As April Ends, We Usher Out the Fools

It’s been another half-activated day. What does that mean? Well, it means that not as much got done as could have been done. Foolishness seemed to prevail and time was lost. Still, there was a workout had, and singing done - and there will be ballet - but that’s later.

Since we are about to leave April, it being the 30th of the month and all, I figured a little something about the beginning of the month might be interesting.

I learned yet another thing from Dictionary.com this glorious morning - the origin of April Fools - or at least, what is the most likely explanation for how it began. And this shall be my tale today.

It seems that way back in the days of the Julian Calendar, the year changed at the end of March, making April 1st, New Year’s Day. When Pope Gregory put his own calendar, the Gregorian Calendar, in place in 1582, the New Year shifted to its present location. However, in France, where this ‘history’ supposedly originated, the news of the new calendar did not get out to all the inhabitants of that fair country, leaving many people still celebrating New Year’s on the 1st of April. Of course, there were also those that simply refused to use the new calendar and went along their merry ways, celebrating on the 1st. This brought ridicule upon their heads and pranks of all sorts began to occur on this day to mock those who had not toed the line when it came to the Pope and his calendar. The tradition of playing tricks has continued ever since.

After having decided that this was going to be my topic for the day, and a fitting one at that, given the close of the month, I’ve just discovered that the above ‘history’ is most likely apocryphal - oh, great.

It would appear that in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales of 1392, reference is made to this day of trickery - which would of course, pre-date the French story by some number of years - and it also appears that there were other references as well.

Oh, well - whatever the origin, it’s funny to think that people, for hundreds of years, have been playing tricks and practical jokes on one and other on the same day, every year - that a day has been set aside just for such pranks.

Humans are funny creatures, really - aren’t they!?

I Love Technology and Yet - There are Times...

Okay, instead of getting down to business here, I thought I’d first ‘fix’ the date and time on my phone - a land line. I noticed awhile back that it seemed out of synch and was in need of an adjustment - I don’t know how it happened but somehow, both the date and time were way off.

You’d think this would be an easy thing to do but first I had to locate the manual. Because I save everything under the sun and especially operating manuals, I knew it was around here somewhere.

First I searched in the most logical place - the place where I keep such things but my search was fruitless and I was slightly flummoxed by this - because on that front, I’m very organized - sort of…

I then looked in every other place it might be and the clock ticked on - the manual was not found. This was turning into more of an ‘event’ than I’d anticipated. I went back to the original location and did a more thorough search - the manual was found - I knew it had to be there. But in the meanwhile, a chunk of time had slid away.

Once I located the information necessary to adjust the date and time, I set right to it - but a funny thing happened right after I’d corrected it. The clock seemed to continue moving ahead after I’d ‘saved’ the correct settings. Instead of being 5:10pm, the clock began jumping ahead erratically - first individual minutes ticked by, like a stop watch, and then it jumped in 5 minute increments. This was bewildering. I reset it a number of times but the clock kept leaping ahead.

I searched through the manual for a possible solution under ‘Troubleshooting’ but obviously, this was not an anticipated flaw. I took the battery out and tried resetting the whole thing once again but to no avail - the clock would not hold the current time.

Now, from time to time, I’ve encountered technical problems with printers, cameras, desktops, the whole gamut - and usually a solution is eventually found - it may be frustrating in the process of finding it but there is a great deal of satisfaction felt when I arrive at the answer - somehow, I have a feeling this is a battle I will not win. I’ve tried everything I could think of but the time will not be held.

I know it doesn't seem like a big deal but when trying to determine the time of someone’s call when you’ve been out, I get readings with the wrong times and sometimes the wrong day - this is frustrating.

I’m going to give it one more shot - and if this doesn’t work - I might have to buy a new phone.

But for now, I think I’ll just relax - it’s Sunday afternoon - and I’m taking the day off…

Laverne & Shirley, Minus Shirley, Plus Me

I don’t have time right now to do this story justice so I’ll just skim it and come back another day to ‘do it up all proper like’.

I was strolling through Facebook and came across a group that I was added to by an old high school friend - Facebook can be incredible that way - but that’s another story all together. 

This particular group consists of people who grew up in the same town - in my case, Durango, Colorado - and much of ‘the page’ revolves around nostalgic remembrances - and that is as it should be since the page is titled something like, “You Are From Durango If You Remember” - or something like that.

Anyway, it’s not a page I frequent but today, I decided to drop in and see what was happening. As I scrolled through the many topics, I came across one that stood out immediately - it was about a tent show that came to town and stayed for one glorious Summer. The show they did was Oklahoma!, and for me, it was magical. I hung out there all the time - or as often as I could, since I was only about 10 or 11, I think.

All the cast were very nice but the woman who played Ado Annie, was a bit reserved. I realize now that she was not reserved at all but rather, had a very, very dry wit. Regardless of her demeanour, she too became very friendly and through the course of the Summer, I got to know her an eentsy bit better - and she was terrific as Ado Annie.

As it turned out, this was Penny Marshall who was attending the University of New Mexico (I think), and she’d taken this job doing Summer theatre, in Durango.

There is more to this story, but unfortunately, I’ve got work today as we have guests coming tonight.

Yes, I think I’ll retell this tale, when time permits, and spin it out a bit - how’s that!?

I think you’ll like it…

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Weekend!

What is it about we humans that necessitates the division of time? I suppose that’s a rhetorical question, more or less, given that the revolution of the earth around the sun has more to do with it than some obsessive tic we’ve developed - the need to parse and count.

