It's a shallow life that doesn't give a person a few scars.
Garrison Keillor
********************
There are good scars and bad scars.
Many years ago I was attempting to get from northern New England back to New York City and my career. I had made it as far as a farm house in upstate New York. I was completely alone. It was the middle of Winter. I had a larder of food, but no heat and no electricity. I had to chop wood to warm myself and cook. One day I was sawing the branches off a fallen tree when the saw slipped and cut deeply into my finger.
I had no phone, no car, no neighbors and no traveled road nearby. There was no way to get to a doctor. So I tightly wrapped up the finger and held on to it for a long time until the bleeding subsided. When I looked at the wound I could see right down to the bone. I kept the wound clean and wrapped up as tightly as I could, For a week or so it meant doing everything one handed. But it eventually began to heal. The bleeding stopped, the pain subsided and new flesh grew over the finger.
When Spring came I got to New York due to an unexpected visit from a relative. I didn't tell her about the finger. Now I have a very faint scar on that finger. It was a good healing, and when I happen to see that scar I remember the incident with the saw one cold gray Winter day when I was trying to survive and get back to where I belonged. It's a good scar.
Scars are for remembrance. From them we can recall the events of our lives: accidents, attacks which we survived, foolish things we did. They can be marks of bravery and survival.
Then there are the bad scars. Those are the scars left on our emotions, the psychological scars. There are regrets for things we did or didn't do, for things we said or didn't say, insults we can't forget, enemies we can't forgive, deep long lasting scars of failure and rejection. And the worst kind, scars from wounds we haven't felt yet, caused by ignorance, arrogance, egotism, selfishness and lack of respect for those around us who deserved it.
Years ago I knew a producer whose entire life had been influenced and paid for by his very wealthy parents, including his college education and his position in the business world. This unfortunate fellow had no sense whatsoever of an ethical standard. He simply didn't have one. He remarked to me one day that he had no sinister side, and he really believed it. But he would lie, steal other people's ideas, interfere with their work, give orders that made no sense and issue insults that he thought were humorous.
He wrote a book about a subject of which he wasn't anywhere near to being an authority. Because of his position and his parents' influence it was published, of course, It got terrible reviews and no one read it. That didn't bather him. Everything he did was done with a smile and a sense of warm friendliness and comradeship toward everyone around him. His sense of self-importance was so grand that he was simply totally unaware of himself.
If he lives and wakes up he may begin to realize how much harm he has caused other people. He may come in contact with his sinister side. If he faces up to himself in an unjustifying manner and truly begins to regret his actions he may uncover the huge number of wounds he has caused himself. If he knows how many ways he has whipped, lacerated and burned his own character by his actions and sets about healing himself with repentance and a change of behavior he will carry scars for the rest of his life. And they will help to make him a better man.
When I read in the news about someone who is "scarred for life" my reaction is "So what!" We are all scarred for life to one degree or another and thank heaven we are. My scars are my business. They are no one else's. But I carry them proudly because they remind me of who I was.
DB= The Vagabond
*******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 7 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Me In A Church
Where there is love, there is no question.
Unknown
(Thank you Cindy)
******************
WHY I DON't GO TO CHURCH.
Carl Sandburg was fond of saying that "exclusive" was the ugliest word in the English language. I'm reminded of the lyric from an old sang "I'm in with the in-crowd. I know what the in-crowd knows." We spend a lot of time drawing circles to determine who's "in" and who's "out."
The one thing I expect from a church is that when I walk through the door I am not only welcomed but accepted. In spite of what a great many people may think and what a lot of religious pastors may preach, no religion has all the cards on holiness. But the one thing, which no one can own, that every religiom should have, by nature of what it is, is love. A church, more than any other place in the world, should be a house of love.
In my younger years I did some church going, looking for a sense of love that I didn't find anywhere else. For a lot of youngsters there is no love at home. They seek it in the safety of their church, if they can. I can remember several times when I approached the door of a church and was met by someone who looked at me with an expression which said "What are you doing here?" Oh, a lot of churches preach love, "All are welcome," but once inside you soon see where the lines are drawn. I once entered a church with a sign out front that read "God is Love." The only love inside was of the hypocritical nature.
I knew a woman in Missouri, a mother of three young boys, who divorced her husband because he cheated on her. She went to live with another man, until the divorce was final, then married him. Her church completely ostracized her. She was no longer "welcome." Instead of compassion and love, she got rejection. She was a sinner!
Speaking of sinners, there seem to be a lot of those around. Some church goers have given themselves the right to decide whom God hates and what exactly the punishments are for the various offenses against the divine will. We have been told that Aids is God's punishment for homosexuality. We were given a similar reason for Katrina, ignoring the fact that the gay section of New Orleans was the only area unaffected by the storm. We have been informed that the earthquake in Haiti was because the nation made a pact with the devil. The sin is that too many people listen to and believe in this sort of clap-trap.
On the other hand, one block from where I lived in New York there was a Catholic church. Every Thursday evening the service was conducted by an old priest. I had no use for the mumbo jumbo that went on. I went for his sermons, which were sometimes lengthy but always deep and inspiring. He had no bigotry or exclusivity about him. He was a loving man.
One Autumn I went on a tour of the synagogues of the Upper West Side of Manhattan. We got to a small converted brownstone in the 90's and the rabbi was an Englishman with a bright, happy manner who greeted us with joy. The women had prepared cakes and tea for us. He spoke with love about his religion, the various rituals and what they meant. He was genuinely glad to see us even though most of us weren't Jewish. The other rabbis we met were cordial but none had expressed the love that fellow did. I vowed that if I was Jewish and living in New York, that's where I would go, just to be in the presence of that jolly Englishman and his humble, immediate and all inclusive grasp of spirituality.
I was talking about him one day to a woman who lived in a small town way up north, a Christian girl, who said that if she ever met a Jew or a Muslim she would convert him. How can a thinking person even ignore that sort of closed minded arrogance?
If I visit your church and you tell me that yours is the one true religion, that I need to be "saved" and that you "love" me "in Jesus' name" I am outta there. No need to show me the door, I can find it myself.
So now I don't go to church. Instead I study philosophy. Why? To become a better man. What does that mean? It means to become a more virtuous man. Philosophers have been thinking and writing about virtue and how to be more virtuous since way before there were any Christians, Muslims or Synagogues and they do it because they love humanity.
I'm not areligious, antireligious or sacrilegious, but I'm not an absolutist either. I'm a ponderer, a wanderer, a vagabond.
DB
*****************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 7 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Unknown
(Thank you Cindy)
******************
WHY I DON't GO TO CHURCH.
Carl Sandburg was fond of saying that "exclusive" was the ugliest word in the English language. I'm reminded of the lyric from an old sang "I'm in with the in-crowd. I know what the in-crowd knows." We spend a lot of time drawing circles to determine who's "in" and who's "out."
The one thing I expect from a church is that when I walk through the door I am not only welcomed but accepted. In spite of what a great many people may think and what a lot of religious pastors may preach, no religion has all the cards on holiness. But the one thing, which no one can own, that every religiom should have, by nature of what it is, is love. A church, more than any other place in the world, should be a house of love.
In my younger years I did some church going, looking for a sense of love that I didn't find anywhere else. For a lot of youngsters there is no love at home. They seek it in the safety of their church, if they can. I can remember several times when I approached the door of a church and was met by someone who looked at me with an expression which said "What are you doing here?" Oh, a lot of churches preach love, "All are welcome," but once inside you soon see where the lines are drawn. I once entered a church with a sign out front that read "God is Love." The only love inside was of the hypocritical nature.
I knew a woman in Missouri, a mother of three young boys, who divorced her husband because he cheated on her. She went to live with another man, until the divorce was final, then married him. Her church completely ostracized her. She was no longer "welcome." Instead of compassion and love, she got rejection. She was a sinner!
Speaking of sinners, there seem to be a lot of those around. Some church goers have given themselves the right to decide whom God hates and what exactly the punishments are for the various offenses against the divine will. We have been told that Aids is God's punishment for homosexuality. We were given a similar reason for Katrina, ignoring the fact that the gay section of New Orleans was the only area unaffected by the storm. We have been informed that the earthquake in Haiti was because the nation made a pact with the devil. The sin is that too many people listen to and believe in this sort of clap-trap.
On the other hand, one block from where I lived in New York there was a Catholic church. Every Thursday evening the service was conducted by an old priest. I had no use for the mumbo jumbo that went on. I went for his sermons, which were sometimes lengthy but always deep and inspiring. He had no bigotry or exclusivity about him. He was a loving man.
One Autumn I went on a tour of the synagogues of the Upper West Side of Manhattan. We got to a small converted brownstone in the 90's and the rabbi was an Englishman with a bright, happy manner who greeted us with joy. The women had prepared cakes and tea for us. He spoke with love about his religion, the various rituals and what they meant. He was genuinely glad to see us even though most of us weren't Jewish. The other rabbis we met were cordial but none had expressed the love that fellow did. I vowed that if I was Jewish and living in New York, that's where I would go, just to be in the presence of that jolly Englishman and his humble, immediate and all inclusive grasp of spirituality.
I was talking about him one day to a woman who lived in a small town way up north, a Christian girl, who said that if she ever met a Jew or a Muslim she would convert him. How can a thinking person even ignore that sort of closed minded arrogance?
If I visit your church and you tell me that yours is the one true religion, that I need to be "saved" and that you "love" me "in Jesus' name" I am outta there. No need to show me the door, I can find it myself.
So now I don't go to church. Instead I study philosophy. Why? To become a better man. What does that mean? It means to become a more virtuous man. Philosophers have been thinking and writing about virtue and how to be more virtuous since way before there were any Christians, Muslims or Synagogues and they do it because they love humanity.
I'm not areligious, antireligious or sacrilegious, but I'm not an absolutist either. I'm a ponderer, a wanderer, a vagabond.
DB
*****************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 7 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Standing Better
Follow a straight path and do not walk in the footsteps of ignorant men.
The Koran
****************
When I read this quote I thought, Well, that's good common sense. Then I ran across this parallel quote from Psalms "Fret not thyself because of evil doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity."
Yesterday I wrote about being a leader and not a follower, or, more precisely, not getting on board when some idiot is riding his hobbyhorse thorough the land.
These two quotes caused me to stop and think. Every morning when I fire up the computer the first thing I do is check the news. It isn't long before I'm irate about something: people who have no authority sounding off about some issue. reading how our money is being wasted by programs that don't work and by large corporation executives pilfering us one way or another, bad laws being enacted and good laws not being administered, courts making stupid decisions, people who think they are clever casting humorous but insulting remarks about other people, pastors praying for the failure and death of our president, congress members vowing to vote against bills for political reasons only, foreign leaders justifying kidnapping, torture and assassination, bombing of civilians, religious leaders assigning divine causes to natural disasters, insane hatred expressed for racial, religious, national, cultural or social reasons, crime, disease, poverty, homelessness, ignorance, desperation and whole groups trying to hold back and reverse the improvements and progress of the world.
I realize I'm doing exactly what the Koran says not to do. I'm walking in the footsteps of ignorance by giving it part of the most impressionable part of my day. I am fretted before I even get to my email. I have been led to get on board and ride the hobbyhorse of anger, outrage and disgust. I'm doing exactly what evil wants me to do. I am an unwitting follower of the workers of iniquity by my reactions and envious fascination with the wrongs of the world.
A better reaction is to begin the day by finding the solid ground of my own sense of peace and right, to stand firmly on it and let it guide my thinking and not get on board the nowhere ride to chaos.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 7 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
The Koran
****************
When I read this quote I thought, Well, that's good common sense. Then I ran across this parallel quote from Psalms "Fret not thyself because of evil doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity."
Yesterday I wrote about being a leader and not a follower, or, more precisely, not getting on board when some idiot is riding his hobbyhorse thorough the land.
These two quotes caused me to stop and think. Every morning when I fire up the computer the first thing I do is check the news. It isn't long before I'm irate about something: people who have no authority sounding off about some issue. reading how our money is being wasted by programs that don't work and by large corporation executives pilfering us one way or another, bad laws being enacted and good laws not being administered, courts making stupid decisions, people who think they are clever casting humorous but insulting remarks about other people, pastors praying for the failure and death of our president, congress members vowing to vote against bills for political reasons only, foreign leaders justifying kidnapping, torture and assassination, bombing of civilians, religious leaders assigning divine causes to natural disasters, insane hatred expressed for racial, religious, national, cultural or social reasons, crime, disease, poverty, homelessness, ignorance, desperation and whole groups trying to hold back and reverse the improvements and progress of the world.
I realize I'm doing exactly what the Koran says not to do. I'm walking in the footsteps of ignorance by giving it part of the most impressionable part of my day. I am fretted before I even get to my email. I have been led to get on board and ride the hobbyhorse of anger, outrage and disgust. I'm doing exactly what evil wants me to do. I am an unwitting follower of the workers of iniquity by my reactions and envious fascination with the wrongs of the world.
A better reaction is to begin the day by finding the solid ground of my own sense of peace and right, to stand firmly on it and let it guide my thinking and not get on board the nowhere ride to chaos.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 7 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Following The Leader
Let everybody ride his own hobbyhorse up and down the streets of the city, as long as he does not make you sit behind him.
Lawrence Sterne
**********************
"Get on board little children
There's room for many-a-more."
One evening there was a fund raising telethon for some cause, I was never sure what it was. It was on a local New York Cry, public access TV station. There was an MC and other people making appeals. Everyone was a leader. There were no followers.
Toward the end of the program the MC introduced a folk singer who began to sing and snap his fingers to speed up the band. But the band leader didn't change the rhythm even though the singer kept snapping. In the middle of the song the MC interrupted the singer to say they had reached their goal. The band started playing a peppier number, a woman came out, grabbed the hand of one of the girls as if to make a circle. She reached for the girl on the other side of her to take her hand. But that girls wasn't going to join any circle, she danced around by herself and clapped in time to the music.
I'm glad they raised their money, but as for order, there was none. Everyone was doing their own thing and not getting on board of anyone else's.
"Every boy and every gal
That's born into this world alive
Is either a little liberAL
Or else a little conservaTIVE."
(W. S. Gilbert)
Here's my observation about political parties. The members of a certain party will disagree with each other some of the time, but the one thing they agree on is they don't agree with the other party and they will get on board and vote against anything the other party does, no matter how good it is, just because the other party proposed it. Some party! I'd rather stay home.
So you can ride your political hobbyhorse past my door if you want to but don't expect me to get on board.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 6 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Lawrence Sterne
**********************
"Get on board little children
There's room for many-a-more."
One evening there was a fund raising telethon for some cause, I was never sure what it was. It was on a local New York Cry, public access TV station. There was an MC and other people making appeals. Everyone was a leader. There were no followers.
Toward the end of the program the MC introduced a folk singer who began to sing and snap his fingers to speed up the band. But the band leader didn't change the rhythm even though the singer kept snapping. In the middle of the song the MC interrupted the singer to say they had reached their goal. The band started playing a peppier number, a woman came out, grabbed the hand of one of the girls as if to make a circle. She reached for the girl on the other side of her to take her hand. But that girls wasn't going to join any circle, she danced around by herself and clapped in time to the music.
I'm glad they raised their money, but as for order, there was none. Everyone was doing their own thing and not getting on board of anyone else's.
"Every boy and every gal
That's born into this world alive
Is either a little liberAL
Or else a little conservaTIVE."
(W. S. Gilbert)
Here's my observation about political parties. The members of a certain party will disagree with each other some of the time, but the one thing they agree on is they don't agree with the other party and they will get on board and vote against anything the other party does, no matter how good it is, just because the other party proposed it. Some party! I'd rather stay home.
So you can ride your political hobbyhorse past my door if you want to but don't expect me to get on board.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 6 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Monday, April 26, 2010
Weekend Contest Results
WEEKEND CONTEST RESULTS
Just as the checkered flag was about to come down and I was deciding to cancel all future weekend tests Val came across with the winning entry. It was a tough choice, and the judge was threatening to quit on me, but he came through with the pick, and so to Val of the Blogspot Tigers goes the genuine linoleum name tag for (drum roll)
The British fence saleswoman - Barb Dwyer
runners Up, all from the Tigers, include
The German Farm Girl - Brigitta Bauer (from Krissy)
The Clown - Peter Pratfall (from John)
Asian male adult film star: wang hung lo (from Mr. and Mrs. Alaineus)
and (also from Val)
Irish Bartender - Tom Collins
Alan Armstrong - American pitcher (or arm wrestler)
Bob Barker - A German carnival man with a loudspeaker
Cardinal in the Catholic church in Philippines - Cardinal Sin (I hear this is actually true)
Canadian gardener woman - Grace Green
Irish alterboy - Ian O'Neal
American luggage salesman - Justin Case
American electrician - Ida Sparks
British policewoman - Robin Banks
Okay. I'll do another one next week.
