A few ideas and notes for future stories
Crazy Man in Car
I was awake an hour earlier than my alarm demanded. I had to catch an early (for me) flight and I often stress a bit that the alarm won’t function - we put a lot of trust in those - or that I’ll sleep right through it. I lay in bed a few minutes reliving the trip. I had flown to NYC to attend the opening at an art gallery. A former student had a show
At the last minute, I got up, showered, packed - which means throw-things-in-the-suitcase, and eased the door shut quietly - it was early Sunday morning. In the lobby, the security/keycheck guy noticed my searching eyes and said I could just drop the key in the box, motioning to the waist high metal box with the top slot and labeled Key Drop. Nodding my thanks to him, I did just that.
There was a light rain, but the car was already there waiting, I approached, the driver rolled down the window and said,
Having taught in Mexico, I had heard this pronunciation before. I nodded yes. The side door of the SUV slid open - I set my suitcase on the floor of the back seat and walked around to the other side. The driver got out to close the doors. When he sat down, I thanked him for being early.
Driver: Yes, 5 minutes.
It became clear a few words later that he was not a native English speaker (Jeem was the first clue). His phone screen displayed Asian characters (fascinating how our pocket computers allow work in a variety of languages). He went on up 8th Avenue, took a left on 35th, and over to the Lincoln Tunnel. Somewhere approaching the entrance, he turned around and asked,
Driver: You pay cash or cah?
I paused to translate, and replied,
He called the Car Service. After a brief wait, the dispatcher answered.
Dispatcher: Car Service.
Driver: This two one two nah.
Dispatcher: Yes, go ahead.
Driver: Customer pay cah.
Dispatcher: Can he hear me? Passenger?
Dispatcher: You want to pay the toll and tip with a credit card? (I had paid for the car online when booking).
Dispatcher: What is the num
Jim: I don’t want to pay now - not til the end of the trip. I don’t tip until the service has been performed.
Jim: He’s not here, I’ll go get him. (Muffling my voice to sound more distant): ChinWa, the phone is for you. Sir, he’s on the toilet, he’ll be here in just a minute.
Dispatcher: Where are you?
Jim: Oh, here he comes. ChinWa, its for you.
Dispatcher: Driver, where are you?
Driver: We at Lincoln Tunnel.
Dispatcher: Were you in a bathroom?
Dispatcher: But the passenger sa
Driver: He crazy man. Crazy.
Driver: (To me) You, I don’t drive you. You crazy.
Jim: You want me to drive? I’ll drive. Slide over.
Dispatcher: Driver, you can’t let the passenger drive.
Driver: I drive. I drive. He crazy.
Jim: Well, there goes your tip!
24 hours of a heart ordeal, October 8-9, 2009
I had a great seat on the plane from NYC to OKC - 12A on an Embraer jet, the one that has two seats on one side and only one on the other. I was on the one-seat side and in an Exit Row which meant I had more leg room. A great seat. But, then my heart wildly palpitated, just like that of a frat boy inside the Lace Strip Club on 8th Avenue, just north of 42nd Street (ask for Lana). There had been some rough turbulence, there was a bit of typical airflight delay stress, and I had drank more coffee than I normally do. I don't know if these were influencing factors, but my heart was thumping loudly and abnormally. I decided not to tell the flite crew - I was afraid they'd overreact and land the plane somewhere in Indiana and piss off a bunch of sleepy passengers. I turned up the cool air, drank a diet Sprite and a cup of water and stuck it out.
My plan was to just make it to the airport departure lounge where I would lay down and rest. As we walked off the plane, I felt strong enough to make it to the car. I can rest there. But there, I was eager to get home and in to bed. I carefully drove home, and lay down. I stayed about 5 minutes. Something didn't feel right. I got up and drove the short distance to the Edmond Hospital Emergency Room. Normally checking in to this hospital is a bit of a pain, but a heart emergency seems to excite the staff and they get moving and make things happen. A wheelchair came out through the double doors and I was rolled back into a room. Immediately, some guy came in and started wiring me up to machines. They put me through numerous tests (EKG, chest x-ray, heart enzymes, ultrasound, etc.) My heart rate was way out of range - too rapid and too irregular. I was told they were going to admit me to the hospital ICU for an overnight stay. I wasn't too keen on this but they insisted. Apparently, since they knew I had some heart trouble, they could be held responsible if I left the hospital and something happened to me as a result of the heart trouble. Uh oh, a nurse came in to tell us that there were no available beds in the ICU and thet I would have to stay in the ER. Ugh. The ER beds were very uncomfortable. I protested and siad, then I would take my chances and go home. They can't force a patient to stay in a hospital against their will. They didn't like that idea and told me to give them a few minutes. Somehow, a bed opened up and I was put back into a wheelchair and taken through a maze of hallways to the ICU and that now-waiting bed. They got me all wired up, IVed, oxygenated, and drugged; I was able to get to sleep about 4a. I was awakened (and startled) for the next few hours by a variety of nurses conducting more tests, taking blood pressure, and adjusting the IV.
Laying on the bed was a 'Room pack' containing, among other things, a pair of small slippers. They didn't fit. Not even close. I asked, "Will I still be charged for these?" The nurse replied, "Let me see if i can find some larger ones." But, I never heard from her again. I was, in fact, charged for slippers I couldn't wear. Another nurse came in to retake my blood pressure. She looked around the room and didn't see the blood pressure cuff, so she said she'd go get another one. Again, I asked, "Will I be charged for the second cuff?" Yes. "Well, let's look again." The cuff was just hidden under the morning paper. There seems to be no incentive to save money or be very efficient.