But still, it’s true; not only do we count off the days, but we ascribe to them, various ‘traits’. We all know Mondays are ‘blue’ and after the Mamas and the Papas sang of it, we knew it also to be untrustworthy, for some reason. Tuesdays are for hunkering down and settling into the work week - while Wednesdays, being the middle, are considered ‘hump’ days - and there is no sexual connotation to that denotation, mind you. Thursdays often find us beginning to anticipate what’s coming next and with head down, we plough ahead. Of course, Fridays are meant for us to to ‘Thank God’, for it marks the final day before the ever-blessed weekend. And the weekend? Well, the weekend is manna from Chronos, of course.

And what if one is outside the regular bounds of the work week - is it still necessary to count it out? Well, of course it is. I may not work outside the home but it is a ‘work week’ all the same for me - and I look forward to the weekend just as eagerly as the next bloke. Particularly Sunday - okay, maybe not the laundry part of Sunday - but the rest of it, yes. For it is the one day that I actually ‘take off’ and give myself ‘free time’ to do whatever I please - anything that isn’t regimented will do.

And here we are at Friday - and I’m quite tired and ready for what comes next.

I’m sure you are as well.

Enjoy!

Like Torrents, The Hours Rush By!

I swear sometimes I find myself gasping for breath just trying to keep up with the passage of time. What is it about age that makes it seem as if we move through time so much more quickly than when we are young? 

It seems to me that I barely awoke this morning before I was already turning around to get ready for bed.

And yet I can remember those endless, monotonous days when Summer, though appreciated, seemed on occasion, to be nothing more than one long, boring day. 

In actuality, it was probably about 5 minutes when I was not doing something - but it seemed interminable - the restlessness of youth.

Now, I find myself desperate to locate a few moments each day in which I might actually be bored - well, not bored - but certainly less occupied.

Don’t get me wrong - I’m quite happy to be so occupied - but age has certainly made me more aware of the elasticity of time and its passage. 

Perhaps I’m fortunate. 

They say that when one is ‘in the zone’ or fully engaged in a project, the shackles of time are loosed and we are free to soar along with whatever project may captivate our attention at that moment - I find this true with so many things - for I am quite capable of being ‘distracted’ by any number of projects/subjects/tasks that seem to dissolve the barrier of time and allow me to immerse myself fully in the ‘now’.

I am not blowing my own horn here - but I think I am quite fortunate to be artistic for I am never at a loss when it comes to exploration. It seems that I have an unlimited wellspring of creativity that provides me constantly with the power to move forward. 

I’m not saying everything I do is brilliant - but that, I have an inner resource that never leaves me searching for something with which to fill time - I love the spark, the creative dynamo that seems to reside within me and keeps me ever occupied.

At the same time, I wonder how people who have not tapped this source, get through their lives; people who really have no interests, no matter how mundane they may seem to outsiders. 

I think there is more to be said about ‘hobbies’ than most people think.

When querying a new acquaintance about what their likes and dislikes might be and one encounters nothing but befuddlement because their entire life revolves around their work, solely, and there is nothing outside that realm to grant them the grace of originality through creativity - one can’t help but wonder about the sterility of that life - and how sad it is to go through it in black and white - for surely, that is what life is devoid of creativity; simply black and white - clueless and colourless.

I may have originated in a black and white existence of sorts, but somehow, through nothing over which I had control, I came to see in colour and that colour allowed me to be creative - and in turn - I was able to stop time - at least in those moments of total immersion in the spectrum - and this is my life.

Is Lettuce Really That Filling?

I've only just discovered that the entries I did a couple of nights ago - did not 'take'. In other words, I wrote, posted, and off, into the atmosphere they went - but were not recorded here. It's funny, because the title, taken from a Vonnegut, indicated just such a thing - here today, gone tomorrow = sort of - and control? We haven't auy - or so it would appear, at times. These postings should be taken then, as 'irregular', in that they cannot be seen to be consistent (though write, I do, every day) due to the fickle nature of the (dreadful) internet connection we (do not) have. It's funny - How quickly we've come to rely on technology and yet - on certain levels - expect things to remaim the same. Are you finding encounters with people to be less 'intimate'? I would like to think they haven't changed and that it is I who is the cause of how things are viewed - never mind... I write this in the hope that what I wrote before has not been lost - not because I think it was brilliant - indeed, it this it wasn't - no, it's all about having actually kept the promise and written something - anything - to indicate that I am here. I am here, I am here. One lone voice, crying out into the darkness of an infinite night...

A Biscotti A Day Keeps - the Mixer Whirring.

I’m one of those people who gets taken in by all sorts of kitchen gadgetry - and though our kitchen is not necessarily over-burdened with gizmos - it does have it’s fair share. 
The thing about this minor obsession is that there are appliances I think I cannot live without and after a few uses, they wind up slowly making their way into storage - or at least out of sight. Who wants to be reminded of the pasta that’s not being made by that nifty machine?

One of these, “I Can’t Live Without!” items is the super-duper, Pro 600 Bowl-Lift Stand Mixer from Kitchen Aid. Now, I have to admit that before the actual purchase, there was much scepticism around our household, for we’d been down this road before (“Are you sure you need an indoor grill? I mean, will you use it?” “Of course I will - I can grill so many things…”) 
And truth be told, I wasn’t exactly sure what I would use it for - or how often.  I mean, I like to bake (a little) but we are not big pie, pastry, bread, etc. eaters - we’re just not - though we do eat a lot of pasta. 
But the decision was mine to make and off I trotted to pick one up - I hadn’t realized that along with the ‘Professional’functioning, there was also ‘Professional’ heft to the thing - it weighed a ton and I quickly realized I would not be carrying it home in a shopping bag; strolling along, looking in the windows, as I made my way home.

And it’s big. Really big.

But none of these things deterred me - and as soon as I got it home, I made my first loaves of bread; French bread, as a matter of fact - and they turned out surprisingly well - not to mention, quite tasty.

