Ennui
I am starting to worry about my constant carping on the subject of religion. It reminds me of a New Yorker cartoon; two men breaking rocks in a prison yard, one is saying to the other "it all started doing Jimmy Cagney impressions"
So how did it all start for me?
Exposed to "Christian" beliefs in my childhood. Some sound like good ideas, some sound a little sick. I am not a sheep and I need no bloody shepherd. Strange sexual rituals (marriage)
Most of the "leaders" don't seem to have read as much of the bible, as I have, and thier interpretations tend to the fantastic.
I try to think of the people involved as basically rational beings who merely express themselves differently, and that it's my job to try to understand.
As far as social implications are concerned, people believe in things, manipulating these people for political power is sick but inevitable.
The religious sites I monitor seem to consist of church insiders talking to themselves.
I see no dialog, no controversy. I even challenge them from time to time with provocative remarks, but, unless you're on the team and agree to agree, you have no voice. Neurotic escapeism.
Ah yes, churches have performance spaces. Weaseling my way into a church might be a way to find musical friends and promote my music. I guess I forgot the lessons I learned in public schools here in Seattle, that the "community" doesn't want a nigger like me. The Seatttle Symphony has refreshed my memory on that one.
I don't begrudge anyone thier beliefs, it's just that too few of them contain a concept of civility.
Oh.....definitions.
belief = expect
I don't actually expect anything out of the future, but the green shoots I see out my window call up a memory of flowers.
I used to "believe" that a kind word, even in an unpleasant situation was at least not a bad idea.
I used to believe that..something....but now I dont't expect.....whatever.
Actually, I believe I will go cook up another cup of coffee, be right back....
Hopefully this coffee will wake me up and I will figure out whatever it is that I am trying to say. Hmmm Maybe it's what I'm trying to do rather than what I'm trying to say. Maybe I'm just trying to write a post that is longer than some of the comments I get.
Yesterday was schoolday for me. I take the #7 bus because it runs virtually by my house. I get off on 3rd near Benaroya hall, I go to Caffe Ladro for a caffeine and carbs before I walk up the hill to Seattle Central Community College (voted best in the solar system a couple years ago). The walking is good, it will probably be made illegal soon. (special law just for me anyway).
Anyway as I walked by B'hall I saw a big bear get off another bus right beside me.
This bear was one whose habitat is in the far northern regions, and yet the bus she was on was heading north as if the bear came from the south. Came with in 8 feet of me. This is a frightening developement. The hairs on my neck stood up (knocked my hat off, it did) I walked on a little faster but had to stop for a crosswalk. As I waited for the light, I looked over my shoulder to see if I was safe. The bear seemed to be clawing at a rotten stump for bugs (or whatever they claw stumps for) Still quivering in fear, I was almost tempted to not wait for the green light, but I've had arctic training and know how to control my fear. I maintained sphincter control too. Besides, showing fear is the last thing you want to do in these situations. They can smell it and it makes them crazy. They can't help it, I understand that. It's just nature, and I've had enough. Not interested in any more claw scars, got enough of that in my working for a living years.
Anyway, the bear didn't attack and disappeared into a nearby cave.
Irony; it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been evicted from the other side of the street by weasels.
It must be due to global warming that her hibernation ended early.
Caffe Ladro uses only environmentally friendly free range beans.
They have nice peanut butter cookies.
Next monday, I'll wear my bearproof vest.
I don't actually expect anything out of the future, but the green shoots I see out my window call up a memory of flowers.
So, after class, where I'm developing a hopefully readable score to submit to a Minnesota orchestra who select scores for reading every year (never mine, I buy lottery tickets too) I walked back downtown to have lunch at Wild Ginger (excellent food and Jasmine tea)
Went to the library, went home, went to Southcenter, bought a joke book (pretty bad)
had dinner at a pub (pretty good) Went home, fell asleep reading the joke book.
How many mystery writers does it take to change a light bulb? Two, one to screw it in most of the way, and one to give it a suprising twist at the end. Went to bed, woke up, read the rest of the joke book, fell asleep, woke up, read the rest of a adventure novel, "Death on the Nevskii Prospect" fell asleep, woke up, tossed and turned, fell asleep, woke up, wrote something secret in my journal, fell asleep, dreampt, woke up again.
Hello, Goodbye
Wait a minnit! That "surprizing twist at the end" bit makes me wonder if the basic architecture of mystery stories and jokes are not the same. Something odd is going on here. Has anyone ever seen the two of them together?
Is that why crime is so funny?
So how did it all start for me?
Exposed to "Christian" beliefs in my childhood. Some sound like good ideas, some sound a little sick. I am not a sheep and I need no bloody shepherd. Strange sexual rituals (marriage)
Most of the "leaders" don't seem to have read as much of the bible, as I have, and thier interpretations tend to the fantastic.
