Month: August 2004

  • I see our Fearless Leader was at the convention last night. I didn’t get to watch much as I was out of the house. Just caught a bit of Ron Reagan holding his own amongst a panel of rightwing folks there. Hope I’ll get to read Moore’s column when it’s printed.

    Michael Moore Draws Boos at Convention
    The Associated Press

    NEW YORK (AP) – Already a box office sensation, filmmaker Michael Moore got another loud reception Monday at the Republican convention. This time, it was boos.

    When Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., told the delegates about “a disingenuous film maker who would have us believe that Saddam’s Iraq was an oasis of peace,” they knew he was referring to the maker of “Fahrenheit 9-11.” The film, which savages Bush’s Iraq policy, has set a box office record for documentaries, grossing $115 million so far.

    McCain’s comments prompted prolonged booing and chants of “Four more years.” Many of the delegates faced Moore, who was seated in the press seats at Madison Square Garden because he is writing a column this week for USA Today.

    Moore seemed to relish the attention, thrusting his arms over his head, laughing and saying, “Two more months.”

    Asked about McCain’s remarks, Moore said, “I can’t believe they’re dumb enough to bring up the film and help its box office.”
    By the way, Bush is now ahead in the electoral college polls 280-242. Be afraid, be very afraid.

    Deep Thought: You can’t tell me that cowboys, when they’re branding cattle, don’t sort of “accidentally” brand each other every once in a while. It’s their way of letting off stress.
    Today I am grateful for: The New York protests staying peaceful so far
    Guess the movie: “Do you think that we could find a place where we can meet, not in silence and not in sound?” Answer: Children of a Lesser God, 1986
    End of Day: 8:23 pm
    + = Finally could afford to stop at vet and get Advantage flea stuff for cats. They’re overdue.
    - = Tired, tired, tired. Not enough sleep last night.

  • Grace and Grit (cont.)
    by Ken Wilber

    When I last reported on this book, Treya Wilber had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and was struggling, with her husband, Ken, to begin to deal with it. They had examined all the different interpretations that cultures give to cancer. In the end, this was Treya’s initial journal entry regarding her conclusions at the time of diagnosis. We’ll see what happens later on.:

    I hadn’t even decided on a course of treatment yet, and this is what I was thinking about. I didn’t want to simply treat the disease and then relegate it to some dark closet in my life I hoped I’d never have to open or do anything about. Cancer would certainly be a part of my life from now on, but not simply in terms of constant checkups or constant awareness of the possibility of a recurrence. I was going to use it in as many ways as possible. Philosophically, to get me to look at death more closely, to help me prepare to die when the time came, to look at the meaning and purpose of my life. Spiritually, to rekindle my interest in finding and following a contemplative path, one that is at least generally suitable to me and stop delaying by looking for the perfect one. Psychologically, to be kinder and more loving to myself and others, to express my anger more easily, to lower my defenses against intimacy and my tendency to retreat into myself. Materially, to eat mainly fresh, well-washed, and whole foods and to start exercising again. And most of all, to be gentle with myself about meeting or not meeting those goals.

    Good ideas for anyone to chew on, I think.
    Deep Thought: What are all these “other dimensions” I keep hearing about? To me, there’s only one dimension worth anything, and that’s the good ol’ U.S. of A.
    Today I am grateful for: Every damn one of those thousands of protestors in New York City
    Guess the movie: “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tanhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to die.” Answer: Blade Runner, 1982
    End of Day – 9:46 pm
    + = Rescued a lost dog today because he had a collar on and I could call the owner.
    - = The West Nile virus has finally reached Oregon. No humans sick yet.

  • THINGS THAT REFRESH MY SOUL
    (see sidebar for other segments)

    Yes

    It’s a gray morning in Portland, Oregon though sun is predicted later and if it’s like yesterday it’s going to be a corker of a day. One more week and I’ll be at the end of this series of Sunday meditations. The whole idea was to express gratitude for various aspects of life. It’s a time-honored way of tackling the blues, that old negative thinking we all fall into on lots of days. All in all, life has seemed to me to be a series of choices – go left, go right; sign up, turn down; hold back, leap in; leave, stay; and they all boil down to Yes or No. Learning what to say yes to, what is healthy, what is going to nurture your most sensitive, most inner self is quite a task. They don’t teach it in school, you have to learn it by living in the world. Those who seem to be most at peace say yes with careful consideration, with conviction, and with courage. At the end of my life I hope I can look back and know that often enough (like Molly Bloom) “yes I said yes I will Yes!
    Deep Thought: I’d like to see a James Bond movie where James Bond gets behind financially and maybe has to take out a bill consolidation loan, because even when he’s applying for the loan he’s still real smart-alecky.
    Today I am grateful for: Seasons
    Guess the movie:“Sleep tight.” “Affirmative.” Answer: Aliens 1986
    End of Day: 8:25 pm
    + = Reasonably productive day, gorgeous weather.
    - = All the fruit on my apple and pear trees goes to waste because I can’t and won’t spray them so the fruit is no good.