I thought, after that first foray into bread-making that this is what would be its ultimate purpose in my kitchen - but the ‘bread thing’ only lasted so long.  All the waiting for the dough to rise began to seem a bit, hhmm, tedious, I think is the word.

Next came cakes! Yes, I know, I said we don’t eat cakes - but that didn’t stop me from making them for dinner parties - and from giving them away - they always turned out so beautifully - I was beginning to feel quite professional about myself, in the home-baking realm.

But then, oh then, I discovered the biscotti. Now this was a consumable with legs! It started innocently enough. I’d been looking for a cookie recipe, or something, on “the internet and stumbled upon a fabulous biscotti recipe. I thought I’d give it a whirl. 
Well, with a little personal adjustment to the recipe, they turned out to be quite scrumptious - and a hit. 
I’d struck a vein of mixer functionality that was both simple and fun, not to mention quick.

I’ve become quite an expert at them at this point and have dabbled in creating my own recipes as well. In fact, I’ve just finished making another batch today. The biscotto is a simple pleasure because, though it is a dessert-like item, it is very, very low in calories and I make mine very small which does not necessarily mean you eat more of them - but if you do - you won't gain a ton.

Oh! And pizza dough - pizza dough is made quite regularly as well.  On Sundays - for Sunday is pizza day in this household - a new tradition - but a tradition all the same.

It seems that the mixer is now a staple in the kitchen and has become truly an appliance I could not live without - I like its appearance on the counter; bold and heavy.  There’s something masculine about it and that appeals to me immensely. 
In fact, it stays on the counter at all times now, unlike some of the other ‘ICLWs’ that have found homes in other parts of the kitchen or storage - like the juicer, or the pasta machine, or the grill…

But one day, one day - who knows!? I may find myself craving a juicy, grilled steak, with a side of linguini - and then - watch out - and clear me some counter space!

Blog Your Magic Blogger, Bloggie!

I think they’ve redesigned the layout of Blogger - it certainly looks different than it used to. I logged in yesterday only to discover that the entire format, what I was accustomed to had changed. This seems to be a trend across the board but especially with Facebook.

I know that everyone has all these privacy issues but for crying out loud, why do they keep redesigning everything?

The same thing happens with products, you know. You might like a particular shampoo and use it regularly. Then one day, you go to the store and you can't find it. You search and you search - but it doesn’t seem to be there. Then, you discover that they’ve changed ‘the look’ of the bottle; they’ve ‘improved’ it, making it more current for today’s market. They’ve also managed to put less in the bottle though the price remains the same. You grumble, but you buy it because it’s your fave. A month later, you buy another bottle but now, something has changed with the contents - they’ve added something, or taken something away, or changed the smell. Whatever it is they’ve done, now, it truly is no longer the product that you once were devoted to and would be still were it not for all this fussing.

Of course, it’s all about profit - but it drives me crazy. I first noticed it happening with a container of orange juice. They’d changed the shape of the container to make it ‘more convenient for busy moms’ or some such idiocy. I noticed right away that the container was smaller and because I still had an older one at home, I was able to compare and the difference was significant - but the price remained the same - I’m pretty sure it’s actually gone up by now. This little ‘trick’ has been repeated by all sorts of companies across the board.

But, that’s not really what I’m talking about right now - I’m just noting the difference in the Blogger layout - and it has changed - though I don’t think it will be difficult to grow accustomed to - it’s just that I don’t recall getting an email or anything informing me of this change. Not that it matters - particularly since they’ve not raised the price.

I’m going to have to give it a bit more scrutinizing.

But that can wait till tomorrow.

When Worlds Collide

It’s a sad state of affairs when you find yourself caught in between, for we all find ourselves in such a position at one time or another - and probably more frequently then we would like to admit.

“And what do I mean by that?”, you ask.

Well, in my own case, it has everything to do with the ‘daytime David’ and the ‘nighttime David’ - and yes, there’s a distinction.

I can’t speak for all creative people, but for me, there is a certain natural dualism that resides within me and depending on the time of day, one part may show itself more prominently than the other. I’m not exactly sure what that is about but when it comes to different forms of artistic expression, there are certain parts of the day that lend themselves to different areas of that work.

For instance, I find the actual learning of new pieces on the piano to be easier during the daylight hours - whereas, when it comes to writing - there are times when evening seems best.

And then of course, there are the times when one just wants ‘to be’, without actually creating anything - other than an energy path through time, as it is occurring.

My point, at this moment, is that I am at a crossroads - I’d love to write more (because I feel that I could), but time dictates to me that I must be in bed, because the day has run its course and there are no more hours left to me this evening in which I could indulge the urge to write.

In other words - it’s late. 

I must go to bed because there is another day starting soon and though creativity may be ‘alive’ to one at all hours of the day, and come to one at an ‘inappropriate’ time, and beg to be explored, released and brought, through the breath of the creator, into life - there are certain demands made on the physical body that must be obeyed - such as sleep - and this is where I find myself at the moment - caught between the pulsing, undeniable, desire to create - and the mundane, but all too real understanding that I must - to bed.

It’s a quandary - but not really - were I younger, carefree, single, footloose - I would not try to cage or tame the beating wings, the heart of the bird that longs to go on singing.

But life rolls on. Worlds collide. And sometimes. The heavily planted foot upon the ground wins the day - and not the butterfly longing for higher skies and thinner air.

I think that means it’s bedtime.

But - there are always dreams…

…And Some Lived To Tell The Tale...

Facebook is a funny thing - a funny, strange, thing that provides one with the capacity to connect with one’s past, in so many ways, on so many levels, at various stages of one’s persona journey - provided that there are others throughout that journey that use Facebook as well.

This afternoon, I had the great joy of being ‘added to’/‘reunited with’ a ‘family’ to which I belonged during the latter half of the 1980’s when NYC was my home - that ‘family’ was the Gay Men’s Health Crisis, better known as GMHC, where I worked during some very difficult and yet, very rewarding years.