DB
*************************
Just as the checkered flag was about to come down and I was deciding to cancel all future weekend tests Val came across with the winning entry. It was a tough choice, and the judge was threatening to quit on me, but he came through with the pick, and so to Val of the Blogspot Tigers goes the genuine linoleum name tag for (drum roll)
The British fence saleswoman - Barb Dwyer
runners Up, all from the Tigers, include
The German Farm Girl - Brigitta Bauer (from Krissy)
The Clown - Peter Pratfall (from John)
Asian male adult film star: wang hung lo (from Mr. and Mrs. Alaineus)
and (also from Val)
Irish Bartender - Tom Collins
Alan Armstrong - American pitcher (or arm wrestler)
Bob Barker - A German carnival man with a loudspeaker
Cardinal in the Catholic church in Philippines - Cardinal Sin (I hear this is actually true)
Canadian gardener woman - Grace Green
Irish alterboy - Ian O'Neal
American luggage salesman - Justin Case
American electrician - Ida Sparks
British policewoman - Robin Banks
Okay. I'll do another one next week.
DB
*************************
The Best
The best are like water, bringing help to all without competing, choosing what others avoid, dwelling with earth, thinking with depth, helping with kindness, speaking with truth, governing with peace, working with skill, moving with time.
Lao Tzu
===================
Can it be said any more clearly than it was by this ancient Chinese philosopher? He wasn't just addressing the good people, he was addressing the best people.
Bringing help to all without competing. On the way back from the market with two bags of grocieies I tripped and fell face down on the sidewalk. I was immediately surrounded by three young boys and one adult. They came from different places but set right to work gathering up my groceries. The man helped me to stand up. Each of the boys held out a bag to me with everything put back into it. The third boy had rescued my hat. When they saw I was standing and okay, I thanked them and off they ran. I thanked the man who said "No problem" and he disappeared. Who did the best job of helping me? Who cares?
Choosing what others avoid. "In my pocket not a penny, and my friends, I haven't any. It's mighty strange, without a doubt, nobody knows you when you're down and out." That's an old song but it's words are still new. In the city the homeless sleep in boxes if they're lucky. In the Winter they try to sleep over the grates, because warm air comes up there. If they are fortunate enough to get into the subway they will sleep in less traveled subway stations. On my way back home one night on the Number 1 train, as it stopped at 135th Street I saw many people, wrapped in blankets, sleeping like windrows on a dark end of the subway platform.
I know what it is to be down and out, with not a penny and not a friend, sleeping in strange places and being avoided. Walking from work one morning I saw a man asleep in a nook on the side of a building. I woke him and asked him if he could sit up. He did, and then he stood up. He smelled bad but not of alcohol. I gave him $5 and told him to get some breakfast. He was grateful.
Dwelling with earth. We recently celebrated Earth Day. It strikes me as a redundancy. All it really does is to remind people of the need to take better care of the planet we live on. And it comes about as a result of some good people becoming aware of the damage civilizations have been doing to the Earth for centuries. There is a great fear of never being able to turn back the outrageous destruction and pollution to the natural environment that have taken place over the years and particularly over the last 100 years. And it's all based on a presumed stewardship. We divide up the land, hold deeds to it, raise live stock, cut down forests, build cities all under the theory that we own the Earth. But the Earth owns us, and nature could do away with the human race in a puff of smoke if it wanted to. Could you blame it?
Thinking with depth. We are a nation of freedoms: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom of the press. And along with those freedoms comes the freedom to think for ourselves, the one freedom least likely to be embraced by the average individual. Why do we turn off the thinking mechanism when we go to work or turn on the TV? Why do we garbage out the garbage that has been put in by other non thinkers? What happened to reason? And why don't we demand from our so-called thinkers a higher degree of reason and wisdom? Why do we listen to bromides instead of ideas? What's wrong with being an intellectual? There are many things that need to be thought about very deeply.
Helping with kindness. Two of the nastiest traits humans are capable of are cynicism and irresponsibility. It is so easy to shrug off one's potential ability to aid in soothing and healing the troubles of the world. When John Brown was out in front of the fight against slavery people gave him money but otherwise he was essentially by himself. As soon as he died the country filled up with abolitionists. Where were they when he was alone in the battle?
It is estimated that about 1,000 children die every day in Africa from starvation. One can say that the organizations that are trying to help are never going to stop that from happening so why bother. I give money for that and other causes when I can. So do many people. But is it enough? What more can I do to help those on the front lines of that fight? It's not easy but it requires letting go of any sense of haplessness and criticism. It requires being constantly aware that there are continuously desperate situations in the world and that as citizens of the world we must bear some degree of responsibility for seeing that they are being taken care of.
Speaking with truth. It takes courage to speak the truth. People don't want to hear the truth. They would rather hear fantasies and lies. But worse than that they will seek to silence those that are honest. I like the quote that says if you tell the truth you better have one foot in the stirrup. Truth is a very dangerous thing to some people. Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake, as were many other people, for telling the truth, but in his case they were so frightened of what he would say on his way to his execution and even when tied to the stake that they made a special wooden devise to put in his moth to prevent him from uttering a word.
People aren't sent to the stake these days, at least not in this country, though there are some neighborhoods where you might get shot to death for telling the truth, but there are some people who have become known as whistle-blowers and snitches who lose their jobs, can't get hired and are denied some benefits. Is that any reason for not telling the truth? It should not be. The lesson is, if you want to be honest, be careful.
Governing with peace. This country has been at war almost every year since before it was a nation. Why should that be? Why is the history of the world written in wars? It seems that there is a war or the threat of war going on some place in the world all the time. There is one group of people trying to destroy another group of people somewhere. It appears in many cases that when one political party comes to power it sets out to capture, torture and destroy the other party. What has put the human race into such a degrading ethical level that it can't think of anything but armed conflict? Why can't we step back and say that the purpose of government is to provide the best possible life for it's citizens and deal harmoniously with it's neighbors, then let it do that and help it along? And why can't governments accept that mandate and act accordingly? It just seems to me that many of the governments in the world just don't give a rat's whisker for it's people.
Working with skill. Anyone who has dealt with Tech Support lately knows how easy it is to get someone on the line who knows next to nothing about your problems. As annoying as that can be, I don't seriously fault those guys. They're trying to make a buck and yet haven't been sufficiently trained to take on many of the challenges that come to them on the phone. Sometimes they have to go and talk to a supervisor. And often, I think, they're rudeness comes out of the frustration of language barriers and lack of immediate knowledge.
No, I point the finger at the large corporations for trying to save money by out sourcing and getting labor for less. One day about 8 years ago I was stunned to find out that my tax return had been audited by some fellow in India.
The money they save may go into new equipment (which may put more people out of work) but, more than likely, it goes into the pockets of the executives and share holders, or at least improves the value of the stock. In my sometime job as a proofreader I read many of the documents from the corporate world that spelled out these policies very clearly.
When a skilled worker is let go to be replaced by unskilled labor attempting to do the same job, that's a rotten deal for everyone.
When I received an appointment to take a proofreading test for a temp job, I went to the bookstore and bought a book on proofreading, studied it thoroughly and when I went to take the test I knew as much about proofreading as I could. As a result I aced the test. I worked with skill.
Moving with time. "Gimme that ole time religion, it's good enough for me." There are some people who want to go back to what they call the "good old days." But the fact is the good old days weren't so good. Anyone who wants to return to an outgrown past shows a great lack of perspective. As someone wrote to me recently the best of the past tends to make it into the history books along with the worst, but the ordinary is forgotten. There are people who want time to stand still or else who are faced in the right direction but walking backwards. We can't go back and be babies (although some seem to try) and we can't restore things that are no longer useful to us and expect them to take the place of the new and more efficient. The world has advanced so much and so rapidly in the arts, the sciences, technology, transportation, communication, trade, education, social structures, individual freedoms of expression and, yes, religion, that one who does not understand and appreciate the forward motion of life and desire to experience what next unfolds in it is living in a basement.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
WEEKEND CONTEST RESULTS
Just as the checkered flag was about to come down and I was deciding to cancel all future weekend tests Val came across with the winning entry. It was a tough choice, and the judge was threatening to quit on me, but he came through with the pick, and so to Val of the Blogspot Tigers goes the genuine linoleum name tag for (drum roll)
The British fence saleswoman - Barb Dwyer
runners Up, all from the Tigers, include
The German Farm Girl - Brigitta Bauer (from Krissy)
The Clown - Peter Pratfall (from John)
Asian male adult film star: wang hung lo (from Mr. and Mrs. Alaineus)
and (also from Val)
Irish Bartender - Tom Collins
Alan Armstrong - American pitcher (or arm wrestler)
Bob Barker - A German carnival man with a loudspeaker
Cardinal in the Catholic church in Philippines - Cardinal Sin (I hear this is actually true)
Canadian gardener woman - Grace Green
Irish alterboy - Ian O'Neal
American luggage salesman - Justin Case
American electrician - Ida Sparks
British policewoman - Robin Banks
Okay. I'll do another one next week.
DB
*************************
Lao Tzu
===================
Can it be said any more clearly than it was by this ancient Chinese philosopher? He wasn't just addressing the good people, he was addressing the best people.
Bringing help to all without competing. On the way back from the market with two bags of grocieies I tripped and fell face down on the sidewalk. I was immediately surrounded by three young boys and one adult. They came from different places but set right to work gathering up my groceries. The man helped me to stand up. Each of the boys held out a bag to me with everything put back into it. The third boy had rescued my hat. When they saw I was standing and okay, I thanked them and off they ran. I thanked the man who said "No problem" and he disappeared. Who did the best job of helping me? Who cares?
Choosing what others avoid. "In my pocket not a penny, and my friends, I haven't any. It's mighty strange, without a doubt, nobody knows you when you're down and out." That's an old song but it's words are still new. In the city the homeless sleep in boxes if they're lucky. In the Winter they try to sleep over the grates, because warm air comes up there. If they are fortunate enough to get into the subway they will sleep in less traveled subway stations. On my way back home one night on the Number 1 train, as it stopped at 135th Street I saw many people, wrapped in blankets, sleeping like windrows on a dark end of the subway platform.
I know what it is to be down and out, with not a penny and not a friend, sleeping in strange places and being avoided. Walking from work one morning I saw a man asleep in a nook on the side of a building. I woke him and asked him if he could sit up. He did, and then he stood up. He smelled bad but not of alcohol. I gave him $5 and told him to get some breakfast. He was grateful.
Dwelling with earth. We recently celebrated Earth Day. It strikes me as a redundancy. All it really does is to remind people of the need to take better care of the planet we live on. And it comes about as a result of some good people becoming aware of the damage civilizations have been doing to the Earth for centuries. There is a great fear of never being able to turn back the outrageous destruction and pollution to the natural environment that have taken place over the years and particularly over the last 100 years. And it's all based on a presumed stewardship. We divide up the land, hold deeds to it, raise live stock, cut down forests, build cities all under the theory that we own the Earth. But the Earth owns us, and nature could do away with the human race in a puff of smoke if it wanted to. Could you blame it?
Thinking with depth. We are a nation of freedoms: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom of the press. And along with those freedoms comes the freedom to think for ourselves, the one freedom least likely to be embraced by the average individual. Why do we turn off the thinking mechanism when we go to work or turn on the TV? Why do we garbage out the garbage that has been put in by other non thinkers? What happened to reason? And why don't we demand from our so-called thinkers a higher degree of reason and wisdom? Why do we listen to bromides instead of ideas? What's wrong with being an intellectual? There are many things that need to be thought about very deeply.
Helping with kindness. Two of the nastiest traits humans are capable of are cynicism and irresponsibility. It is so easy to shrug off one's potential ability to aid in soothing and healing the troubles of the world. When John Brown was out in front of the fight against slavery people gave him money but otherwise he was essentially by himself. As soon as he died the country filled up with abolitionists. Where were they when he was alone in the battle?
It is estimated that about 1,000 children die every day in Africa from starvation. One can say that the organizations that are trying to help are never going to stop that from happening so why bother. I give money for that and other causes when I can. So do many people. But is it enough? What more can I do to help those on the front lines of that fight? It's not easy but it requires letting go of any sense of haplessness and criticism. It requires being constantly aware that there are continuously desperate situations in the world and that as citizens of the world we must bear some degree of responsibility for seeing that they are being taken care of.
Speaking with truth. It takes courage to speak the truth. People don't want to hear the truth. They would rather hear fantasies and lies. But worse than that they will seek to silence those that are honest. I like the quote that says if you tell the truth you better have one foot in the stirrup. Truth is a very dangerous thing to some people. Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake, as were many other people, for telling the truth, but in his case they were so frightened of what he would say on his way to his execution and even when tied to the stake that they made a special wooden devise to put in his moth to prevent him from uttering a word.
People aren't sent to the stake these days, at least not in this country, though there are some neighborhoods where you might get shot to death for telling the truth, but there are some people who have become known as whistle-blowers and snitches who lose their jobs, can't get hired and are denied some benefits. Is that any reason for not telling the truth? It should not be. The lesson is, if you want to be honest, be careful.
Governing with peace. This country has been at war almost every year since before it was a nation. Why should that be? Why is the history of the world written in wars? It seems that there is a war or the threat of war going on some place in the world all the time. There is one group of people trying to destroy another group of people somewhere. It appears in many cases that when one political party comes to power it sets out to capture, torture and destroy the other party. What has put the human race into such a degrading ethical level that it can't think of anything but armed conflict? Why can't we step back and say that the purpose of government is to provide the best possible life for it's citizens and deal harmoniously with it's neighbors, then let it do that and help it along? And why can't governments accept that mandate and act accordingly? It just seems to me that many of the governments in the world just don't give a rat's whisker for it's people.
Working with skill. Anyone who has dealt with Tech Support lately knows how easy it is to get someone on the line who knows next to nothing about your problems. As annoying as that can be, I don't seriously fault those guys. They're trying to make a buck and yet haven't been sufficiently trained to take on many of the challenges that come to them on the phone. Sometimes they have to go and talk to a supervisor. And often, I think, they're rudeness comes out of the frustration of language barriers and lack of immediate knowledge.
No, I point the finger at the large corporations for trying to save money by out sourcing and getting labor for less. One day about 8 years ago I was stunned to find out that my tax return had been audited by some fellow in India.
The money they save may go into new equipment (which may put more people out of work) but, more than likely, it goes into the pockets of the executives and share holders, or at least improves the value of the stock. In my sometime job as a proofreader I read many of the documents from the corporate world that spelled out these policies very clearly.
When a skilled worker is let go to be replaced by unskilled labor attempting to do the same job, that's a rotten deal for everyone.
When I received an appointment to take a proofreading test for a temp job, I went to the bookstore and bought a book on proofreading, studied it thoroughly and when I went to take the test I knew as much about proofreading as I could. As a result I aced the test. I worked with skill.
Moving with time. "Gimme that ole time religion, it's good enough for me." There are some people who want to go back to what they call the "good old days." But the fact is the good old days weren't so good. Anyone who wants to return to an outgrown past shows a great lack of perspective. As someone wrote to me recently the best of the past tends to make it into the history books along with the worst, but the ordinary is forgotten. There are people who want time to stand still or else who are faced in the right direction but walking backwards. We can't go back and be babies (although some seem to try) and we can't restore things that are no longer useful to us and expect them to take the place of the new and more efficient. The world has advanced so much and so rapidly in the arts, the sciences, technology, transportation, communication, trade, education, social structures, individual freedoms of expression and, yes, religion, that one who does not understand and appreciate the forward motion of life and desire to experience what next unfolds in it is living in a basement.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
WEEKEND CONTEST RESULTS
Just as the checkered flag was about to come down and I was deciding to cancel all future weekend tests Val came across with the winning entry. It was a tough choice, and the judge was threatening to quit on me, but he came through with the pick, and so to Val of the Blogspot Tigers goes the genuine linoleum name tag for (drum roll)
The British fence saleswoman - Barb Dwyer
runners Up, all from the Tigers, include
The German Farm Girl - Brigitta Bauer (from Krissy)
The Clown - Peter Pratfall (from John)
Asian male adult film star: wang hung lo (from Mr. and Mrs. Alaineus)
and (also from Val)
Irish Bartender - Tom Collins
Alan Armstrong - American pitcher (or arm wrestler)
Bob Barker - A German carnival man with a loudspeaker
Cardinal in the Catholic church in Philippines - Cardinal Sin (I hear this is actually true)
Canadian gardener woman - Grace Green
Irish alterboy - Ian O'Neal
American luggage salesman - Justin Case
American electrician - Ida Sparks
British policewoman - Robin Banks
Okay. I'll do another one next week.
DB
*************************
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Spin The Top
The real teacher is endurance.
Lawrence Durrell
*****************
Some wise person once said that we shouldn't complain about old age because it's a privilege denied to many. I say, if someone asks you your age. tell them, but start by saying "I'm only...." Thus, I'm only 71. I have a lot to learn. But I also have accumulated 7 decades of learning.
