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I just got off the phone w/ my brother. He has 2 blockages in his heart and his physician informed him that his surgery is scheduled for February 16th. When he told me what his situation was, I freaked because no one had any idea how dire straits his heart really was. He had his stress test on Monday. When he told me that he couldn't go more than 3 1/2 minutes on a treadmill going 2 1/2 miles/hour, I knew there was some sort of blockage. At the time, I figured that maybe he would just get an angio-plasty; that it would clear up any calcium or fat deposits that are in his arteries. I was wrong! He has 2 major blockages that have to be bypassed.
Let me tell you a little bit about LF from my perspective: He's not only my brother, but one of my closest friends. When we were growing up, our eldest brother would bully us to no end. John (LF) would stick up for me all the time: Thus, suffering beatings from him that could've been avoided if he ignored my beatings. He wasn't the typical brother during his teenage years either. There were times where he'd have to babysit me. Instead of staying @ home w/ me, he'd actually take me out and hang out w/ his friends: Finding ways to make everying "outing" a fun time. If anyone were to make fun of me or pick on me for any reason, he'd tell them to lay off instead of joining in (like most teenage older siblings would do). I learned to look up to him alot during these years. I still remember the day he left for diesel mechanic training in Colorado: September 14, 1985. I was sitting on the stairs as my dad and John were about to leave. He gave me a hug and told me that he'd keep in touch w/ me no matter what. I just remember the tears rolling down my face after he left because I wasn't going to see the one person that always had my back. Who would've guessed that over 21 years later he'd still be there and with a great family!
Every time we talk on the phone, he'd tell me to log onto the "forum" to see some of the posts either he or another member has made. It gives him alot of joy to log on daily and give his 2 cents on an array of topics. In a true sense, being on the forum is like an extention of his family. He asked me to post here for him because HE didn't want to worry anyone in-case he wasn't logged in for a while. That's how selfless he's been all his life. He gets that from our mom because she's exactly the same way. It's not just mannerisms, but John is the only one of 4 sons that looks like our mom...
Now coming back to today, when I talked to him on the phone this morning, he asked that I post so anyone he's friends with on the forum wouldn't be hanging as far as information regarding his present state. He cares about alot about the people here on the Forum that he made friends with. John may act all silly and such on a good percentage of his posts, but there's no denying that he's actually one of the most intelligent people I know. He just does that because, in a sense, he needs to be able to laugh and the forum gives him that opportunity to "cut loose." Anyway, as far as myself, it's obvious that even after all this time, I still do look up to him. How can I not, he still has my back no matter what. This Friday, I'm going to have his. Please join me in keeping John in your thoughts as he goes through a situation where he is actually scared. He can use all the good thoughts and wishes this Friday he can get ahold of. Thank you.
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I have a soft spot in my heart for the junk words that are used to bust current e-mail filtering techniques. I also feel that it is greatly unappreciated as a form of literature by the world at large. So tonight, I bring to you the epic known as:
RE: Loan Request: Veronica's Any Nightlife Divulgacin Cientfica: Dave Meyers Kanye the Discontent Word Critic
As written by Guy LeDouche.
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It's like when you turn on like MTV,everyone's crying,man,so like this is my own version and I plan to cry after so it's gonna rule.
Friday we had an inservice day so all day I was at this behavior class where the professionals teach us how to diffuse behaviors before it escalates into drama. The teach has a masters degree so she knows her shit,oh kay?
So like I was like telling her what she was saying is bullshit,yo and she was getting upset with my ass. But everyone else in class was in silent agreement with me.
Then I lost my phone so I really wasn't paying much attention to her at all. I was thinking about my fucking phone. So we had 30 minutes to study afterwards where I slipped out to look for it. (this is where I start crying)
I didn't find it. I looked everywhere.
By the time I got back that 30 minutes of studying was over and I didn't study at all. Then the test came.
I was the first one done.
I told teach I'm gonna look for my phone some more. 10 minutes later I found it on the street!
So I came back which totalled 15 minutes and most of them were still on the test.
Teach graded my score and I got a hundred.
So staff people were asking me how the hell I did that. I told them the test was common sense. It was multiple choice for crying out loud.
