Movie: Mulholland Drive

I adore Naomi Watts. I think she is a brilliant actress. I also can honestly appreciate abstract film and unusual approaches in movie making. Lastly, I know David Lynch is, well, out there.

My mom, her husband and I just watched "Mulholland Drive." I am sorry, but we are all lost. This was the most bizarre movie I have ever seen and the only thing that made viewing it worthwhile was hearing my mother's comments. She was lost throughout and thought her husband and I understood what was going on.

Someone pass the crackpipe. Maybe then I will comprehend this flick.

Mountain moments

Ok, some rules for spending time in the mountains:

1. Don't take a shower in the morning when your mom's husband is taking one upstairs. Man, that water got cold fast!
2. Not to make light of the tragic situation at the petting zoo in Florida, but nothing like that has happened to me here. However, a raccoon bit my arm and a bear clawed my right shoulder. Should I not have attempted to hand feed them?
3. My favorite spot up here is the dock by the lake. I enjoy sitting there with a book. I do not recommend this in the winter as it took a crowbar and hot water to separate me from the lounge chair.
4. How come there is no newspaper delivery to the front door?!

My weekend in the wild begins

I am spending a four day weekend in the Poconos with my mom and her husband and their lakeside cabin. As I try to figure out why I left my no snow zone for the nine inches up here (I had to shovel upon arrival), the first day winds down.

In these parts you see loads of deer and the occasional bear looking for food, but we just had a fun experience. A raccoon decided to knock over a box on the front porch. Sorry buddy, nothing to eat in there. Gutsy little bugger. We turned on the light and watched him from the window and he did not budge.

Usually, I come up here in warm weather and get to visit my favorite waterfall, Raymondskills Falls, but with the snow, I doubt that that will be on the agenda. Hopefully, we can spend some time in the quaint little town nearby, but mostly it is good to just get away. There will be no sitting on the dock with a book either.

Does my writing seem more elevated today being that I am in the mountains?

A letter that someone asked me to pass along

Dear Americans,

Some of you have gotten a tad bit carried away in how you approach your belief in Me. I want people to love the principles and ideals that a belief in ME are associated with. However, some of you seem to take this to levels that, to be quite honest, frighten me. I'm God; I don't frighten easily.

The fanaticism you often display is too much. Stop seeing Me in pizza or grilled cheese sandwiches; I am not there. Stop connecting Me to every issue where others do not agree with you. Stop using Me as an excuse to discriminate, hate and isolate. Stop abusing my name to infringe upon the rights of other people.

Stop being so zealous. That's not what I am about. I want you all to be happy, get along and live in peace. I want you to enjoy your lives. I want you be aware of MY existence in your lives, but not to the point where it consumes every aspect of your daily living.

You people are going too far. Please stop.


With love and friendship,

God

P.S. Can someone please cancel "The Apprentice?" It drives Me crazy!

Poem: Sandpeople

Sandpeople

Standing along the ocean's coast
The cool and soothing sand
Caressing waiting ankles
Tingling anxious toes
Holding gently to the soles of tired feet

Fleeting happiness as the sand runs back to the calling ocean
Quickly escaping
Teasing with a passing sense of lost contentment
Leaving me alone
Sunken in its empty wake
Consistent in that it will offer itself lovingly
Only to leave over and over again

Copyright SGW 1995

My time on a treadmill with a pothead

I had a weird gym experience on Friday. It was time for some treadmill work and I generally look for one in front of a TV with either sports or the news on it. Oprah and Judge Judy are torture for me and just make exercise that much harder.

I found a treadmill in front of CNN and climbed aboard. I had just programmed the machine and had only been on for about fifteen seconds, when the guy next to me started talking. Generally, there is very little banter on the equipment; you either watch TV or listen to music on headsets.
Anyway, the guy says something about a neo-NAZI (Matt Hale?) being tried for killing a judge. I don’t think he was referring to the judge in the Midwest who just lost her husband and mother, so I am unclear here. I made a passing remark and kept watching the news.

Not even one minute into my time, I then informed me that he was just out of prison, serving 18 to 24 months for something to do with marijuana. I said nothing. The rest of my time on the treadmill was spent watching TV, not looking at him, saying as little as possible without pissing him off, and praying my time would be done.

I learned that he eats hemp bread, is fighting a judge about something, believes in legalized marijuana (I can’t argue on this one. I believe it should be a prescription drug just like any other. There has to be 10,000 drugs that are more dangerous that doctors can prescribe. Why not marijuana?), hates illegal immigrants who come to this country to work (at jobs that Americans do not want) and honk their car horns outside his door in the morning, and believes gun control is the root of all our problems (except for where pot is involved).

The gun issue led to my favorite remark. When noticing a story about a child that was kidnapped in Florida (Jessica Lunsford), he stated, “See, damn gun control. Look what happens?!”

Ok, I realize we are talking about a pothead who served time in prison, but am I to assume that if children were armed, and he thinks they should be apparently, child kidnappings could be stopped?

91 minutes lost forever

Those of you who read these pages regularly know that I mentor a twelve year old boy and see him once a week. Today we took in Vin Diesel's "The Pacifier."