Some folks get bored after they retire and go searching around for something to do to keep them busy. Others are so glad to retire from their hum drum jobs they immediately seek adventure. I spent my life in show business. There are many things one can say about that world. It is aggravating, difficult, insecure and filled with irascible people. But the one thing no one can say about it is that it's boring.
I must write again about the first major influence in my professional life, Edward. When I first met him I realized that, even though we were quite different personalities, he really understood theatre. So I went to work for him. Edward's teacher was Maria Ouspenskaya, a Russian actress who had been trained at the Moscow Art Theatre under the direction of the famous Constantine Stanislavski. She eventually came to New York, appeared on Broadway and then went to Hollywood.
One day Edward told me that Ospenskaya had said to him she was going to screw into him an energy cell of enthusiasm that would last the rest of his life, and she did. And then he said to me. "I'm going to do the same thing to you." And he did.
Through his teaching, his directing, his spirit, personality and grasp of life, and through what he demanded of me and expected of me as an actor, I started to grow, and I've been growing ever since. I have learned to see the vibrating life in the color of the rose, to hear the elemental earth song in the strings of the cello and to feel when the tide changes.
The first thing he said to me, as director to actor was "Can't you find something to do?" That remark set a top spinning inside of me that has never stopped, and that was about 50 years ago. As a result of that simple question from the person I respected more than any other, I have had and still have an enduring enthusiasm for art, ideas, people and events. Though circumstances have deprived me of being a performing artist, I've translated that enthusiasm into writing and painting.
Another remark that has kept me going over the years is this famous quote from Winston Churchill, "Never give up. Never give up. Never, never, never give up." You can try giving up, you can moan, gripe, scream with rage, kick the dog (no, don't do that) and feel sorry for yourself. But no matter how much trash life throws at you, if you don't give up you will withstand it, outlast it and endure your way through it. And endurance is the real teacher.
Activity is a way of life for me. I don't have to discipline myself to be busy. I don't feel any obligation to do anything, except something I've put off for too long because I was busy doing something else. And all because a man I trusted set my top spinning many years ago with an energy cell of enthusiasm which has lasted, as he promised, the rest of my life, so far. But I'm only 71 so there's a lot more growing to do.
Thank you Edward.
DB
**************
WEEKEND CONTEST
(People say they like my weekend puzzles and look forward to them and then they don't do them.)
"What's in a name?" Your challenge is to give me a humorous name beginning with the same letters that matches a persons career, work or major activity. For example:
The Russian Cosmonaut - Boris Blastov
The French cabdriver - Henri Honkalotte
The Irish mechanic - Tommy Tinker
(Come one folks it's fun and easy. The Irish puppeteer Mary O'Nett.)
Enter as often as you wish, be imaginative, have fun and good luck. The decision of the bucolic judge is final.
2 entries so far
DB - The Vagabond
***********************
Lawrence Durrell
*****************
Some wise person once said that we shouldn't complain about old age because it's a privilege denied to many. I say, if someone asks you your age. tell them, but start by saying "I'm only...." Thus, I'm only 71. I have a lot to learn. But I also have accumulated 7 decades of learning.
Some folks get bored after they retire and go searching around for something to do to keep them busy. Others are so glad to retire from their hum drum jobs they immediately seek adventure. I spent my life in show business. There are many things one can say about that world. It is aggravating, difficult, insecure and filled with irascible people. But the one thing no one can say about it is that it's boring.
I must write again about the first major influence in my professional life, Edward. When I first met him I realized that, even though we were quite different personalities, he really understood theatre. So I went to work for him. Edward's teacher was Maria Ouspenskaya, a Russian actress who had been trained at the Moscow Art Theatre under the direction of the famous Constantine Stanislavski. She eventually came to New York, appeared on Broadway and then went to Hollywood.
One day Edward told me that Ospenskaya had said to him she was going to screw into him an energy cell of enthusiasm that would last the rest of his life, and she did. And then he said to me. "I'm going to do the same thing to you." And he did.
Through his teaching, his directing, his spirit, personality and grasp of life, and through what he demanded of me and expected of me as an actor, I started to grow, and I've been growing ever since. I have learned to see the vibrating life in the color of the rose, to hear the elemental earth song in the strings of the cello and to feel when the tide changes.
The first thing he said to me, as director to actor was "Can't you find something to do?" That remark set a top spinning inside of me that has never stopped, and that was about 50 years ago. As a result of that simple question from the person I respected more than any other, I have had and still have an enduring enthusiasm for art, ideas, people and events. Though circumstances have deprived me of being a performing artist, I've translated that enthusiasm into writing and painting.
Another remark that has kept me going over the years is this famous quote from Winston Churchill, "Never give up. Never give up. Never, never, never give up." You can try giving up, you can moan, gripe, scream with rage, kick the dog (no, don't do that) and feel sorry for yourself. But no matter how much trash life throws at you, if you don't give up you will withstand it, outlast it and endure your way through it. And endurance is the real teacher.
Activity is a way of life for me. I don't have to discipline myself to be busy. I don't feel any obligation to do anything, except something I've put off for too long because I was busy doing something else. And all because a man I trusted set my top spinning many years ago with an energy cell of enthusiasm which has lasted, as he promised, the rest of my life, so far. But I'm only 71 so there's a lot more growing to do.
Thank you Edward.
DB
**************
WEEKEND CONTEST
(People say they like my weekend puzzles and look forward to them and then they don't do them.)
"What's in a name?" Your challenge is to give me a humorous name beginning with the same letters that matches a persons career, work or major activity. For example:
The Russian Cosmonaut - Boris Blastov
The French cabdriver - Henri Honkalotte
The Irish mechanic - Tommy Tinker
(Come one folks it's fun and easy. The Irish puppeteer Mary O'Nett.)
Enter as often as you wish, be imaginative, have fun and good luck. The decision of the bucolic judge is final.
2 entries so far
DB - The Vagabond
***********************
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Let's Be Adults Now
To what childishness does man descend, in his ripe old age, when he allows himself to be held by the leash of sensuousness?
Immanuel Kant
*****************
I;ve been looking over my recent entries here on Vagabond Journeys and noted that many of them are heavy. I've written about the universe, mind, intelligence, consciousness and so forth. I ask myself: "Self? Is that it? Can't you find anything else to write about? Can't you write abut something light and humorous?" Okay. Today I'm writing about everyone's favorite topic, pornography.
One morning, when I was doing temp work between shows, I was assigned to do some proofreading for a very large corporate law firm in New York City. Because it was located in one of the biggest, most prestigious locations in the city I wore my suit. When I arrived the receptionist directed me to a certain room. When I opened the door I saw a very long table and seated around it were about 20 men in suits, some in shirt sleeves, some with sleeves rolled up. But they all had ties. It was clear the meeting had been going on for some time. They looked at me with curiosity. Being a mischievous guy and sometimes a miscreant, I couldn't resist the temptation. I said "Good morning gentlemen,I'm from the SEC." The looked at me as if they were 20 frightened deer caught in the headlights.
I said "Just kidding, I'm the proofreader" left the room, closed the door and found an empty room to sit and wait. Later, one of the lawyers said I really had them scared for a moment. The one person you don't want in the room when you're engaged in the barracuda wheeling and dealing of high finance is someone from the SEC.
The Securities and Exchange Commission is the nations watch dog on Wall Street, you might say it's the financial world's detective force. That's why the major law and investment firms hire proofreaders so that no mistake gets by on the document they file with the SEC that might cause a red flag to pop up.
Now we learn the many high ranking members, the over $100,000 a year types, have been spending all their time watching pornography on their expensive office computers, recording it and keeping it in the locked drawers of their expensive desks.
Think of it, the nations top ranked police force of finance, the protector of home buyers, small businessmen and tax payers from the fraudulent practices of big banks and investment firms, the strong armed bully of DC has been caught literally with it's pants down. Truly, how DELIGHTFUL!!!
Not only that but it has been going on for years. All the time our economy was slowly heading down the thorny path to depression, banks and businesses were closing, unemployment rising, Bernard Madoff was robbing people, the large banks were plundering credit card holders and granting variable rate mortgages to people who shouldn't have them and the shenanigans of Goldman Sachs was going on under the watchful eye of no one, the SEC, in a classic Nero manner, was titillating itself. I can't wait for one of them to say he was only doing research. That should cause a good loud knee slapping guffaw all across America.
The bad side to this huge joke is that now the political right will use it as an excuse for there to be less government scrutiny and control of Wall Street, which is, of course, obviously and absolutely the wrong choice.
If you go into a Jewish restaurant in New York City and order a bagel, you'll get a bagel. If you go to an Italian restaurant and order a pizza, you'll get a pizza. In a Mexican restaurant you'll get an enchilada. There are many things that are called bagels, pizzas and enchiladas that aren't. One year a women's fashion designer was selling a line of clothes for teenage girls. Among the ads was a photograph of a 17 year old girl in some underwear. Some self-moralizing do-gooders sued the company saying that the picture was child pornography (which it wasn't of course, anyone who had ever seen pornography would know that), the judge agreed and the company had to remove the picture. At the same time there was another 17 year old who had a baby. Another bunch of do-gooders sued to have the baby taken away from her because she was too young. A feminist group came to her defense and the judge ruled in their favor saying "The woman has a right to have her baby." She's 17. If she has a baby she's a "woman" but if you take a picture of her in her underwear she's a "child." You untangle that hypocrisy. I can't.
I've seen pornography and I fail to see why anyone would spend 8 hours a day looking at it and surfing the web to find it. Anyone who does that must become aware that he has a problem and needs to check into a clinic for a cure and not go to the Chop Stick Massage Parlor after work to relive his fantasies. After a couple of times porn all begins to look the same. The colors change, the ages change, the genders change and sometimes the toys change, but basically it's how many different ways one can stage the same event.
But to be fair we shouldn't call it "pornography." It has been whitewashed with the name "erotic art" which it isn't. Good erotic art has nothing pornographic about it. No, to be politically correct we must refer to it as "adult entertainment" although what is so adult about it also eludes me.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
WEEKEND CONTEST
"What's in a name?" Your challenge is to give me a humorous name beginning with the same letters that matches a persons career, work or major activity. For example:
The Russian Cosmonaut - Boris Blastov
The French cabdriver - Henri Honkalotte
The Irish mechanic - Tommy Tinker
Enter as often as you wish, be imaginative, have fun and good luck. The decision of the bucolic judge is final.
DB - The Vagabond
***********************8
Immanuel Kant
*****************
I;ve been looking over my recent entries here on Vagabond Journeys and noted that many of them are heavy. I've written about the universe, mind, intelligence, consciousness and so forth. I ask myself: "Self? Is that it? Can't you find anything else to write about? Can't you write abut something light and humorous?" Okay. Today I'm writing about everyone's favorite topic, pornography.
One morning, when I was doing temp work between shows, I was assigned to do some proofreading for a very large corporate law firm in New York City. Because it was located in one of the biggest, most prestigious locations in the city I wore my suit. When I arrived the receptionist directed me to a certain room. When I opened the door I saw a very long table and seated around it were about 20 men in suits, some in shirt sleeves, some with sleeves rolled up. But they all had ties. It was clear the meeting had been going on for some time. They looked at me with curiosity. Being a mischievous guy and sometimes a miscreant, I couldn't resist the temptation. I said "Good morning gentlemen,I'm from the SEC." The looked at me as if they were 20 frightened deer caught in the headlights.
I said "Just kidding, I'm the proofreader" left the room, closed the door and found an empty room to sit and wait. Later, one of the lawyers said I really had them scared for a moment. The one person you don't want in the room when you're engaged in the barracuda wheeling and dealing of high finance is someone from the SEC.
The Securities and Exchange Commission is the nations watch dog on Wall Street, you might say it's the financial world's detective force. That's why the major law and investment firms hire proofreaders so that no mistake gets by on the document they file with the SEC that might cause a red flag to pop up.
Now we learn the many high ranking members, the over $100,000 a year types, have been spending all their time watching pornography on their expensive office computers, recording it and keeping it in the locked drawers of their expensive desks.
Think of it, the nations top ranked police force of finance, the protector of home buyers, small businessmen and tax payers from the fraudulent practices of big banks and investment firms, the strong armed bully of DC has been caught literally with it's pants down. Truly, how DELIGHTFUL!!!
Not only that but it has been going on for years. All the time our economy was slowly heading down the thorny path to depression, banks and businesses were closing, unemployment rising, Bernard Madoff was robbing people, the large banks were plundering credit card holders and granting variable rate mortgages to people who shouldn't have them and the shenanigans of Goldman Sachs was going on under the watchful eye of no one, the SEC, in a classic Nero manner, was titillating itself. I can't wait for one of them to say he was only doing research. That should cause a good loud knee slapping guffaw all across America.
The bad side to this huge joke is that now the political right will use it as an excuse for there to be less government scrutiny and control of Wall Street, which is, of course, obviously and absolutely the wrong choice.
If you go into a Jewish restaurant in New York City and order a bagel, you'll get a bagel. If you go to an Italian restaurant and order a pizza, you'll get a pizza. In a Mexican restaurant you'll get an enchilada. There are many things that are called bagels, pizzas and enchiladas that aren't. One year a women's fashion designer was selling a line of clothes for teenage girls. Among the ads was a photograph of a 17 year old girl in some underwear. Some self-moralizing do-gooders sued the company saying that the picture was child pornography (which it wasn't of course, anyone who had ever seen pornography would know that), the judge agreed and the company had to remove the picture. At the same time there was another 17 year old who had a baby. Another bunch of do-gooders sued to have the baby taken away from her because she was too young. A feminist group came to her defense and the judge ruled in their favor saying "The woman has a right to have her baby." She's 17. If she has a baby she's a "woman" but if you take a picture of her in her underwear she's a "child." You untangle that hypocrisy. I can't.
I've seen pornography and I fail to see why anyone would spend 8 hours a day looking at it and surfing the web to find it. Anyone who does that must become aware that he has a problem and needs to check into a clinic for a cure and not go to the Chop Stick Massage Parlor after work to relive his fantasies. After a couple of times porn all begins to look the same. The colors change, the ages change, the genders change and sometimes the toys change, but basically it's how many different ways one can stage the same event.
But to be fair we shouldn't call it "pornography." It has been whitewashed with the name "erotic art" which it isn't. Good erotic art has nothing pornographic about it. No, to be politically correct we must refer to it as "adult entertainment" although what is so adult about it also eludes me.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
WEEKEND CONTEST
"What's in a name?" Your challenge is to give me a humorous name beginning with the same letters that matches a persons career, work or major activity. For example:
The Russian Cosmonaut - Boris Blastov
The French cabdriver - Henri Honkalotte
The Irish mechanic - Tommy Tinker
Enter as often as you wish, be imaginative, have fun and good luck. The decision of the bucolic judge is final.
DB - The Vagabond
***********************8
Friday, April 23, 2010
Law 2
Vagabond's Law #2
Working with a computer is similar to needing to get to some important place and being stuck in traffic.
DB
Working with a computer is similar to needing to get to some important place and being stuck in traffic.
DB
Eloquence
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
William Shakespeare
********************
One of the mysteries that baffles me, and it really does, is why the most important, imaginative and beautiful additions to our culture and our lives are rather like trying to grow orchids in a swamp. In this country we have constitutionally guaranteed freedom of speech, which means any idiot can stand up in public and say the most outrageously stupid things and he has the legal right to do it. Okay, that's fine. But a problem occurs if he seems to speak with the voice of authority, because then people believe him and start saying the same things themselves.
The problem is even more acute in the arts. Books are published. paintings are hung, songs are sung that have no substance to them at all. Most movies are made for teenagers today, as are most TV shows and record albums. There is a glut of things that have no future life at all, and the fact is no one cares. There is also an endless parade of communication gadgets and yet what is actually communicated of any value on any of them?
People have complained for a long time about the lowering of standards and while the complaints have piled up the standards have continued to drop. Many culprits have been accused: environment, education, parental influence, peer pressure, fear of affectation, and any number of other factors. If those are the reasons they should be addressed and given serious cure.
I keep wondering where the eloquence is. Is it being completely drowned out by the noise of the swamp. It certainly does not come from our congress members, the poltical pundits and qazis, the TV preachers, the talk show hosts and stand up comics. Beautiful words, fancy phrases and purple prose do not make eloquence. A simple idea simply stated is worth 20 pages of literary huffing and 20 minutes of speech puffing. But what about a complex idea?
We are now venturing out into the universe for the first time in our history and what we hear is a lot of esoteric computer instruction and a lot of thank yous, all of it important to be sure, but where is the poetry. Is it only in the technology? Are robots the poets of the future? And if so, who are the chefs and gardeners?
That Shakespeare, one of the most eloquent artists of all time, wrote these words way back in the 16th Century shows that this is a very old problem.
I believe in the inherent intelligence of every creature. Human intelligence is of the highest order that we know of. Why don't we use it? What a shame!
