Lying down is good. Lying in wait may be alright. But just plain lying is not. Really not. Sucks. Some Hasid or other said that when lying was considered as vile a sin as adultery, the messiah would come. Or some other real good thing would happen. I'm considering becoming Jewish. I'm feeling a call -- to the Pale. Is that what it's called? May try to relearn that Hebrew alephbet, while I develop my own version of Jerusalem Ridge. (the Bill Monroe tune so rocked by Casey Driessen)
There are obvious ways of lying. The most obvious: saying false things. Asserting that which is not the case.
I think there are other ways of lying. What do you think?
The program requires honesty. Often I hear that's honesty with self. But sinning of any kind presents problems for recovering folks. That's why I try not to kill rodents or lie to them or commit adultery with them.
I also find that if I can avoid my friends, I don't have to lie to them either.
When people are really drunk, though, I think it's probably OK to lie to them, since they probably won't remember it.
I lied to some drunk people just the other day. I said "I really think you should let me drive you home," when actually the last thing in the world I wanted to do was drive them home.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
I wax philosophical for the last Time
It is said, and with good reason, you can’t change the past. But look, I just did! What was a mere thought, then in the present, is now part of the past. And now what was the future is past, passed.
Yesterday’s Chinese buffet has passed, is past.
The past is a constantly growing bag of tricks.
For some, a constant source of regret, even agony. But dude, don’t dwell on that stuff! There’s all kinds of new past stuff happening all the time.
The fleas I picked off Oscar this afternoon, past. The picking, past! The sunset, oh it was going to be a beauty, past. The daughters, also beauties, passing. The beauty, changing, frozen occasionally in photographs, in memory. Eventually past. Eventually even forgotten. The memories, past.
All of life passes, all of existence passes. God does not (by definition). But I wonder….what will He do for entertainment after I’m not around to pass the time with Him?
Who will make him smacky macky? Who will guard the secret correct changes to Sweet Lorraine? Hmmmm?
This is all sophism, pilpil is the Yiddish word. Drivel. Whatever.
I would have you consider the nature of Time. Our greatest enemy, our greatest friend. But really neither, because it doesn’t care. “Care.” It ticks. Tocks. Another blues stinger done gone, etc etc.
I’m not so much talking about death, though, as I am about life. It is no wonder that the very religious often advertise eternal life. Or multiple lives. We do get do overs. Over and over. And we usually need them. Plenty of them. Thankfully, our errors pass, the damage passes too, eventually. And the next error and the next damage. And the glory is His. And the smacky macky too.
Yesterday’s Chinese buffet has passed, is past.
The past is a constantly growing bag of tricks.
For some, a constant source of regret, even agony. But dude, don’t dwell on that stuff! There’s all kinds of new past stuff happening all the time.
The fleas I picked off Oscar this afternoon, past. The picking, past! The sunset, oh it was going to be a beauty, past. The daughters, also beauties, passing. The beauty, changing, frozen occasionally in photographs, in memory. Eventually past. Eventually even forgotten. The memories, past.
All of life passes, all of existence passes. God does not (by definition). But I wonder….what will He do for entertainment after I’m not around to pass the time with Him?
Who will make him smacky macky? Who will guard the secret correct changes to Sweet Lorraine? Hmmmm?
This is all sophism, pilpil is the Yiddish word. Drivel. Whatever.
I would have you consider the nature of Time. Our greatest enemy, our greatest friend. But really neither, because it doesn’t care. “Care.” It ticks. Tocks. Another blues stinger done gone, etc etc.
I’m not so much talking about death, though, as I am about life. It is no wonder that the very religious often advertise eternal life. Or multiple lives. We do get do overs. Over and over. And we usually need them. Plenty of them. Thankfully, our errors pass, the damage passes too, eventually. And the next error and the next damage. And the glory is His. And the smacky macky too.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
violents are blue
Rain could be precipitous
Rubies could be precious
Well, red.
Gorgons occur after the blood is cleaned up
From the crime seen
Yesterday afternoon
Just before the cowed burst
From the quietly angry
Child.
Children could be borne
But not for long
And vascectomies
Are not for ever
No
They’re for your spouse.
Mood river,
Don’t be crossed with me
I will give you a big stick
And you can row
All day and all night
Til Cerberus dies
Or moves from the sub burbs
to the
Newly gentrified part of town
Somewhere north of another direction.
Ignorth south, lease west.
That’s what my real tear sez.
But advice from me
Is the last thing you want.
You have just enough
Vices of your own.