  • Saturday Poem I Admire

    THE FISH

    I caught a tremendous fish
    and held him beside the boat
    half out of water, with my hook
    fast in a corner of his mouth.
    He didn’t fight.
    He hadn’t fought at all.
    He hung a grunting weight,
    battered and venerable
    and homely. Here and there
    his brown skin hung in strips
    like ancient wallpaper,
    and its pattern of darker brown
    was like wallpaper:
    shapes like full-blown roses
    stained and lost through age.
    He was speckled with barnacles,
    fine rosettes of lime,
    and infested
    with tiny white sea-lice,
    and underneath two or three
    rags of green weed hung down.
    While his gills were breathing in
    the terrible oxygen
    — the frightening gills,
    fresh and crisp with blood,
    that can cut so badly —
    I thought of the coarse white flesh
    packed in like feathers,
    the big bones and the little bones,
    the dramatic reds and blacks
    of his shiny entrails,
    and the pink swim-bladder
    like a big peony.
    I looked into his eyes
    which were far larger than mine
    but shallower, and yellowed,
    the irises backed and packed
    with tarnished tinfoil
    seen through the lenses
    of old scratched isinglass.
    They shifted a little, but not
    to return my stare.
    — It was more like the tipping
    of an object toward the light.
    I admired his sullen face,
    the mechanism of his jaw,
    and then I saw
    that from his lower lip
    — if you could call it a lip —
    grim, wet, and weaponlike,
    hung five old pieces of fish-line,
    or four and a wire leader
    with the swivel still attached,
    with all their five big hooks
    grown firmly in his mouth.
    A green line, frayed at the end
    where he broke it, two heavier lines,
    and a fine black thread
    still crimped from the strain and snap
    when it broke and he got away.
    Like medals with their ribbons
    frayed and wavering,
    a five-haired beard of wisdom
    trailing from his aching jaw.
    I stared and stared
    and victory filled up
    the little rented boat,
    from the pool of bilge
    where oil had spread a rainbow
    around the rusted engine
    to the bailer rusted orange,
    the sun-cracked thwarts,
    the oarlocks on their strings,
    the gunnels — until everything
    was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
    And I let the fish go.

    Written by Elizabeth Bishop in 1940 when she was 29. She lived to be 68 and wrote only about 100 published poems in her life, but they were choice. I’ve loved this particular poem for years. Very Joycean. Makes me proud to be a survivor. Kind of wish it would have been written by a man so no one could say it was just a woman’s tenderness. Sorry all you fishermen, and yes I still eat fish.
    Deep Thought: As the evening sun faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.
    Today I am grateful for: Fish oil capsules
    End of Day – 8:47 pm
    + = Got to buy school supplies for my two grandchildren today. I loved doing that and seeing them leave with their new backpacks full of stuff at the end of the day.
    - = Kerry’s electoral vote lead has shrunk from 307-231 a few weeks ago to 270-259 now. Click here Hope there are mega protests this week at the convention. Boy isn’t that going to be interesting.

  • thefridayfive

    1. It the election were tomorrow, who would you vote for?
    Kerry, though I wish we would have had more choices. I really liked Howard Dean at first because he had the balls to speak out early on against the war. Kind of like the Kerry of the Vietnam War period.
    2. What are the main things that lead you to vote for a certain person?
    Clear evidence of compassion, calm judgment, intelligence, concern for the environment, courage of convictions.
    3. Where do you get your info on the candidates?
    From the internet and TV. I don’t read newspapers. I don’t pay attention that much to opinions but to what the candidates actually do.
    4. Who was president when you were born?
    FDR – sigh. First time I remember paying much attention though was Kennedy.
    5. If you could choose anyone, dead or alive, to be president, who would it be?
    Martin Luther King, Jr.
    Deep Thought: You might think that the favorite plant of the porcupine is the cactus, but it’s thinking like that that has almost ruined this country.
    Today I am grateful for: Women’s suffrage
    BLOGGING FORWARD TO: Leonidas     who write poems, stories, and information pieces and really does his homework.
    End of Day – 9:06 pm
    + = Found a wonderful music CD to play while online or in my car or whenever called Quiet Mind – the Musical Journey of a Tibetan Nomad – Nawang Khechog. So beautiful and calming.
    - = So hard for me to be around extravert type folks very long. I just go invisible. Been this way all my life and not sure I need to change.