You have given me the eyes to wonder. Now please give me the tongue to praise.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 6 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
William Shakespeare
********************
One of the mysteries that baffles me, and it really does, is why the most important, imaginative and beautiful additions to our culture and our lives are rather like trying to grow orchids in a swamp. In this country we have constitutionally guaranteed freedom of speech, which means any idiot can stand up in public and say the most outrageously stupid things and he has the legal right to do it. Okay, that's fine. But a problem occurs if he seems to speak with the voice of authority, because then people believe him and start saying the same things themselves.
The problem is even more acute in the arts. Books are published. paintings are hung, songs are sung that have no substance to them at all. Most movies are made for teenagers today, as are most TV shows and record albums. There is a glut of things that have no future life at all, and the fact is no one cares. There is also an endless parade of communication gadgets and yet what is actually communicated of any value on any of them?
People have complained for a long time about the lowering of standards and while the complaints have piled up the standards have continued to drop. Many culprits have been accused: environment, education, parental influence, peer pressure, fear of affectation, and any number of other factors. If those are the reasons they should be addressed and given serious cure.
I keep wondering where the eloquence is. Is it being completely drowned out by the noise of the swamp. It certainly does not come from our congress members, the poltical pundits and qazis, the TV preachers, the talk show hosts and stand up comics. Beautiful words, fancy phrases and purple prose do not make eloquence. A simple idea simply stated is worth 20 pages of literary huffing and 20 minutes of speech puffing. But what about a complex idea?
We are now venturing out into the universe for the first time in our history and what we hear is a lot of esoteric computer instruction and a lot of thank yous, all of it important to be sure, but where is the poetry. Is it only in the technology? Are robots the poets of the future? And if so, who are the chefs and gardeners?
That Shakespeare, one of the most eloquent artists of all time, wrote these words way back in the 16th Century shows that this is a very old problem.
I believe in the inherent intelligence of every creature. Human intelligence is of the highest order that we know of. Why don't we use it? What a shame!
You have given me the eyes to wonder. Now please give me the tongue to praise.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 6 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Where Are We?
I had discovered a secret -- not to remain too long at one point, forever repeating the too familiar.
Constantine Stanislavski
***********************
In ancient times astronomers were calculating from the premise that the Earth was the center of everything and that the heavens surrounded it. There were empirical and theological reasons for that premise. Today astronomers are telling us that there is no canter to the universe because there is no edge. How do they know there is no edge? Through physical and mathematical calculations. Through science. Through intelligent observation and research.
By their calculations we now know that the Earth is a minor part of a solar system circling around an insignificant star, that the whole solar system is an insignificant dot in a large galaxy which in turn is an insignificant dot in the vast universe of galaxies.
And if there is no center to the universe how do we know where we are? We don't, except in our relationship to other planets, stars and galaxies.
When we look up at the night sky everything seems so serene and constant, and yet the astronomers are telling us that the universe is a very busy place, constantly creating, destroying and recreating pieces of itself.
Because it has no edge we will never explore it all, we will never know it all.
These discoveries have and should have redefined physics, philosophy and theology. It is veritable that old ideas are hard to discard. Is it fear that keeps people from facing the true meanings of scientific discovery? Or is it the discouraging fact that we will never know it all? Is it easier just to hold on to the fence post than to face the endless and understand it? Are the journeys of the scientist, engineer, technician and artist pointless if they have no destination?
If there is no edge to the universe then there is no edge to consciousness, and no center. But is it consciousness which makes us significant after all, no matter where we are? Is there intelligent life on other planets? Probably. But if not, at least there is on this one, if we are willing to start using it.
DB - The Vagabond
*************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Constantine Stanislavski
***********************
In ancient times astronomers were calculating from the premise that the Earth was the center of everything and that the heavens surrounded it. There were empirical and theological reasons for that premise. Today astronomers are telling us that there is no canter to the universe because there is no edge. How do they know there is no edge? Through physical and mathematical calculations. Through science. Through intelligent observation and research.
By their calculations we now know that the Earth is a minor part of a solar system circling around an insignificant star, that the whole solar system is an insignificant dot in a large galaxy which in turn is an insignificant dot in the vast universe of galaxies.
And if there is no center to the universe how do we know where we are? We don't, except in our relationship to other planets, stars and galaxies.
When we look up at the night sky everything seems so serene and constant, and yet the astronomers are telling us that the universe is a very busy place, constantly creating, destroying and recreating pieces of itself.
Because it has no edge we will never explore it all, we will never know it all.
These discoveries have and should have redefined physics, philosophy and theology. It is veritable that old ideas are hard to discard. Is it fear that keeps people from facing the true meanings of scientific discovery? Or is it the discouraging fact that we will never know it all? Is it easier just to hold on to the fence post than to face the endless and understand it? Are the journeys of the scientist, engineer, technician and artist pointless if they have no destination?
If there is no edge to the universe then there is no edge to consciousness, and no center. But is it consciousness which makes us significant after all, no matter where we are? Is there intelligent life on other planets? Probably. But if not, at least there is on this one, if we are willing to start using it.
DB - The Vagabond
*************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Pilgrim
All those hours of our lives are our own. We have to figure out what to do with them, but having our feet on the ground is a good beginning.
Natalie Goldberg
********************
I wish I was a sample man. I wish I had a simple life. I sometimes wish I had never seen the backstage of a theatre, the inside of a radio studio, or the handle of a drum stick. I wish I didn't know about ontology, cosmology, semantics, ethics, metaphysics, sociology, politics, history and religion. I wish I didn't know about Bach, Mozart, Wagner and Schoenberg. I'm often tempted to discard all my books and magazines and never buy another one.
I wish I had lived a simple life with a steady job doing something mechanical or educational; a grammar school Phys Ed teacher. I like kids, That would have been a good one.
I would have liked to have a simple home with a wife who liked to smile and keep her house and her garden, while I fixed things up around it. I would be happy with simple food: franks and beans, burgers and potato salad, pea soup, Once a week I would take her out to dinner: Chinese, Italian, steaks and chops.
In the evening we would watch a movie or two. I would get my news from the TV and not think much about it. I would enjoy a good ball game and have a favorite team. Once a year we would take a vacation and go to the shore or to Disneyland.
And if I wanted to be creative I'd paint pictures of flowers from her garden and not worry if they were any good or not.
I would enjoy a good joke and share it with my buddies over checkers, while she was with her ladies sewing circle talking about whatever ladies talk about.
I would be reasonably healthy, well fed and sleep the sleep of a grateful and contented man.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
But I can't afford to properly feed myself. The TV news irritates me. I've been a Yankee fan since I was a child but I don't follow them now. I cherish my books even though I have to read with a magnifying glass. I love music and won't stop hearing more and more into it. I fret over every one of my paintings. There is no woman here, smiling or otherwise, no kids, no garden. I sleep in short spurts of time. And I am angry and distressed that illness has taken me away from my career.
The sound that you hear is my silent, fundamental, existential scream of rage and sorrow.
Come and sing with me, all you who are dissatisfied, even to any degree, with the conditions and limitations of your life. Come sing with me and we will raise the spirits that have ignored us and call them to account for their neglect. Come sing with me the song of the struggling pilgrim.
DB - The Vagabond
Natalie Goldberg
********************
I wish I was a sample man. I wish I had a simple life. I sometimes wish I had never seen the backstage of a theatre, the inside of a radio studio, or the handle of a drum stick. I wish I didn't know about ontology, cosmology, semantics, ethics, metaphysics, sociology, politics, history and religion. I wish I didn't know about Bach, Mozart, Wagner and Schoenberg. I'm often tempted to discard all my books and magazines and never buy another one.
I wish I had lived a simple life with a steady job doing something mechanical or educational; a grammar school Phys Ed teacher. I like kids, That would have been a good one.
I would have liked to have a simple home with a wife who liked to smile and keep her house and her garden, while I fixed things up around it. I would be happy with simple food: franks and beans, burgers and potato salad, pea soup, Once a week I would take her out to dinner: Chinese, Italian, steaks and chops.
In the evening we would watch a movie or two. I would get my news from the TV and not think much about it. I would enjoy a good ball game and have a favorite team. Once a year we would take a vacation and go to the shore or to Disneyland.
And if I wanted to be creative I'd paint pictures of flowers from her garden and not worry if they were any good or not.
I would enjoy a good joke and share it with my buddies over checkers, while she was with her ladies sewing circle talking about whatever ladies talk about.
I would be reasonably healthy, well fed and sleep the sleep of a grateful and contented man.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
But I can't afford to properly feed myself. The TV news irritates me. I've been a Yankee fan since I was a child but I don't follow them now. I cherish my books even though I have to read with a magnifying glass. I love music and won't stop hearing more and more into it. I fret over every one of my paintings. There is no woman here, smiling or otherwise, no kids, no garden. I sleep in short spurts of time. And I am angry and distressed that illness has taken me away from my career.
The sound that you hear is my silent, fundamental, existential scream of rage and sorrow.
Come and sing with me, all you who are dissatisfied, even to any degree, with the conditions and limitations of your life. Come sing with me and we will raise the spirits that have ignored us and call them to account for their neglect. Come sing with me the song of the struggling pilgrim.
DB - The Vagabond
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Daily Items
For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him?
I Corinthians
****************
Item #1 -- The difference between childhood and old age is that when you are a child, most of the people in the world are older than you are. They have most of the wisdom and most of the authority. And then one day, one hour, one moment when you don't realize it, suddenly most of the people in the world are younger than you are. They may not have most of the wisdom but they have most of the authority.
Item #2 -- On Thursday of last week the computer erased about 16 hours of my work. No getting it back. I've redone about 3 hours if it. I'm searching for my enthusiasm.
Item #3 -- Upon Krissy's suggestion, which was a good one, I cleaned out my closet. As a result I have a large leather bag filled to the brim with clothes, most of it in good condition. I wanted to donate it to the Salvation Army, but they don't send a truck to pick up just a single bag. So here it sits.
Item #4 -- This month, the month of the Income Tax and a malfunctioning telephone, I must go from the 1st to the 21st with no income. The longest possible stretch to the SS check. At the end of the month there will be no money left, but there will be a bit of standard type food in the apartment, finally, food I don't have to chew. Wasn't it T. S. Eliot who said April is the cruelest month?
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
(TSE)
Item #5 -- There's another exhibit of paintings by local artists, But I'm unable to display any of my paintings. It's in another town and I had no means of getting them there.
Item #6 -- No one is expected to know who JB is.
Item #7 -- One effect of living a vagabond life is learning to do things for myself, even if it takes my three times as long. I'm not used to asking for help. I don't know where help is.
Item #8 -- The computer is not enabling me to post "gadgets." Thanks to Bill I have a camera to take photos of my paintings. But then I don't know if I can put them up. I'll have to solve that somehow. And I'll have to get my printer working.
Item #9 -- Will power is a mighty thing and something we must never sacrifice to an emasculated god. It must always be used for benefit, never for harm.
Item #10 -- My first real job, as a teenager with a Social Security number, was at the Port Chester Daily Item. I worked in the circulation department one summer. I operated a machine that wrapped up newspapers for the mail. Two summers later I had my first professional acting job.
DB - The Vagabond
********************
I Corinthians
****************
Item #1 -- The difference between childhood and old age is that when you are a child, most of the people in the world are older than you are. They have most of the wisdom and most of the authority. And then one day, one hour, one moment when you don't realize it, suddenly most of the people in the world are younger than you are. They may not have most of the wisdom but they have most of the authority.
Item #2 -- On Thursday of last week the computer erased about 16 hours of my work. No getting it back. I've redone about 3 hours if it. I'm searching for my enthusiasm.
Item #3 -- Upon Krissy's suggestion, which was a good one, I cleaned out my closet. As a result I have a large leather bag filled to the brim with clothes, most of it in good condition. I wanted to donate it to the Salvation Army, but they don't send a truck to pick up just a single bag. So here it sits.
Item #4 -- This month, the month of the Income Tax and a malfunctioning telephone, I must go from the 1st to the 21st with no income. The longest possible stretch to the SS check. At the end of the month there will be no money left, but there will be a bit of standard type food in the apartment, finally, food I don't have to chew. Wasn't it T. S. Eliot who said April is the cruelest month?
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
(TSE)
Item #5 -- There's another exhibit of paintings by local artists, But I'm unable to display any of my paintings. It's in another town and I had no means of getting them there.
Item #6 -- No one is expected to know who JB is.
Item #7 -- One effect of living a vagabond life is learning to do things for myself, even if it takes my three times as long. I'm not used to asking for help. I don't know where help is.
Item #8 -- The computer is not enabling me to post "gadgets." Thanks to Bill I have a camera to take photos of my paintings. But then I don't know if I can put them up. I'll have to solve that somehow. And I'll have to get my printer working.
Item #9 -- Will power is a mighty thing and something we must never sacrifice to an emasculated god. It must always be used for benefit, never for harm.
Item #10 -- My first real job, as a teenager with a Social Security number, was at the Port Chester Daily Item. I worked in the circulation department one summer. I operated a machine that wrapped up newspapers for the mail. Two summers later I had my first professional acting job.
DB - The Vagabond
********************
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
TY
Dear Folks
Thank you everyone for your kind comments and emails. Bless you all. These are very hard days for me now and will probably remain so at least until the end of the month. But I will respond to everyone personally, I promise.
DB
Thank you everyone for your kind comments and emails. Bless you all. These are very hard days for me now and will probably remain so at least until the end of the month. But I will respond to everyone personally, I promise.
DB
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Freedom
I want freedom. I want to be free from poverty and debt, free from illness and decrepitude. Don't make me ride in confined spaces. Let me walk along an open road. Let my shoulders feel the sun and the rain. Let me look farther than I can see. Let me be grateful for things I do not lose. Free me from my past, let me not think about it. Don't imprison me and don't chain me to needs and musts. Let the great wide open silence be interrupted only by beautiful songs. Don't frighten me with closed doors I can't open. Don't invite me into small, dark rooms. Don't put me with the crowd. Don't surround me with breakable things. Let me listen to the wind and read the running brooks. Throw me overboard and let me float on ocean waves. Let my stories be confined in books to sit up on the shelves. Let my paintings be confined in frames and hung on the walls. But don't confine me. Let me be free.
And when I die please don't put me in a box. Spread me out in a field and let the wild ones dine on me. Let me feed the eagles.
DB
And when I die please don't put me in a box. Spread me out in a field and let the wild ones dine on me. Let me feed the eagles.
DB
Friday, April 16, 2010
News
I'm not writing because I don't want to write bad news, but bad news is all I have to write about.
There is no good news.
DB
There is no good news.
DB
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Transitions
Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change,
Thomas Hardy
******************
With apologies to Ecclesiastes:
There is a time to think and a time stop thinking.
There is a time to pick up and a time to scatter.
There is a time to remember and a time to forget.
There is a time to wonder and a time to decide.
There is a time to get dressed and a time to get undressed.
There is a time to consider our responsibilities and a time to be irresponsible.
There is a time to wash the dishes and a time to leave them in the sink.
There is a time to hope and a time to feel hopeless.
There is a time to cut the hair and a time to let it grow.
There is a time to give up and a time to try again.
There is a time to diet and a time to eat that piece of cake.
There is a time to spend money and a time to save it.
There is a time to bow your head and a time to lift it up.
There is a time to laugh and a time to weep.
There is a time to do the laundry and a time to leave it where it is.
There is a time to ponder immortality and a time to take a nap.
There is a time to pray and a time to curse.
There is a time to walk and a time to sit still.
There is a time to know yourself and a time to be confused.
There is a time to frolic and a time to meditate.
There is a time to resist and a time to relent.
There is a time to learn and a time to unlearn.
There is a time to work and a time to rest.
There is a time to turn on the light and a time to turn it off.
There is a time to speak and a time to keep your mouth shut.
There is a time to tend your garden and a time to let nature do it.
There is a time to play your flute and a time to leave in it its case.
There is a time to plan your future and a time to live for the moment.
There is a time to see clearly and a time to be bewildered.
There is a time to sleep and a time to stay awake.
There is a time to go out and a time to stay at home.
There is a time to write and a time to stop writing.
The Vagabond
*****************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 5 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Thomas Hardy
******************
With apologies to Ecclesiastes:
There is a time to think and a time stop thinking.
There is a time to pick up and a time to scatter.
There is a time to remember and a time to forget.
There is a time to wonder and a time to decide.
There is a time to get dressed and a time to get undressed.
There is a time to consider our responsibilities and a time to be irresponsible.
There is a time to wash the dishes and a time to leave them in the sink.
There is a time to hope and a time to feel hopeless.
There is a time to cut the hair and a time to let it grow.
There is a time to give up and a time to try again.
There is a time to diet and a time to eat that piece of cake.
There is a time to spend money and a time to save it.
There is a time to bow your head and a time to lift it up.
There is a time to laugh and a time to weep.
There is a time to do the laundry and a time to leave it where it is.
There is a time to ponder immortality and a time to take a nap.
There is a time to pray and a time to curse.
There is a time to walk and a time to sit still.
There is a time to know yourself and a time to be confused.