Perhaps I could get a grip.
tomorrow
I would return it fersure.
Rubies could be precious
Well, red.
Gorgons occur after the blood is cleaned up
From the crime seen
Yesterday afternoon
Just before the cowed burst
From the quietly angry
Child.
Children could be borne
But not for long
And vascectomies
Are not for ever
No
They’re for your spouse.
Mood river,
Don’t be crossed with me
I will give you a big stick
And you can row
All day and all night
Til Cerberus dies
Or moves from the sub burbs
to the
Newly gentrified part of town
Somewhere north of another direction.
Ignorth south, lease west.
That’s what my real tear sez.
But advice from me
Is the last thing you want.
You have just enough
Vices of your own.
Perhaps I could get a grip.
tomorrow
I would return it fersure.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
bedtime story in Cognito
First, a few meaningless statements:
1. Every human being is worthwhile.
2. My dog understands me.
3. My brother understands me.
These are not false statements. They're Meaningless. The proof is that their negations are absurd -- not false.
Check it: No human being is worthwhile. Or even: I saw a human at the farmers market who was not worthwhile.
Silly, huh?
or My dog does not understand me. Here however is a similar but meaningful statement -- and a true one: My dog does not understand me when I say "Je t'aime beaucoup mon petit." When I say "Treat." of course all the dogs "understand" something by that. On this I tend to be a behaviorist though. They go to where the treat should be. If this is understanding, so be it. Not much to it though.
or even the negation of 3.-- My brother doesn't understand me. Now this is not the Russell/Strawson/whoever problem (that I actually have no brother). The problem is that people just don't understand other people. Not really. They can guess. And we do guess.
From the things that are real in our lives:
Fun, fear, money (much misunderstood and oft maligned yet real), music, dance, tax documents. eyeballs, genitals.
My mother does not understand me. It is too big of an undertaking for her. Actually I was her undertaker. I scattered her (purported) ashes (It was Georgia, 2001)...I think lust and chemicals are fairly real too, and tempos are very real to me. And I can build meaning out of these things. Little meanings. Faster, slower, dragging, rushing.
Once upon a time there was a hairy beast who lived in the woods on top of lots of limestone with barkers and lizards.
There was a pool, but no one ever swam in it on purpose. Only by accident. Every single day, the sun rose behind the trees and eventually over the pool. Then later it set and things got dark. No matter how many times the sun did its routine, the hairy beast could not understand it. Though he would have been shocked had the routine been suddenly altered. There also might be worldwide panic. Maybe there already is.
Electronic French devices speak hourly in the beast's house. Someday maybe these devices will swim in the pool. The beast works for a living, enjoys his work, enjoys his co-workers, but they don't understand him. They would say they care about him, some would say "deeply", but that only works when they actually take the next step and care for him. This may or may not be what co-workers are supposed to do. And the whole discussion is vague at best. However: The beast does his best to care for the people in his life. But he doesn't understand them, and he has resolved not to waste too much energy trying to. Since he figured out that there can be no such understanding.
And that it will take his long wonderful life for him to not even come close to understanding himself. He can try to like himself. Perhaps starting in D major and working around the circle of fifths. Accidentally. In this, meaning.
1. Every human being is worthwhile.
2. My dog understands me.
3. My brother understands me.
These are not false statements. They're Meaningless. The proof is that their negations are absurd -- not false.
Check it: No human being is worthwhile. Or even: I saw a human at the farmers market who was not worthwhile.
Silly, huh?
or My dog does not understand me. Here however is a similar but meaningful statement -- and a true one: My dog does not understand me when I say "Je t'aime beaucoup mon petit." When I say "Treat." of course all the dogs "understand" something by that. On this I tend to be a behaviorist though. They go to where the treat should be. If this is understanding, so be it. Not much to it though.
or even the negation of 3.-- My brother doesn't understand me. Now this is not the Russell/Strawson/whoever problem (that I actually have no brother). The problem is that people just don't understand other people. Not really. They can guess. And we do guess.
From the things that are real in our lives:
Fun, fear, money (much misunderstood and oft maligned yet real), music, dance, tax documents. eyeballs, genitals.
My mother does not understand me. It is too big of an undertaking for her. Actually I was her undertaker. I scattered her (purported) ashes (It was Georgia, 2001)...I think lust and chemicals are fairly real too, and tempos are very real to me. And I can build meaning out of these things. Little meanings. Faster, slower, dragging, rushing.
Once upon a time there was a hairy beast who lived in the woods on top of lots of limestone with barkers and lizards.