I enjoyed some good heart-healthy food, watched the OSU and OU football games, and visited with friends: Mike, Greg, and Lindy. My dogs had been boarded for my trip to New York, so I called and told the vet to keep them for another day. At about 3:30 in the afternoon, my heart got back to normal - medical phrase: my heart 'converted to a sinus rhythm'. Turns out there was an electrical glitch in the system and weird signals had been sent to my heart. A nurse came into the room at about 8:00 that night and told me I could go home soon. What a relief. I was discharged about 9p that night and went home to rest. All okay now but some scary moments on the plane and in the ER. I am awed by and grateful for the technology, wisdom, and experience of the medical profession.
Updates: The final bill for the 21 hours in the hospital totaled over $17,000. I received 6 separate bills and 24 pages of invoice documents - some of which came 3 months after the hospital stay. I hope health care reform will address administrative inefficiency and unnecessary and inflated charges.
My doctor reviewed all the test results and the notes from the cardiologist. Verdict: my heart is very healthy. This was apparently a fluke occurrence based on a variety of factors that coincided and caused the wrong electrical signals to be sent to the heart. But, I was diagnosed as having atril fibrillation, a fairly common afliction that is treatable with medication and is not life-threatening. I have seen a cardiologist, taken stress tests, and been prescribed medications - one daily pill and one that I take when I have another AFib episode.
6 Routes across the land
1. Indians across the Plains
2. Santa Fe trail ruts
4. US 50
7. After that?
Add years, historical background of each.
Could pioneers even imagine a jet airplane?
Once I stopped alongside the trail in western Kansas to see the trail ruts. Parallel to those ruts is the US highway, Route 50. On the other side of the highway is the Santa Fe railroad. I stood in the open field under a beautiful sky and it occurred to me that it was that railroad that replaced the Santa Fe Trail - it was faster, safer, and more comfortable. The railroad declined in popularity as people took to driving on the US highways - like the railroad but more convenient - one's own space and on one's own timetable. Just about that time in my thinking, a plane flew overhead paralleling the trail, the railroad, and the highway - now making 4 ways to travel along this route. I had a couple of impactful thoughts. One, the people on the Santa Fe Trail could not comprehend the automobile, much less, an airplane - a metal cylinder full of people that streaks through the sky. They might think one was mentally off if they described such a wonderful way to travel. The wagons on the trail made about 12 miles a day while the car travels that in about 10 minutes and the plane in about a minute. Second, I wondered what the fifth mode of transportation would be. There's no reason to think that transportation progress will stop with airplanes. Just like the wagoneers could not conceive of the car or plane, we may not be able to conceive of the next step or the one after that. Someday, people along that stretch of path in Kansas may look back on the obsolete airplane as being very primitive.
The lady in the checkout line
Standing in line at Target - only had a few items, my standard stuff. meals splurge on some granola cereal. I was feeling nostalgic for the granola from the Mirage breakfast buffet in Las Vegas. It was rich and different - there were sliced pecans (is that pee-cans or puh-cahns?). I had just returned from Las vegas a few hours earlier and was missing it. I always have a good time there and feel rejuvenated and that all is okay with the world, especially mine.
Anyway, back in line. There was a guy in front of me waiting to check out. He had only 2 items - a can of 5-hour energy stuff and a 4-pack of Red Bull. I was tempted to ask him what he was about to do (it was about 3:14 in the afternoon). But I realized its probly not wise to mess with someone who is planning to OD on energy boosters. The woman was chatting with the cashier. The cashier was a young guy who mentioned that he normally doesn’t work the registers (Great! A novice and I’m in his line.)
One of my pet peeves (Pet peeve? What’s that about,) is inefficient checkout systems and users. This lady thinks this is social hour, a bridge club, a Tupperware party, a road trip with a seldom seen sorority sister. Its none of those - its a place for a corporate representative to pass our desired items by a laser reader and tell us how much money we owe the corporation. That’s all. Not a coffeehouse. Not a place to stop and chat. What’s with this lady? Did she not get the manual of instructions on how to operate the system?
At least she bought a reusable bag. That shows some care and concern for her fellow humankind. Although she wasn’t showing much concern by slowing down the line to chat with the novice cashier. Another procedure she didn’t master was the process of getting money or credit card ready while items are being rung up. No. She waits until everything is rung up and bagged and totaled. Then she begins the routine of rummaging through her purse to find her credit card (at least she didn’t pull out a checkbook and wait to fill it out.). Finally, all done. But, wait a minute. I am wrong. It just hit me - just like that - I am wrong. What is the big rush that I can’t slow down and graciously allow this woman to have a conversation with another person? I have nothing waiting on me at that very moment. I turned my attitude around (that would be edutitta.) Instead of getting pissed over her insensitivity, I questioned mine. I could wait. In fact, its sort of cool that as fellow members of a community of homo sapiens, she was willing to share some time and conversation with another member. Damn. Now, I felt bad for feeling upset earlier. While the guy in front of me was being checked out, I squeezed by him and spoke to the woman. It sorta startled her. I commended her for buying a reusable bag and using it. I showed her my canvas bag. She commented that she normally uses them but had forgotten them today and, instead of using plastic, just bought another one. How cool. We had a nice chat. It feels so much better to acknowledge and respect instead of responding with disgust and selfishness.
Jinx - my line always moves slowest
Single line concept.