There is a time to frolic and a time to meditate.
There is a time to resist and a time to relent.
There is a time to learn and a time to unlearn.
There is a time to work and a time to rest.
There is a time to turn on the light and a time to turn it off.
There is a time to speak and a time to keep your mouth shut.
There is a time to tend your garden and a time to let nature do it.
There is a time to play your flute and a time to leave in it its case.
There is a time to plan your future and a time to live for the moment.
There is a time to see clearly and a time to be bewildered.
There is a time to sleep and a time to stay awake.
There is a time to go out and a time to stay at home.
There is a time to write and a time to stop writing.
The Vagabond
*****************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 5 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Playpen
In old age we are like a batch of letters someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.
Knut Hamsun
*******************
I'm a mad man. No, there's no doubt about it, I'm completely cracked; stark, shivering crazy. I've lost it.
Shakespeare calls old age "second chilishness." It is a theory that all babies are born insane and gradually grow into sanity and wisdom as they mature. I don't remember much about my babyhood but I'm of the opinion that it might be the other way around. I think it's possible that all babies are born completely sane and knowing everything which they can't articulate except to other babies and that they gradually grow to lose it in the carriages and play pens of the world. Imagine how frustrating it must be for a baby not being able to tell anyone what you know. It's enough to make you wet yur diaper and wake up in the middle of the night crying for no apparent reason.
Not having lived a normal life has taught me that there is no such thing. Being a wanderer has taught me that the only place anyone really lives is in his own head. And being an artist has taught me to gracefully let go of the ball and chain which is generally known to the world at large as common sense.
But being mad is a good healthy way to be as far as I can determine. I do illogical things. If I am on my way to the market I stop and feel the leaves of a tree or a bush. If I pass the kitchen sink I squeeze a little soap into the sponge and wash three dishes instead of the whole sink full. If anyone lived with me they would become exasperated at my behavior or else go mad themselves.
I say things no one understands. I know that, because every time I make a statement of pure, inspired wisdom it's met with a blank, uncomprehending stare. There's a small tree in front of the house. When I refer to it as "yonder wood" no one cares to know why.
When I find conservative nonsense and liberal grunting humorous people don't get it. But when I become fascinated by some obscure news item that doesn't make the papers or the TV news every day they just think I'm off the beaten path of life. Well, I am. I'm the crazy old loon who lives by himself in the attic, harmless in his madness. He listens to Wagner operas and reads philosophy. He's a total fruitcake.
The letters have been sent and read and the attempt to summarize the contents has taught me that there are no summations (which it also says in my Profile).
So what's left for an old crackpot to do? To what have I arrived? A certain benign orneriness, acceptance and refusal, an abiding sense of humor, willingness to face the fog and walk into it. I can now change my own diapers, if I wake up in the middle of the night the only thing I want to know is what time it is. I accept the fact that I will never have all the things in my playpen that I want. I refuse to get angry at any one but myself. I refuse to do today what I can put off to tomorrow. I don't follow the Phillies. I refuse to accept everything any authority tells me. I will think for myself and not worry about it if the thoughts come from the mind of a lunatic.
I refuse to be afraid of death. If you go to England you can visit the grave of Charles Dickens, but Dickens isn't there, he's still alive. If I could live my life all over again I would change almost everything. But would I then have something to summarize? I doubt it.
Being an actor has taught me that the world is a stage and the roles keep changing, but they are all masquerades. So I will set Sir Percival spinning, wash my hands and face in the words of some other old maniac's sink, play in my pen and enjoy, as much as possible, the role in which I have somehow cast myself.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Knut Hamsun
*******************
I'm a mad man. No, there's no doubt about it, I'm completely cracked; stark, shivering crazy. I've lost it.
Shakespeare calls old age "second chilishness." It is a theory that all babies are born insane and gradually grow into sanity and wisdom as they mature. I don't remember much about my babyhood but I'm of the opinion that it might be the other way around. I think it's possible that all babies are born completely sane and knowing everything which they can't articulate except to other babies and that they gradually grow to lose it in the carriages and play pens of the world. Imagine how frustrating it must be for a baby not being able to tell anyone what you know. It's enough to make you wet yur diaper and wake up in the middle of the night crying for no apparent reason.
Not having lived a normal life has taught me that there is no such thing. Being a wanderer has taught me that the only place anyone really lives is in his own head. And being an artist has taught me to gracefully let go of the ball and chain which is generally known to the world at large as common sense.
But being mad is a good healthy way to be as far as I can determine. I do illogical things. If I am on my way to the market I stop and feel the leaves of a tree or a bush. If I pass the kitchen sink I squeeze a little soap into the sponge and wash three dishes instead of the whole sink full. If anyone lived with me they would become exasperated at my behavior or else go mad themselves.
I say things no one understands. I know that, because every time I make a statement of pure, inspired wisdom it's met with a blank, uncomprehending stare. There's a small tree in front of the house. When I refer to it as "yonder wood" no one cares to know why.
When I find conservative nonsense and liberal grunting humorous people don't get it. But when I become fascinated by some obscure news item that doesn't make the papers or the TV news every day they just think I'm off the beaten path of life. Well, I am. I'm the crazy old loon who lives by himself in the attic, harmless in his madness. He listens to Wagner operas and reads philosophy. He's a total fruitcake.
The letters have been sent and read and the attempt to summarize the contents has taught me that there are no summations (which it also says in my Profile).
So what's left for an old crackpot to do? To what have I arrived? A certain benign orneriness, acceptance and refusal, an abiding sense of humor, willingness to face the fog and walk into it. I can now change my own diapers, if I wake up in the middle of the night the only thing I want to know is what time it is. I accept the fact that I will never have all the things in my playpen that I want. I refuse to get angry at any one but myself. I refuse to do today what I can put off to tomorrow. I don't follow the Phillies. I refuse to accept everything any authority tells me. I will think for myself and not worry about it if the thoughts come from the mind of a lunatic.
I refuse to be afraid of death. If you go to England you can visit the grave of Charles Dickens, but Dickens isn't there, he's still alive. If I could live my life all over again I would change almost everything. But would I then have something to summarize? I doubt it.
Being an actor has taught me that the world is a stage and the roles keep changing, but they are all masquerades. So I will set Sir Percival spinning, wash my hands and face in the words of some other old maniac's sink, play in my pen and enjoy, as much as possible, the role in which I have somehow cast myself.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Monday, April 12, 2010
People of the North
The pursuit of peace and progress, with its trials and errors, its successes and its setbacks, can never be relaxed and never abandoned.
Dag Hammerskjold
******************
Dag Hammerskjold of Sweden (1905 - 1961) was the second Secretary General of the United Nations. He was one of the most important statesmen of the 20th century. His mighty efforts to establish peace have left behind a great legacy. The first Secretary General was also a Scandinavian, Trygve Lie, from Norway.
I've always had a fascination for the history and culture of Scandinavia from the Vikings up to modern times, and wondered why those 5 nations have never really taken a place in the mainstream of European life. It comprises formidable stretch of land from the Finnish/Russian border to western Greenland, which is part of the Danish Kingdom.
We hear of Norway when the Nobel Prizes are handed out, but otherwise the nations of the north seem to remain in the shadows.
There are three famous Scandinavian composers: Edvard Grieg of Norway, Carl Nielsen of Denmark and Jan Sibelius of Finland. But there are many other excellent composers: Hugo Alfven of Sweden, Wilhelm Stenhammer of Sweden and Dag Wiren also of Sweden just to named a few.
Two great playwrights were Scandinavians: Edvard Grieg of Norway and August Strindberg of Sweden. But again there were many other fine authors. I've done some of their plays. I used to belong to a theatre company in New York that specialized in modern Scandinavian drama.
One of my favorite filmmakers is the Swede, Ingmar Bergman. His film "Wild Strawberries" is listen in my Profile as one of my favorites.
So why are those 5 nations still outside of the mainstream of European and world culture? Why do so many of the artists have to live in southern Europe to receive the recognition they deserve? Why don't those cities, Copenhagen, Helsinki, Oslo, Reykjavik and Stockholm have the same standing in the world as Berlin, London, Paris and Rome?
The world is changing and spreading out. Maybe the time is coming for there to be a cultural tectonic shift and the Scandinavians will get the spotlight, because the sure can use the vision of the People of the North.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Dag Hammerskjold
******************
Dag Hammerskjold of Sweden (1905 - 1961) was the second Secretary General of the United Nations. He was one of the most important statesmen of the 20th century. His mighty efforts to establish peace have left behind a great legacy. The first Secretary General was also a Scandinavian, Trygve Lie, from Norway.
I've always had a fascination for the history and culture of Scandinavia from the Vikings up to modern times, and wondered why those 5 nations have never really taken a place in the mainstream of European life. It comprises formidable stretch of land from the Finnish/Russian border to western Greenland, which is part of the Danish Kingdom.
We hear of Norway when the Nobel Prizes are handed out, but otherwise the nations of the north seem to remain in the shadows.
There are three famous Scandinavian composers: Edvard Grieg of Norway, Carl Nielsen of Denmark and Jan Sibelius of Finland. But there are many other excellent composers: Hugo Alfven of Sweden, Wilhelm Stenhammer of Sweden and Dag Wiren also of Sweden just to named a few.
Two great playwrights were Scandinavians: Edvard Grieg of Norway and August Strindberg of Sweden. But again there were many other fine authors. I've done some of their plays. I used to belong to a theatre company in New York that specialized in modern Scandinavian drama.
One of my favorite filmmakers is the Swede, Ingmar Bergman. His film "Wild Strawberries" is listen in my Profile as one of my favorites.
So why are those 5 nations still outside of the mainstream of European and world culture? Why do so many of the artists have to live in southern Europe to receive the recognition they deserve? Why don't those cities, Copenhagen, Helsinki, Oslo, Reykjavik and Stockholm have the same standing in the world as Berlin, London, Paris and Rome?
The world is changing and spreading out. Maybe the time is coming for there to be a cultural tectonic shift and the Scandinavians will get the spotlight, because the sure can use the vision of the People of the North.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Bear Went Over The Mountain
All we know is still infinitely less than all that remains unknown.
William Harvey
****************
Or, as I like to say, the difference between what we know and what we don't know is the difference between a marble and the solar system. Some people don't like to consider that. It frightens them, or something. I have said that about the marble to people in the past and received a very negative reaction. But if we can't acknowledge that we are ignorant about something there's no hope of learning about it.
I grew up with people who didn't want to know anything beyond what they knew. As a result whenever I expressed an opinion about something I had observed or learned about I was scornfully called a "know-it-all." Perhaps you've heard that term used to describe someone, or maybe even yourself.
The fact that there is so much about life and the universe we live in that we don't know depresses some people. But why should that be? Why should there be a fear of the unknown? And why should a curious person be criticized for finding things out and discouraged from trying? I think it's a very bad trait in humans to close down the labs and libraries and close up the mind.
When that backward process grows into how we treat education we are asking for trouble. Of course, we don't think it's trouble at all. We think it's just making life simpler and easier to live. "Ignorance is bless." "What you don't know won't hurt you." "Don't go poking your nose into things you don't understand."
Imagine what our lives would be like if everyone followed those suppressive rules. As well as my remark about the marble I used to like to make fun of ignorance by saying "All that readin' ain't good for the mind."
Another comment I used to get while growing up was an equally scornful unthinking response to something I said "Oh, is that so?" I finally got to the point where I would say "Yes, it's so" which would generally bring on an argument and I would find myself defending something I wasn't quite sure of. Eventually I learned one of life's best lessons which is that in some circumstances it is best to keep your mouth shut.
When I was a kid I wanted to be an explorer. I admired the people who trekked off into a wilderness no one had been in before, or sailed ships into unknown seas. Mariners who found an uncharted island somewhere in the Pacific, or adventurers who found an isolated tribe of people in the Brazilian jungle or an ancient forgotten temple in Asia now overgrown with shrubs and hyenas were heroes to me.
Then I got older, the call came in from the theatre and I knew that's what my life would be about. I gave up the jungles and oceans of the world and went in the direction of a different kind of adventure. I don't regret it, but I am still fascinated by the discoveries of science and original thought.
I watch the astronauts in the Space Station and know that it is simply a gateway to the vast universe and knowledge of time and space about which we know almost nothing. Every blast off of the giant Saturn rocket is just another baby step to peer through that gate into the unknown. I wish I could live forever just to see what new knowledge is going to be uncovered. Evidently my curiosity and delight in learning new things hasn't waned as a result of my senior citizenship. Even though we can never know it all we can enjoy the discoveries along the way.
As for the back seat drivers who want to call a halt to exploration and cry
"enough's enough" ignore them. Their cause is hopeless. And keep your mouth shut or you'll only get an argument and you can't win an argument with an ignorant person.
I always want to know something today I didn't know yesterday, a piece of music I've never heard before, a new useful vocabulary word, how to mix a more mysterious blue on the canvas, an inspired piece of poetry or the realization of some item of wisdom that was in the unconscious depths of my own mind. It's the best game in the world..
DB - The Vagabond
********************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
One item is missing from each of the lists below.
What is it?
2 right answers so far.
Annapolis
Atlanta
Augusta
Austin
**************
Baton Rouge
Bismark
Boise
***************
Carson City
Charleston
Cheyenne
Columbus
Concord
***********
Harrisburg
Hartford
Helena
**************
Sacramento
Saint Paul
Salem
Santa Fe
Springfield
************
Good luck
DB
William Harvey
****************
Or, as I like to say, the difference between what we know and what we don't know is the difference between a marble and the solar system. Some people don't like to consider that. It frightens them, or something. I have said that about the marble to people in the past and received a very negative reaction. But if we can't acknowledge that we are ignorant about something there's no hope of learning about it.
I grew up with people who didn't want to know anything beyond what they knew. As a result whenever I expressed an opinion about something I had observed or learned about I was scornfully called a "know-it-all." Perhaps you've heard that term used to describe someone, or maybe even yourself.
The fact that there is so much about life and the universe we live in that we don't know depresses some people. But why should that be? Why should there be a fear of the unknown? And why should a curious person be criticized for finding things out and discouraged from trying? I think it's a very bad trait in humans to close down the labs and libraries and close up the mind.
When that backward process grows into how we treat education we are asking for trouble. Of course, we don't think it's trouble at all. We think it's just making life simpler and easier to live. "Ignorance is bless." "What you don't know won't hurt you." "Don't go poking your nose into things you don't understand."
Imagine what our lives would be like if everyone followed those suppressive rules. As well as my remark about the marble I used to like to make fun of ignorance by saying "All that readin' ain't good for the mind."
Another comment I used to get while growing up was an equally scornful unthinking response to something I said "Oh, is that so?" I finally got to the point where I would say "Yes, it's so" which would generally bring on an argument and I would find myself defending something I wasn't quite sure of. Eventually I learned one of life's best lessons which is that in some circumstances it is best to keep your mouth shut.
When I was a kid I wanted to be an explorer. I admired the people who trekked off into a wilderness no one had been in before, or sailed ships into unknown seas. Mariners who found an uncharted island somewhere in the Pacific, or adventurers who found an isolated tribe of people in the Brazilian jungle or an ancient forgotten temple in Asia now overgrown with shrubs and hyenas were heroes to me.
Then I got older, the call came in from the theatre and I knew that's what my life would be about. I gave up the jungles and oceans of the world and went in the direction of a different kind of adventure. I don't regret it, but I am still fascinated by the discoveries of science and original thought.
I watch the astronauts in the Space Station and know that it is simply a gateway to the vast universe and knowledge of time and space about which we know almost nothing. Every blast off of the giant Saturn rocket is just another baby step to peer through that gate into the unknown. I wish I could live forever just to see what new knowledge is going to be uncovered. Evidently my curiosity and delight in learning new things hasn't waned as a result of my senior citizenship. Even though we can never know it all we can enjoy the discoveries along the way.
As for the back seat drivers who want to call a halt to exploration and cry
"enough's enough" ignore them. Their cause is hopeless. And keep your mouth shut or you'll only get an argument and you can't win an argument with an ignorant person.
I always want to know something today I didn't know yesterday, a piece of music I've never heard before, a new useful vocabulary word, how to mix a more mysterious blue on the canvas, an inspired piece of poetry or the realization of some item of wisdom that was in the unconscious depths of my own mind. It's the best game in the world..
DB - The Vagabond
********************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
One item is missing from each of the lists below.
What is it?
2 right answers so far.
Annapolis
Atlanta
Augusta
Austin
**************
Baton Rouge
Bismark
Boise
***************
Carson City
Charleston
Cheyenne
Columbus
Concord
***********
Harrisburg
Hartford
Helena
**************
Sacramento
Saint Paul
Salem
Santa Fe
Springfield
************
Good luck
DB
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Behind The Curtain
Were I to die and go to heaven and find it populated by actors, I would not be unhappy.