  • REPUBLICAN NATIONAL COMMITTEE
    New York, NY

    CONVENTION SCHEDULE
    * 6:00 PM Opening Prayer led by the Reverend Jerry Falwell
    * 6:30 PM Pledge of Allegiance (twice)
    * 6:35 PM Burning of Bill of Rights (excluding 2nd amendment)
    * 6:45 PM Salute to the Coalition of the Willing
    * 6:46 PM Seminar #1: “Getting your kid a military deferment”
    * 7:40 PM EPA Address #1: Mercury, it’s what’s for dinner
    * 8:00 PM Vote on which country to invade next
    * 8:10 PM Call EMTs to revive Rush Limbaugh
    * 8:15 PM John Ashcroft Lecture: “The Homos are after
    your children”
    * 8:30 PM Round table discussion on reproductive
    rights (MEN only)
    * 8:50 PM Seminar #2: Corporations: The government of
    the future
    * 9:00 PM Condi Rice sings “Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man”
    * 9:10 PM EPA Address #2: “Trees: The real cause of
    forest fires”
    * 9:30 PM Break for secret meetings
    * 10:00 PM Second prayer led by Cal Thomas
    * 10:15 PM Lecture by Karl Rove: “Doublespeak made easy”
    * 10:30 PM Rumsfeld demonstration of how to squint and
    talk macho
    * 10:35 PM Bush demonstration of trademark “deer in
    headlights” stare
    * 10:40 PM John Ashcroft demonstrates new mandatory
    Kevlar chastity belt *
    * 10:45 PM Clarence Thomas reads list of Black
    Republicans
    * 10:46 PM Seminar #3: “Education: a drain on our
    nation’s economy.”
    * 11:10 PM Hillary Clinton Pinata
    * 11:20 PM Second Lecture by John Ashcroft:
    “Evolutionists: The dangerous new cult”
    * 11:30 PM Call EMTs to revive Rush Limbaugh again.
    * 11:35 PM Blame Clinton
    * 11:40 PM Laura serves milk and cookies
    * 11:50 PM Closing Prayer led by Jesus Himself
    * 12:00 AM Nomination of George W. Bush as Holy
    Supreme Planetary Overlord

  • When Was the Last Time

    you heard anything about the suffering of the families who have lost a child in Iraq on the daily news? Who will be this war’s John Kerry to come back and protest what they’ve seen? Guess we’ll probably have to wait another 40 years to find out. This is one parent’s story.

    Deep Thought: The first time I ever tried to milk a cow at Grandpa’s farm, I didn’t even know which end of the cow to milk! Then I guess I got even dumber, because the next time I couldn’t even find the barn. Then the last time, I just went out in the woods and lived, with no clothes.
    Today I am grateful for: Opposable thumbs


    End of Day – 8:32 pm
    + = Hung out with 3 women friends this afternoon, which is really good for me, but takes lots of practice.
    - = Saw a child crying in the front seat of a car, shadowy adults in the back seat. Made me feel really sad.

  • WOOT WOOT!

    My Oregon has gone from Barely Kerry to Strongly Kerry. Click here

    Deep Thought – Of all my imaginary friends, I don’t think there was one that I didn’t end up having to kill.
    Today I am grateful for: Blueberries


    End of Day – 9:09 pm
    + = Son and family made it home safely from camping and had a reasonably good time in spite of the untoward wet weather.
    - = Have to call and hassle the billing folks about some of my medical bills tomorrow.

  • EYES WIDE OPEN
    Check this out.

  • Outhouse

    In the days before childhood labeling, I began my trek to the two-room country schoolhouse of my early grades with the knowledge that I could already read some thanks to my father who felt he could recover from his own heart bruises by making me perfect. Besides the Dick-and-Jane-books superiority, I stood out because my mother dressed me in pants and long brown socks that came up to my butt – my mother who convinced me the world was an unsafe place without her in it (and to this day I think that’s probably true). I read till my eyes fried, till they skipped me over second grade and right into third in the same room with grades 1-4 sitting by the wood stove in the winter in the middle of the room to stay warm. I shrank into my books and the approval of my teacher, Mrs. Torney, who pointed me out often to the rank and file and one day in all the agitation of it, unwilling to risk even further notice by requesting a trip to the outhouse, I peed my pants right into the yellow sweater I had tied around my waist to soak it up. Of course, that was the day I had to stand in front of the teacher’s desk with my back to the class for a spelling contest – which I won by spelling “acre” – so the kids could see the large green stain like a flag of some country where all outcasts lived.
    (Dedicated to coopster911.)
    Deep Thought: It’s funny that pirates were always going around searching for treasure, and they never realized that the real treasure was the fond memories they were creating.
    Today I am grateful for: Indoor plumbing


    End of Day – 9:14 pm
    + = Went back to my women’s group tonight and read a few of my Things That Refresh My Soul to them. I’m finding it a way to slowly let myself be known – such a task always for me.
    - = Feeling bad for my son and his family who chose these past several days for the last camping trip before school starting and Oregon got an unexpected drencher. Haven’t heard the report yet though.