All about attitude
Sorry, I don't do windows
This is ridiculous - I am trying to clean the outside of the windows in my apartment. Its on the 5th floor of a condo building, - 5 stories up, about 50 feet. I'm tall, but not enough to reach the windows. I even tried standing on a chair. Nope, didn't help. Then - a great idea - water balloons. I'll throw some balloons filled with a water/detergent mixture, then some with clean water (to rinse), followed by a few dry ones with paper towels in them. Great idea, except I'm not that great of a shooter or hurler. Its why, even though the Benjamin Franklin Junior High School (that's a junior high named after Ben Franklin, not a high school named after Ben Franklin, Jr.) basketball coach wanted me to try out for the junior varsity team, I couldn't quite cut it. Sheesh, how embarrassing. A tall guy who can't play basketball. Well, I'm a white guy. Anyway, the water balloon idea didn't quite pan out. The people in the apartment beneath mine got pissed, "What's going on - I just had my hair done." The bitch yelled at me. Granted, she was dripping wet with detergent water. I yelled back, "Hope you kept the receipt, cause you need to get your money back on that one." The balcony door slammed. She didn't seem to like that comment. A few more failed tosses and a few pissed-off kids - well, except that one fat kid who was having fun playing in the water. He jiggled when he laughed. That made me laugh so I tossed him a balloon. He took it inside. I have no idea where that balloon ended up or how much trouble that fat kid got into. So, now I'm thinking of standing on my balcony and reaching over to the windows with a Swiffer mop taped to a broom handle with adequate amounts of duct tape. BTW: all of this was so I could save the $50 the apartment wanted to clean the windows. June 19 2009
La Grange Chicken Ranch
Lana was my first date. She was employed at the oddly named company - The Chicken Ranch in LaGrange, Texas. We first met in the living room of her house where I asked her out on a date and of course she accepted. We went on down the hall to her bedroom, one of 12 in this house. At least 12. I stopped counting after that - maybe it was a former sorority house. I don't know. In her bedroom, she wanted to make sure I was disease free, so she conducted some tests and proceeded to check me out. This was in the early 70s, well before the time when the CIA had invented AIDS and get it out on to the market. Those tests were worth the $20 in themselves. Then we proceeded to go on our date. It was a delightful evening.
Painted image and name on wall of room at fraternity house. Lana.
My Royal Flush
Damn, I can’t get to sleep. Tossing and turning,. The room is fine. In fact, its quite nice - in the tower at the Luxor Resort in Vegas. The angled wall that is the side of the pyramid is pretty cool. But, damnit, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about my screw-up. I was playing Video Poker on a machine down in the casino. Hit the Deal button. Up came the 10 and Jack, and the King and Ace. All Clubs. I only need the Queen of Clubs to win big. I hit the hold buttons and then Draw. As the Draw card was coming up, I looked down and noticed I hadn’t hit the 10 card. Only the Jack, King, and Ace. Here comes the Draw cards - a card I don’t remember and then, yep, the Queen of Clubs. The one card I needed. To win. But without the 10, I lost. How could I be so stupid - I had a Royal Flush.
Public peeing locations
• Edmond: during the 4th of July parade
• Mexico City: middle of a city park
• Paris: on a city sidewalk
• Edmond: outside the Presbyterian Church
Just had a good workout. Drank a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink and about to finish eating the last Hi-Fiber bar (35% daily fiber per bar) from a box of five. Plan to have a very entertaining evening of projectile diarrhea. Maybe even get in some target practice.
Smoking a cigarette
As a kid, our family would spend many summer afternoons at Spring Valley Country Club in north Dallas. Once, I was walking around the golf course with my mother. It must have been during the week as the course was not too busy. I got somewhat bored but it was a nice walk. About halfway through the course, we took a break at a shed that had a water jug and paper cups. My mother lit up a cigarette (this was before we understood all the dangers of cigarettes). I asked if I could try it. She said, "Sure. Take a deep breath." I did. gag. Cough, Sputter. I was dying here. Hocking my throat out. After I quieted down a bit, she said, "I hope you never do that again." I haven't.
Sleepovers in South Dallas
Growing up in north Dallas, we had a maid who came to the house at least twice a week. She was actually part of the family. She had a son, also named James, who was my age. My mother suggested that I go home with Fammie and spent the night at their house so James and I could play. I suspect she worked out the details with Fammie beforehand. I remember having some of Fammie's excellent cooking that night. James and I played outside until dark. It was a fun sleepover. My mother never coached me or cautioned me that I was going to south Dallas into a black neighborhood. She positioned it simply as two kids playing together for an evening. It was a good lesson on what makes us more similar than different.
Death on the mountain pass
Scary time was driving through the mountain pass between Denver and Winter Park - I was driving Jerry's Volkswagen bus. And the left tire got stuck in a rut in ice. That rut looked like it had been scraped in the ice and it angled over into the oncoming lane. I had to jerk the wheel to get out of the rut and that caused us to slide on the icy mountain road all the way over to the guardrail, beyond which was a steep cliff dropoff. I compensated and that slid us back to the left, where we were right in the path of an oncoming semi truck. Whoa, turn the wheel, back to the right, straight towards the guardrail. To the left. Truck. Right. Cliff. We got straightened out again I looked in the back. Jerry and Linda were sitting up in the bed with their eyes wide open, with an expression that said, "We're about to die." But, we didn't.
Cardio enema: One more rep
I was at the gym, Gold's on the north side. I was a new member and was doing some chest presses when I looked across the bicycles and rowers and saw the sign over a set of double doors: Cardio Enema. Huh? Did I read that right? It was a serious sign - individual thick letters mounted on the wall above the door. Was it a cruel joke or a mistake by the sign company that no one had yet noticed? I couldn't tell, but I figured that there may have been some exercises in that room I didn't want to do.
I finished the presses and then went to two other machines. I took another look. Nope, still there. Still says Cardio Enema. I got my stuff from the locker room, no shower, not after what happened last week, my first week at this gym. On my way out, I told the fit young woman at the front desk about the sign. She looked at me like I was a fool, turned to read the sign, read it again, gasped audibly, and ran to the manager's office. I waited, no one came out. I was satisfied: I had alerted them, not much else I could do. So, I went on out the front door just as two police cars pulled up, lights flashing. They ran right by me. As I turned back to look, they were pulling their guns out. I drove on home and made a protein shake. Chocolate. Sugarfree - well, I had just worked out.