That's when I realise that I got some brains. Sure,in high school I pulled shit like that off but I barely passed for I just didn't put enough effort.
So here's my drama. WHY DID I RUIN MY HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE?
I could have done so much more with my life.
Not like I don't like my life now,but rather I could be in a better position.
My daughter is crazy smart at school but she didn't do the shit I did in High School.
If I didn't fuck around so much I could have gone on to college and who knows?
This is the part I start really crying now.
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Yesterday I went to God Parent class for my good friend's daughter asked us if we can be. We were more than honored.
So I was baptised Catholic and Married Catholic so that pretty much qualifies me but I was raised Protestant and have never been to Catasizm or confession or anything.
So the almost priest dude was really cool. Were like in deep "Vato" land,yo so they be Mexicans. I wanted not to say anything that may spoil my qualifications and all but he was so cool,man so I answered some questions.
He would ask like "Why are we born with original sin?" and like NO ONE would answer so hoping I wasn't clashing with catholisism for I really don't know the difference I took a chance and said "Adam and Eve."
He got all excited and said "RIGHT!"
I got all excited and shit for by the third question I'm thinking "Yo. All here thinking I'm devoted."
"Why is it that we should only have one baptism in your entire life?" was another question that no one answered and there I was again saying "cause if you Baptise again,you are in essense saying that you failed your obligations to your first baptism and that's like a slap in God's face,yo." in those exact words for we be chill'n and shit.
I was right again.
So all my life I always thought that most Catholics just go thru the motions and as long as you do all these works you are good to go. And I proved this with the serious lack of enthusiasm by what maybe 50 people there that night.
But I was like getting petty excited.
The only real difference,man between Catholics and Potestants is that some people can talk to God directly which is the protestant belief but there are others that NEED TO HEAR from another that God is listening.
That is the root cause for animosity among each other.
I'm in the middle here for I promised in Marriage to raise my children Catholic and yet my parents raised me Protestant. And this Saturday I will make a vow to the priest to raise my God Daughter Catholic and make sure she follows the Catholic way. My wife will help me with that.
So there it is. Religion.
My faith. I have lots of faith. I have faith in Santa Clause. I have faith in God but not the God that everyone pictures.
Religion is custom tailored to fit their values.
Religion DEFINES a family's values.
Religion IS family values which is the DRIVING FORCE that brings them back every Sunday.
And that's why when people debate Religion everyone already lost for different families have different values. Religion revolves around EVERYTHING whether it's war and politics or Indifference and Racism.
And if more people see what they are really doing instead of the thought that they are saving another soul,then maybe this world may be more peaceful.
I can't wait to baptise my soon to be God Daughter. My daughter has my camera that weekend so I'll try my camera phone. It may be good enough pics. I'll post some pics here soon.
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First and foremost: I was fully awake when this happened and guarantee the authenticity the following content.
So, my kids are in a play along with two other kids at a local theatre. Of the kids, three are homeschooled. One is not. Let's call the one who is not "Dumbass".
So, I'm backstage with the kids trying to keep them quiet (reminder to me to seek advice from Hawley) and Dumbass says "Watch! I can make my faith (face) turn weewy weewy wed."
She then proceeds to make faces like she is trying to make feces. After about a minute of this I said "Hey, Dumbass. You're gonna make yourself pass out if you don't stop."
She stuck her tongue out at me, while maintaining proper strainage, and continued with her feat of ignorance.
I went back to reading my audio magazine and forgot about the kid. About another minute after that, I heard one of the other kids say "Don't fall on me!"
I looked up just in time to see Dumbass fall face first into the corner of one of the makeup tables.
It was the most awesomest thing I ever did see.
Homeschool >>>> public school.
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Last night I saw “The Coronation of Poppea” at the LA Opera. The opera was composed by Monteverdi, something like 350 years ago; it’s one of the earliest operas still performed.
The story covers how Poppea displaced Octavia as the wife of Nero, prior to the fall of Rome. It’s four hours long, counting the two intermissions. Four. Hours. Long.