There was a pool, but no one ever swam in it on purpose. Only by accident. Every single day, the sun rose behind the trees and eventually over the pool. Then later it set and things got dark. No matter how many times the sun did its routine, the hairy beast could not understand it. Though he would have been shocked had the routine been suddenly altered. There also might be worldwide panic. Maybe there already is.
Electronic French devices speak hourly in the beast's house. Someday maybe these devices will swim in the pool. The beast works for a living, enjoys his work, enjoys his co-workers, but they don't understand him. They would say they care about him, some would say "deeply", but that only works when they actually take the next step and care for him. This may or may not be what co-workers are supposed to do. And the whole discussion is vague at best. However: The beast does his best to care for the people in his life. But he doesn't understand them, and he has resolved not to waste too much energy trying to. Since he figured out that there can be no such understanding.
And that it will take his long wonderful life for him to not even come close to understanding himself. He can try to like himself. Perhaps starting in D major and working around the circle of fifths. Accidentally. In this, meaning.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
$20 and fancy borg posturing
I was going to say: " I've got a twenty dollar bill for the first commenter to correctly identify what the following are:
Snowshoes, Tom and Jerry, Say Old Man, Sally Johnson, Tugboat, Apple Blossom and Done Gone"-- But I'm not gonna do that, because now we have Google and anyone can google these strings of symbols and come up with the right answer.
So simple now to do so many things, due to the deep and wide power of the internet and of computers in general. Lots of silly boring stuff is done with a click of the mouse now, right? That's what pooters are for, right?
Not all vays......
Oddly two hotshots, flown in from San Fran I think, with laptops were unable to come anywhere near mixing a single vocal mic and a piano mic in a hotshot new restaurant in N Austin last night. They messed with the settings for 4 hours. In the last hour we graduated from a low rumbling noise (a low D flattish thing) finally to a more recognizable high end feedback. It was awesome. Don't eat there. The people were un-beautiful, however VI they may be thought to P. The shrimp were less than awesome, though huge. I scampered quickly once the gig was over.
When will folks in service industries realize that the paradigm for service is sexual prostitution? The hooker MUST ask right off "So what is it I can do that you will like." And make the offer have some verisimilitude. Not that I would know anything about that. First hand I mean. And when the service situation is a large party, the goal is to make EVERYBODY smile.
Even the lowly piano player. I smiled on my way out.
Other fiddle tune names of note: Hotfoot, Whoa Mule, General Garfield's March
The list is endless. A lot of people say they all sound the same, and indeed they would have last night at that party. Low and D flattish.
Snowshoes, Tom and Jerry, Say Old Man, Sally Johnson, Tugboat, Apple Blossom and Done Gone"-- But I'm not gonna do that, because now we have Google and anyone can google these strings of symbols and come up with the right answer.
So simple now to do so many things, due to the deep and wide power of the internet and of computers in general. Lots of silly boring stuff is done with a click of the mouse now, right? That's what pooters are for, right?
Not all vays......
Oddly two hotshots, flown in from San Fran I think, with laptops were unable to come anywhere near mixing a single vocal mic and a piano mic in a hotshot new restaurant in N Austin last night. They messed with the settings for 4 hours. In the last hour we graduated from a low rumbling noise (a low D flattish thing) finally to a more recognizable high end feedback. It was awesome. Don't eat there. The people were un-beautiful, however VI they may be thought to P. The shrimp were less than awesome, though huge. I scampered quickly once the gig was over.
When will folks in service industries realize that the paradigm for service is sexual prostitution? The hooker MUST ask right off "So what is it I can do that you will like." And make the offer have some verisimilitude. Not that I would know anything about that. First hand I mean. And when the service situation is a large party, the goal is to make EVERYBODY smile.
Even the lowly piano player. I smiled on my way out.
Other fiddle tune names of note: Hotfoot, Whoa Mule, General Garfield's March
The list is endless. A lot of people say they all sound the same, and indeed they would have last night at that party. Low and D flattish.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
In Ertia
We all know that expression: “I think she’s just a couple quarts low…” There are others. Similar. I can’t think of any. “Not playing with a full deck.” That’s one.
I drove from Buda to Las Vegas NM today. It was hell getting out of Austin. I actually turned around a mile out of Bee Caves to try another way (290). Still made it here in 11 hours.
And when I stopped for gas on the north side of Lubbock, I checked the oil. There was none on the stick. ! I added 2 quarts. Then there was some on the stick. Thing is, the car was rockin down the road just smooth as the breeze. Other than the xmas lite-like display of dash indicators, that old luxury sedan (it’s NOT old for a Volvo) does a fine job. And the display is nice if you like xmas.