I know, it’s unfair to say only that and then leave it - but this is a topic that requires more time than I can give it at the moment - and I’m sorry for that - but I will make amends - I will finish this - properly - it deserves more than this…

It Must Be the Kryptonite!

I know, this is beginning to sound like the Memoirs of an Invalid - but I can't help it! I suppose I could leave entries such as this one out, but really, this blog is not about politics, it’s not about religion, or current events (necessarily), or any of a host of other topics - this blog is about - well - me! And what I think/thought, feel/felt, believe, believed (Santa?), etc - right down the line - and at the moment, I am Samson without the hair. Of course, I didn’t actually have a lot to begin with but you know what I mean.

Anyway, I ate early yesterday evening, took in a movie as well, and was in bed at a more than decent hour for a very good night’s sleep - so what gives? This morning I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a mack truek, completely run over, gutted. If this is what 8 hours of sleep does for me, no thank you, I’ll go back to my usual 6 or so.

I haven’t a clue what could have caused it - but I did think that, as the morning wore on, I’d gain momentum and be hopping around in no time - this did not happen. 

By 12:30pm, I was still dragging myself around wondering what on earth… But then, it occurred to me - it is nothing earthly - I must have been exposed to kryptonite - I mean, I’ve been working out like a demon or, rather, like a Superman, and the only known thing to bring him down is of course, the big ‘K’ - so that must be it - or some form of it that I did not know would affect me so. 

I’m wondering if it might be curry…

I had a curried ham salad last evening - does curry have any properties that might make one feel fatigued and run down, I wonder.

At any rate, mid-afternoon rolled around and I thought that a trip to the gym, even though I was completely devoid of energy, would perhaps get the juices flowing - so off I trotted.

50 minutes of cardio later, I gasped and wheezed my way off the treadmill and began a seriously vigorous bout of weight-training - including the dreaded pull-ups - and (though I am not particularly young) yes, I can do them - so there.

One and a half hours later, I emerged from the gym feeling much the same as I did when I entered - completely run down - only now, I was soaked with sweat. Lovely.

We’re planning an outing tonight - I hope I make it through.

If not, blame it on the kryptonite - and you can call me ‘Clark’…

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

No, I’m not really going to be ‘poisoning’ pigeons, as described in song by the inimitable, Tom Lehrer - but honestly? If I could, I’d probably do something drastic with them - at least those that are making every effort to build a nest in our ‘nest’.

It’s not exactly in ‘our nest’ but almost - it’s separated by the thinnest of walls. Here, let me start over as this is probably not making enough sense.

The other day, I was gazing out the window of our enclosed balcony and heard a strange little scuffling noise. There are three condos in our building undergoing renovations at the moment (imagine the noise!) and naturally, I thought it might be a sound emanating from one of these - but it seemed awfully close by - like, right next to me.

The enclosure of our balcony is built just inside what would be and is the outside wall of the ‘real’ balcony, leaving the tiniest of gaps in between. Perhaps we have not been using it quite enough - at one time it was used much more frequently but that was when we had a third party living in the condo (I may tell this story at some point - just not now…). Since the departure of said ‘third party’, the room has been used infrequently - mostly by my partner whose office it has become - or by me - for gazing out the window.

Anyway, I looked over and saw a pigeon trying to squeeze its way down between the outside balcony wall and the inside enclosure - quelle horreur! Well, I had to put a stop to it immediately - but short of standing guard both day and night, I was afraid my prospects of putting an end to the nesting was going to come to a bad end - for me, of course.

Now, I’ve also noticed that we’ve a couple of Peregrine Falcons hanging around these parts and had it been them, I would not have cared one wit. In fact, I would have been quite delighted. But pigeons! Oh, pigeons! It just cannot be!

I’ve heard mothballs work at keeping them away and I raced down to Canadian Tire to pick up a box - my! They are a might powerful when one gets a nose-full and I quickly understood how they could be an effective deterrent. Unfortunately, the only window that opens is not exactly where I need it to be to distribute the mothballs all along the outside. I made valiant efforts to do so but feared dropping a few down on unsuspecting passersby - not that this would be dangerous from this height - but it would be rather startling and not at all pleasant. Therefore I had to quit.

I’ve been looking for another solution but so far, I’ve been stymied - and the pigeons continue to make ongoing efforts to build the nest, darn it!

I’m thinking of cheesecloth - filled with mothballs - on a string - to gently swing out the window to the desired spot - this might work.

Wish me luck.

And if it doesn’t work - I’ll post pictures of the young’uns…

And What About Holidays? You Didn't Think of That!

Whilst pondering what, oh what, should I write about today, I thought a good topic would be an upcoming holiday - until it occurred to me - what do I do about this writing, this promise I made to myself to write daily, when I am away!?

Rule change! 

Holidays are excluded from writing! 

There! 

Done! 

How easy was that!? 

Ha-ha! 

Now, I’ll have no worries!

Except - I’m not sure I can live with that. 

Of course, I won’t actually ‘die’ if I don’t happen to write on the occasional day when I am away - but that’s really not the point - it’s not a physical ‘life and death’ situation, but rather a moral or ethical one, for it is the promise, the covenant I made with myself that suffers the deathly blow by the simple absence of writing. 

Would you want that on your conscience? I didn’t think so - and neither do I. 

So, the dilemma remains.

But how to resolve it? 

I know, by the sound of it, you would think that I were solving the problem of nuclear proliferation, given the grave tone and standard I’ve set. However, don’t be too hasty to judge. 

The fact is, we, each and every one of us, behaves more or less within the social standard of what is deemed acceptable behaviour by the society in which we live - and within that sphere, our own actions are further refined and circumscribed by a set of standards unique to our individual nature.