I try to think of the people involved as basically rational beings who merely express themselves differently, and that it's my job to try to understand.
As far as social implications are concerned, people believe in things, manipulating these people for political power is sick but inevitable.
The religious sites I monitor seem to consist of church insiders talking to themselves.
I see no dialog, no controversy. I even challenge them from time to time with provocative remarks, but, unless you're on the team and agree to agree, you have no voice. Neurotic escapeism.
Ah yes, churches have performance spaces. Weaseling my way into a church might be a way to find musical friends and promote my music. I guess I forgot the lessons I learned in public schools here in Seattle, that the "community" doesn't want a nigger like me. The Seatttle Symphony has refreshed my memory on that one.
I don't begrudge anyone thier beliefs, it's just that too few of them contain a concept of civility.
Oh.....definitions.
belief = expect
I don't actually expect anything out of the future, but the green shoots I see out my window call up a memory of flowers.
I used to "believe" that a kind word, even in an unpleasant situation was at least not a bad idea.
I used to believe that..something....but now I dont't expect.....whatever.
Actually, I believe I will go cook up another cup of coffee, be right back....
Hopefully this coffee will wake me up and I will figure out whatever it is that I am trying to say. Hmmm Maybe it's what I'm trying to do rather than what I'm trying to say. Maybe I'm just trying to write a post that is longer than some of the comments I get.
Yesterday was schoolday for me. I take the #7 bus because it runs virtually by my house. I get off on 3rd near Benaroya hall, I go to Caffe Ladro for a caffeine and carbs before I walk up the hill to Seattle Central Community College (voted best in the solar system a couple years ago). The walking is good, it will probably be made illegal soon. (special law just for me anyway).
Anyway as I walked by B'hall I saw a big bear get off another bus right beside me.
This bear was one whose habitat is in the far northern regions, and yet the bus she was on was heading north as if the bear came from the south. Came with in 8 feet of me. This is a frightening developement. The hairs on my neck stood up (knocked my hat off, it did) I walked on a little faster but had to stop for a crosswalk. As I waited for the light, I looked over my shoulder to see if I was safe. The bear seemed to be clawing at a rotten stump for bugs (or whatever they claw stumps for) Still quivering in fear, I was almost tempted to not wait for the green light, but I've had arctic training and know how to control my fear. I maintained sphincter control too. Besides, showing fear is the last thing you want to do in these situations. They can smell it and it makes them crazy. They can't help it, I understand that. It's just nature, and I've had enough. Not interested in any more claw scars, got enough of that in my working for a living years.
Anyway, the bear didn't attack and disappeared into a nearby cave.
Irony; it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been evicted from the other side of the street by weasels.
It must be due to global warming that her hibernation ended early.
Caffe Ladro uses only environmentally friendly free range beans.
They have nice peanut butter cookies.
Next monday, I'll wear my bearproof vest.
I don't actually expect anything out of the future, but the green shoots I see out my window call up a memory of flowers.
So, after class, where I'm developing a hopefully readable score to submit to a Minnesota orchestra who select scores for reading every year (never mine, I buy lottery tickets too) I walked back downtown to have lunch at Wild Ginger (excellent food and Jasmine tea)
Went to the library, went home, went to Southcenter, bought a joke book (pretty bad)
had dinner at a pub (pretty good) Went home, fell asleep reading the joke book.
How many mystery writers does it take to change a light bulb? Two, one to screw it in most of the way, and one to give it a suprising twist at the end. Went to bed, woke up, read the rest of the joke book, fell asleep, woke up, read the rest of a adventure novel, "Death on the Nevskii Prospect" fell asleep, woke up, tossed and turned, fell asleep, woke up, wrote something secret in my journal, fell asleep, dreampt, woke up again.
Hello, Goodbye
Wait a minnit! That "surprizing twist at the end" bit makes me wonder if the basic architecture of mystery stories and jokes are not the same. Something odd is going on here. Has anyone ever seen the two of them together?
Is that why crime is so funny?