Sat on a planter in front of the FBI building next to an older black woman, nothing special. I got up to walk and she followed soon after. She walked right by me - I noticed her gloves were old and the fingertips were worn through. Now, I know nothing of her background, but I imagined this - she is old enough to remember either experiencing or hearing stories of Colored Only and regular unfair treatment. She has been looking forward to this day for a while. A Negro (one of the terms she heard as a kid) is going to walk down this street in the capitol and thousands of people will cheer, adore, and honor him. And she will feel a connection. And hope. Something she didn't think she'd ever feel, and now, she will feel it. Right here, on this street in the capitol.
For just a few minutes, all is right with the world. Hope.
Or she might be a corporate exec with a ratty pair of gloves.
The Miracle Pen
On the flite to Las Vegas, I worked on sudoku and a crossword puzzle. I was always conscious about where I set down my pen - a favorite Space Pen. Sometimes I put it in my bag, sometimes in a crack in the armrest. As we prepared to land, I could not find the pen. I thought I had put it into a zippered compartment in the outside of the bag. While waiting on the other passengers to head up the aisle, I searched frantically all through that bag pocket. It had some folds where things had gotten lost before so I checked all those. No luck. Checked my pocket, the seat pocket, the floor. No pen. Nowhere. Oh well, not the first time I've lost one of these pens. I lose so many, in fact, that I bought several backups and even packed a second pen in my luggage. I let it go and moved on out of the plane. That was Thursday evening. On Sunday, I took the bag to the conference to carry my laptop. I accessed the bag several times throughout the day. About 6:00p, after the last speaker finished, I opened the bag pocket and there was the lost pen - sitting right in the middle of the pocket where I thought I had put it. I was amazed. For a moment, I believed it was a miracle. Then, I accepted that God is just not likely to play games with me and a pen. But for just a moment, I considered the possibility that it was a miracle. This probably happens to many people, but instead of searching for a rational explanation, they just go with 'God must have done it'.
Seemingly normal people able to shed their childhood beliefs in the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus, are unable to do the same when it comes to their belief in God. Continued belief in any of these other childhood fantasies would be considered a sign of mental illness in adults. However, when the same magical thinking is used to maintain a belief in God, it becomes sacred and not open to discussion. Belief in God and its accompanying myths relinquishes personal responsibility and opens the door to potentially abysmal behavior. Fundamentalists are a danger to non-believers and those who believe differently. They are willing to kill in the name of their God to protect their religious dogma or to attain personal spiritual goals. The terrorism now being perpetrated by Muslim extremists is no different than the atrocities committed by the Israelites in the Old Testament or the centuries of mass murder carried out by Christians during the Crusades and the various inquisitions. When world political or religious views are not based on logic and reason, the resulting behaviors are likely to be neither logical nor reasonable. Source unknown, maybe Richard Dawkins.
People were talking behind me at the conference. It was distracting, rude, and inconsiderate. I wanted to glare at them, hush them, or and ask them to keep it down. I wanted to control those around me to suit me. Yikes. How disgusting. Instead, I thought more deeply and realized my life would be better (and theirs) if I just accepted what was happening, adapted to the new environment, and turned my attention back to the conference speaker. Those previously annoying voices now just became part of the environment, like air conditioning noise, coughs, rustling of papers, and scooting of chairs. That makes so much more sense. I felt so much better. Why, I wondered, was I conditioned to try to control so much around me? Seeking some control is normal and healthy for survival. Seeking to change threatening situations or those that impair good things from happening for the society is probably good. But there's a limit. Sometimes it makes the most sense to just accept, adapt, and move on.
Saturday August 13. Take Manny to vet. Drive to airport - get automated message. Oops. 'Flite is delayed'. Will miss the connecting flite. Called United. Woman found me differnet flites thru Chicago O'Hare. Arrive airport park in groj. In terminal - shows flite not delayed. In line to get old flite back. 15 minutes. Check phone - it is delayed. Go to United. Check in, get bd passes. Oops. "There is a problem. Your ticket says Jim Watson. Your ID says James. TSA won't let you through." Jim & James?
Other agent: Theodore & Ted. Isn't that absurd? TSA is a govt agency.
Agent walks down to Continental. Twice. 30 minutes. He takes care of it - even gets me an exit row at no extra charge. I go thru security. Sit and eat a Chicken sandwich. Wait.
• Flite delayed - it happens.
• Poor customer service - that's the new norm.
• TSA - just stupid government policies.
As problems go, these are just a minor inconvenience, nothing more. Let them go and enjoy flites, self, and the city. Lots of good stuff today and this week.
Feel better, relaxed in lounge with iPod valium music, got on flite - exit row single - had some coffee, relaxed, and wrote a bit. Excited about seeing the city, new website, fall semester. Will lunch at O'Hare.
Oops. Rain at O'Hare. We land in Peoria IL to wait out storm. Check phone - my connection is delayed so i should be able to make it. Work on laptop. Refuel, paperwork and off. 2 hours? Short flite to O'Hare. Check monitor. Oops. My flite's been cancelled. Go to 'customer service' center. Wait in slow line. I was already rebooked for next morning. Learn details of standby flites. Get wrap and yogurt. Sit at Continental gate. Eat & talk with Houston teacher. Go to Continental to see about standby on flite about to leave. Only seat available is middle seat coach. I say no. Go to next Newark flite - get on standby list. Waited in lounge, observing mankind. Restroom. "Watson, J." What? Was that my name? That was my name. Hallelujah. I go to the counter. Sure enough. I got an aisle seat in First Class on a flite. Nice meal, free wine. No more waiting in the airport. No having to find a hotel. I get to go home to my own bed in my own apt. Fantastic.