These attributes can be shared, of course, but the unique combination of what defines our sense of right and wrong, our moral and ethical sense, for the individual, is wholly our own. 

At least, that’s how it seems to me.

The interaction of individuals through a sense of duty to society at large is the tacit understanding, to aid our brethren, that raises the human spirit. We participate and give back - and hopefully, therefore, lead by example.

The only reason I mention all of this is because, if one is to lead by ‘example’, what sort of standard does it set to cavalierly skip a day or two of writing, when the compact made, was for 365 days? 

Because no one is harmed by my inaction, does it make it any less wrong? Or do 'I' suffer some harm by not fulfilling my commitment? If there are to be rules, shouldn’t one at least make every effort to follow them?

It may sound like ‘silly’ stuff - but how small does an ethical matter have to be to cease to be an ethical matter at all? Shouldn’t the standard be meted out equally over all dilemmas when weighing what action should be taken? 

When does a promise broken cease to have any sense of ‘promise’ about it? 

Before it was broken, because it was only a ‘small’ promise and therefore, doesn’t really ‘count’?

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

I guess this means I’m going to have to find a way to write while I’m away. Or maybe I should not have a holiday for the next year… Nay! That would never do.

I’m sure the universe will be generous and a solution will be found. There are still a couple of weeks yet.

I’m sure something will come up.

In the meanwhile, I'll just keep polishing my halo...

I Like My Words Fast and Hot!

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m quite interested in languages - not enough to want to know their origins, necessarily, but fascinated enough to rise above the level of mere dilettante. As a result of this interest, combined with all things internetty - I’m also addicted (too strong a word?) to the Dictionary.com Word of the Day.

In fact, I’ve been a keeper of lists of words for some time - though most of them often get lost and few are rarely used - another bit of unfortunate business. 
That does not prohibit me from collecting them - and though I do not often sprinkle my own writing with the new ones I come across, it does give me a clearer understanding of texts in which they may be employed - not to mention the invaluable help in solving crossword puzzles…

After reading today’s Word of the Day (xenophilia - an attraction to foreign peoples, cultures, or customs.) and thinking, but for a second, when and where I might utilize such an 'open' word, I slid my finger across the screen of my iPhone to discover - The Hot Word. 
Now, The Hot Word is often not a solitary, stand alone kind of word, but rather, a group of words or an insight into why a word or group of words are used in a particular way - today I was pleasantly surprised to have something confirmed for me which I have thought for some time - Spanish is a rapid-fire language! 
Of course, we all knew that - right?

But here’s the thing: It seems a group of linguists from the University of Lyons, recently set about to determine the difference in the rate of speed, 7 diverse languages were spoken - the results indicated that Japanese and Spanish were the fastest (I knew it! Just try and follow along when 2 or more native Spanish speakers are conversing and your knowledge is limited - or try a telenovela!) and Mandarin, the slowest.

The way they went about measuring was to have 60 native speakers from each language group, read the same text - speed was based on the rapidity of each syllable spoken.

But there was a further bit of complication in terms of measuring - and that was density of content, for it appeared that languages spoken quickly were less content ‘rich’, so to speak, whilst those spoken at a slower rate were ‘fuller’ in their content, or information conveyed. What this meant in the end was that they were all more or less equal - and the reason for this equality is that, among linguists, there is a school of thought that says the human brain can only handle and sort so much information at a given time and that the rate of speed at which humans communicate is inherent, based on our ability to process and comprehend.

They indicate that this is purely conjectural but it struck me with such truth as to render it so - at least for me.

I’ve often wondered whether it was just my inability to comprehend or whether, when listening to Spanish being spoken, it was actually coming at me, speed of light-like - now, I know.

This gives me fresh (hot) hope, that with a little practice (okay - a lot more practice), I too will be rattling away just as naturally, and quickly, as the next Spaniard - of course, it means I’m going to have to add Spanish to my list of languages.  But there's time - if I hurry.

Vamanos! ándale!

Tendu, Tendu, Tendu, Cough, Cough!

I have my first ballet class tonight in what feels like years - it’s only been a couple of weeks but during that time, I have been so out of it as to not quite understand the meaning of time or its passage. 

I made it to the gym today but barely - I think it’s time they put the air conditioning on. Now, granted, I have been ill - but I think 23 degrees is far too hot for any sensible person to be doing any vigorous exercise in - especially if one’s been sick!

Well, I didn’t overdo but I did work hard - even though I’ve got this class tonight. I tried to hold back a bit so I’d have some energy but about an hour ago, I could feel myself flagging and thought a good, hot shower is what would set me right - now, I’m ready for bed!

I’m feeling like this week, things will begin to pick up - at least, this is my hope. I’m beginning to feel recharged and that means it’s time to get busy or busier.

I know I mentioned ‘the vest’ - and that will have to be done within the next 2 weeks prior to our leaving for NYC - I just can't show up empty-handed; empty-headed, yes - but the other - no.

Yes, I think this is the week that a schedule will be overlaid to all these various activities and I’ll see about getting some ‘real’ work done. And there you have it! Another brilliant entry!

Okay, so it’s not at all interesting.

With time, grasshopper, with time.

