Luckily, you live nowhere near the mess of Japan. I assume.
Simple Question: Why are nuclear power plants built anywhere near where people live?
Of course, George Will would say, “Too bad, the market chose for it and the poor people who are not rich enough to not live there, well, they are collateral damage to cheap efficient energy.”
Then I would say, “George, are you still talking?”
Next simple question: If you have a way to make energy whose spent rods are completely lethal---why are you making that kind of energy?
I always want to find a place in my heart to sort of love nuclear energy---not just because whenever you go to France the air is so damn clean---but also because, hell, it can be done. It’s like little suns encased in steel and cement. It still is so damn futuristic in a way. But then I come to the wasted rods…and I think, “This is insane.”
I have driven by Three-Mile-Island many times and the reactors on the edge of California, too. They seem so peaceful, right?
Volatile world.
But you still have to leave your house.
Poor Japan. All that footage of the ocean coming in.
You are not in control. Love everyone. If you can.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Spring Love
Spring has arrived, clearly, in Maryland. You wonder how anything on earth could be this wanted.
It's beautiful.
We visited Adam's father before his big trip West, and of course the Bomo clan. On the way home, our smokey-engined bus was taken out of service. This, of course (and trying the bus at all) was something less than romantic.
Waiting for another Bolt Bus to come down to get us stranded travelers at the Turnpike rest stop, a Greyhound on its way back from Atlantic City had pulled in because their toilet was broken, had empty seats. We asked the driver if he was headed to New York. Yes. We quickly peeled off a twenty and asked if he would take us there. He snatched it and was full on, "Get on in."
That pooch road that turnpike like I used to do bitches in college. (Excuse me, I was just possessed by some maniacal and very bad, clearly misogynistic, beat poet.)
She pulled into the basement level of Port Authority and we were home.
It was worth the bus hustling to get down to spring.
The driver patted me a thank you as we left (since some other Bolt people got on, too. But they had A tickets, based on their early purchase, and some deal was struck on some cell phone between Bolt and Greyhound.)
Interesting slog up the mid-Atlantic.
Trains are better.
Crocus.
It's beautiful.
We visited Adam's father before his big trip West, and of course the Bomo clan. On the way home, our smokey-engined bus was taken out of service. This, of course (and trying the bus at all) was something less than romantic.
Waiting for another Bolt Bus to come down to get us stranded travelers at the Turnpike rest stop, a Greyhound on its way back from Atlantic City had pulled in because their toilet was broken, had empty seats. We asked the driver if he was headed to New York. Yes. We quickly peeled off a twenty and asked if he would take us there. He snatched it and was full on, "Get on in."
That pooch road that turnpike like I used to do bitches in college. (Excuse me, I was just possessed by some maniacal and very bad, clearly misogynistic, beat poet.)
She pulled into the basement level of Port Authority and we were home.
It was worth the bus hustling to get down to spring.
The driver patted me a thank you as we left (since some other Bolt people got on, too. But they had A tickets, based on their early purchase, and some deal was struck on some cell phone between Bolt and Greyhound.)
Interesting slog up the mid-Atlantic.
Trains are better.
Crocus.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
What Can You Say? Entropy
There is something about imperfection that is wonderful. We purchased a tension pole lamp. It was great for two weeks. Now, the bottom lamp has gone limp, the hip joint out of socket.
Calling around, it turns out the best way to fix this problem is the same way to fix an old man’s wacked spine. Fuse it.
Krazy Glue is the answer.
You can’t turn it again. But it will stay in place where you choose--once.
It’s a great reminder of imperfection, that nothing will ever really turn out perfectly, that no matter how hard you try, you’re still going to fail-die-fartatthewrongtime.
But at least you have your sanity. And now, friends, this:
I worked with Chuck Lorre for five years. He is a taskmaster. Warm and cuddly? No. Does he deserve this? No. But we deserve it. Take ten minutes.
Video streaming by Ustream
Calling around, it turns out the best way to fix this problem is the same way to fix an old man’s wacked spine. Fuse it.
Krazy Glue is the answer.
