Tag Archives: friends

Love It

“Shadowed”

Lots of posts about people all scaredy-catted to go see the new Stephen King It flick- me, I just feel like I’m off to visit an old friend. Count it a character flaw, a vice- trash in, trash out- yet still I view. Here’s a timely shadow found on my sister’s car seat formed from the sticker plastered on the window. For those in the know, it’s more than legible. ♦

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Sunday Edition

SPOKEN
It’s really encouraging and thrilling to hear something you haven’t heard in a long time.

Heard “my” kitty’s meow recently as well, she’s been distant as of late. This week finds her prowling about the grounds at last, hurrying to greet me once again. Turns out her name is…

It was late and I was nearly up the second flight of stairs the other night when I heard the bobo bell of a certain cat’s collar nearing. Then a door from the bottom floor opens and I hear the guy who lives there call out, “Ashley! Ashley! Hey, Aaashley, here, kitty.”

Ashley?

Uh, no.

I’d imagine her a Hilda before an “Ashley.” She has a toughness about her that I enjoy because it makes the vulnerability she sometimes shows all the sweeter. I prefer to call her Ash. The name must be the doing of the guy’s overbearing mother I sometimes here bellowing from the sidewalk.

CONSUMPTION
Bad-ish dreams- I’ve watched a ridiculous amount of filth in the last almost decade and I’ve always marveled that it doesn’t seep into my dreams. But now, I’ve had more disturbing dreams in the last six months than in six years. Just because it’s on film doesn’t mean I have to watch it. But I’ve wanted to, despite believing garbage in, garbage out, and that we become what we focus on. Must behave. At least I don’t keep it in my home, and the desire to participate in life more so than consume it from a screen grows ever stronger.

CYBER WASTELAND
I wonder how long once successful social sites will stay online- Myspace, Flickr, etc. I’ve received an excess (!) number of emails concerning my dormant Photobucket account- so I reluctantly deleted all the images and the account itself to shut them up, to no avail. Still receiving an abundance of emails. Grumpola. If they’d just stay in the spam folder, that’d be greeeat.

REPETITION
When I use the same phraseology unintentionally (love to do so with intent) in almost back-to-back posts, it makes me cringe when I only spot it after the fact. “Solid excuse” being one phrase that just popped out at me currently. Others leapt at me too, but I’m not gonna compile a list.

WONDERMENT
I love when I’m out and about in my car, and I catch people pointing and saying “Slugbug”! Played that game religiously growing up. I wonder if people see my license plate and think I got the name wrong or that “Slugbug” wasn’t available so I just chose a similar name. Nay, nay! When I had my 1974 Super Beetle(s) in the past, I was snug in my Bug, and the name remains.

TO CONNECT
As with several posts in the past year, here lies some grumpage concerning my fellow inhabitants of earth. Putting it to “paper,” expunging it from my soul. There’s currently a hodge-podge of lovely people in life that act as supplemental acquaintances, but I hunger for a few core friends that really click with me.

People that care about expressing themselves through exterior means, that have style in their appearance and home.
That cook (well) and share it with others.
That know the value of delightful external trappings, but aren’t owned by all their stuff, and instead operate from a core of what really matters in life.
That fight to keep hatred out, and bickering to a minimum.
That know words are important, and don’t casually throw cussing around like salt.
I currently say ”what the f—?” under my breathe waaay too much, and I loathe it.
I want those that are for me, not against me, that are happy for me when something good happens.
People that include me, and allow me to include them.
So tired of no-style athletic shoes, sports gear, talk of beer, wine, pot, and the next game. Repeat.
That’s not my life and I don’t wanna hear about it from others.
Where are the well-rounded folks with interests being explored, hearts shared, that value and invest in people rather than in the next collectible (heck, I love collectibles, but they’re not life).

I see examples of people seemingly more in sync with me everyday, but to find them in real life has been problematic. For those I do encounter, I’m not a curiosity to be explored nor an obligation to get to at some point. I’m not here to be their mother or a 24/7 cheerleader- frank truth with a side of tact versus enabling falsehoods are my style. I just want some sort of balance- we’re a spirit in a body with a soul- the mind, will, and emotions. God feeds my spirit, people feed my soul. This quote from the flick 20th Century Women, brings me dismay:

“So, sweetie, I don’t know if we ever figure our lives out, and the people who help you, they might not be who you thought or wanted. They might just be the people who show up.”

TO CREATE
And then there’s art. It feels like I can do art OR have a life, but attempting both at the same time leaves me half-arsing both, spinning wheels, negating each other, and I move no farther forward. If one or the other would sort themselves out, systematize already, I could more purely focus on the other.