Sundays Are For Whatever You Want Them to Be

I think it’s time to haul out one of the previously written paragraphs - I’ve been sitting here for about 1/2 hour and, though I’ve started a few things, I’ve ‘erased’ them for not being interesting enough to record. Besides, it’s Sunday and for some reason I am overwhelmingly tired - which is causing me to be extremely lazy and not feeling like doing much of anything - I’ll just post this and then go play the piano for a little while - that might wake me up…

The dust was collecting in the folds of her jellaba as the wind blew around her. She huddled against the base of the rusting hull of some long forgotten vehicle that was half buried in the sand, the little girl on her lap, whimpered and her moans joined the sound of the wind and were carried far off, just like she wished they could be. 
It was still early in the day so there was still the hope that she could make it back to what remained of her village before night set in. She did not like the idea of spending the night out in the open and her daughter needed something to eat, the last meal having occurred the night before the raid, two days ago. 
She wanted to turn away from the faces that haunted her thoughts and tried to think of home; How she missed it! – but the nightmare continued to play before her eyes. 
She shivered even as the sun beat down upon her, raising the goose-flesh and causing her to whimper. The little girl in her arms opened her eyes in alarm and looked up at her young mother; too young to be holding a child of her own and yet there she sat; unwed, unwanted, and the child that was a stain upon her, nestled close to her. How could one so innocent cause so much hatred and strife within a family, a village? She was but a victim of the internal struggles for power that seized the community and forced such things upon her by those who wished to take their vengeance.

A Day Spent Not at the Opera

The cold/cough lingers and I missed out on seeing La Traviata today - it is the last opera of the season and my attendance has been less than spotty - it’s pretty much been non-existent, though I had every intention of going to the last 2, the aforementioned and Manon, which was last Saturday. Unfortunately, I have been truly ill and quite incapable of doing any such thing.

It’s also true that I don’t seem to know myself well enough to know that perhaps I’m not that big an opera fan.

A year ago, my partner was invited by a friend to attend one of these Live From the Met! broadcasts and fell completely, head over heels, in love with the experience - I did not expect that. 

The following year, which would be this season which is now ending, he decided to buy a season ticket. Naturally, with all my musical training (minimal), I figured that I too should attend these things, for certainly, I would have a much richer, deeper understanding of the genre - it was only too clear.

However, my partner didn’t see it that way and questioned whether I was truly interested in this or not - he mentioned that the operas were quite long… 

Of course, I said yes, I was interested. And though he tried his best to dissuade me without being offensive, I would have none of it! 

I did not exactly take umbrage but I did think that if anyone knew the depths of my own musical tastes, it would be me, most certainly.

And so the adventure began. I managed the first couple of them - though I was a bit fidgety and at times, I seemed to get quite snoozy. However, by the time the weekend for Seigrfried rolled around, the novelty was wearing off and I began to question my own wisdom in having been so insistent on buying this season ticket. 

Siegfried just about killed me! I could barely stay in my seat - I was bored, I was tired, I was - well - just not into it.

He’d been right - he knew me better than I knew myself. I think I attended one or two after that - but it’s been awhile - and now we’ve come to the end of them.

He’s already looking forward to next season - and I can say with great clarity, knowing myself as well as I do - I won’t be joining him…

The Absurdity of It All!

Here we are again, frantic to find something to write about and not having enough time to do so - of course, I’m still ‘down’ with the cold but things are improving! Still, I’ve got nothing much done today - just as yesterday. The thing is - I think this complete downtime has actually helped me to feel better - who knew!? I’m so used to working through any illness (there are always ‘things’ that need to be done - laundry, cooking, etc.) that I never even give staying in bed or lying on the couch a thought - why would I when I could be doing something productive? Like going to the gym? I have to admit that the other day I just ended up sicker after my trip to the gym - well, if not sicker than certainly lower, energy-wise.

Well, it turns out that taking a break when you’re sick is actually good for you. So, now I’ve had 2 days of laying low - though I did do a lot of writing earlier and I plan on playing the piano just as soon as I’ve finished this - which happens to be - right now!

Because I’ve nought else to say!

Rockabye (cough) Baby

After yesterday’s over-extension of what little energy I had, I ended up lying on the couch, sleeping most of today.

I guess sometimes you’ve just got to admit defeat of one sort or another - and in this case, it came in the shape of an illness.

But that doesn’t mean that I can’t still make an entry here and save the (my) day - and so, here we are, at the end of a rather uneventful day, saying goodnight until tomorrow.

Yes.

Just like that!

Sogni D’oro!

Microphone, Why Are You So Blue?

I received a package today in the mail. There was postage due of $14.95 but I didn’t mind that. The package contained a piece of technology I’d all but forgotten about, having ordered it in January - and then, subsequently, cancelled the order (more on that in a minute).

The piece of ‘technology’ is really a metal framework that suspends a microphone from its base, ensuring the microphone does not suffer from ‘ambient vibration’. It’s very retro looking and if you’ve ever seen a film or a picture of an old radio broadcast, then you’ve probably seen something similar.

This one is made by the microphone company Blue, and is cleverly called The Ringer, for obvious reasons.

About a month ago, I received a similar package containing the first piece of equipment I’d ordered from them - it too required a postage fee of $14.95 and I willingly paid that as well - even though I had also cancelled that order. It is called The Pop and its purpose is to act as a windscreen to the vocal aspirations one occasionally hears when such a device is not used - you know the sound I’m talking about - it’s ‘the popping’ sound from enunciated s’s, etc.

The entire contraption is now assembled and sitting on my desk, looking very retro and very professional/imposing.

I may have mentioned this in a previous post but if not, I’ll mention it now. The reason behind purchasing these items was that: I have every intention (at some point or another…) of recording a children’s story I wrote, as a podcast. 
I figured that if I were going to do it at all, I might as well give my own writing the proper vocal treatment it so deserved. 
I mean, after having spent all that time working on a project, would you just then, do a sloppy job of recording it? Of course not. And neither shall I - once I get to the actual recording of it - though I know it’s going to take some organization…

Anyway - my point here is - I ordered these items at the beginning of January (January 6th, to be precise), with the understanding that they would be delivered within 10 business days of having placed the order. This did not seem unreasonable; I’ve ordered many things on line and found online shipping policies to be fairly consistent in terms of delivery times stated.

