Thursday, June 20, 2013


In the early morning, I sit here with that initial cup of darkroast and have the morning sun shine directly into my face through a window that faces almost due northeast. Perhaps a little more north. In that same chair in the twilight, as I sip an evening libation, the sun shines in through a southwestern window directly through the room and out the northeastern window through which the morning sun shown. No big deal. Right? Happens all the time. It's just that I find it enchanting.

In winter time when the sun is in the southern sky the light comes into the southern window behind me but never shines in those other two windows.

Whether you notice it or not, it just happens. In our modern go to meeting kind of existence it hardly causes a ripple in the daily plan. But our forbears, however, took special notice of all these celestial shenanigans. It was big mojo to them. It was the longest day of light in the year. They had ceremonies and postulated meaning to it all. Kind of sounds like modern religion, doesn't it?

I mean if you didn't have the internet and the evening news to explain things to you, then you made up your own explanations for such phenomena. It was otherworldly. It was divine stuff. A time for chanting, drumming, and possibly a little dancing. I am so happy that Wolf Blitzer was not there to screw it up.

Every school child knows about the wobbling earth. How the planet is offset 23˚ and how it swings back and forth like a top spinning on a table top and how that wobbling is the reason for our seasons. In the summer time the top - or earth - leans toward the sun and in the winter it leans away - at least in the northern hemisphere.

That tabletop top looses its momentum ultimately and falls over and rolls onto the floor. Perhaps that's how it will all end one day. I mean, it's got to run down some day. Don't you think? I've always heard that it was axiomatic that there is no such thing as perpetual motion.

So much is going on around us - it's mind bending.

Don't forget to stay awake for every single lumen on the longest day. A little chanting or drumming might help. A small nip of something special could lighten the heart.

And - on the 23rd there is a super moon as well.

Hello SumerTime! Now if there can be just a little warmth.

It's not asking too much, you think?

Monday, June 10, 2013


When I was in graduate school, we were "blessed" sort of, by various itinerant lecturers who came by and shared with us their particular slice of the wisdom pie.

I wish I could remember this guy's name but like so much of that time, I have put it somewhere beyond reach. The thrust of his presentation was that if you couldn't say "fuck" then something was fucking up your fucking. I mean, it doesn't get much cuter than that.

He had a presentation lasting about 30 minutes and used the "F" word in just about every sentence he uttered. I think he was trying to say that it was just a word and had no particular power in and of itself. But in our culture it's an emotionally charged word. I'll say one thing: it was memorable. Funny, how I never heard of him since.

I have always wondered how many colleges he hit with that little stunt while driving around in his air-conditioned RV, taking a nip out of the student activities fund.

Recently someone posted to his FaceBook timeline another bit by some joker, who was, in reality, just another redneck shock jock. His recipe for an omelette contained more or less about 70 words, 18 of which were some form of the "F" word. In addition, it was a rather plain and incomplete recipe that would never make it to a real kitchen. Not mine, anyway.

Then there is this site called - I Fucking Love Science . No question about it: we need to love science, but do we need to "Fucking Love Science"? I want to say, why cheapen the love of science with gutter talk? Oh, wait - you're trying to reach gutter people - I got it.

The same holds for those so-called reality shows on TV where these situational characters with bad hair and grunge clothing and no future in acting, seem to be incapable of putting two complete sentences together without the "F" word popping up, bleeped out of course, so we won't hear what we know is being said. At times there are more "bleeps" than regular words. I wonder how long before the networks just forget the "bleeps" and let it all hang out. I wonder if anyone will complain.

The gratuitous use of profanity cheapens even profanity. There is no question about the value of a well placed "by-word", even "that" word, now and then. I do not claim to be some kind of example of high minded speech, but discretion seems to be a lost art these days. And, by the way, profanity free English is perhaps the most beautiful gift we have as communicating human beings. The language is so beautifully powerful as not to need any help.

If I have offended someone, I'm sorry. But remember, I told you not to read this. Anyway, I am feeling like it's time to rinse out my mouth. "Oh, Miss. A little Tanqueray on ice please?"