I thought it was all over.
The pain was so intense I couldn’t see how I could ever laugh again. Excruciating. I was fine in the subway going from my apartment up to Rockefeller Center. The man sitting at the end of the car singing Hare Krishna for 36 blocks was slightly annoying, but not too disruptive. I played games on my phone to get that blasted tune out of my head. I see it clearly now - that's how they get you, those orange-robed Krishnas. A simple catchy tune. Hare Krishna. Hare Krishna. Hare Rama. Rama. Rama. I moved to about the middle of the car and went back to my phone game - Bejeweled 2. The Krishnas exited soon after. Much nicer. A couple stops later, I exited and came up onto Seventh Avenue. I was only a couple of blocks from Radio City. Great. I felt no pain, like I had the previous trips out of the apartment. I got to the theater and after a short wait to enter, I was in. I went on in to that phenomenal Art Deco lobby with the 40 foot chandeliers that I had seen many times before. This time, I was too focused on my back and worried that the pain might return. I went on downstairs to the Men's Lounge and sat. I could feel a bit of soreness, so I forced myself to continue to sit and be still. I had learned over the last couple of weeks that I could go about 40 minutes before the pain returned to my lower back.
I have seen 15 different Cirque shows, some more than once. Thought I'd better go see this new one, in previews at Radio City Music Hall. What a surprise - it was not very good. the acts were standard fare but as if they were holding back. Nice but not awe-inspiring.
Worst scene: some decent tightrope walkers performing above the apron of the stage. But behind them was video projections of snakes, the chorus holding flame throwers that shot fire periodically, and a shrieking 'singer' dressed as a large snake. Horrible. The song was awful and she screamed it and demanded our attention with pauses, fire throws, and yelling. As if the director forgot that the audience really wanted to watch the tightrope performers. But it was tough to do that. Very annoying. So bad it was almost funny.
The finale of the first act was just chaos of people in hoops, some even in the video on the back screen. Showing videos and special effects of performers takes away from the respect we had for the humans. We go to Cirque to see daring feats done live, not in computer graphics effects.
Trapeze artists were very good, but, again, it was drastically compromised by the screeching of the singing spiderwoman in the background.
Most shows don't really have a story and we are okay with that - we go to Cirque for the spectacle, not the story. This one, of a man looking for lost love was completely detached from the show. With a hokey finale love duet. At a Cirque show? It was as bad as it sounds.
The great thing about this show is you get 3 shows for the price of one: a love story with pop ballads, a loud rock concert, and some pretty decent circus acts. Unfortunately, the three events are all happening at the same show, and they have nothing to do with each other. Previous Cirque shows had music that complemented the acts, Zarkana's music defies them. At intermission, a woman was seeking ear plugs so she could just watch the show. When I returned to my seat, I heard the woman in the aisle seat say to her companion, "The music ruined it."
Seat, adam and his wife
Interm okay just sore got KitKat scrafed them down (pee issue)
Second act more pain no one next to me
End sat and waited in case grimace. Talked with Adam
Empty theater got up okay bath then hit, no sit shuffled to stairs lightning bolts, ask cab stand hold rail cross lost cab hold sign post ask police? 2 black cars second stopped
Driver bout new mattress
The car fare was $28 (18 if by taxi). I gave him all the cash in my wallet, $41. He deserved it. Shuffled through lobby, to the elevator, down the hall, to the apartment. Took some pills and lied down on the bed.
I can't deal with this
There was a loud obnoxious knock on the door. I jumped up and cautiously opened it. Two police officers, not happy. They asked if they could come in and talk to me. Sure, I stammered, wondering what was up but also sorta excited about some adventure that might play out. "Do you know Jillian Roberts?" i started shaking my head No. "wait, I met a woman yesterday named Jillian, but I never got her last name." tell us about her. Well, okay.
I was at Pei Wei eating the Chopped Chicken Salad (no fried wontons, please) and typing on my iPad. I was working on a project for class. This woman walked by and commented on the iPad. She said she had never seen one before. I smiled and said something in return, but I don't remember what. She went on to her table with a young school-age teenager following behind her.
I typed some more and finished my salad. Always eager to tout the iPad, i went to her table and showed her the USA Today app - how well the newspaper looked on the pad (are they still called newspapers even when they're not on paper?) The waitress brought their two bowls of edamame. The teenager began eating. The woman kept talking to me.
Phone, no apps, not know password.
Drinking wine. OCS shirt
That music thing - iPod
Cannot send mail.
Freak out - i cant send email. I cant deal with this now. Wish I had my Dell. I backed away.
Restroom laugh. Just leaned on sink and laughed. Mid-chickle, I was interrupted by her son who came in and witnessed my laughter. In my state, I had forgotten to lock the door. What could I say to him. He had to realize what or who I was laughing at. I couldn't think of the proper way to get out of this awkwardness. So, I said nothing. Just offered a weak smile and I hurried out of there. Didn't even look at her back at the table, just walked straight to the door and outside. To my car.
The officers, who had been patiently listening - one was even jotting down a few notes - wonder about connections ever see her before? Somewhat skeptical. What was I to do?
I killed my neighbor’s wife.
• passion to help driven out of love for the couple and the family. I think it’s the right thing to do.
• breaking the law. murder, ethics
debate, chicken out, u-turn, drive home.
actual act - have second thoughts. see her face and smile. can I kill her?
Resolution: Not guilty, but still feel sad, still a murderer
Maybe I’m arrested and prison, trial and sympathy before admitting confession?