Labels: Bearclaws, Ho, Hum, Surprizing twist
posted by Lane Savant at 9:30 AM
8 Comments:
I do much wonder who, or whom, you might be referring to when you allude to "writing a post longer than some of the comments I get." I love you too, big boy --but of course not to the point of hot showers and tongues. The socialist and many philosophers firmly assert that religion is an opiate, blinders, arrogance, and ignorance. I just think it is more than a safety net. Most of us dig that the universe is a kind of special and unique place, and that probably it did not all happen as a happy accident. At least our right brain would like to think that there is a sense of order in the cosmos, not just darkness and chaos, only punctuated by the slightest amount of light. I heard a dude say one time," Happiness, shit, that is just those few moments each day when I am not in pain." But I love how you put part of your daily treatise,"Unless you are on the team, and agree to agree, you have no voice." Religions, the whole motley mantle of them that blanket humanity, from Krishna to Kryon, from Christ to Joseph Smith, from nihilism to pantheism, are like clubs that some of the "elite" belong to. If you hang around the clubhouse long enough, you will be pressured to join the damned club, to buy the dogma, to live the lies. For my stepchildren and wife's sake, I hung out at a Presbyterian church for about 8 years, as the girls were growing up. I played the game, talked the talk, even performed in front of the congregation. My training as a orator and actor came in handy. But after a time, I began to notice member's unrest while near me."He is really not a Christian," they would whisper to each other. So one Sunday I just quit attending. It was a shock to Melva, and she continued on without me for a year or two. Now even she just stays home on Sunday mornings, reading the paper, petting the cat, reading her novels, wrestling with me sometimes, and although she would prefer to continue to be a club member, she would more rather spend that part of our weekend together. So I do have some guilt that I am partially responsible for her lack of religious reinforcement. It was the same way when my first wife, who was Jewish, became upset when I quit going to temple. Spirituality is so much larger than one view, one club's concepts, and of course, it is much less to. I would rather, like you, stare out a sunny window and watch grass grow, and leaves bud, and birds build nests, than to sit in a stuffy room dubbed a sanctuary, and listen to hours of distorted views of what Jesus Christ or Peter, Paul, and Mary had to say. When one looks at the sexual rituals of other cultures, especially the middle eastern and aboriginal ones, we gain some insight into the institution of marriage, the legalization of procreation. Christ,sir, this only gets me a tiny bit into your post. I will come back with my other thoughts when I have a moment. By the way thanks for the vocabulary building: Ennui: (an-we') a feeling of weariness an dissatisfaction; boredom.
Glenn
I suppose that some priests might be sitting around wondering about celibacy and their faith and politics, and they might say,"I think my spiritual career all got started when I was doing those Pat O'Brien impressions." The other priest might respond with," Hell no. O'Brien was a wimp. I got off on Spencer Tracy impressions, and I could do a great Bing Crosby too." Followed by,"You know Frank Sinatra and Fred MacMurray both played priests in the 40's." and then,"So did Ed Harris a couple of years ago, what's your point? You can't do better than to emulate Spencer Tracy. Remember how he straightened out Frank Sinatra in THE DEVIL AT 4 O'CLOCK ?" and then,"I preferred Tracy straightening out Mickey Rooney in BOYS TOWN and MEN OF BOY'S TOWN."
Followed by," Oh Christ, you would!"
Lane Savant said one fine day,"I am not a sheep and I need no bloody shepherd." I am sure that is the case. According to some small minded assholes in the SSO, Savant is a wolf in pariah's clothing, and certainly needs to be kept away from all those poor defenseless sheep. "Neurotic escapism," oh yes, Dougie, what a wordsmith you can be. How nicely and sweetly you describe the mass brainwashing that goes on in the tons of tents and churchs and masques and temples and cathedrals. I love your courage and aplomb when you refer to yourself as a "nigger". Some might call you a "wigger", or a white person who emulates the black experience, or you might be just bravely referring to the fact that the word means lazy, shiftless, irresponsible and could apply to any race, creed, or color; right? But regardless, your self deprecation is legion and honorable and worthy of mention. For me when a Christian, or any zealot asks me,"Do you believe?", it always puts my teeth on edge. It is like the question of faith. Things that can not be proved empiracly often fall into the realm of "faith", which by definiton means to admit one's ignorance of a fact, but just disregard logic and "accept" the dogma, tradition, and club rules.
Your mention of flowers yesterday stuck in my cortex, and on the way home from work to join Melva for an anniversary dinner, I stopped by a florist and bought a dozen long stemmed roses, mixed in four colors. I bought a card to go with them. I never crapped my britches when the twitchy young woman with bleached red hair told me I owed them $58.61 for the fucking flowers, but I gulped back my naivte, and paid up. Melva loved them, by the way, along with the Argentenian beef steaks we wolfed down in a joint called ASADO in Tacoma.
You instincts are probably bang on relative to getting your music heard if you cozy up to some congregation, but my recommendation is some Unitarian church. They tend to be more open minded and progressive. Try it, you'll like it. Your caffene jolt did perk you up some, and it is a joy, as anonymous states, to read your writer's journal, your blog postings --and I think you are starting to free yourself up some, getting into the stream of consciousness kind of writing. Good things, even great things can poke up their knarly heads in the midst of such ramblings.
