tomorrow same time if E. needed it -- but the team is out, so there's no need. I picked E. up, which was a long wait. On Friday E. lost her id card, Safeway card, and $40 (according to her report there were 2 twenties -- I wondered where the rest of it had gone -- if she spent it good on her). She showed me a load of photos Steven sent her from Oz. She'd written to him twice -- following what I told her in general about overseas postage -- she's amazing. I was gratified to see today that, as well as not being depressed as she has been in the past (from being a grown woman living with an elderly woman), she has blossomed from the physical demands of her life. I see a great and positive change in her, which is due to her independence. Yay!

06 November 2003

Now I know what happened to me.

I encountered a shockwave at the edge of the solar system.

03 November 2003


02 November 2003


Tip of the Iceberg in my Flatfile

Looking for some old photographs from my father -- hard when you only have one hand. Everything is slipping around and falling. Where o where?? I found my Endless Summer poster without looking for it, though.

Had this on my wall for years when I was a teenager. Was torn out of Esquire, April no year.

One of my bazillion skull x-rays (nice fillings).

Miserable high school students in 1971.

Close-up* not including me (what -- I'm not that crazy).

Another thrift shop photograph. Stamped "Miami, Fla" on reverse, explaining the sand. Nothing expresses that Christmas spirit quite like chain link.

*Andrej, a wrestler from Russia, with fist up -- friend I remember. Connie and Sue -- actually these girls were friends of mine which is weird as I have friends now named... Some of the others look familiar...

My mum's grandfather was a collier, and a rough man. He had a family with one boy and a load of intelligent girls, one of which he plonked down on the fire when she was bothering him. My great grandmother finally kicked him out, and I have no idea what happened to him, except the daughters took out a life insurance policy on him. The daughters went on to do interesting things, and they vainly hoped Jack, the son, would not follow his father into the mine. That masculine culture got hold of him and off he went. He married a woman his sisters didn't care for, as they saw her a lazy and not too brainy. Apparently (my mum told me) she bought bread instead of making it, and had many children, which caused Mummy Barbara (my grandmother) to make a pithy comment that I won't repeat. My mum lived in London but spent lots of time at her beloved grandmother's in Sunderland. She told me stories for years and years about the way of life, the pithead, the sweet shop, riding on her Uncle Jack's shoulders ("Come on, White Skull," he'd say. "Come on Black Skull," She'd answer.)

My father's father lost his mother, then his father married the housekeeper. She was cruel to him. He wasn't a young child -- I'd guess he was a teenager. My mum told me he'd come home to find his dinner, and the dog's dinner, in the oven, but he couldn't tell which was which. He ran off, and asked the father of his wife-to-be (I think he was friends with the many brothers and stayed there when he ran away) what he should do, and the father told him to become a plumber as he'd always have work. He did, although he became a builder. I was told many times that among the buildings he built, he built the first synagogue in Leeds. We aren't Jewish, but the result down the ages was that my father always ate matzohs. They are a lot like water biscuits, anyway, and a lot easier to get around here. Just recently the kind he liked disappeared and some inferior (to us) kind became ubiquitous. So he was unhappy about that for a short time, then he died, so I guess it worked out.

I've been listening to this I Lombardi recording every day -- the performance was brilliant. The recording of the performance was... not so good... but at least there is one. It's not like those early opera recordings which make you look around for the organ grinder's monkey, but it's very crude. But -- listening just now it made me cry at the end of Act 3. Luciano's beautiful voice was amazing, and as someone said, "He's a hunk. A fat hunk -- but a hunk." Renatta Scotto is unbelievably wonderful. My fave, Ruggiero, is lovely times one hundred. At one point I thought they were playing hacky sack with the microphone. Stop that! Don't you know people in the next millenium are going to be listening to this?