I’m not sure why LA Opera is doing what it is currently doing in the way of staging and costumes. In my previous review of Parsifal, it was Robert Wilson’s extremely sparse staging which dominated one’s impression (such as the Neon Donut of Wisdom, the really REALLY slow movements—when there was any movement at all—and so on). This one had slightly more elaborate set design; in Act 1, there was a 8-foot-diameter sphere on stage right, and a large upright cylinder on stage left. That’s about it.
Costuming was even weirder in this one than in Parsifal, though. Whereas in Parsifal the costumes were generally minimalist (except for the guy who was dressed as a letter y), this one had:
1. A man dressed (as a woman) in what appeared to be two rolls of paper towels draped over the front and back, connected by sides of grocery bag. Really, it looks kind of like an Erlenmeyer flask—the ones that are kind of triangular.
2. The same man appearing later in a large amount of black and white crepe fans, stapled to him and to each other.
3. Seneca the poet, in what appeared to be a mu-mu made of shreds of plastic bags
4. Nero in royal purple gowns which had a large number of triangular flaps cut out; imagine the royal Whiffle Emperor of Rome and you’ve about got it.
Below is my plot synopsis:
ACT I
The goddesses Fortune and Virtue are insulting each other, while Love watches.
Fortune: Nobody listens to you anymore, Virtue. Go away.
Virtue: Alas, too true. Especially in this opera. (leaves)
Love: Awesome. Let’s mess stuff up.
Ottone (Poppea’s former lover): Hmm. There seem to be two guards here outside Nero’s bedroom. It’s as if he wanted not to be disturbed. On the other hand, they’ve fallen asleep.
Guards (waking up) Man, Rome sucks. And Nero’s too busy messing around with Poppea to do anything about it. And you there; if you say anything about this, we’ll kill you.
Ottone: Got it.
(at this point, Nero and Poppea emerge, cuddly, and say farewell to each other)
Nero: Goodbye.
Poppea: Goodbye.
Nero: Goodbye!
Poppea: Goodbye!
Nero: Goodbye, my love.
Poppea: Goodbye, dearest.
(this goes on for about ten minutes)
ARIA: “Oh, how I hate long goodbyes”
(Arnalta, Poppea’s nurse and confidante, comes out at this point. She (played by a man) is dressed in the two-rolls-of-paper-towel-cum-grocery-bag outfit described earlier. She is also wearing a hat which consists of a central pyramid, about a foot high, which seems to be made of tuna fish can lids, flanked on either side by a pair of—I swear this is true—bat wings, about a foot and a half long each. She cautions Poppea to be careful of ambition, and that Nero may not be trustworthy)
Poppea: But I love him. Plus, he’s the emperor of Rome; I’m sure that Nero would never do anything to hurt anyone, or be irrational.
(Enter Octavia, Nero’s current wife)
Octavia: I think Nero’s messing around on me.
ARIA (“Alas, the psycho emperor doth suck”)
Nutrice (Octavia’s nurse): You know, if he’s being unfaithful, the best thing to do would be to sleep around on him in vengeance. That’s what the gods do, after all.
Octavia: No, that would be wrong. I mustn’t do such a thing.
(enter Seneca the poet)
Seneca: Attagirl, Octavia. Be steadfast and philosophical about all this.
Octavia: Yes, I must be ethical. I won’t be unfaithful. I will, however, force someone else to kill Poppea. That’ll do nicely.
Seneca: Err…
Nutrice: Shut up or I’ll burn all your books and that stupid costume.
(That is almost verbatim what he actually said)
(now Pallas Athena shows up)
Athena: Seneca, you’ll be dying soon. Mercury will warn you when it’s coming. Just thought you should know.
Seneca: Well, that’s just swell.
(enter Nero)
Nero: Seneca, I think life would be better if I divorced Octavia and married Poppea, What do you think?
Audience: DON’T ARGUE WITH NERO!
Seneca: I think that would be morally and politically wrong, Nero. You can’t just get rid of a woman when a new hot one comes along. Plus, the Romans won’t like it. Don’t be a child, for the gods’ sake! Be a man, Nero. Keep your wife. Otherwise, you’re just a big jerk.
Audience: (smacks collective self in forehead)
Nero: Wow, Seneca. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.
(exit Seneca, enter Poppea)
Poppea: (rubbing up against Nero) Last night was awesome!
ARIA: “Didst thou enjoy my tits, O lord?”