You can’t turn it again. But it will stay in place where you choose--once.
It’s a great reminder of imperfection, that nothing will ever really turn out perfectly, that no matter how hard you try, you’re still going to fail-die-fartatthewrongtime.
But at least you have your sanity. And now, friends, this:
I worked with Chuck Lorre for five years. He is a taskmaster. Warm and cuddly? No. Does he deserve this? No. But we deserve it. Take ten minutes.
Video streaming by Ustream
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Animals
Look, I read the Michael Moore emails.
And yes, he is right. Something like 2 people in this country have the same wealth as the next 100 million. Okay, I exaggerate a little.
But really---it’s not the fault of the corporations and the monster Wall Street people and the Health Care lobby. Basically, it’s the fault of the culture. We are simply a culture of people who believe in wealth. At all costs.
This is taught from birth.
So how can we blame anyone for being wildly greedy in the United States of A?
The monkey mind is plastic. It becomes what it is taught. Also, there are rapacious monkeys. So sometimes it’s even natural. Do we fight all this? Yeah, yeah, fight.
The next truth is---I hate fighting.
I throw up my primate arms and go, “Well, I’ll just quietly eat my banana over here. Well, not really quietly, but with the awareness that the one banana, at this moment, is enough.”
I don’t know even one of the richest monkeys. If I met her-him on the side of the road, I probably would think it was a different species.
Keep fighting, Michael M. I can’t do it.
And yes, he is right. Something like 2 people in this country have the same wealth as the next 100 million. Okay, I exaggerate a little.
But really---it’s not the fault of the corporations and the monster Wall Street people and the Health Care lobby. Basically, it’s the fault of the culture. We are simply a culture of people who believe in wealth. At all costs.
This is taught from birth.
So how can we blame anyone for being wildly greedy in the United States of A?
The monkey mind is plastic. It becomes what it is taught. Also, there are rapacious monkeys. So sometimes it’s even natural. Do we fight all this? Yeah, yeah, fight.
The next truth is---I hate fighting.
I throw up my primate arms and go, “Well, I’ll just quietly eat my banana over here. Well, not really quietly, but with the awareness that the one banana, at this moment, is enough.”
I don’t know even one of the richest monkeys. If I met her-him on the side of the road, I probably would think it was a different species.
Keep fighting, Michael M. I can’t do it.
Monday, March 07, 2011
Come On In
If I had a pillbox hat, a good cameraman and some more time I would give the personal tour of our manse. However, this is much easier...and I'm not feeling all that hammy.
People want to see it. Perhaps it is tacky to give an online tour of your "done" place. But, well, it sure is easy.
People want to see it. Perhaps it is tacky to give an online tour of your "done" place. But, well, it sure is easy.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Eight by Ten: A Story of What is Possible
We finished. We moved into our swank/AARP white brick apartment L-shaped alcove box on December 23 and now all of our stuff is here. It is basically done. Art hung. New furniture sat upon. Screeners witnessed on the new flatter. Easy twenty-first century living. Lucky us.
This is the great news, in addition. After all is put away and put into service, there is an 8 X 10 foot space down by the windows that is empty. Completely empty.
We have everything we need and we have an 8 X 10 empty space. This is unheard of in Manhattan if you are not Carnegie-esque.
What does this mean? It means everything is possible. It means a dining room during dinner parties. It means a dance floor. It means move the table into it so the area by the kitchen can become the guest room. It means multi-purpose room. It means musical rehearsals (the piano is right there next to it). It means caucuses, floor shows, spontaneous expressionistic/anachronistic appreciations. It means God might show up.
You have to have an open space. Leave room open. New and surprising things love to show up if you leave the space for them to arrive.
And right next to it is the shelf-garden. Open space next to paradise.
Open to anything.
This is the great news, in addition. After all is put away and put into service, there is an 8 X 10 foot space down by the windows that is empty. Completely empty.
We have everything we need and we have an 8 X 10 empty space. This is unheard of in Manhattan if you are not Carnegie-esque.