We never know if we’re a quart or two low unless we check. And we have to have a functional dipstick. And we pretty much have to STOP DRIVING in order to check.
And in some realms, on some subjects, THERE ARE NO DIPSTICKS and THERE IS NO ACCEPTABLE FLUID LEVEL. There is just life, joyous, happy, free, I have a headache and funerals are getting numerous.
I just checked my face out in a mirror. Should have used a dipstick. Frightening.
The kid in the Golden Corral (perfectly done broccoli you doubters) in Abilene asked me if I was a senior citizen. I asked “What the f___ is that supposed to mean?” “60, I think” sez he. “No, I’m not 60, Mr TARD!” Actually all of this was very cordial, and I note that the cost of the GC buffet is 2 bucks lower in Abilene than in Austin. And I’m just 2 years shy of 60…
Are we sensing a 2 less/2 low theme developing here? No.
Jen called me on the cell a few miles futher up 84 to thank me for everything, so I kicked the cruise off and got a ticket from a lady cop who learned Faded Love from Bob Wills’ son. Is this possible?
Both insurance cards were expired. I will send the judge money. Probably about $200.
We never know. Really. We just do the best we can. And we do so by definition.
A criminal who makes a decision to commit a crime is doing the best he can. He looked in the mirror. There was no dipstick. He robbed the bank. Then he bought a car.
Later he spent time in a correctional institution.
God was watching over him.
Even when he hanged himself or whatever. I remind you, perfect broccoli -- In Abilene, on a buffet on senior citizens day.
2 much.
Pulled into this motel where Ez and I stayed 6 years ago, and the same old bearded NM guy said yup they had one room left, a smoking queen. I remarked that some guys would kill for one of those. The guy took my 60 bucks.
His free wireless internet is a couple bars low.
Guess I’ll go away now. Might come back later.
If you love somebody, cherish them. Do not test them. Hold them. Kiss them. They are probably reliable old sedans.
I drove from Buda to Las Vegas NM today. It was hell getting out of Austin. I actually turned around a mile out of Bee Caves to try another way (290). Still made it here in 11 hours.
And when I stopped for gas on the north side of Lubbock, I checked the oil. There was none on the stick. ! I added 2 quarts. Then there was some on the stick. Thing is, the car was rockin down the road just smooth as the breeze. Other than the xmas lite-like display of dash indicators, that old luxury sedan (it’s NOT old for a Volvo) does a fine job. And the display is nice if you like xmas.
We never know if we’re a quart or two low unless we check. And we have to have a functional dipstick. And we pretty much have to STOP DRIVING in order to check.
And in some realms, on some subjects, THERE ARE NO DIPSTICKS and THERE IS NO ACCEPTABLE FLUID LEVEL. There is just life, joyous, happy, free, I have a headache and funerals are getting numerous.
I just checked my face out in a mirror. Should have used a dipstick. Frightening.
The kid in the Golden Corral (perfectly done broccoli you doubters) in Abilene asked me if I was a senior citizen. I asked “What the f___ is that supposed to mean?” “60, I think” sez he. “No, I’m not 60, Mr TARD!” Actually all of this was very cordial, and I note that the cost of the GC buffet is 2 bucks lower in Abilene than in Austin. And I’m just 2 years shy of 60…
Are we sensing a 2 less/2 low theme developing here? No.
Jen called me on the cell a few miles futher up 84 to thank me for everything, so I kicked the cruise off and got a ticket from a lady cop who learned Faded Love from Bob Wills’ son. Is this possible?
Both insurance cards were expired. I will send the judge money. Probably about $200.
We never know. Really. We just do the best we can. And we do so by definition.
A criminal who makes a decision to commit a crime is doing the best he can. He looked in the mirror. There was no dipstick. He robbed the bank. Then he bought a car.
Later he spent time in a correctional institution.
God was watching over him.
Even when he hanged himself or whatever. I remind you, perfect broccoli -- In Abilene, on a buffet on senior citizens day.
2 much.
Pulled into this motel where Ez and I stayed 6 years ago, and the same old bearded NM guy said yup they had one room left, a smoking queen. I remarked that some guys would kill for one of those. The guy took my 60 bucks.
His free wireless internet is a couple bars low.
Guess I’ll go away now. Might come back later.
If you love somebody, cherish them. Do not test them. Hold them. Kiss them. They are probably reliable old sedans.
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