(I’m not making that title up—that’s pretty much what the song is. Literally.)
Nero: (groping Poppea in a disturbingly explicit and graphic fashion): Hell yes.
Poppea: You know, Seneca thinks you’re a big jerk. I’m thinking we ought to kill him.
Nero: Way ahead of you on THAT one, beloved. Hey, page. Go tell Seneca to off himself as painfully as possible.
ACT II
The scenery in act II consists of about five strategically placed rocks, a large thing which might be a Horta or possibly a huge crumpled paper bag, about fifteen feet across, and (for some reason) a metal pipe angling up from the Horta and out over the audience. There’s also a wall.
(Seneca standing in his garden. Mercury descends from above. For some reason, he is dressed as the Tinman from the Wizard of Oz, except he has one (yes, one) wing.)
Mercury: You’re gonna die now, Seneca. But we gods like you, so you can come hang out in the divine hot tub.
Seneca: Groovy.
(enter page from Nero)
Page: Uh, Seneca, I hate to tell you this…
Seneca: (pulls out knife)
Page: Right, cool. Bye.
Bunch of people who are either Seneca’s students or possibly his thoughts incarnate, we’re not sure which: Seneca, don’t die.
Seneca: Hot tub’s a-waiting. (goes off to kill himself)
Seneca’s students or thoughts or something: Aw, fuck.
ARIA: “Aw, fuck.”
(they all leave. Enter Lucano, who is Nero’s “page boy”, apparently)
Lucano: Poppea is awesome!
Nero: Yes, she’s incredibly hot.
Lucano: Way, way hot. (walks toward Nero)
Nero: So unbelievably hot. (embraces Lucano)
(manly mutual rubbing and bouncing, while they talk about how sexy Poppea is. They get into quite the frenzy, then spring apart)
Lucano: My lord, you are awash in the ecstasy of love!
Audience: You mean spooge, don’t you? Eeeeeeeewwww.
(except one person somewhere in the audience, who was clapping loudly and cheering.)
(they kiss, then leave. Enter Octavia and Ottone)
Octavia: She’s way too hot. Ottone, I know you and Poppea used to be lovers, but I’d really like you to kill her for me.
Ottone: Errr….
Octavia: Or I’ll kill you.
Ottone: Aw, fuck.
ARIA: “Aw, fuck.” (reprise)
(enter Drusilla, Ottone’s young girlfriend, played by a rather cute singer)
Drusilla: I love you so much, especially now that you’re over Poppea.
Ottone: Well, you ought to love this. I have to kill her.
Drusilla: How can I help? Here, she trusts me. Take my clothes so you can sneak up on her.
Male audience: YES!
(disrobes, but only partway)
Male audience members: Aw, fuck!
(scene shifts to Poppea and her weirdly dressed nurse in the garden, accompanied by five or six weirdly dressed handmaidens, in the paper-towel-or-maybe-Erlenmeyer-flask outfits)
Arnalta: Take a nap.
Poppea: OK.
(goes to sleep)
Arnalta: I’ll keep watch.
(goes to sleep)
Ottone (in Drusilla’s clothes): tiptoe tiptoe tiptoe
(this part has been very soothing, and I will admit to being lulled into drowsiness. I woke up when the Horta exploded, and the cross-dresser was chased offstage by the Erlenmeyer flasks. Under most circumstances, being woken by an explosion and having the first thing you see be a man in woman’s clothes chased offstage by a bunch of Erlenmeyer flasks wearing bat wings and tuna cans on their heads would make one question one’s sanity. That’s only until you remember that you’re at the opera; then it all makes sense.
So there is a huge explosion at the Horta, which results in most of the audience wetting their seats, and the goddess Love appears above the wall)
Love: You bastard. Don’t kill Poppea. I’d kill you, but you’re not worth it.
Arnalta (waking up): It’s Drusilla! She’s trying to kill Poppea. Seize her! SEIZE HER!
(the handmaidens shuffle after Ottone dressed as Drusilla, moving somewhat like penguins due to their costumes. My wife is insistent that they move exactly like the droid nurse Dot in Spaceballs. In fact, she’s convinced that their costumes and staging were based on Dot.)