God, that man cannot act at all! There were times during the movie that I wished someone would pour gasoline on me and light a match.

Cricket

All I know about cricket is you can hit the ball behind you and that is not a bad thing, the matches sometimes last forever and they run back and forth between two sticks in the ground a lot. Given this lack of knowledge, in reading the sports page today, I am unsure if the below is missing words, and, whether it does or not, I have no idea what I have just read.

“Younis Khan and Yousuf Youhana slammed unbeaten centuries to lead Pakistan’s spirited reply in the second test match against India in Calcutta. Khan’s attacking 108 not out and his 203-run third-wicket partnership with Youhana, who was unbeaten on 101, boosted Pakistan to 273 for two in reply to India’s first-inning score of 407.” - Associated Press

Say what!?

Poem: Killer Cows From Kansas City

I was driving one day and passed by a cow pasture. Don't ask me how my warped mind thought of this poem, but the words startied floating about inside my head as I watched the cows.

Killer Cows From Kansas City

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

Though mellow-natured by custom found
Cows are quiet if grass abounds.

No more than “moo-ing” to fill the day
Lying all about in their cow-like way.

But finally some enough they’d had
The K.C. gang was becoming mad.

“We’ve no respect,” their leader shrilled
“We are milked and branded before we’re killed!”

“What kind of life must a good cow lead
With little offered beyond the time we feed!”

The K.C. cows were in enraged revolt
From their pastures sudden they did soon bolt.

The time has come to make a stand
No more for dinner would they be planned.

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

So the embittered cows took to battle
No longer willing to be people’s cattle.

They rampaged towns with udders flying
Their being free there’d be no denying.

The K.C. cows had stole the show
The butcher’s shelves they would never go.

With tables turned the people cried
A new menu laid can’t be denied.

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

So markets now when people shop
Or in dining places where others stop.

No more to find the once gentle beast
For the K.C. cows are free from feast.

Copyright SGW 2000

Late nights on a caffeine high

It is late at night and I am home from the coffeehouse I frequent and I cannot sleep because I had two cappuccinos tonight and I wrote two poems which perhaps I will share at some point and perhaps I will not but the music was wonderful as I got to hear a performer I like a lot named Jim and another I had never heard before who is named Janey who was a brilliant storyteller and we spoke afterwards and had an interesting connective vibe on art however brief and I was really impressed with a song she had about religious hypocrisy and now I am home and I am contemplating the poems I wrote and will review them some more tomorrow before I commit them to my collection, type them and put a copy in the safe, a copy in binder form and a copy on my hard drive because I am also an anal accountant who is really, really organized and that left side of the brain, right side of the brain conflict makes for interesting inner battles of the mind but now it is time to pace around the house while the caffeine coarses through my veins and I can't sleep and my mind races and I have spouted out these thoughts on my blog and good night.

Poem: Maniacal Masses

Maniacal Masses

Like night of the zombies they’ll march to their orders
Infecting the nation (though less on the borders)
Righteous the wrath they espouse with delusion
They preach and they judge ... but the act’s an illusion
Extremes are not virtues and nor are obsessions
Darwin would view them as social regressions
Disdain for the values they promote in their cause
As leaders spew venom to obtain their applause
Maniacal masses so mindless in measure
Seems hating what’s different brings greatest of pleasure

Copyright SGW 2005

* Dedicated to the right wingnuts of America and their blind obedience

The Martin Blondes

No, they are not sisters. They are Patti Bramson and Karen Anne, and these two women can sing and play with an almost angelic beauty. They play Martin guitars and like to make light of their blondeness, but what makes them special is the exquisite harmonies that they bring out. Singing a mostly folky sound, they mix in a wide array of covers and original material. Patti and Karen bounce back and forth between guitars and bongos throughout their sets, further displaying a wide range of musical talent and dimension.

My favorite tune is an original by Karen called "Love in Action." It puts her soft, gentle voice together with lyrics that reveal one of life's greatest truths discovered in the hardest trials of life; to love deeply. You will also hear songs by Indigo Girls, Joni Mitchell, John Hiatt, John Prine, and countless others, all performed with the effortless grace that the Martin Blondes put forth.

See them play and you are guaranteed to go home with a smile on your face and a warm spot in your heart.

Ten People who should disappear

With the news covering Martha Stewart and Michael Jackson being non stop on the part of the MSM, it made me think of the top ten people in America who I would like to see vanish from the public eye. I disqualified all political figures. Who are these vile creatures? In no particular order:

1. Donald Trump: He is ugly, obnoxious and completely full of himself. Watching his show for me is a violation of the Geneva Conventions. I see him and I think - human vomit.

2. Michael Jackson: Is he even human? A walking freakshow and quite possibly a child molestor, he has not even made a reasonably, good album in twenty years and grabbing his crotch seems to have become hist best dance move. He seems to even have infected Janet with his insanity.

3. Martha Stewart: From all accounts she is a mean and vicious woman who puts on her happy face to rake in the dollars. Does she really have anything to do with this homemaker crap she tries to sell? She is a law breaker; it's as simple as that.