After a couple of weeks, and having received nothing, not even an email indicating some sort of delay, my credit card statement arrived indicating the items ordered had already been charged, though they had not yet been shipped. This was unusual, but I was still not overly concerned.

That is, until 3 weeks after the order had been placed and there was no news. No news at all from my online shipper, and no delivery of the items ordered, sadly. 
I sent an email, inquiring as to when I might expect delivery and received an answer back indicating that there had been an ‘overwhelming’ demand for these products and the warehouse was empty! (I could just picture it; some vast space bereft of anything but the odd palette sitting forlornly, empty of products. Heartbreaking.) There would be some delay, but not to worry as the items would ship the following week.

I’m a patient soul - at times - and so I waited. Another week or so went by and I still hadn’t received anything - not even a bright, cheery email indicating further delays - which, after inquiring I might add, was exactly the case.

My patience was wearing thin but had not yet become threadbare - not until the entire month of February past and there was still no sign of any movement whatsoever.

I’m not given to stroppy correspondence but something about this complete lack of professional integrity on the part of a reputable company got deeply under my skin - and a shot was fired across their bow - by me.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a shot - but I was no longer proffering salutations of ‘Dear Sweet Ones!’ or signing myself ‘Sincerely Yours in Mutual Respect’, or any other such nicety - I was simply coming to the point. And the point was: You’ve taken my money - now, where’s my ‘stuff’!? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Having ordered the products in January and having been told I could expect to receive them in about 10 days, you can well understand that by March, the delays became too much to bear and I requested a refund. Yes, that’s right - a refund. But not before sending the entire correspondence I’d had with the company, procured to handle the sales and shipping, to the communications and sales representative of the parent company, Blue Microphones. 
I did not get a response to my complaint.

BUT!

The same day, I received an email from the Customer Support Manager of the online sales company, profusely apologizing for any and all trouble I might have had in placing my order and the non-delivery of items purchased. I was assured that a refund, as I’d requested, would be credited to my account within the next few days, and that, as a gesture of good will, the items I had requested would be sent to me, free of charge - in order to demonstrate their desire to represent the parent company in the best possible light and with the hope of retaining a valued customer - well, they didn’t actually say that - but words to that effect. 
I took it all with a grain of salt, after the experience I’d just had with them. To be honest, I was envisioning long chats with my credit card reps on how best to prove I had not actually received the items rather than actually getting a refund.

As It Turned Out: I was very, very pleasantly surprised. There were no conversations with my creditors, for just as I had been told, 2 days later, a credit magically appeared on my credit card in the exact sum that had been withdrawn to purchase the aforementioned items.

Things were looking up.

Around the 3rd week in March, I received the first of the 2 packages which I had not really expected to occur. Yes, there was a shipping charge - but they’d come through! They’d actually honoured their commitment and sent me first, The Pop!

Still feeling rather sceptical, I wondered whether the other, more crucial bit, The Ringer, might make it through - or whether, given the passage of time, it might be forgotten - and the tenacity of the company to hold to its promise might be as tenuous and hollow as the first email I received, deceiving me into believing I should expect delivery in 10 days.

We should never forget that technology only works properly when there are sentient beings holding the reins of this very modern buggy delivering goods - and customer satisfaction should not be a disregarded byproduct of the ever increasing rapidity of sales - the internet is only a tool - ‘WE’. Still. Matter.

I know, it’s not the most profound lesson one might learn, or the greatest kernel of wisdom one might wish to pocket and keep forever - but still - I’m happy to say that, though this episode began in what could only be considered a downward spiral (though my hopes were high), its outcome restored my faith in humanity; that integrity does exist in ecommerce and that customer satisfaction still counts for something, somewhere out there.

I can tell you this for sure and certain: Should it ever become necessary to replace my microphone or any of its parts - Where do you think I’m going to do my shopping?

With the humans, of course.

Tag, This Is It!

I would like you to think back to the time when you were a child and ‘yard games’ were played frequently in the Summer - and perhaps the Winter, depending on the conditions (did anyone play Fox & Geese in the Winter other than our little set!?).

There were so many to choose from, really. Firstly, there was The Farmer in the Dell, for the very young and then, Simon Says and Red Rover were others for a slightly older child perhaps. 

Tag was one that could stretch across a number of years - I suppose some of the others could as well, when it gets right down to it. 

Then there were the ‘older’ games: Kick the Can, or Hide and Seek, and let’s not forget Sardines - if played outside, at night, they required participants who were not sent to bed when the sun went down, meaning somewhat older children were involved.

But the game I want to talk about now is tag, for it is that ‘touch’ of being ‘it’ that concerns me at the moment. 

For example, what exactly constituted being ‘it’? How hard did one have to be tagged to become ‘it’? Was it necessary to touch skin in order to be ‘it’? Did a light brushing of the ‘tagged one’s clothing’ constitute an ‘it’?

I am here to tell you, ‘yes!’. And ‘Yes!’ again. 

Because the contact, no matter how trivial or insignificant it might have seemed, should have been deemed a tag - though there may have been disputes over just this matter. 

If the fingers of the ‘tagee’ sensed their nerve endings coming in contact with anything other than each other - then it was a successful tag! 

A hit! 

 The job had been done! 

 Properly! 

 Without Question!

Why, you ask, am I making so much out of nothing? How does this have any bearing on anything at all I’m trying to do here? And why, if you’re bothering to say anything at all, you’re not doing it more fully!?

Well, the answer is - I’m still sick! And I have decided (in my great wisdom) once and for all, that any writing I do on a daily basis on this blog, whether it appears worthy of public consumption or not, is enough to keep me from having skipped a day - in other words - I fulfill the promise to myself to write something every day for a year, no matter how ridiculous or unworthy. 

There. 