What does this mean? It means everything is possible. It means a dining room during dinner parties. It means a dance floor. It means move the table into it so the area by the kitchen can become the guest room. It means multi-purpose room. It means musical rehearsals (the piano is right there next to it). It means caucuses, floor shows, spontaneous expressionistic/anachronistic appreciations. It means God might show up.
You have to have an open space. Leave room open. New and surprising things love to show up if you leave the space for them to arrive.
And right next to it is the shelf-garden. Open space next to paradise.
Open to anything.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
The Couch
I never thought I would care that much about a couch. In the olden days, one would say sofa. But I think that word has decayed, much like other words that were once considered fancy and then fell into tackiness with arriviste overuse. Couch is couched in directness. You cannot destroy a direct word.
Our brown number from Crate & Barrel (a store that I first experienced in Cambridge, MA in the 80’s---I assumed it was very fancy) is now plunked in the apartment. It makes all the difference.
I guess after not having a couch for over a year, one does miss having such a thing.
The joy of a couch is the knowledge that no matter what happens outside your door, in your life, around your life, in the world, you can always just say, “Fuck it. I’m sitting on the couch.” And you can just sit there. You can read there. You can stare into space. You can get your feet rubbed. You can watch the 42 incher. You can say to yourself, “I live in a civilized world and part of that glorious civilization is they make this thing called a couch that you can buy and then whenever you want to, you can just frigging sit on it.”
--Right on your ass--
Gratitude.
Our brown number from Crate & Barrel (a store that I first experienced in Cambridge, MA in the 80’s---I assumed it was very fancy) is now plunked in the apartment. It makes all the difference.
I guess after not having a couch for over a year, one does miss having such a thing.
The joy of a couch is the knowledge that no matter what happens outside your door, in your life, around your life, in the world, you can always just say, “Fuck it. I’m sitting on the couch.” And you can just sit there. You can read there. You can stare into space. You can get your feet rubbed. You can watch the 42 incher. You can say to yourself, “I live in a civilized world and part of that glorious civilization is they make this thing called a couch that you can buy and then whenever you want to, you can just frigging sit on it.”
--Right on your ass--
Gratitude.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Bat Shit Housewives
I do understand why women of yore went a little batty and could not focus. The men went out and did their focused work in the world and the women did everything else. In order to do everything else you have to pay attention to everything. This paying attention to everything makes you a little batty.
To boot, and I mean that in the older way, not in the press-the-button-on-your-computer-1990’s-way, these women were underappreciated, which made them not only batty but also angry-mad, or perhaps even a bat out of hell.
Luckily, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner is grateful for my multitasking days. So I do not get angry. But I do get batty.
And I don’t even have to drive kids anywhere or take grandma to dialysis.
I have these little fantasies about having everything DONE so then I can just write and focus on making it all as good as I can. But then if I had everything done, how on earth would I procrastinate?
Meditation. Time for it.
To boot, and I mean that in the older way, not in the press-the-button-on-your-computer-1990’s-way, these women were underappreciated, which made them not only batty but also angry-mad, or perhaps even a bat out of hell.
Luckily, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner is grateful for my multitasking days. So I do not get angry. But I do get batty.
And I don’t even have to drive kids anywhere or take grandma to dialysis.
I have these little fantasies about having everything DONE so then I can just write and focus on making it all as good as I can. But then if I had everything done, how on earth would I procrastinate?
Meditation. Time for it.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Godson on Earth
I have never written a blog entry about my Godson. My nephew. And today (well, yesterday now) he turned 21.
Not having children has not helped me with my time distortions. But having a nephew does help a little. Plus, it is pretty great to watch someone grow up. The changes are huge. It’s interesting. And it is family so it is positive.
I remember when Dan was born. I was there that day. Then, oddly, I went on a job---a theater tour of The Wizard of Oz and I was the Tin Man, truly, in search of my heart. We were not allowed to leave the tour---but I broke the rule and jumped on a plane in North Carolina back to New Jersey for the Christening and was back on tour in my silver make-up, not missing anything.
I am not religious, but it is nice to know that there are little rituals we do at different times of life. (Though they really might as well save Penance for the day before you die.)