01 November 2003

E was all into the idea of Hallowe'en from a month or more ago. She bought a special bowl from the Goodwill, bought candy, made cookies (I made her take them to work). I called today to ask how it'd gone, and she revealed that she'd had NO trickortreaters at all, and was bummed about it. I said, "Well, what if we go REVERSE trick or treating? We'll go to friends' houses and you can run up and say "Trick or treat!" and give them candy. She laughed. So in the hope of salvaging this holiday for her we're going to Con's and Loosh's. The Monsters will be out. Then we'll go see the Pumpkin House (we were going to do that anyway), then go grocery shopping at Slaveway. I feel so downright terrible that if there were a way to not go but have it happen anyway, I would do it. Sadly, however, I have to do this, and maybe I will rally and rise to the challenge.

Oh my God -- Franco Corelli just died.

Ugh ugh ugh -- boo hoo boo hoo

Last night I dreamt that I saw on the computer screen that someone had died and it was very important. I remember blue -- seeing blue on the page. When I first got online this morning I didn't see anyone, and was surprised. But I guess the dream was true. And the text I read it in was blue. Me, too.

From Wikipedia: Despite his virile, "heroic" stage presence, Corelli suffered from terrible stage-fright. "They had to push him on stage," the soprano Renata Scotto recalled.

Franco Corelli Cooking Soup with His Dog

All Wet

I never thought of it before, but I was born by the River Hamble, crossed the sea in a ship, went along the St Laurence Seaway, lived by Lake Ontario, camped by Lake Kashabog, moved to the Delaware Valley then near the Chesapeake Bay, then near the Puget Sound, then worked in sight of the Nisqually River, lived on Ward Lake then Summit Lake -- and collect old photographs that seem to have water in them. One of my earliest memories is crossing the Hamble on a tiny ferry, and getting bitten by a swan (I was too young to grasp the concept that I needed to LET GO of the bread in order to feed the swan sans pain). I was just wandering around the web looking at ferries, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but the grave of A.V.Roe*. Now, that gave me a slight shock.

Some years ago I had a dream that I lived next to a river. It was the most wonderful thing. Then I woke up and realised I WORKED next to a river and lived on a lake. Maybe I need to move next to a river, though.

*Avro I am usually wrong, but I think he was gone from Avro by 1929.



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2002-10 2002-11 2002-12 2003-01 2003-03 2003-04 2003-05 2003-06 2003-07 2003-08 2003-09 2003-10 2003-11 2003-12 2004-01 2004-02 2004-03 2004-04 2004-05 2004-06 2004-07 2004-08 2004-09 2004-10 2004-11 2004-12 2005-01 2005-02 2005-03 2005-04 2005-05 2005-06 2005-07 2005-08 2005-09 2005-10 2005-11 2005-12 2006-01 2006-02 2006-03 2006-04 2006-05 2006-06 2006-07 2006-08 2006-09 2006-10 2006-11 2006-12 2007-01 2007-02 2007-03 2007-04 2007-05 2007-06 2007-07 2007-08 2007-09 2007-10 2007-11 2007-12 2008-01 2008-02 2008-03 2008-04 2008-05 2008-06 2008-07 2008-08 2008-09 2008-10 2008-11 2008-12 2009-01 2009-02 2009-03 2009-04 2009-05 2009-06 2009-07 2009-08 2009-09 2009-10 2009-11 2009-12 2010-01 2010-02 2010-03 2010-04 2010-05 2010-06 2010-07 2010-08 2010-09 2010-10 2010-11 2010-12 2011-01 2011-02 2011-03 2011-04 2011-05 2011-06 2011-07 2011-08 2011-09 2011-10 2011-11 2011-12 2012-01 2012-02 2012-03 2012-04 2012-05 2012-06 2012-07 2012-08 2012-09 2012-10 2012-11 2012-12 2013-01 2013-02 2013-03 2013-04 2013-05 2013-06 2013-07 2013-08 2013-09 2013-10 2013-11

I want to ask for thoughts about improving the world -- what do people need? How can things be organised?