 I’ve said it. 

 This counts too.

And like the game, this day has been tagged, thank you very much!

And Descend - We Do

The depth of my illness has not yet reached it’s nadir, I don’t think - and yet, could I feel much worse? 

Chances are - not. At least, that is my hope. 

I could have made a slightly, less feeble effort earlier to write something here - but I was far too engaged in trying to ignore the symptoms of this malady and trying to carry on with the day to the best of my ability; as if I were whole - which I am not.

There’s something about placing one’s illness in a previous period, simply through the construct of language, that lends itself to utter despair and the possibility of it being ‘grave’, in the very worst sense of the word.

Yes, I know - I have a cold - or the flu - or some minor respiratory ailment - but it doesn’t work as well on the page unless one calls forth the gremlins of ill health and begs their assistance in describing what is most likely a simple, passing malady - without their aid, where would Camille be? Or Mimi? Or for that matter poor Helen Burns, I ask you!? And let us not even mention Catherine of Wuthering Heights - but, need I say more?

The simple fact is: I am ill. This is the best I can produce given my current condition. 

Excuse - yes, it may be - but a valid one, nonetheless.

I must retire now as I think I feel a feinting spell coming on…

The Easter Bunny Has Left The Building

I make the rules. 

These are the rules (for me): 

If I cannot tell an entire story every day - at least I can make the effort to put something down on the ‘page’; and this is it.

I’ve got a cold/flu thingy going on and I should be in bed ((I’ll be there momentarily).

But it was ‘Easter’ today and that meant some amount of effort needed to be put out - even though I could easily have stayed in bed all the day long - well, that’s not exactly true. 

I cannot stand to be in bed when I am sick. 

I used to love the idea of staying in bed all the morning long and even into the afternoon, if permitted. 

I vaguely recall a few Sundays, when living in New York, when almost the entire day was spent in bed - with the NYTimes of course; lots of reading and the crossword puzzle - oh! the crossword puzzle! In ink, of course. What else?

But nowadays, I can’t stand to stay in bed just lolling about doing nothing - even if I am sick.

I always feel much better if I get up, shave, shower, and get the ‘show on the road’, as it were. It makes me feel like, I might be sick - but I’m not dead.

Anyway - today, I could have stayed in bed - but as I said, it was Easter - and there were things in the kitchen that needed doing.

We’re not really all that religious… Who am I kidding - I’m not a believer at all - but because of the repetitive nature of the tradition being foisted upon me year after year as a child, I have become somewhat inured to it and yet, repeat certain aspects of it, routinely - these repetitive behaviours centre themselves mostly around the trappings of such a ‘holiday’ - such as the ham, the scalloped potatoes, etc. It’s the same with Christmas - I love the tree, the turkey, etc. - but as for the rest - I might as well be celebrating Saturnalia.

Anyway, anyway - I should have been in bed today, resting - but instead, I was up and at ‘em -watering plants, folding clothes, and preparing the ‘Easter’ dinner, as I said. 

All of this was quite taxing and time consuming, for it seems I tend to work more slowly when I am ill - who’d a thought!?

It has now all been done - and it was good, even if I do say so myself.  The ham was superb - the scalloped potatoes far surpassed those of last year, and the year before that, and the year before that; the curried fruit = spectacular! What can I say - I’m a genius in the kitchen.

To bad I’m not a genius with the rest of my life - if I were, I’d have ordered out and been in bed hours ago - waiting for the arrival of - the Easter Bunny!?

Could There Be a More Beautiful Saturday? (Well, Yes…)

Today had that bright, warm, feeling of promise about it that the Spring Saturdays of my youth once had. I don’t know if it’s just a sense of optimism or whether there really is a change in the air at this time of year that makes you able to breath in so fully as to give you a sense of the renewal of life - or maybe it’s just me. I suppose that wouldn’t hold true for those with allergies or other air-borne ailments - but even they couldn’t deny the beautiful brightness of the sky - and it is Spring.

Really, the whole sense of the day is quite incongruous with my current state of well-being, given that it’s far from ‘well’. Bright though it has been, the early part of the day was spent dragging myself around as if I’d run a marathon without having trained and with the addition of some heavily weighted object sitting on my chest. I suppose this is where the indomitability of the spirit weighs in, for though I have felt quite low, physically - I have been rather cheerful.

Maybe that’s because the coughing hasn’t quite taken hold yet - and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it won’t (please!).

From my window, I can see the first light shadings of green beginning to form at the treetops and this too, is an encouraging sign of better days ahead, weather-wise, and hopefully in all ways.

It’s funny how the onset of each season causes a certain reaction within my heart - of the four, I don’t think there is a single one that I don’t anticipate with a certain excitement - even at this age. I grew up in a place that had all four seasons and they were quite distinct - not too much slurring of the shoulder seasons but regular and clear - as if there were a minder of the calendar and promptly at the appropriate time, the changeover would begin.

I suppose that once we are well-immersed in Winter, I am prone to be looking for its end - the February/March period is not my fave. But it is past now and we are in April and April means more sun, warmer days, and lots of things beginning to grow - this pleases me enormously and I look forward to Spring in full bloom, while still managing to enjoy this moment. If I could just shake this cold…

The Palimpsest of David

I could make lots of excuses - but why bother. 

 I’ve been sick these last 2 days - and it’s only just beginning.  

In other words, these writings will be ‘spotty’ - like just a quick jot or something before I head off to bed again. 

 I really don’t feel well enough to be sitting here - but this counts as a writing because I am here - present - on the page - and recording a moment, no matter how insignificant it may seem - it is still a moment of my life - and that counts enormously - with no sense of ego - life is life - and mine too, minimal though it be, is still very much worth living.

Thank you.

And.

Good Night.

(Oh! I don’t feel well…)