Flashback: Prep to commit murder
My relations with family
Naberhood fireworks, mayor of block
Bkgrnd marg hosp, room, Religious family
Mike saw wife daily.
Mike to home skilled
Mike no more drive, Jim takes Mike - right thing to do
Mike in gets worse, moved back to Critical Nursing. Uh oh.
Get text: Mike died
Visitation: open casket
Burial: Prairie Chapel Cemetery family plot
Cemetery: who was Danny baby?
Prep murder plan, get lawyer (not tell of plans - just interviews and selection)
Prep for arrest/prison (show I’m kind and thoughtful): sadness of boarding dogs, locking house, car, empty fridge
Murder: Pull plug Marg, put plan in action
Wait for arrest, walk dogs
Knock on door
Arrest: rude violent officer
Bookling, Prison: cold, lonely, tough
(Family divided, the devout Christians wanted to thank me, the NRA gun slinger wanted to prosecute me.)
Jim released (or leave open)
Lawyers want to use the defense of a faulty feeding equipment. I protested and said no I did it, I'm guilty, it wasn't the machine.
Family & Public support: Jim's a hero. They go up to heaven together.
Till death do us part.
Spooky couple: sit on couch, pass in hall, not a word.
Dinner: open chair next to Mike, with Squire (Portales) & Athan (from Hollis) truck driver rt 66. I sat in chair where man died last night. What was his name? He had been sick. The expression on my face must have conveyed how uncomfortable I felt- Squire said it was okay, they liked me sitting there. I was uplifting. Simple pleasures.
Of course, I was a little nervous on the short drive from my house to the nursing home. It was a drive I made many times before to go visit her - Mike put her into this facility two years ago and he went to visit her several times a day but this was just me. Nobody else knew that I was making this trip. I didn't tell anyone. I knew I might never go home again. I had packed my bags with a change of clothes and a few toiletries. I had secured my computer and had written some explanatory notes to be found when the police searched my house, I took the dogs to stay with a friend (I gave some excuse why), turned off the electricity to the house. I left the front door unlocked so it wouldn't have to be broken down.
At the Skilled nursing home, I parked in my usual spot. The staff had seen me many times escorting Mike to see his wife. I just smiled and walked right past them at the nurse's station.
The one who says all the right things, the things we wish we had said, but didn't think of it or we chickened out.
Waved over to open lane, walked back
I pulled in. Guy got upset, walked out, back, to window
There is a big hole in the floor. You almost drove in it. Thats why there is a sign back there to wait for attendant, to guide you in.
Superstud: let me see, you think i'm so stupid that I would drive into that pit, even though I've driven over numerous oil change pits, even though it has a metal lip around it, and even though you waved me in.
Sorry, but I don't want someone so ignorant working on my car.
Randy: don't throw that in my face. Wait. If make mistake, must accept responsibility, consequences. It eroded my trust. You ask do I trust you. Of course not. I'd be a fool.
Want to sit outside? Sure.
Hell, No! It's 95 degrees.
At the front deck of a pita shop on the Washington Strip, I stopped off to get a beer. I got to chatting and joking around with the guy selling the beer. When he needed to go get more beer to put in the tub, he left me in charge of selling beer. Cool, I can do that. What I wasn't prepared for was the line of people that would periodically form. I would reach in the tub of ice to get their beer, check IDs when necessary, open it with the opener, take their money, and make change. I just stuffed wads of bills in my pocket. When he got back, he counted up the money I had in my pocket - it was about $130. It was a lot of fun.
IDs: do you have an ID? Yes. Good, that's all I need to know.
FOUL - that's the new acronym have created for my life. Foul. It stands for fat, old, ugly, and lazy. I find it very liberating. People don't expect much from someone who is fat, old, ugly, and lazy (or just foul). With lowered expectations comes less disappointment. I no longer have to be concerned with my weight, my appearance, or how long stay in bed napping and reading the newspaper
I realized I am no longer 'getting old'. I am old. Yep, it happened while I wasn't looking. Out of the blue, POW, Old. Just like that. If I had been given some advance notice I might have done something about it. Or maybe not. But, sure enuf, I'm old. But its okay. I can now get by with a lot more stuff. I can now, with less constraint and ridicule, bitch and gripe about current events and politics; exude any manner of bodily noises; display cranky behavior; get up and walk away from any function without reason; forget birthdays, anniversaries, and other important dates; pepper conversations with terms such as proctology, urology, probing, and colonoscopy; and dress myself without caring - polyester is now acceptable, my socks don't need to match, black socks can be worn with white tennis shoes, and mixing conflicting patterns is expected
Last Wensday evening, I was brutally attacked by a kitchen cabinet door. I had left it open earlier in the day. I got home after dark and was running from/with the dogs and thru the kitchen when, POW, the dang door attacked. It was ruthless. It showed no mercy - even seemed to enjoy the victory. I was KO'd. Truly a surprise attack since we had been, so I thought, on very peaceful terms before this vicious incident. I thought, "Wow, what was that?" I had walked thru here for over 10 years and never had an incident. I had to steady myself for a moment. The dogs were smirking. But I don't blame them. I feel certain they did not set this up. No, this was clearly some conspiracy of a hate crime perpetrated by cabinetry in the kitchen. To show my superior military and problem solving skills, I duct-taped the door shut. It probably didn't need to be, but I wanted to make clear who was the stronger opponent. I snuck up on it with a strip of tape ready and slammed it shut before it knew what was happening. Thank God for duct tape. It is how guys repair anything. Women talk and cry, we grab the tape. Some men even keep one roll by the bed, one in the car, and one at work. I'm convinced there were would be less divorce and marital strife if couples would agree to use duct tape more freely and, well, to install urinals in the bathroom. Men will never put the seat back down, get used to it ladies; but a urinal would mean the toilet seat would never again be an issue of marital discord (or cohabitation discord). Women could even duct tape the seat down. Men would respect and honor that.