Ben Hecht
*******************
This entry is about the actor and the hillbilly.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Strage as it may seem to you there are still people in this land who are so prejudiced and ignorant they think actors are people who are going straight to hell. I have heard preachers praying against the devil's workshop known as "show business." I remember a group of young theology students going around a college campus and praying for this and that and when they got to the Theatre Department mounted a prayer vigil to protect those students from being tempted any further by the drama devil. I received a post card at work one day from someone who said he was praying for my "immortal soul." He didn't say why, but I could guess.
Why should Theatre, one of the oldest and grandest art forms in the history of humanity, be treated with scorn, intolerance, hatred and fear? Simple minded ignorance is why, and a religious belief based on a bucket of mud.
Every month the actors union, Actors Equity, publishes a news letter, and in it is an obituary column under the title "Final Curtain." The names of the actors who have recently passed on are listed in alphabetical order, the famous next to the unknown.
One of the names posted these days is that of Douglas Campbell who died last October and was on his way to heaven and not the other place. I knew Douglas and I have a story about him that no one else knows.
Douglas was born in Scotland in 1922. He became an actor in England and eventually moved to Canada. He had a long and varied career. In 2001 he came here to Pennsylvania to play a very difficult role in "The Dresser" by Ronald Harwood. Douglas was 83 at the time and had a bad knee. He was unsure about whether he would be able to sustain the run of the show in his condition so the theatre hired me to be his understudy.
He asked me one day if I wanted to play the role. He would have allowed me to go on for a matinee performance now and then. And even though I was ready to go on at a moments notice I said no, that I wanted him to play every performance. They were coming to see Douglas; they shouldn't be disappointed. He did play every one of them.
Because I was his understudy we became buddies. I stuck close, monitoring his health from day to day. After rehearsals and performances we would sit in the King George Bar, where he drank wine while I drank beer and we would talk, tell stories and jokes.
Since he had difficulty walking, the theatre management loaned him a Cadillac to drive back and forth to work. One day he asked me if I would like to drive out to Atlantic City with him. I guessed he was fairly lonely. His wife, also in theatre, was off doing some other show somewhere else. So I agreed.
It was still Winter so there wasn't much beach activity in Atlantic City but we watched the Atlantic Ocean coming in and walked along the boardwalk seeing the sights.
On the way back a strange light appeared on the dashboard of the car and after a while the car started to die. So Douglas pulled over to the side of the highway. The police soon came and called a wrecker truck. When the truck arrived the mechanic saw immediately what the problem was, hoisted the car up on his truck and took us to an auto body shop somewhere in the New Jersey meadows. A belt needed to be replaced. It was quickly done and we were on our way.
But while we were there Douglas asked the mechanic where he came from since he didn't sound like he was from around there. The mechanic told us he was from West Virginia but that he moved to New Jersey to be where his wife came from.
Now, being a character actor, I have always been a student of accents and dialects. My ears were tingling listening to these two men talk to each other: a Canadian actor who grew up in England and a New Jersey mechanic who grew up in Appalachia. It was the same English language but the sounds they made and the words they used were so different. They understood each other just fine. And when the mechanic found out we were actors he was very agreeable. No prayers or prejudice there.
I'll always treasure the day when I got to hear the Englishman and the Hillbilly talk to each other in a New Jersey meadow.
DB - The Vagabond
******************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
One item is missing from each of the lists below.
What is it?
1 right answer so far
Annapolis
Atlanta
Augusta
Austin
**************
Baton Rouge
Bismark
Boise
***************
Crson City
Charleston
Cheyenne
Columbus
Concord
***********
Harrisburg
Hartford
Helena
**************
Sacramento
Saint Paul
Salem
Santa Fe
Springfield
************
Good luck
DB
Ben Hecht
*******************
This entry is about the actor and the hillbilly.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Strage as it may seem to you there are still people in this land who are so prejudiced and ignorant they think actors are people who are going straight to hell. I have heard preachers praying against the devil's workshop known as "show business." I remember a group of young theology students going around a college campus and praying for this and that and when they got to the Theatre Department mounted a prayer vigil to protect those students from being tempted any further by the drama devil. I received a post card at work one day from someone who said he was praying for my "immortal soul." He didn't say why, but I could guess.
Why should Theatre, one of the oldest and grandest art forms in the history of humanity, be treated with scorn, intolerance, hatred and fear? Simple minded ignorance is why, and a religious belief based on a bucket of mud.
Every month the actors union, Actors Equity, publishes a news letter, and in it is an obituary column under the title "Final Curtain." The names of the actors who have recently passed on are listed in alphabetical order, the famous next to the unknown.
One of the names posted these days is that of Douglas Campbell who died last October and was on his way to heaven and not the other place. I knew Douglas and I have a story about him that no one else knows.
Douglas was born in Scotland in 1922. He became an actor in England and eventually moved to Canada. He had a long and varied career. In 2001 he came here to Pennsylvania to play a very difficult role in "The Dresser" by Ronald Harwood. Douglas was 83 at the time and had a bad knee. He was unsure about whether he would be able to sustain the run of the show in his condition so the theatre hired me to be his understudy.
He asked me one day if I wanted to play the role. He would have allowed me to go on for a matinee performance now and then. And even though I was ready to go on at a moments notice I said no, that I wanted him to play every performance. They were coming to see Douglas; they shouldn't be disappointed. He did play every one of them.
Because I was his understudy we became buddies. I stuck close, monitoring his health from day to day. After rehearsals and performances we would sit in the King George Bar, where he drank wine while I drank beer and we would talk, tell stories and jokes.
Since he had difficulty walking, the theatre management loaned him a Cadillac to drive back and forth to work. One day he asked me if I would like to drive out to Atlantic City with him. I guessed he was fairly lonely. His wife, also in theatre, was off doing some other show somewhere else. So I agreed.
It was still Winter so there wasn't much beach activity in Atlantic City but we watched the Atlantic Ocean coming in and walked along the boardwalk seeing the sights.
On the way back a strange light appeared on the dashboard of the car and after a while the car started to die. So Douglas pulled over to the side of the highway. The police soon came and called a wrecker truck. When the truck arrived the mechanic saw immediately what the problem was, hoisted the car up on his truck and took us to an auto body shop somewhere in the New Jersey meadows. A belt needed to be replaced. It was quickly done and we were on our way.
But while we were there Douglas asked the mechanic where he came from since he didn't sound like he was from around there. The mechanic told us he was from West Virginia but that he moved to New Jersey to be where his wife came from.
Now, being a character actor, I have always been a student of accents and dialects. My ears were tingling listening to these two men talk to each other: a Canadian actor who grew up in England and a New Jersey mechanic who grew up in Appalachia. It was the same English language but the sounds they made and the words they used were so different. They understood each other just fine. And when the mechanic found out we were actors he was very agreeable. No prayers or prejudice there.
I'll always treasure the day when I got to hear the Englishman and the Hillbilly talk to each other in a New Jersey meadow.
DB - The Vagabond
******************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
One item is missing from each of the lists below.
What is it?
1 right answer so far
Annapolis
Atlanta
Augusta
Austin
**************
Baton Rouge
Bismark
Boise
***************
Crson City
Charleston
Cheyenne
Columbus
Concord
***********
Harrisburg
Hartford
Helena
**************
Sacramento
Saint Paul
Salem
Santa Fe
Springfield
************
Good luck
DB
Friday, April 9, 2010
Watch Your Tongue
Fill not your mind with empty thoughts nor your mouth with empty words.
Unknown
****************
TIME vs. IMPORTANCE
------------------------------
Most of us are unaware of just how much our thinking is effected and shaped by empty words. I don't watch much television any more, because when I do I literally shake my head at the nonsense I'm seeing and hearing.
A TV station advertises the 10:00 News, let's say. It's an hour program. The producers are responsible for delivering exactly 60 minutes of program. Of course a lot of that time will be taken up by commercial advertising which often consists of well made and attractive nonsense. They put an actor in a lab coat holding up a deliciously designed container of the latest snake oil and convincing you that you need it. And if it's patented you can even "ask your doctor" to prescribe it. There's a commercial for the latest electronic gizmo that's certain to help you find romance. And you can't travel quickly and comfortably without owning the latest classy looking jalopy. They show you the icing. They don't show you the cake underneath.
In between the commercials and other promotions there may be 35 minutes left for news. A lot of that time will be taken up with sports, weather and, possibly, stock market news. That may leave 20 minutes for other news. If there is more than 20 minutes of important events to talk about you won't get it all. If there is less than 20 minutes you will get ballast. In either case someone else is deciding what is important. Not you.
Maybe having been a broadcaster and commercial actor myself has given me a clearer perspective about these things. No maybe about it. But there's no reason not to pass my perspective along.
I was working at a large TV station during the Viet Nam war. There were a lot of protests against that war. This station sent a news team to Viet Nam to interview local Americans who were over there. After asking them who they were, where they were from and what they did there, they asked what the person thought of the protests back home. If that person thought the protests were detrimental to the efforts it was included in the news program. If the person agreed with the protests that portion of the interview was cut from the news. The station was purposely giving the impression that no one in Viet Nam was in favor of our leaving there. I was quite young at the time but it was when I first began shaking my head.
I was the morning news announcer for a large radio station. It was the custom at that station to repeat the top story at the end of the newscast, and so I did, because it was the custom, I had exactly 5 minutes, and one day I realized that the practice was cutting into time that could be used for another important item. Then, sometimes the top story was merely what one politician said about some other politician and it didn't bear repeating. It was just empty words. So I stopped the practice altogether unless the top story was of world wide importance. It wasn't long before the more conservative listeners raised their objections. They wanted the repeat reinstated for no other reason than that's the way it was always done. So I complied.
A few years later I happened to be listening to that station and heard that the practice of repeating the top story had been dropped completely. "Oh, my prophetic soul."
One day last winter I watched the TV journalists at Fox News throwing snow balls at each other during the newscast. I enjoyed that very much, not because of the snow ball fight but because it illustrated how unimportant to them it was what they were there to do.
By all means watch your TV News. But as you do remember three things.
First, it's show business. Most of those people are members of AFTRA, The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. They are entertainers.
Second, everything you see has to be carefully designed to fit into a specific and limited time slot. There is no spilling over even if there is more news than can fit into that time period and you will be given unimportant news to fill out that time slot if there isn't.
Third, there is no news outlet that doesn't have an editorial policy. Someone is deciding what is important for you to see and hear and what you should think about it.
Challenge the empty words and the empty thoughts they give you.
Marcel Proust once suggested that all the great poetry and philosophy of the world should be printed in the daily paper, whereas the news of the day, crime reports, ball scores, recipes, crosswords and police blotters should be published in expensive leather bound volumes, thus expressing his scorn for the relative importance we give to what we read.
DB - The Vagabond
-------------------------
It's Spring. Plant a smile today.
****************************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 5 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Unknown
****************
TIME vs. IMPORTANCE
------------------------------
Most of us are unaware of just how much our thinking is effected and shaped by empty words. I don't watch much television any more, because when I do I literally shake my head at the nonsense I'm seeing and hearing.
A TV station advertises the 10:00 News, let's say. It's an hour program. The producers are responsible for delivering exactly 60 minutes of program. Of course a lot of that time will be taken up by commercial advertising which often consists of well made and attractive nonsense. They put an actor in a lab coat holding up a deliciously designed container of the latest snake oil and convincing you that you need it. And if it's patented you can even "ask your doctor" to prescribe it. There's a commercial for the latest electronic gizmo that's certain to help you find romance. And you can't travel quickly and comfortably without owning the latest classy looking jalopy. They show you the icing. They don't show you the cake underneath.
In between the commercials and other promotions there may be 35 minutes left for news. A lot of that time will be taken up with sports, weather and, possibly, stock market news. That may leave 20 minutes for other news. If there is more than 20 minutes of important events to talk about you won't get it all. If there is less than 20 minutes you will get ballast. In either case someone else is deciding what is important. Not you.
Maybe having been a broadcaster and commercial actor myself has given me a clearer perspective about these things. No maybe about it. But there's no reason not to pass my perspective along.
I was working at a large TV station during the Viet Nam war. There were a lot of protests against that war. This station sent a news team to Viet Nam to interview local Americans who were over there. After asking them who they were, where they were from and what they did there, they asked what the person thought of the protests back home. If that person thought the protests were detrimental to the efforts it was included in the news program. If the person agreed with the protests that portion of the interview was cut from the news. The station was purposely giving the impression that no one in Viet Nam was in favor of our leaving there. I was quite young at the time but it was when I first began shaking my head.
I was the morning news announcer for a large radio station. It was the custom at that station to repeat the top story at the end of the newscast, and so I did, because it was the custom, I had exactly 5 minutes, and one day I realized that the practice was cutting into time that could be used for another important item. Then, sometimes the top story was merely what one politician said about some other politician and it didn't bear repeating. It was just empty words. So I stopped the practice altogether unless the top story was of world wide importance. It wasn't long before the more conservative listeners raised their objections. They wanted the repeat reinstated for no other reason than that's the way it was always done. So I complied.
A few years later I happened to be listening to that station and heard that the practice of repeating the top story had been dropped completely. "Oh, my prophetic soul."
One day last winter I watched the TV journalists at Fox News throwing snow balls at each other during the newscast. I enjoyed that very much, not because of the snow ball fight but because it illustrated how unimportant to them it was what they were there to do.
By all means watch your TV News. But as you do remember three things.
First, it's show business. Most of those people are members of AFTRA, The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. They are entertainers.
Second, everything you see has to be carefully designed to fit into a specific and limited time slot. There is no spilling over even if there is more news than can fit into that time period and you will be given unimportant news to fill out that time slot if there isn't.
Third, there is no news outlet that doesn't have an editorial policy. Someone is deciding what is important for you to see and hear and what you should think about it.
Challenge the empty words and the empty thoughts they give you.
Marcel Proust once suggested that all the great poetry and philosophy of the world should be printed in the daily paper, whereas the news of the day, crime reports, ball scores, recipes, crosswords and police blotters should be published in expensive leather bound volumes, thus expressing his scorn for the relative importance we give to what we read.
DB - The Vagabond
-------------------------
It's Spring. Plant a smile today.
****************************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 5 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Getting Lost
One doesn't discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
Andre Gide
*********************
Today's entry is a boatload of events.
Discovery
My brother's boat
The moose tracks
The German man
The cliff
The mariners.
The writer
Brian
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCOVERY
I watched the approach and docking of the Space Shuttle Discovery to the International Sauce Station yesterday. For me one of the most fascinating things about it is when the shuttle first appears. The Space Station cameras are focused out into the void of space and suddenly a very small pinpoint of light appears and gradually grows larger. The Space Shuttle is more than 40 miles away from its destination. The astronauts are safe, snug and cozy inside their vehicle. But is the vehicle safe inside the vast sea of space? Even though they can still see the earth as a reference point, getting back to it involves a long, complicated process.
MY BROTHER'S BOAT
My brother Henry was a sailor. After he left the Navy he worked in the advertising business. When he retired he bought a small sail boat and moored it on the shore of Connecticut. He enjoyed taking people out in it and spending a night at sea. He told me that one day he had an advertising executive as a guest on the boat, a former colleague of his. When they reached a certain point out on Long Island Sound they could no longer see the shore. My brother's friend panicked. He couldn't bear not knowing where the land was, where the Earth was. So my brother turned the boat around and headed back to the Connecticut shore.
THE MOOSE TRACKS
One bright summer day I was hiking a trail in the White Mountains of New Hampshire when I suddenly came across moose tracks on the trail. I got very excited because I thought I was actually going to see it. I had never seen a moose any where but in a zoo. Although they occasionally have their bad days. Moose are gentle giants, big benign, herbivorous creatures who are no threat to humans. So I followed the tracks hoping I would catch up to him and observe him, from a respectful distance of course. But either he was too fast for me or he was successfully hiding. I didn't see him. So I turned away from the tracks and found I had wandered far off the trail. There I was in a sea of trees not knowing where my trail was. I hadn't noticed that the moose tracks crossed some other tracks and so following those tracks by mistake got me confused and they took me into outer space.
So I had to find the trail again if I expected to get back to civilization. It took some exploring but I eventually did.
THE GERMAN MAN
I was walking through the Soho district of Manhattan in New York City one day. When I got to the corner of Houston and Sullivan Streets I saw a family on the opposite corner: a man and woman and three children. He was staring at a map. They were obviously tourists. When the man saw me he crossed the street and said to me "Excuse me. Vitch vay iz vest?" I pointed west and said "That way." He thanked me and rejoined his family. They didn't want to go "vest" they just wanted to know where they were. They were lost in the great cosmic sea known as Manhattan.
THE CLIFF
On another day I was hiking the same mountains in New Hampshire when my trail came across a cliff. It wasn't a large cliff but it was big enough so that I couldn't quite step from one side to the other. Even a taller man than I would have trouble with that cliff. It was sheer, with nothing below it but outer space. I could see a foothold and a handhold on the other side but I had to leap to get there, a leap of faith. I stood looking for a while. If I missed I would plunge down to certain injury, probably not death. I contemplated whether I should try it or turn back to the Connecticut shore. Finally I took the plunge and made it across.