ACT III
The set for act III is a crumpled muslin backdrop (which looks either like a rock wall or flames, depending on the angle or the orange light, and is actually quite awesome), and two large black square columns, one of which is upright and the other of which is lying diagonally across the stage. And that’s it.
(Drusilla enters)
Drusilla: Life is good. You know your boyfriend is no longer in rebound when he agrees to wear your clothes to kill his old girlfriend. Yay me!
(enter Arnalta and some sort of police person, along with Nero)
Arnalta: Seize her! SEIZE HER!
Drusilla: What did I do?
Arnalta: You tried to kill Poppea! I saw you.
Drusilla: But I’m innocent!
Nero: Torture her. And I get to watch.
Drusilla: (to self) If they torture me, I’ll reveal that Ottone did it, and they’ll kill him.
Drusilla: (to Nero) Yep, I did it. Just me. Nobody else.
Arnalta: Kill her!
Nero: Yep.
(enter Ottone)
Ottone: No, it was me. Don’t kill her, kill me!
Drusilla: I did it. It was me.
Ottone: Me!
Drusilla: Me! Dammit, it was me!
Ottone: It was me! Look, I have the clothes.
Drusilla: Aw, fuck.
Nero: Fine. Kill him.
Ottone: Of course, it was Octavia who told me to do it.
Nero: AWESOME! All right, let’s see…you, Ottone, are banished. (tears off Ottone's clothes) Go away.
(Ottone starts trudging off)
Nero: And you, Drusilla, I admire your courage. I’m going to hold you up to the empire as a shining example of proper womanhood.
Drusilla: I want to go with Ottone.
Nero. Fine. Go. (unfortunately, leaves her clothes alone)
(Drusilla trudges off)
Nero: As for you, Octavia, you’re banished too.
Octavia: Aw, fuck. (leaves)
(Octavia sings something as she goes which is eerie and heartbreaking. Some of the best music in the whole thing; this and Seneca’s students pleading for him to not kill himself are definitely worth hearing.)
(Poppea enters) Well, I have to say that worked out well for me.
Nero: Me too.
(Enter Arnalta, in black and white crepe outfit, resembling 3-D paper doll of Cruella de Vil) I am so loving this.
(Some pomp and circumstance involving more really weird outfits as the empire pays tribute to Poppea, their new empress)
Empire: Yay!
(Exit everyone except Nero and Poppea, in their nightshirts, who sing a surprisingly (and stunningly) tender duet)
DUET: “After a hard day of treachery, it’s so nice to put my bloodstained feet up with my beloved”
(lights out)
Audience: What? A happy ending? For NERO AND POPPEA? WHAT THE FUCK? They get a beautiful and tender love duet? Aw, fuck. (applauds anyway)
It was pretty good. I liked Parsifal better, although there's nothing like exploding Hortas and flasks chasing men dressed as women to keep an opera interesting. Also, as my wife points out, it was significantly smuttier than Parsifal, which counts for something. But I liked Parsifal's music better.
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Just outside our front door, there is a patch of ground under the stairs which gets no direct sun at all. It's where the gas meters are, and it's basically an ignored area. Up until now, it has been occupied by some ivy.
After completing the backyard garden, I asked out landlords if they'd mind if I did something with it. They're very nice people, and very flexible as long as they don't have to spend any money. Thus, they said what amounted to "Well, we weren't doing anything with it. Knock yourself out."
So here's what I did.
Here is the view from our front door:
And here's what you see as you come toward it from the entry path to our part of the building:
The stones are various sorts of cobblestones and a coarse white gravel, as well as one good-sized lava rock, purchased (total cost about $60, not including the black beach pebbles which were left over from the other garden) from a local landscape supplier. The plants are moss (harvested from nearby dirt), a few hardy ferns, some Japanese mondo grass, this neat ground cover whose name I can't remember, and a Japanese Aucuba (the gold-dust bush in the back corner). Total cost of the plants was about $65.
I'm pretty happy with it. I'm looking forward to doing another, once I find another bit of ground nobody is using.
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My aunt is dying.