4. Larry King: The biggest kiss ass in the media, there is no softball question he will not ask. He is a pitch man for various products and I can't see why. Do you trust his opinion? I do not.

5. Britney Spears: At first, she was a teeny bopper who could not sing, dance or complete a sentence. Now she is a Madonna wannabe combined with trailer park trash AND she still cannot sing, dance or complete a sentence.

6. Sean "Puffy," "Puff Daddy," "P Diddy" Combs: Ok, he is a brilliant marketer. Anyone who can sell "Puffy" has to be good because he has less talent then Britney and has yet to find a song whose riff he will not steal. Is there a video of one of his acts he has not been in? The fashion sense of someone who got dressed in the dark just adds to his nothingness.

7. Rush Limbaugh/Sean Hannity/Bill O'Reilly/Ann Coulter: Essentially one person, these four can't equal up to one brain between them. They lie, distort and slander. They promote fear and hatred. They are small people whose smallness is equaled only by those who subscribe to their idiocy.

8. Dr. Phil McGraw: Talk about cracker jack psychologists. This guy is scary because people actually believe he has a clue. He is the definition of dickhead. In my gym, Oprah used to sometimes be on the TV with no sound. When Dr. Phil was on, even with no sound, you could just sense what a dickwad he was.

9. Dick Vitale: The mouth that would not shut up, Dicky V. makes it hard to get through even a Duke - North Carolina game. He yells, he screams, he thinks he is bigger then the game. His PTPers and jumping from subject to subject can lead a sane person to throw large objects at the television. The worst part of Vitale is that while he knows all the names, his analysis of college basketball is pathetically poor.

10. Paris Hilton: She inherited money up the whazoo, but little else. Hilton is an empty slate, not attractive, down right cheap and sleazy, and has never done anything of value in her life.

These are my top ten most vile creatures in America. Please, someone make them go away.

The life of a cancer survivor

*Read My Cancer Story first!!

You survive cancer; you go through the years of Chest X-Rays and blood tests; you get a cough and you wonder; you have a stomach ache and you grow concerned. Mostly, you live your life and you go forward, but there will always be those moments that seem innocuous to others that can tear you apart.

Having just gotten through my six year check up a few weeks ago, I was scheduled for a CT Scan, which is following guidelines. The scan would cover my abdomen and pelvis and involves a dye contrast and IV. It really is not the worst thing in the world, and as far as cancer check ups in February go, it beats having my doctor grab my crotch looking for anything suspicious. Granted, hands down in that neighborhood can be quite welcome, but Doctor Ken’s are not on my list of desired visitors to my nether regions.

I had the CT Scan a week ago. I got a copy of the report on Thursday and have left two messages for my doctor to call and discuss one area I have questions on. I remember him mentioning small lesions, or was it one lesion, in my liver years ago. He had said that they were common in people and nothing to worry about for the most part.

Still, the report says there are two of them, and I cannot remember if he said there were two way back when. I don’t have copies of the two previous CT Scan reports, which is unlike me not to get all paperwork, so I can’t check measurements either.

His staff said he makes calls in the evenings, and he would definitely call tonight, but it is 8:37 already and the phone is silent.

You start to wonder again. Does he save the hardest calls for last? Did he forget you? Why did the radiologist not compare the film to one of the two scans I had done 6 years ago? I did one of them with this place then, but the report says that they had nothing to compare to.

You watch the clock; you wait; you get annoyed; you get scared. Why hasn’t he called yet?!
The phone rings and its your mom looking for the same information you are waiting for. You’re annoyed because you wanted the call to be the doctor.

He finally calls at 10 P.M., and says they are probably cysts and nothing to worry about. However, there was only one of them 6 years ago. He admits that he should have had you send the old films for comparison and apologizes. He suggests you do that and get an amended report with the comparisons.

It is Saturday morning now and I will go soon to drop off the film and then wait all week for the amended report. I am thrilled with the prospects of worrying all week.

Update: For those of you who wished me well and crossed your fingers, I have happy news today. The comparison report says the two cysts are stable dating back to 1999 and are likely nothing. I don't have the reports from 1999, so I am unsure why my doctor said there was only one six years ago, but I will take the good news and run with it!

Yay!

Poem: A Blogger

A Blogger

What is a blogger
This curious creature
Typing these postings
Whatever they’d feature

New age transcribers
Town criers of message
All varied topics
In all different dressage

Some are progressive
Others tilt to the right
Blogs for describing
Any person’s delight

Sites built for gossip
Or random portrayal
Those who lack subject
But rant in detail

Hobbies of interest
Expounding on fashion
Journals of living
Ideas breathing passion

Lest there’s forgetting
Even cats join the fray
Pictures are posted
On a cat blogging day

Back and forth banter
Via comments and polls
Sometimes intruding
The innocuous trolls

Checking the meter
Or search who is linking
Look for discussions
What others are thinking

Blogging’s obsession
Consumes to distraction
Once you’ve submitted
Perceive the attraction

Copyright SGW 2005