August 2003 Archives

Undeniable Forces of Nature

I let the anniversary of my web journal slip by without a word. I have obviously dropped out from under my daily writing. For quite some time I was quite chitty chatty about things. Lately I’ve been focused on inner work, on realigning myself to natural inner processes; attuning myself to the compasses of creativity and authenticity.

There are days when I a wake up and wonder where I have been so long. How did I slip so far from my own gasp? Then quite suddenly, alive and connected, secure that the universe knows quiet perfectly well what it has been assembling.

There are safety nets and then there are booby traps. Sometimes they look like the same thing. Keep your eyes peeled for booby traps disguised as safety nets. The latter has such a tendency to conceal itself within the former. Booby traps and kittens and safely nets and mittens…these are a few of my favourite things. Not!

New York is where I'd rather stay...I get allergic smelling hey? Oh really.

PS: The Wizard of Oz opened to enthralled audiences at Radio City Music Hall, exactly 64 years ago today...Time flies.

Afternoon Humidity

A hot summer day’s afternoon humidity has just broken into rain. I love the smell of rain on hot asphalt. There is something lazy and immediate about it.

I am getting stronger. I don’t know why. Maybe the physical work I’ve been doing around the house, around the office, and at my mother’s house. Clip the bushes, rake the clippings, paint the bathroom, power wash the front steps…so many things needing elbow grease. Mine. My muscles, bones and joints are beginning to enjoy the demands I am placing on them.

I’ve been dreaming again…dreaming of the future, of success, of fulfillment, of doing more of what I want to, and much, much less of the things I don’t. I’ve been thinking that someday soon it will be time for a new puppy around the house, but first I would like to go to Europe for a couple of weeks.

Willi died some 8 weeks ago. The other night I dreamt that he was licking my nose and howling at me, just as he used to do after having been left alone at home for a few hours…I swear that dog could tell time. I miss him more than I can even begin to say.

Death is surreal…life is even more so.

And so, a new day is in the middle of things.

Dear Dog

| 2 Comments

This morning I found a comment on the site and I just thought I’d like to share it with you.The comment is in response to a post I made back in February about Phil Spector being arrested on murder charges. To put things in perspective, the original post contained 101 words. Here’s the comment from a person I will refer to as Dog:

Ummmm, f**k Phil Spector. Who cares if he's a producer, or even the fact that he killed somebody? Makes me wanna kill myself. I don't even want to be here. I was looking for the definition of "spector" and I couldn't help but read this. I only care because I am scared that people care about garbage. People get killed by other people every day and this is special? I pray dog that nobody else wastes their time reading the above.

Posted by Merkabah at July 31, 2003 10:29 PM

My response…

Dear Dog,

Rule number one around here: If you are going to use expletives, then at least have the guts to stand behind your convictions, and to spell them out. F**K is not a word. If it is fuck you mean, then it is fuck you should write. In short…have balls, will prove it.

Perhaps you were really looking for the word “specter” not “Spector”?

specter
n 1: a mental representation of some haunting experience; "he looked like he had seen a ghost"; "it aroused specters from his past"

Hey Dog, what’s up with you wearing your suicidal tendencies on your sleeve like a piece of jewelry? Shouldn’t you be alarmed? You actually seem to be proud of your not wanting to be here. Perhaps this is what sets your generation apart from mine….most of us still believe that suicidal tendencies are a sign that something has gone amiss. Perhaps there is a depression lurking?

A tip from one dog to another: One of the best ways to deal with feelings of depression, low self-esteem or worthlessness is to immediately do something kind, to go out of your way for somebody else and do something kind for them…perhaps even a total stranger. Not only will you not be wasting your time, but you will feel better, more connected, more hopeful, less jaded, less fucked up… dare I say fulfilled. In short you might find out you actually do want to be here, that you can in fact make a difference and you don’t just have to be a person who whines about how fucked everything and everyone else is.

Try being kind…you might find you like yourself after all.

kind
adj. kind•er, kind•est
1. Of a friendly, generous, or warm-hearted nature.
2. Showing sympathy or understanding; charitable: a kind word.
3. Humane; considerate: kind to animals.
4. Forbearing; tolerant: Our neighbor was very kind about the window we broke.
5. Generous; liberal: kind words of praise.
6. Agreeable; beneficial: a dry climate kind to asthmatics.

As for the definition of the word “Spector”….it’s a proper noun, in other words a last name like Arden, Beethoven, Edison, Gandhi, Fitzgerald, Keller, Picasso, Sinatra, Twain, …etc.

proper noun
A noun belonging to the class of words used as names for unique individuals, events, or places. Also called proper name.

Now, as for the word dog…

dog
n.
A domesticated carnivorous mammal (Canis familiaris) related to the foxes and wolves and raised in a wide variety of breeds….

Also known in some circles as “man’s best friend.”

So Dog, did you know that there are all sorts of online dictionaries. Just type in the word “dictionary” into any search engine and boom! We live in lazy times. You would have had your “definition” in 30 seconds, but you wouldn’t have gotten this email from an actual real person, who actually still does give a…

And so a new day begins...with a bit of a chuckle.

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This page is an archive of entries from August 2003 listed from newest to oldest.

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