Must be nice to be able to take a class at SCCC. One day when I too retire, and don't have to work for the man, I will know the joy of free focusing and following my whims. You are so much more of a lucky man than you seem to realize. Your encounter with the she-bear, the old sow that debussed near you was enlightening and frightening at the same time. You do have claw scars on you, sir, and you wear them well. But when we get our asses half slashed off, as homosapians, we are supposed to have learned something, and perhaps not put our gonads in harm's way in exactly the same manner again real soon. Of course time passes, and we feel those old stirrings, and those big-assed she-bear bitches start looking and smelling pretty good again. Our intellect, our spirit guides are waving the flags of danger, but our animal instincts are kicking in, and it is look out below, or above, or anywhere within ten feet of us. Someday I will have to go to Seattle, look up the Caffe Ladro and try the peanut butter cookies. You make them sound delicious. Maybe you can show me some time, as well, what the hell a bearproof vest is made of. Must be some super material, like the vests the cops use I guess. WILD GINGER sounds like a nice joint too. There is a cartoon joke book out there somewhere called NEVER EAT ANYTHING BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD. It is hilarious. You might have even given it to me decades ago. When of my favorite cartoons was "Gondolier being attacked by Rabbis", and there was "Never give a duck a handgun before Noon". You are correct, sir, and a "good joke" does fall into the realm of mystery. Why does it work? What fear does it tweek? Was the build up sufficient, and was the punchline perfect? Keep those postings coming Msr.Savant. They make my day.
Glenn
By calling myself a nigger, I refer to my social caste. I am good enough to do the work but not welcome at the party.
It's my way of pointing out the hypocracy of our "classless" society.
Especially in this ptomkin liberalist
environment.
Oh, yeah, also to insult the SSO by insinuating that they are racists because they tied me up in barbed wire and tossed me in the Tallahatche
for talking to thier white girl.
A wide-ranging blog with many excellent ideas!! Some, but not all, elicited the following observations:
The bear was probably a Bena-unbenificent Security mobster in disguise to catch you and send you to prison for being within 100 yards of their Forbidden Empire. They don't need to do this to frighten away visitors, however; their stupid ticket prices do that!! (at least to me, when I'm in the Emerald City). Here in the concert hall in the German city where I live, the Third Tier prices are lower than on the ground floor ("Parkett"). At the Theater here, "One Flew Over the Cuckcuckoo's Nest" is playing to sold-out audiences; it should be staged on the 5th floor at 2nd and Union in Seattle, and they would not have to hire professional actors/actresses!! If the 5th floor occupants were on stage, people would willingly pay more to be in the safety of the far-away Third Tier!!
My Sig.-Oth. and I discussed religion and wars the other day, and she observed most (maybe all) wars were/are started by MEN(!!!) who felt called to start them by some God or another.
Glad you are also a patron of Cafe Ladro on Union; it is also my coffee-house-of-choice when I venture close enough to the Forbidden Empire (a.k.a. "Cuckcuck's Nest").
As I mentioned in my above-comment on this item, I am only in Seattle for about three months a year. This makes it uneconomic for me to rent an apartment on a yearly basis. What I'd really like to do is pay someone $500 per 30 days when I'm in Seattle for a room which would be mine for the full year, and I'd pay $50 per month for the months I would not be using the room simply to be able to leave my "things" (mostly some books and clothes and laptop+printer in the room when I'm back in Germany. My Significant Other has a Datscha in a lakeside suburb of the city where we live there, and we'd be willing to let my host(esse)s stay there for free for a couple of weeks (during warm months; it's not heated!) when they are in Germany.
You know who I am; anyone willing to "take me up" on this could contact you and you could pass the info on to me when I'm back in the Seattle area in May. I'll be there for at least one "Boheme" performance, as I convinced Speight to experience Gun-Brit Barkmin when he was in Berlin. She's a great singing-actress, and he agreed and signed her to do the "silver"-cast Mimi in the coming production in Seattle, so I feel morally obliged to hear her in Seattle, too. This should help underscore my future recommendations to him (I'm willing to come to Seattle to experience the people I recommend).
Anonymous I,I say, since these days there is an Anonymous II who pipes up and quips and cracks wise. Anyway, you offer sounds so sincere. I doubt that Lane Savant could put you up in his great castle at Rainier Beach, because his stepson still lives there too. I live clear down in Sumner, and work in Tacoma, which would not help out much. Maybe you could advertise in Seattle Weekly or the Volcano or the Little Nickel. There must be someone out there who could come through for you. It would be so wonderfully reciprocal to then visit Germany and stay at your lakeside cottage in the summer. It conjurs up great fantasies, sir. My Melva is traveling to Portugal this summer, with our youngest daughter. My medical condition precludes me from traveling, except my car, so I will stay home those three weeks and baby sit the animals. Having never been to Europe, it is hard to accept that at this point in my life I will probably never do so. But the best of luck to you in finding a "room" and a patron and possibly new friend.
Glenn
Anon, We have a spare room, but until the remodeling is done, it is laden to the plimsols with kitchen stuff.
Something to think about; there is somone who lives near your apartment in North Seattle who has a house but lives alone. Ha!
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