I have thought, lately, that some sort of religious conversion is essential or all I am ever going to do is try to become more successful and then just keep buying stuff. But I hate the lack of humor of religion.
Judaism seems to have the most humor because at least they have the tradition of arguing a point---and seeing both sides of something often leads to laughs. But that particular religion just seems so old to me, something that might as well be released.
Every Western Buddhist I have ever met has been annoyingly righteous.
Catholics are often easy going mostly because most of them are lapsed. But real Catholicism is fetishy and conservative and is close to sacrilegious in its practice.
Protestants, all of them, are insane. The culture believes in perfectibility and so they are cut off from their true natures. Drives monkeys mad.
Islam. Forget it.
Have I offended everyone yet?
But I do believe in this Godfather thing. If nothing else, it gives childless uncles some sort of son. And it is warm. I guess it is Catholic warm. But really, it’s life warm.
Why don’t they just make up a religion that includes the bare bones essentials and just call it life?
Not having children has not helped me with my time distortions. But having a nephew does help a little. Plus, it is pretty great to watch someone grow up. The changes are huge. It’s interesting. And it is family so it is positive.
I remember when Dan was born. I was there that day. Then, oddly, I went on a job---a theater tour of The Wizard of Oz and I was the Tin Man, truly, in search of my heart. We were not allowed to leave the tour---but I broke the rule and jumped on a plane in North Carolina back to New Jersey for the Christening and was back on tour in my silver make-up, not missing anything.
I am not religious, but it is nice to know that there are little rituals we do at different times of life. (Though they really might as well save Penance for the day before you die.)
I have thought, lately, that some sort of religious conversion is essential or all I am ever going to do is try to become more successful and then just keep buying stuff. But I hate the lack of humor of religion.
Judaism seems to have the most humor because at least they have the tradition of arguing a point---and seeing both sides of something often leads to laughs. But that particular religion just seems so old to me, something that might as well be released.
Every Western Buddhist I have ever met has been annoyingly righteous.
Catholics are often easy going mostly because most of them are lapsed. But real Catholicism is fetishy and conservative and is close to sacrilegious in its practice.
Protestants, all of them, are insane. The culture believes in perfectibility and so they are cut off from their true natures. Drives monkeys mad.
Islam. Forget it.
Have I offended everyone yet?
But I do believe in this Godfather thing. If nothing else, it gives childless uncles some sort of son. And it is warm. I guess it is Catholic warm. But really, it’s life warm.
Why don’t they just make up a religion that includes the bare bones essentials and just call it life?
Priscilla
I have friends who are producing PRISCILLA, so go see it. I’ve seen snippets. It’s purely enjoyable.
www.priscillaonbroadway.com.
It’s going to be fun. And it’s time for our Trans friends to have their Trans moment in midtown Manhattan. (It’s at The Palace.)
I personally do not find stories about people rising up out of shame and into glory that satisfying. I mean, everyone kind of has to do that, no matter who they are and with whatever peculiar affliction. So go for the color and the fun.
When I was a kid, and this is true, I did not understand why almost every song was about falling in love or losing love. I used to think, “Why is there not a song that explains to you how a clock works?”
Seriously. Why isn’t there? It could be so enjoyable.
I understand the need for people to increase their self esteem---but in order to write that story, you have to assume that people start at a lower place. Seems so linear.
But people like the feel of something linear. Give it to ‘em girls!
www.priscillaonbroadway.com.
It’s going to be fun. And it’s time for our Trans friends to have their Trans moment in midtown Manhattan. (It’s at The Palace.)
I personally do not find stories about people rising up out of shame and into glory that satisfying. I mean, everyone kind of has to do that, no matter who they are and with whatever peculiar affliction. So go for the color and the fun.
When I was a kid, and this is true, I did not understand why almost every song was about falling in love or losing love. I used to think, “Why is there not a song that explains to you how a clock works?”
Seriously. Why isn’t there? It could be so enjoyable.
I understand the need for people to increase their self esteem---but in order to write that story, you have to assume that people start at a lower place. Seems so linear.
But people like the feel of something linear. Give it to ‘em girls!
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