On the way back I faced the same cliff but since I had made it once it no longer frightened me and I jumped across without a slip.
THE MARINERS
I sometimes thin of the sailors of the past, setting out in small wooden bottom ships with very little but the night sky to guide them through weather that sometimes turned the waves into mountains and sheer cliffs. Not knowing where they were going, how long they would be at sea or what they would find, they discovered new lands. They also discovered that the Earth is a globe, a globe the astronauts can now look at from outer space.
THE WRITER
As a writer (published some day, I hope) I face the open sea of a blank page every day. I don't know where I'm going, how long it will take me or what I'll find when I get there, but I consent to lose sight of the shore for as long as it takes.
Sometimes I feel lost in space with nothing but a flicker of light in the distance. I get confused and lose a train of thought and want to turn back. I face having to write things that seem too difficult for me and want to avoid them. Sometimes I stand at the crossroad of ideas and don't know which direction I'm going in.
Ideas run the world, some wise man said. Ideas can come from peering in a map, steering through mountains of waves, on a forest trail, on the edge of a cliff or while lost at sea. The expression of those ideas through art is the discovery of new lands.
BRIAN
In the Autumn of 1960 I began a journey hitchhiking across the United States from Boston, Massachusetts to Los Angeles, California. It took me two weeks. I didn't know where I was going, how long it would take me, what would happen to me along the way and what I would find. I had never been further west than New Jersey.
Using the memories of my adventure as a plot, I have sent my comrade, invention and friendly Frankenstein, Brian Sims, on the same trip and written about it. That long story is now finished and has taken its place in The Brian Saga under the title "Brian On The Road." http://thebriansaga.blogspot.com/
DB - The Vagabond
May you suddenly trip and fall into a pool of happiness.
******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Andre Gide
*********************
Today's entry is a boatload of events.
Discovery
My brother's boat
The moose tracks
The German man
The cliff
The mariners.
The writer
Brian
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
DISCOVERY
I watched the approach and docking of the Space Shuttle Discovery to the International Sauce Station yesterday. For me one of the most fascinating things about it is when the shuttle first appears. The Space Station cameras are focused out into the void of space and suddenly a very small pinpoint of light appears and gradually grows larger. The Space Shuttle is more than 40 miles away from its destination. The astronauts are safe, snug and cozy inside their vehicle. But is the vehicle safe inside the vast sea of space? Even though they can still see the earth as a reference point, getting back to it involves a long, complicated process.
MY BROTHER'S BOAT
My brother Henry was a sailor. After he left the Navy he worked in the advertising business. When he retired he bought a small sail boat and moored it on the shore of Connecticut. He enjoyed taking people out in it and spending a night at sea. He told me that one day he had an advertising executive as a guest on the boat, a former colleague of his. When they reached a certain point out on Long Island Sound they could no longer see the shore. My brother's friend panicked. He couldn't bear not knowing where the land was, where the Earth was. So my brother turned the boat around and headed back to the Connecticut shore.
THE MOOSE TRACKS
One bright summer day I was hiking a trail in the White Mountains of New Hampshire when I suddenly came across moose tracks on the trail. I got very excited because I thought I was actually going to see it. I had never seen a moose any where but in a zoo. Although they occasionally have their bad days. Moose are gentle giants, big benign, herbivorous creatures who are no threat to humans. So I followed the tracks hoping I would catch up to him and observe him, from a respectful distance of course. But either he was too fast for me or he was successfully hiding. I didn't see him. So I turned away from the tracks and found I had wandered far off the trail. There I was in a sea of trees not knowing where my trail was. I hadn't noticed that the moose tracks crossed some other tracks and so following those tracks by mistake got me confused and they took me into outer space.
So I had to find the trail again if I expected to get back to civilization. It took some exploring but I eventually did.
THE GERMAN MAN
I was walking through the Soho district of Manhattan in New York City one day. When I got to the corner of Houston and Sullivan Streets I saw a family on the opposite corner: a man and woman and three children. He was staring at a map. They were obviously tourists. When the man saw me he crossed the street and said to me "Excuse me. Vitch vay iz vest?" I pointed west and said "That way." He thanked me and rejoined his family. They didn't want to go "vest" they just wanted to know where they were. They were lost in the great cosmic sea known as Manhattan.
THE CLIFF
On another day I was hiking the same mountains in New Hampshire when my trail came across a cliff. It wasn't a large cliff but it was big enough so that I couldn't quite step from one side to the other. Even a taller man than I would have trouble with that cliff. It was sheer, with nothing below it but outer space. I could see a foothold and a handhold on the other side but I had to leap to get there, a leap of faith. I stood looking for a while. If I missed I would plunge down to certain injury, probably not death. I contemplated whether I should try it or turn back to the Connecticut shore. Finally I took the plunge and made it across.
On the way back I faced the same cliff but since I had made it once it no longer frightened me and I jumped across without a slip.
THE MARINERS
I sometimes thin of the sailors of the past, setting out in small wooden bottom ships with very little but the night sky to guide them through weather that sometimes turned the waves into mountains and sheer cliffs. Not knowing where they were going, how long they would be at sea or what they would find, they discovered new lands. They also discovered that the Earth is a globe, a globe the astronauts can now look at from outer space.
THE WRITER
As a writer (published some day, I hope) I face the open sea of a blank page every day. I don't know where I'm going, how long it will take me or what I'll find when I get there, but I consent to lose sight of the shore for as long as it takes.
Sometimes I feel lost in space with nothing but a flicker of light in the distance. I get confused and lose a train of thought and want to turn back. I face having to write things that seem too difficult for me and want to avoid them. Sometimes I stand at the crossroad of ideas and don't know which direction I'm going in.
Ideas run the world, some wise man said. Ideas can come from peering in a map, steering through mountains of waves, on a forest trail, on the edge of a cliff or while lost at sea. The expression of those ideas through art is the discovery of new lands.
BRIAN
In the Autumn of 1960 I began a journey hitchhiking across the United States from Boston, Massachusetts to Los Angeles, California. It took me two weeks. I didn't know where I was going, how long it would take me, what would happen to me along the way and what I would find. I had never been further west than New Jersey.
Using the memories of my adventure as a plot, I have sent my comrade, invention and friendly Frankenstein, Brian Sims, on the same trip and written about it. That long story is now finished and has taken its place in The Brian Saga under the title "Brian On The Road." http://thebriansaga.blogspot.com/
DB - The Vagabond
May you suddenly trip and fall into a pool of happiness.
******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Beyond The Words
By forthright thinking a man will arrive at the truth. Not by vain thinking in words, but by the meaningful thinking that springs from the source.
Karl Jaspers
*****************
Wisdom often arrives at the door dressed in strange garb. Some say that writing is not a true art form. For the painter the color spectrum is the same the world over, and for the musician the tonal relationships never vary, Both tones and colors depend on natural law. But language is a variable thing. It changes from age to age, from nation to nation and even sometimes within a single nation. Some words have multiple meanings and thus a statement may be misinterpreted. Some authors have been arrested, and killed because of what they wrote or what someone thought they wrote.
All art can be dangerous, not just to the artist but to those who don't understand it. Like all art I think of literature not as an end, a purpose, a thing in itself, but rather as a door, a gate, a shrine. We go to a shrine to worship, not to worship the shrine but what it stands for, a god or goddess, a saint or an idea, a truth.
A writer's tools are words. But we are bombarded by words from every side: on every milk carton, soup can, on advertising brochures, papers and the Internet. It seems that words are like unsubstantial flecks of dust twirling around us, or piling up in the corners of our minds. With his tools the writer attempts to fashion something. It he's good it could be a poem, a letter or a story; something important.
When I'm writing I often stop and ask myself if what I've just typed is what I really want to say. That question needs to be answered on three levels. First, have I chosen the right words, is it clear? Second, have I thought clearly enough to address the subject I'm writing about, have I perhaps stumbled in my own thinking and haven't really grasped the truth of what I'm saying, And third, does the real meaning of what I'm trying to write come from that place behind the words and beyond the shrine, where the universal mind, the source, resides and speaks. Sometimes I don't get an answer to the third part of that question. But sometimes I do. And I'm grateful for those times.
It's a humbling but glorious condition to be even monetarily in tune with an intelligence beyond one's usual ability. It's a cleansing experience, an atonement, an epiphany, an elixir of spirit. It's the best reward there is for an artist's labor.
Have I said everything I want to say on this topic? No. I patiently await the words.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Karl Jaspers
*****************
Wisdom often arrives at the door dressed in strange garb. Some say that writing is not a true art form. For the painter the color spectrum is the same the world over, and for the musician the tonal relationships never vary, Both tones and colors depend on natural law. But language is a variable thing. It changes from age to age, from nation to nation and even sometimes within a single nation. Some words have multiple meanings and thus a statement may be misinterpreted. Some authors have been arrested, and killed because of what they wrote or what someone thought they wrote.
All art can be dangerous, not just to the artist but to those who don't understand it. Like all art I think of literature not as an end, a purpose, a thing in itself, but rather as a door, a gate, a shrine. We go to a shrine to worship, not to worship the shrine but what it stands for, a god or goddess, a saint or an idea, a truth.
A writer's tools are words. But we are bombarded by words from every side: on every milk carton, soup can, on advertising brochures, papers and the Internet. It seems that words are like unsubstantial flecks of dust twirling around us, or piling up in the corners of our minds. With his tools the writer attempts to fashion something. It he's good it could be a poem, a letter or a story; something important.
When I'm writing I often stop and ask myself if what I've just typed is what I really want to say. That question needs to be answered on three levels. First, have I chosen the right words, is it clear? Second, have I thought clearly enough to address the subject I'm writing about, have I perhaps stumbled in my own thinking and haven't really grasped the truth of what I'm saying, And third, does the real meaning of what I'm trying to write come from that place behind the words and beyond the shrine, where the universal mind, the source, resides and speaks. Sometimes I don't get an answer to the third part of that question. But sometimes I do. And I'm grateful for those times.
It's a humbling but glorious condition to be even monetarily in tune with an intelligence beyond one's usual ability. It's a cleansing experience, an atonement, an epiphany, an elixir of spirit. It's the best reward there is for an artist's labor.
Have I said everything I want to say on this topic? No. I patiently await the words.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 4 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Strange Art
We artists are driven towards personal lives nourished in these strange techniques of self-pursuit.
Lawrence Durrell
***************
YEEESH. I see I'm having to address the subject of my last entry. "It can always be better" does not mean that it isn't good. It does NOT mean that you have to sweat and struggle to climb Mount Everest or run a Marathon. And it does NOT mean that you can't settle for good enough. I cite the example of myself in the recording studio. I wouldn't have been there in the first place if I wasn't good enough. I merely took the opportunity to try to make it better by fixing a little thing here and a little thing there. Faulkner said "Try to be better than yourself."
He didn't say you must be better or you ought to be. He merely said "try." If a thing isn't perfect, and it never is, then it can always be better. If you do a thing well then it's good. If you have the chance to make it better, take it. If you don't then so what it's still good. I hope that better explains what I mean to say. Now let me talk about my painting.
************************************
I used to practice what is sometimes called "Mail Art." At first I just took blank index cards. On one side I would address it and write a note and on the other side I drew an original picture, sometimes it was a scene, sometimes just an abstract design, stamp it and mail it.
Then I found a pad of post card size water color paper and with very thin acrylic paint, which is magical stuff, I would paint a picture and mail that.
Another time I took a regular white envelope, opened it up and used it as a pattern to cut out on interesting colored paper on which I would paint designes, then fold it up and glued it back into the shape of an envelope and mail that with a letter inside.
I finally realized that, with a few exceptions where people actually framed things and displayed them on a table or book shelf, most of those items ended up in the trash. Someone might look at it, say "Hmm" and toss it.
It's okay. They were just simple ways of saying "Hello" in a personal manner beyond words.
I've just had a rare experience with one of my paintings. The local artists organization, of which I am a member recently held an exhibit of members' works. We were told that the pieces had to be framed and/or wired so that they could be easily hung. I have a litter of paintings which I love, some better than others, but very few of them are framed. Two of them are hanging in the gallery where no one ever comes. Another one I had planned for a different exhibit. I wasn't particularly fond of the few remaining pieces. I finally chose a small painting I had done years ago. I didn't know if it was even any good. No one had ever seen it before so I had no comments about it to go on. It was the runt of the litter. But I took it over there and entered it in the exhibit. When I went to the opening reception, there it was hanging bravely with many other larger pieces.
The exhibit lasted for about a seek and was open to the public every day. When the exhibit had ended and the day came to pick up the picture I saw it furtively leaning against the wall, tucked between other pictures that hadn't been picked up yet. I picked it up and took it home. As I held it in my hands it slowly began to take on a different character. It had made its debut, it had been seen by total strangers, to whatever degree it had expressed itself, it had projected itself into the world, it had a history. The runt had grown up a little. It has its own life.
Now I cherish it. It is displayed here now and not sitting in a canvas bag in the corner. I have had other paintings on exhibit but they were works I proudly put up. I don't know if this one will ever be shown again, but it sure has had its day and has won my heart.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Lawrence Durrell
***************
YEEESH. I see I'm having to address the subject of my last entry. "It can always be better" does not mean that it isn't good. It does NOT mean that you have to sweat and struggle to climb Mount Everest or run a Marathon. And it does NOT mean that you can't settle for good enough. I cite the example of myself in the recording studio. I wouldn't have been there in the first place if I wasn't good enough. I merely took the opportunity to try to make it better by fixing a little thing here and a little thing there. Faulkner said "Try to be better than yourself."
He didn't say you must be better or you ought to be. He merely said "try." If a thing isn't perfect, and it never is, then it can always be better. If you do a thing well then it's good. If you have the chance to make it better, take it. If you don't then so what it's still good. I hope that better explains what I mean to say. Now let me talk about my painting.
************************************
I used to practice what is sometimes called "Mail Art." At first I just took blank index cards. On one side I would address it and write a note and on the other side I drew an original picture, sometimes it was a scene, sometimes just an abstract design, stamp it and mail it.
Then I found a pad of post card size water color paper and with very thin acrylic paint, which is magical stuff, I would paint a picture and mail that.
Another time I took a regular white envelope, opened it up and used it as a pattern to cut out on interesting colored paper on which I would paint designes, then fold it up and glued it back into the shape of an envelope and mail that with a letter inside.
I finally realized that, with a few exceptions where people actually framed things and displayed them on a table or book shelf, most of those items ended up in the trash. Someone might look at it, say "Hmm" and toss it.
It's okay. They were just simple ways of saying "Hello" in a personal manner beyond words.
I've just had a rare experience with one of my paintings. The local artists organization, of which I am a member recently held an exhibit of members' works. We were told that the pieces had to be framed and/or wired so that they could be easily hung. I have a litter of paintings which I love, some better than others, but very few of them are framed. Two of them are hanging in the gallery where no one ever comes. Another one I had planned for a different exhibit. I wasn't particularly fond of the few remaining pieces. I finally chose a small painting I had done years ago. I didn't know if it was even any good. No one had ever seen it before so I had no comments about it to go on. It was the runt of the litter. But I took it over there and entered it in the exhibit. When I went to the opening reception, there it was hanging bravely with many other larger pieces.
The exhibit lasted for about a seek and was open to the public every day. When the exhibit had ended and the day came to pick up the picture I saw it furtively leaning against the wall, tucked between other pictures that hadn't been picked up yet. I picked it up and took it home. As I held it in my hands it slowly began to take on a different character. It had made its debut, it had been seen by total strangers, to whatever degree it had expressed itself, it had projected itself into the world, it had a history. The runt had grown up a little. It has its own life.
Now I cherish it. It is displayed here now and not sitting in a canvas bag in the corner. I have had other paintings on exhibit but they were works I proudly put up. I don't know if this one will ever be shown again, but it sure has had its day and has won my heart.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Monday, April 5, 2010
Give Me Three
Try to be better than yourself.
William Faulkner
*****************
The Easter Bunny hopped in here and helped me fill out my tax form. Shall I send him over there?
*************************
Ahhh!! Self satisfaction. The great temptation. One of the Seven Deadly Sins. Do we file it under Sloth or Pride? Or both. I'm not sure.
The wheel is a great tool and very popular, it always sells. So I'll just go on reinventing it for the rest of my life and everything will be fine.
One of the rules I lived by as a performer was "It can always be better." Some actors I knew hardly ever opened their scripts after opening night. I guess they thought the work was done and there was nothing left but to repeat themselves night after night. I admit to having the same attitude the first few years of my career. But early on, through observing the work of older actors, I realized that the work never stops even up to the last performance. There was no noticeable alteration in how they performed their roles. It was the same dive into the drama and ideas of the play and the characters, but the dive kept getting deeper. It was necessary to respond to that increased artistry, so I had to do my own diving.