I was never that close to her. She's from the crazy side of the family, but family nonetheless. She has battled breast cancer for years, and managed to see her first grandson grow to four. Her second is a few months from being delivered. Over the past year, the tumor spread to her lungs and bones putting her well past the point of continued surgery and chemo. Thursday before last she was writing checks for bills; she stood up and promptly fell down, talking nonsense. The tumor is now aggressively attacking her brain in its insidious maneuver of replication. I went to visit her in the hospital last weekend. It was almost beautiful in a way, hearing the result of random synapse firing from her brain. It was pure and unfiltered, like a child that has yet to learn the art of social subtlety. Her words were random, but connected in a way that would almost seem like they came from a wise zen monk.
My sister's fetus is dead.
I just found out about an hour ago. Apparently stopped growing and gave up on beating its heart sometime in the past few weeks. She was perhaps eight or nine weeks in. She had previously vowed to abstain from baby-making, and then shocked us all when she got a divorce and remarried this past year. They wasted no time in this department. I feel we're already beyond the earth's carrying capacity for our population and lifestyle, yet the idea of being an uncle excited me even though i'm fifteen hundred miles from her.
What an odd series of events that has occurred to bring us to this point of living and dying. I feel like going for a long drive to try to figure some of it out, but I'm already kind of drunk. My CD player isn't working either. Fuck.
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She came into this world without a sound. Her simple, serene gaze fell upon everyone in the room; her baby blue eyes enrapturing us all with just a glance. Just looking upon her made my heart fill with a love that I never knew could exist.
I felt privileged to be the one she looked to for comfort when she was hurt or afraid. During her earliest years, she was my constant companion. Always delighting me with stories, jokes, or simple, silent company. Always effortlessly offering in return what I was so happy to give.
Her personality was very magnetic, and so she naturally began performing theatre. She didn't care which role she was given. She just wanted the opportunity to make someone laugh. To make their day a little better. I was always so proud of her. She had more courage in her nine-year-old, sixty pound frame than I had in my thirty-year-old, 240 pound husk.
It was such a delight to watch her live her life that I soon forgot how miserable I had been. Every day was a lesson from her in how a life should be lived. Without pettiness. Without prejudice. Without fear. I'm certain that I learned more from her than she learned from me.
For ten years, I was blessed to know an angel. She brought meaning to a life that had had little purpose. She brought joy and happiness to a heart that had never known it so fully before.
And in a moment, her little heart that had such capacity for love and compassion, and that with its every beat gave my heart a desire to beat along with it, stopped.
There are dreams. There are nightmares.
This was both.
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I rented a car when we went to California to Disneyland and stuff. I had that car for 11 days. We came back a day early and if I returned that car early I would be charged for the daily rate instead of the agreed rate which would mean that it would cost more. So I kept it for another day doing my bills and stuff. The next day,I returned it and as I walked away,New Car Dementia set in.
It happened when I stepped into my wife's car and pressed on the gas. What a piece of shit this car is.Before I thought this car is pretty nice,actually with the power seats and leather interior. Now I can't stand to drive it.
The car I rented was a 2007 Pontiac Grand Am. It had every gauge you can think of along with automatic headlights(It just knew when to turn on) a compass,outside temperature,miles per gallon meter,and get this,man. A meter that tells you how many miles you can drive with what gas you have in your tank. There was other stuff too I kept discovering by the day. Unfuckingbelievable.
Then it had a remote that turned on an alarm if you can't find your car,unlocks and locks your doors,opens your trunk,and even a fucking button that starts your car from your hotel window so when you get in it's nice and air conditioned.
But what really blew me away was the drive there and back. We crossed Death Valley in air conditioned comfort while the outside temperature came to 119 degrees at times. My wife and daughter were amazed when I told them how hot it was outside and when I looked at my temp gauge, the needle stayed where it always stayed. I KNOW in this kind of heat my wife's car nor my truck would have NO CHANCE.
Now my son is going to college next week and will need a ride there and back. He hit a curb in that cavalier and needs much so it's in the garage.
I want to buy a new fucking car and let my son drive my wife's car. I don't want him near my truck goddammit.
Jesus Christ it's just a Pontiac. They're supposed to be AFFORDABLE!
And my son is not mechanically inclined. I can't let him drive a car that might break down.
School is too far away for him to ride a scooter....
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