Thoughts/sensory input are often distorted or misinterpreted when processed in the mind. We remember the unusual, forget the usual. The average human being experiences about 1 million events a month. The odds are great that at least one of those events will be quite weird, unexplainable, beyond one's realm of understanding. Some may see that as a 'miracle', others just understand the law of averages and the inability of the human brain to be able to explain everything it experiences. Rationality can lead to a better, more satisfying, and more fulfilling
'Lucky' people see opportunities. If there's a puddle in sidewalk, kids will jump right in (and enjoy it). Adults will not only walk around, but bitch about it as they do. Results come, not from what you say or do, but from what you think, feel, and believe. You need no excuse to feel good.
Celebrate life. Visualize, see it as it is. Then visualize it as better than it is, and work to make that happen. Whatever you focus on feels real. Focus on where you want to go, not on what you fear. We too often focus on what we're afraid of. January 2006.
Mitch has recently been released from a successful rehab program which is helping him overcome his addiction to Catholic schoolgirls in uniforms, you know, the uniforms with the lace around the collar and the knee-high socks with the green plaid pattern. Mr. McDonald must now wear an ankle monitor and is not allowed to leave the metro area nor is he allowed to stray too far from his parole officer, Mary Catherine (a former Catholic School Headmistress - don't even ask what that's about). Mitch's hobbies include Internet porn, fantasy role playing (just guess what type of little girl Mitch likes to dress up as), housecleaning, and weekly trips to the racetrack where he moonlights as a stable shit shoveler - try saying that real fast five times - stable shit shoveler, stable shit shoveler, stable shot shiveler, shable shit stoveler, shitle slut stabler - there, I did it. Mitch is currently married but is also satisfying a young mistress he met while hitchhiking through the Arbuckle Mountains in the spring of 2004. Together (but only on every other weekend) they operate the Get-em-High Bed & Breakfast although they refuse to advertise so nobody knows about it. We think its just a cover up for illegal drug smuggling to Okies in the Arbuckles. But that's just our opinion - Mr. McDonald will probably deny it.
1. I don't understand the phrase, 'get a kick out of this'. Why would anyone want to be kicked? Why do we say that in reference to something good - like getting kicked is good. July 8
2. In Manhattan, I take the two dogs to a nearby dog park. Once, while they romped with their pals, I realized that 'dog park' backwards spells 'krap god'. I'm not real sure what the cosmic connection is between these phrases. Holy shit? Supreme turd? I just don't know. Maybe it will come to me one day in the dog park. July 7
3. Emily coined a neword in an email about my leaving New York City for Oklahoma - she referred to the home state as Oklahome. Nice. July 3
4. Have you heard the phrase, "As much fun as a barrel of monkeys"? Help me on this one. Who has ever played with monkeys in a barrel? Wouldn't monkeys in a barrel be pissed off and desperate to get out? Is that fun? Doesn't it make more sense to say, "As much fun as monkeys at an amusement park." or "As much fun as a barrel of whiskey." June 6
5. Since a teacher teaches, an actor acts, and a baker bakes, does a carpenter carpent? May 24
6. Have you ever heard someone say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse" ? Yuck - what's that about? Horse meat, hooves, horse head? I don't get it. Why don't they just say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a big steak (or Caesar salad or a large pizza)", anything but a horse. May 18
Volleyball, Gershwin‘s, glass of wine in the car, musicals in Fort Worth, camping in Santa Fe, pony soldier Motel: “which bed do you want”, breakfast in Las Vegas, broke up due to spiritual differences,
dreamed of her knocking on my door, walking into my classroom, feared that later she might’ve had the same dream and we would grow old and never get back together.
I had to go see her
Breakup with Cecilia
Sad story stubborn rash regretful try to make right
Devout vs atheist
Couple should share basic beliefs. She said we could discuss it and grow.
As an ignorant believer, I was stubborn.
I apologized to her for the pain that I caused - that was very nice. She said she isn't holding any grudges. Don't bring up sex or life together or why never married. I just screwed up, I made a stupid decision. Maybe things would've been different. Or I might be a fucking faggot.
Got to relax. I made choices that influenced hundreds of kids to be better thinkers. Got a good life.
Jim: let go, move on. I lost Laird and I lost Cecilia.
Laird died and Cecilia has moved on. So must I.
You are just as beautiful as I remember from 1985.
Sorry for the loss of your parents.
So glad we met (in Santa Fe). If our paths cross, hope can be friends.
Our brief time together in 1985 has had a huge impact on my life. You inspire me still today.
Am working on less regrets.
The Party House
stop notice on door
notice 6 bedrooms
I immediately noticed the bright orange Post-it note on the front door of the new home under construction just down the street. Bright orange car was not normal in this neighborhood of older Craftsman homes and mature trees. I had to go up and read it. It was a work stop notice. It meant that the city inspector has commanded the construction crew to stop work I’m not home until us and inspection could be completed. This was very unusual. Normally all these things are approved in advance, there’s no need to stop construction. Now I was curious - I had to find out what was going on.
wandered through house. noticed identical bedrooms, each with a bath, and room for 2 washing machines and 2 dryers. This is a dorm or boarding house. 2 blocks from campus - this was going to be student housing.
talked to nabor. heard of meeting
Open with the contentious meeting with the city where it’s discovered a six the bedroom has been added. Introduced the resident characters and some of the city characters at this meeting. Then flashback to earlier issues with the city.