I found the rule "It can always be better" very helpful in recording studios. I had worked for many recording directors, Some were very good and some were awful, particularly one blue ribbon bitch in the studios of Mutual Of New York who had no idea what she was doing and so had to bully everyone to cover up and compensate.
One director I worked for many times had a special and very effective way of working. After I finished the recording he would say "Give me three more just like that." He might make a few adjustments and then ask for three more, and then, maybe, three more after that. He was getting as much work out of me as he could so he could take it all into a studio and do the editing to come up with the best possible version of the piece. I appreciated that. After all it was my voice, my work that was going to be heard and wanted it to be the best. Not only that but, unlike some self satisfied directors, he would ask me what I thought. If I said "Well, it can always be better" he would say "Okay, let's do three more." I would go anywhere at any time of day or night to work for a director like that.
I say don't sell yourself short. You may find a formula that works and have success with it. But will there come a time when you will realize you sacrificed the person you might have been for the easy road through life?
The great conductor Leopold Stokowski used to end his orchestra rehearsals by saying "Tomorrow we do it better."
Acting on the stage or in front of a camera, playing music or baseball, taking photographs, building a garage or cooking a pot roast, it can be done better than it was yesterday The effort is what's needed and the knowledge that it can always, ALWAYS be better.
DB - The Vagabond
*****************
pacifica62 I still don't know who you are or where you are but I sure appreciate your excellent comments. Thank you.
**************************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 3 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
William Faulkner
*****************
The Easter Bunny hopped in here and helped me fill out my tax form. Shall I send him over there?
*************************
Ahhh!! Self satisfaction. The great temptation. One of the Seven Deadly Sins. Do we file it under Sloth or Pride? Or both. I'm not sure.
The wheel is a great tool and very popular, it always sells. So I'll just go on reinventing it for the rest of my life and everything will be fine.
One of the rules I lived by as a performer was "It can always be better." Some actors I knew hardly ever opened their scripts after opening night. I guess they thought the work was done and there was nothing left but to repeat themselves night after night. I admit to having the same attitude the first few years of my career. But early on, through observing the work of older actors, I realized that the work never stops even up to the last performance. There was no noticeable alteration in how they performed their roles. It was the same dive into the drama and ideas of the play and the characters, but the dive kept getting deeper. It was necessary to respond to that increased artistry, so I had to do my own diving.
I found the rule "It can always be better" very helpful in recording studios. I had worked for many recording directors, Some were very good and some were awful, particularly one blue ribbon bitch in the studios of Mutual Of New York who had no idea what she was doing and so had to bully everyone to cover up and compensate.
One director I worked for many times had a special and very effective way of working. After I finished the recording he would say "Give me three more just like that." He might make a few adjustments and then ask for three more, and then, maybe, three more after that. He was getting as much work out of me as he could so he could take it all into a studio and do the editing to come up with the best possible version of the piece. I appreciated that. After all it was my voice, my work that was going to be heard and wanted it to be the best. Not only that but, unlike some self satisfied directors, he would ask me what I thought. If I said "Well, it can always be better" he would say "Okay, let's do three more." I would go anywhere at any time of day or night to work for a director like that.
I say don't sell yourself short. You may find a formula that works and have success with it. But will there come a time when you will realize you sacrificed the person you might have been for the easy road through life?
The great conductor Leopold Stokowski used to end his orchestra rehearsals by saying "Tomorrow we do it better."
Acting on the stage or in front of a camera, playing music or baseball, taking photographs, building a garage or cooking a pot roast, it can be done better than it was yesterday The effort is what's needed and the knowledge that it can always, ALWAYS be better.
DB - The Vagabond
*****************
pacifica62 I still don't know who you are or where you are but I sure appreciate your excellent comments. Thank you.
**************************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
Only 3 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Birds And Blossoms
If I keep a green bough in my heart, then the singing bird will come.
Chinese proverb.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
One green bough. One song bird. One heart.
---------------------------------------
Today my phone is working again. I'll see what tomorrow brings.
---------------------------------
It's Easter, Passover, Spring. It's the time for resurrection, release and renewal.
I read a lot of journals. I enjoy reading people's news. Some journals take on serious issues and stomp for some righteous cause. A few stomp for some unrighteous cause. I read them anyway.
I've been told that Vagabond Journeys is silly and without substance. Maybe it's because I don't take on serious political and religious issues unless they relate to some historical scenery. It isn't that I don't think about those things, it's that as one solitary individual, alone in this community of writers, it is the hope and plan of my journal to send as many sparks of light as I can into a world of troubles and struggles, and not to light destructive fires.
When I got my phone on this morning there were 8 messages on there, most of them threatening calls from law firms. They will all be handled one way or another But not now.
The only things that impact and influence my journal writings are personal observations, the conditions of my own life, natural curiosity, the thoughts of the wise and the otherwise and a constant yearning to understand and appreciate beauty.
Walking home from an errand yesterday I came upon a small tree growing out of a plot of earth on the sidewalk. The sun was shining joyfully through its array of small pink blossoms with dark red fingers pushing out the ends of its branches. It was breathtaking. It was by itself on the sidewalk, There were no other trees around. I stopped to admire the gleaming light of that small tree and touch its pink blossoms. It was beautiful.
As I approached home I stopped again to listen to a solitary bird in the tree behind the house. It was chirping the sweetest song, all by itself, singing because it wanted to.
What is it that would keep one from noticing these things and enjoying them? Is it the snarling and hissing beasts of trouble and worldliness? If so then it must be fear, and someone, even if all by himself, should offer an antidote to that fear, should extend a green bough for the singing bird.
So call me silly and without substance. It's easy to say don't be afraid. But that's not good enough. I know about fear. I know how it can darken the clearest sky and silence the prettiest music. It can grip the mind and the emotions and even turn into hate, if not faced down. It is fear that says hope is dead and buried, there is no escape and we are destined to life's cold winds and bare branches forever.
But it is Easter, Passover, Spring. He is risen, the Pharoah has been left behind and the tree is blooming. So weep for your troubled life, by all means. Tears are sacred things. But then hold out your heart for the singing bird.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Chinese proverb.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
One green bough. One song bird. One heart.
---------------------------------------
Today my phone is working again. I'll see what tomorrow brings.
---------------------------------
It's Easter, Passover, Spring. It's the time for resurrection, release and renewal.
I read a lot of journals. I enjoy reading people's news. Some journals take on serious issues and stomp for some righteous cause. A few stomp for some unrighteous cause. I read them anyway.
I've been told that Vagabond Journeys is silly and without substance. Maybe it's because I don't take on serious political and religious issues unless they relate to some historical scenery. It isn't that I don't think about those things, it's that as one solitary individual, alone in this community of writers, it is the hope and plan of my journal to send as many sparks of light as I can into a world of troubles and struggles, and not to light destructive fires.
When I got my phone on this morning there were 8 messages on there, most of them threatening calls from law firms. They will all be handled one way or another But not now.
The only things that impact and influence my journal writings are personal observations, the conditions of my own life, natural curiosity, the thoughts of the wise and the otherwise and a constant yearning to understand and appreciate beauty.
Walking home from an errand yesterday I came upon a small tree growing out of a plot of earth on the sidewalk. The sun was shining joyfully through its array of small pink blossoms with dark red fingers pushing out the ends of its branches. It was breathtaking. It was by itself on the sidewalk, There were no other trees around. I stopped to admire the gleaming light of that small tree and touch its pink blossoms. It was beautiful.
As I approached home I stopped again to listen to a solitary bird in the tree behind the house. It was chirping the sweetest song, all by itself, singing because it wanted to.
What is it that would keep one from noticing these things and enjoying them? Is it the snarling and hissing beasts of trouble and worldliness? If so then it must be fear, and someone, even if all by himself, should offer an antidote to that fear, should extend a green bough for the singing bird.
So call me silly and without substance. It's easy to say don't be afraid. But that's not good enough. I know about fear. I know how it can darken the clearest sky and silence the prettiest music. It can grip the mind and the emotions and even turn into hate, if not faced down. It is fear that says hope is dead and buried, there is no escape and we are destined to life's cold winds and bare branches forever.
But it is Easter, Passover, Spring. He is risen, the Pharoah has been left behind and the tree is blooming. So weep for your troubled life, by all means. Tears are sacred things. But then hold out your heart for the singing bird.
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Saturday, April 3, 2010
APRIL FOOLERY ANSWERS
Though there were only 5 entries to this April Foolery the decision was a very difficult one for this poor judge. The entries were all clever and imaginative, as you will see. But I made up what passes as my mind and thus, for not purely chauvinistic reasons, the first prize of an aluminum pear tree, with partridge, goes to Trees of the Blogspot Tigers for.
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 A Toyota with faulty accelerator pedal
11 A used up paint brush with bristles all awry
10 A rock picked up on the beach they lovingly
spent hours finding
9 The first peach rose blooming in my garden
8 A handmade birthday card that showed all the love for me they have
7 A badly flopped, lopsided cake that toppled over when I tried to cut it,
it was made with much love
6 A stuffed giraffe with very long hanging legs that made me laugh for
hours
5 A sand dollar that had broken, the doves were put on a rock that
was bleached so white, one of the most precious gifts I cherish to this
day
4 A copy of the Trees Poem by Joyce Kilmer
3 A life long membership to Vagabond Journey's blog for which I love them
even more
2 Their gift of humour, honesty, loyalty, trust
1 Their heart
and Their love, a gift from God and their faith in me and loving me and
accepting me unconditionally
and My very favorite my whoopee cushion to kid everyone with
and the best April fools joke ever.
*******************************
*******************************
Second prize of 2 turtles goes to Barry of the Email Lions for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 Obamas bombing
11 Bad Amendments
10 Tigers Golfing
9_Supreme Court Judges
8_FOX Reporters
7_Spitzers spitting
6_Edwards laying
5 CPA's
4_Frightened Quail
3_Dead Moose
2 Democrats
and John Boehner hanging from a pear tree.
****************************
Third Prize of 3 French Hens (one of them is pregnant) will go to Beth of the Blogspot Tigers for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 jurors judging
11 polling places
10 chads a-hanging
9 justices ruling
8 negative ads
7 morons with signs
6 teabaggin' dolts
5 Palin kids!
4 governors cheating
3 sordid affairs
2 opposing parties
and a brand new health care bill!.
********************************
Neck and neck with Beth came Val, also of the Blogspot Tigers, with 4 birds amocking for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 gags and hoaxes
11 flying penguins
10 yards with no feet
9 cats with no lives
an 8 ball with 4 sides
7 lucky horse heads
6 happy tax accountants preparing
5 simple tax returns
4 vanilla bunnies
a 3-eyed cyclops
2 conjoined triplets
and a blue-footed boobie in a rubber tree plant.
**********************
And on honorable mention along with 5 plastic rings goes to Stuart of the Email Lions for:
A chauvinist pig a frying, a wet puppy weeing, and crabbing apple in a pear tree.
*************************
Thank you all. Good work.
---------------------------
Next weekend a new contest. Beware.
DB
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 A Toyota with faulty accelerator pedal
11 A used up paint brush with bristles all awry
10 A rock picked up on the beach they lovingly
spent hours finding
9 The first peach rose blooming in my garden
8 A handmade birthday card that showed all the love for me they have
7 A badly flopped, lopsided cake that toppled over when I tried to cut it,
it was made with much love
6 A stuffed giraffe with very long hanging legs that made me laugh for
hours
5 A sand dollar that had broken, the doves were put on a rock that
was bleached so white, one of the most precious gifts I cherish to this
day
4 A copy of the Trees Poem by Joyce Kilmer
3 A life long membership to Vagabond Journey's blog for which I love them
even more
2 Their gift of humour, honesty, loyalty, trust
1 Their heart
and Their love, a gift from God and their faith in me and loving me and
accepting me unconditionally
and My very favorite my whoopee cushion to kid everyone with
and the best April fools joke ever.
*******************************
*******************************
Second prize of 2 turtles goes to Barry of the Email Lions for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 Obamas bombing
11 Bad Amendments
10 Tigers Golfing
9_Supreme Court Judges
8_FOX Reporters
7_Spitzers spitting
6_Edwards laying
5 CPA's
4_Frightened Quail
3_Dead Moose
2 Democrats
and John Boehner hanging from a pear tree.
****************************
Third Prize of 3 French Hens (one of them is pregnant) will go to Beth of the Blogspot Tigers for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 jurors judging
11 polling places
10 chads a-hanging
9 justices ruling
8 negative ads
7 morons with signs
6 teabaggin' dolts
5 Palin kids!
4 governors cheating
3 sordid affairs
2 opposing parties
and a brand new health care bill!.
********************************
Neck and neck with Beth came Val, also of the Blogspot Tigers, with 4 birds amocking for:
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12 gags and hoaxes
11 flying penguins
10 yards with no feet
9 cats with no lives
an 8 ball with 4 sides
7 lucky horse heads
6 happy tax accountants preparing
5 simple tax returns
4 vanilla bunnies
a 3-eyed cyclops
2 conjoined triplets
and a blue-footed boobie in a rubber tree plant.
**********************
And on honorable mention along with 5 plastic rings goes to Stuart of the Email Lions for:
A chauvinist pig a frying, a wet puppy weeing, and crabbing apple in a pear tree.
*************************
Thank you all. Good work.
---------------------------
Next weekend a new contest. Beware.
DB
Wing Span
What the caterpillar calls the end, nature calls a butterfly.
Unknown
************
How many of you are still in your cocoons? Ha! I thought so.
35 years ago, in the midst of my career, I never would have believed that a time would come in my life when I would not be an actor, but that I would spend my time writing and painting. I would have kept on being an actor if my body had cooperated with that plan. Forced off the stage by physical circumstances I tried to find solace in a carefully woven web of security and small town simplicity with nothing much to do but sit on the front porch and watch the world go by. I thought I was safely in my cocoon just as you do.
So you've cautiously and painstakingly climbed up and out on a limb where you are hanging, surrounded by a soft blanket of warm and sticky stuff that keeps you firmly attached to the family tree, or some other tree.. Now what?
Life is fairly well settled, the kids are grown, the mortgage is paid, the pensions are coming in regularly, you've found your doctors, you've got your medicines and your memories. It's secure inside that blanket. Life's struggles are over.
But wait. What's happening? Oh no! Something is moving inside that cocoon, something is growing. Feet are growing, and, oh good heavens, wings! It's getting very crowded in there. In fact it's suffocating. It's so claustrophobic that you have to get out. So you push and shove and discover that life's struggles have only just begun.
When you finally emerge, after a fierce effort, you spread out those wings. And after all the life you've lived, all the things you've done and all that you know, you are faced with a brand new lesson in life. You have to learn how to fly.
Bon voyage.
DB
***************
APRIL FOOLERY
Weekend Contest
This contest is open for the next 2 days.
APRIL FOOLERY
Choose as many numbers as you want and fill in the blanks
Winners will be posted on the evening of April 4.
The decisions of the nasty biased judge are final. Prizes will awarded on the basis of originality and whatever makes me laugh.
ONLY 5 ENTRIES SO FAR
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12______
11______
10______
9_______
8_______
7_______
6_______
5_______
4_______
3_______
2_______
and_______
Good luck
DB
****************
Unknown
************
How many of you are still in your cocoons? Ha! I thought so.
35 years ago, in the midst of my career, I never would have believed that a time would come in my life when I would not be an actor, but that I would spend my time writing and painting. I would have kept on being an actor if my body had cooperated with that plan. Forced off the stage by physical circumstances I tried to find solace in a carefully woven web of security and small town simplicity with nothing much to do but sit on the front porch and watch the world go by. I thought I was safely in my cocoon just as you do.
So you've cautiously and painstakingly climbed up and out on a limb where you are hanging, surrounded by a soft blanket of warm and sticky stuff that keeps you firmly attached to the family tree, or some other tree.. Now what?
Life is fairly well settled, the kids are grown, the mortgage is paid, the pensions are coming in regularly, you've found your doctors, you've got your medicines and your memories. It's secure inside that blanket. Life's struggles are over.
But wait. What's happening? Oh no! Something is moving inside that cocoon, something is growing. Feet are growing, and, oh good heavens, wings! It's getting very crowded in there. In fact it's suffocating. It's so claustrophobic that you have to get out. So you push and shove and discover that life's struggles have only just begun.
When you finally emerge, after a fierce effort, you spread out those wings. And after all the life you've lived, all the things you've done and all that you know, you are faced with a brand new lesson in life. You have to learn how to fly.
Bon voyage.
DB
***************
APRIL FOOLERY
Weekend Contest
This contest is open for the next 2 days.
APRIL FOOLERY
Choose as many numbers as you want and fill in the blanks
Winners will be posted on the evening of April 4.
The decisions of the nasty biased judge are final. Prizes will awarded on the basis of originality and whatever makes me laugh.
ONLY 5 ENTRIES SO FAR
On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12______
11______
10______
9_______
8_______
7_______
6_______
5_______
4_______
3_______
2_______
and_______
Good luck
DB
****************
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)