WHERE POWER LIES
I’m mad at the world for being takers, not givers, taking and taking and not giving much in return.
For being overly sensitive and complainy instead of shutting up and doing something.
Doing something begins right where they are- being kind to those around them.
In my anger, I become them, a cyclical battle I can recognize, but feel powerless to stop. And yet, only I can stop it. Strength for each new day and no more.

And of course, the not so juicy cherry on top- all my hopes, dreams, wishes and wants, fall flat in the face of this nuclear war crap attempting to cast a surreally dark shadow all too soon. I don’t delve deeply into the news these days- bias, fearmongering, unnecessary repetition- it’s folly, and too many take the bait, feeding a deceptive juggernaut. Despite my current lack though, I’ll continue to enjoy life and help those I can, whether for a day more, or thousands upon thousands. Always at the water’s edge. ♦

“Place

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Tags As Title: Snow, Italian, Theatre

“No

Got my snow! The kind that sticks around a while. Though not the kind that sticks to the road long enough to freeze over and crunch in the night as cars attempt to drive along- that’s my favorite. No, this kind slushed in the night. In recent weeks, weird smatterings of snow have occurred where in one city, an accumulation of several inches happens while just down the road nuttin’. My snow affinity has people feeling it’s their duty to report any in the general area so that I can dream on in expectation.

“Focus”

Met up for Italian tonight, a belated birthday dinner pour moi avec friends. Denise grabs a menu and apologizes for forgetting her reading glasses as she moves the menu further out in front of her towards me. Moments later she says, “You’re so beautiful.” I promptly lean aways back in my chair and ask her, “Are you sure? Better look again.”

I was out and about the weekend before last with Bean and Shane in Seattle to see Billy Crystal at the Paramount. It happened to be Emerald City Comicon weekend, so the streets were filled with costumes of all kinds and lots of extra energy, kinda like a bonus show.

Once settled in at the theatre, the lights soon went down and out walked Bonnie Hunt. Turns out she and Billy are touring together, brought together in friendship while each serving on a committee having to do with Robin Williams, the actual details of which are fuzzy in memory. What’s not fuzzy is the collective “aw” that filled the place at the mention of Robin’s name. The evening was filled with stand up and sit down- two comfy chairs on stage where the pair sat while Bonnie asked questions of Billy- how’s he doing, what’s he think of such ’n’ such, does he remember this or that, what about so ’n’ so, etc. Each night, things might be a bit different with room for spontaneity. I learned all sorts of stuff! He was most certainly more than marvelous.

“This”

Shane chose the outing as the last gift I opened on my birthday. It was between Billy Crystal and Patton Oswalt, which Bean thought was hilarious since I’ve been scheming to take Shane to Oswalt for the past three years, each time encountering schedule conflicts. Shane aspired to be a firefighter and/or a comedian growing up, so I keep an eye out for experiences involving comics. He absolutely made the right choice given all the amazing history and talk of movies involved spanning decades. On the way out, Bean snagged a lobby card as a little memento. And on the flip side? ♦

“That”

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How Could Such News Be True

“Jammas”

Oh, dear sir, you’ve been beloved. You’ve been a part of our lives without ever meeting us. A teacher, a comforter, a friend. Emulated and applauded.

You’ve been an absolute favorite to those I’ve loved the very most in life. For some of them, Good Morning, Vietnam and Hook, learning every line.

For me, Mork is counted among my very first friends. A buddy I looked forward to seeing regularly, the pair of rainbow suspenders in my dad’s top drawer visited often with a na-nu, na-nu. How you managed to be Popeye- a favorite- as well, was something my young mind couldn’t quite wrap around at the time.

In later years, came o captain, my captain, and how you expanded my world. The news of Awakenings hitting the screen sent us off to the theatres next, thrilled to see the pairing of De Niro and Williams. How could one screen hold all that wonderful, we wondered. I could recount each and every release thereafter in fact, as we always looked forward to anything you touched.

We’ve cried over you and for you, yes, without even knowing you. What joy you’ve given, Mr. Williams. ♦

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Pass the Red Pen

“Typography

Al’s back in the best way! His parody Word Crimes buttons it up. And it’s a typographer’s dream as a friend calls it. Caught his show a few years ago at my favorite fair. Free! They needed to fill in the audience a bit with passersby so even my dad got in on a little Al. I believe he donned a weirdish hat or two? (Al did as well.) Yeah, that’s just weird, Al. ♦

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