Post Script
The service was wonderful, and so was George, I gather, by the size of the crowd.
1200 music lovers make an awesome choral; they can actually can sing!
The home concert was mucho fun. All 20 of us jammed into a living room with a Double bass and a cello being played adroitly.
The food was good too.
The service was wonderful, and so was George, I gather, by the size of the crowd.
1200 music lovers make an awesome choral; they can actually can sing!
The home concert was mucho fun. All 20 of us jammed into a living room with a Double bass and a cello being played adroitly.
The food was good too.
posted by Lane Savant at 9:42 PM
12 Comments:
Death and man.
Death rides a pale horse
Death will outwait us all.
Death is the white shadow, the
white edge to our regular ones.
Death is a celebration.
Death is just a doorway
into yet another transition
for we entities, enit?
1200 people at the funeral?
My God, what a gathering.
Old George must have been
pretty tickled on high.
The cello concert sounds
like a hell of a lot more fun.
Facebook is humming like
a runaway train for me.
I'm sure it will slow down
for a grade soon. Checked
out Lori Larson's page,
and was fun to see how
age has caught up to all
or our old gang.
Great to have contact
with Don Bearden again.
What does it mean when
you tag a photo? Does
it transfer to their FB
page? And like you asked
last year, what is a poke?
Melva went back to work
this morning, and I have
spent too many hours on'
FB; but no one is hollering
my name, and the role call
is not being called up yonder,
so what the hell.
For those FFTL devotees who
want more on this funeral,
you can join Doug on
Facebook, and get
"the rest of the story".
..........Eddie Emerald
I'd call him a sadistic, hippohilic
necrophite, but that would be
beating a dead horse.
...........Woody Allen
Doontt lik ded tings, noway,
horsz included. I vizt manie
horsz to Cher karrits.
.................blue bunny
Youse klowns dont no spit bout
dead dudes. Walkk like too blocks
in mie shuzz sum time, and den
all youse punks cud savver life.
...............Vinnie
Woodrow is such an intellectual.
Makes me wonder why he is
sometimes funny; at least in
the older films.
................Uncle Milton
Just like Glenn, I weep when
I hear a cello played well;
something about the vibration
of those strings.
................Willie Nelson
***Rick's godfather.
Ozzie's brother-in-law.
Ozzie Nelson, moosebreath,
not the prince of darkness.
Be of love
a little more careful
than of anything.
...............e.e. cummings
Liz Gilbert: I'm sick of people telling me that I need a man.
Felipe: You don't need a man, Liz. You need a champion.
.........Julia Roberts to Javier Bardem in
EAT PRAY LOVE.
Love was one of my favorite
themes, as well you all know.
And my love for Douglas
is unrivaled--yet he has not
tried to "friend" me on
Facebook. What's up with that?
...............Emily
Found out yesterday that one
can repost blog entries over
on FB in the NOTES page, and
have been busy finding neat
videos, like 2 advertising my
2008 Suzuki, and 3 movie
trailers, and some of my poetry
along with the images I found
to accompany them. It brings
to mind the PALMER POETICS.
You could, and perhaps should,
post the Palmer poems that
I have mounted on FFTR, along
with the jpg images I found
to illustrate them. It would be
a fine adjunct for your FB
world. And perhaps this would
be the juncture that you need
to serialize some of your plays.
The literal sky is the limit on
the FB bitch. I am going to
be able to reap all the film
reviews, personal anecdotes,
and essays that I want; it
is like a win/win situation.
Visited the dentist yesterday
and got the news that I need
some future work done
That is always a joy.
Thanks to Friko, I have
stumbled onto MAGPIE TALES
another poetry workshop
run by Willow over at
Willow Manor. She has quite
a followiing when she puts
out a writing challenge.
She posts a pic, an image,
and she writes the first
poem; then the participants
write one and post it on
their blog site, and then
link back to MAGPIE TALES.
APPLEHOUSE has a couple
dozen of us who stay actively
writing, and Lynne Rees will
kick that back to life in
September, but hey, for this
week's challenge in
MAGPIE TALES 28, I was
participant #102. Friko
was #63. You still need to
consider becoming involved
in ARTISTS FOR OCEANS
AND ANIMALS, ramrodded
by my cousin, Jim Currie.
I posted some of the particulars
on FB this morning. Hey,
I "poked" Alex the other day
on her FB page, and I still
don't know what it means,
or how it works.
Death Rider
Death and man.
Death and armadillos
and deer, racoons, possums, rats,
cats, dogs, and one coyote,
all lying in rigor, with limbs splayed
awkwardly, lying patiently,
waiting for the ravenous raven
and peregrine to drop down
lightly next to them, needing to dip
their beaks and talons into the still
warm flesh of the roadkill entree.
Death can out-wait us all,
standing, sitting, crouching feral
and lethal just behind us, like
a gray edge on our shadow.
But Death does not have a skull’s face,
or a demon’s, or a devil’s, hell no,
often it looks like Robert Redford
on the classic Twilight Zone,
a fair-haired youth dressed like
a policeman, greeting us with a smile,
holding out a warm hand of greeting.
Death is just a doorway,
the Grand Transition rivaling birth,
another journey, prep work for rebirth.
Do not fear Death, for it does not
ride a pale horse--it is the steed itself,
muscled white and beautiful, like the
unicorns of legend, nostrils flaring,
withers writhing with anticipation,
waiting for you to leap onto its
wide back, grab a handful of silky mane,
and will it into a gallop, and you
ride that equusian rocket deep
into the billowing brilliance,
creating a sonic boom
as you pierce the veil.
Glenn Buttkus August 2010
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