Topple city government
How did Martin know City Council had changed the zoning? Someone on the inside must’ve informed him and was in on the deal to make some money. (Mayor friend or business associate or kickback.) Or did they change zoning due to pressure from developers?
Meetings with planning commission inspectors. Sixth bedroom horrible package on the coffee
Implicate mayor, go after mayor, turns out it was the attorney who had blackmailed the mayor into supporting his scheme attorney was frustrated that instead of a lucrative law practice he was stuck as a civic attorney and he was jealous of the money his colleagues were making. He set out to supplement his income
Developer has plenty of money, from those silents bankrolling him (who are these people/companies ?) but he wants code variances, contractor contract variances (he has his hands in a contracting company that he will favor).
Lead the reader to believe it is the mayor, but it is actually the city attorney who is the wing man for the developer. Developer pay his attorney big bucks and expects the attorney to spread that around among the planning commission, city Council, and code inspectors.
Attorney wrestles with the thought of keeping all the money for himself or spreading less than the developer would like, in order to keep more money. The developer gives up after a while and tells the attorney to handle it however he wishes.
Attorney who prosecuted or was going to file a lawsuit against the city because of the party house used to live in Edmond buddy move because he couldn’t take how stupid the city was list stupid examples in Edmond he reluctantly came back and sure enough the stupid was still permeating the entire city.
Martin controlling the neighborhood, through the attorney, also influenced the council not to deal with parking signs no more letting the church in. It was to Martin’s advantage that there be street parking and a church in the neighborhood.
angry neighbor Mark and Jerry.
English lady as a calming influence
City councilman who did nothing, what was his role in the bribery?
meeting with landlord: attorneys run the meeting, more bullshit
attorney/mayor bumps off the other one who is threatening to expose the scam the kickback developer has plans for many more providing incentive to bribe city officials
Purpose of mt? “build a more positive, respectful and communicative relationship”
1. Improving integration of 3rd/Univ into neighborhood.
2. Preventing or minimizing future Party Houses. Encourage city to better respect residents and environment quality-of-life.
1. Sneaking in a 6th bedroom after telling city 5 (or 4?)
2. Remove driveway on university, not replace curb. (City oversight?)
3. Not respect, consider neighborhood in design of parking, landscaping.
4. Not adequately supervising parking, noise, litter.
1. Change zoning - require input from residence (major zoning change) Should also have changed parking regulations?
2. Not catch 6th bedroom?
3. Not designate university neighborhood as special: parking and occupancy
4. Not require better parking. “Met code of 2 spaces.”
5. Not consider QoL neighborhood.
6. Not check on University curb.
7. Poor communication in era of easy comm. Pk signs, Rankin redo,
Seem to operate in reactionary mode.
Lack of initiative, problem solving, planning, citizen input.
Planning Dept: simply Code Enforcers, not plan, not anticipate
Where is Councilor? Seems to ignore constituents.
Bigger problem is lack of advocacy for residents and citizens. City loves to flout it’s flashy projects: new police building, convention center, tennis center. Things the average resident may not consider very important
The city hit on quite a reputation based on some other poorly thought out projects
1. 9th Street carnival obstacle course
2. Rankin speed bumps
3. 4th/Univ roundabout: 6 months? “a low priority.”
4. Parking on grass, Caldwell simply forwards email
5. 3rd St Party House
6. 4th St parking signs
7. Residential neighborhood church
Stephenson Park Master Plan
The City of Edmond is seeking community input for the development of the Stephenson Park Master Plan (“no comments, just info”) The area around the 3.1-acre park is experiencing new development and investment with proposed retail, restaurant, multifamily, and office space. As part of this progress, the city is looking to upgrade the historic park to better meet the needs of the community.
What are the needs of the community?
Picnic, music events, playground, sports, walking, gatherings
• Incorporate and enhance WPA rock structures:
Armory, Legion Hall, NW sign, NE gate wall, bridges
Entry sidewalk at NE stone gate
Entryway at NW stone sign
Gathering space at Legion Hall entry porch
• Not move rocket slide from its historic location, add fence if necessary
• Provide service vehicle access
• Larger, overflow stage seating
• Improve drainage in Cypress grove
• Sports courts: basketball, tennis, paddleball
• More seating
• Seating and tables by playground
• Keep existing large trees
Future: Get community input before spending money for an architectural plan
They’re not likely to get funded.
Car wreck on Rankin: It took 40 minutes for the police to arrive.
Nightmare of hit & run: cops, jail, bye to house & Brooklyn.
Remembered that I turned down Broadway where the accident would’ve been and there was nothing there no debris no cop. So relieved, got up and ate, relaxed, back to sleep.
Knock on door early morning police officers caused a wreck so goodbye to my dog
Feeling good after lunch, took a risk thought I could cut in front of oncoming traffic car ahead of me made it through I thought there was room for me I didn’t judge the third lane and I had to get across the street loud hawk I went on shopping the gym Dom breaks later that night I relived that and realized the hawk may have been from a disabled car accident caused somebody hurt
• Pulling out onto 51 at I 35 in Stillwater at night.
• Pulling up the long left turn lane on 2nd street at Bryant.
• Cutting across traffic in front of Petsmart on Broadway.
I killed a huge animal with my car
It apeared so much bigger and menacing. After I hit it, I pulled over onto the shoulder of I-5 and got out. I was so upset over killing an animal that I swore I would never drive again - that's how I would prevent this from happening again. I then looked around. It was very dark and there were no lights from houses or other cars on the freeway. It was very late at night and I was in the sticks in Central California. I felt foolish - well, of course, you'll have to drive again, you big lug. I reluctantly got back in the car and drove on. Killing an animal on the freeway is not a fun event.
Or maybe I write about the vivid dream and attempting to contact her but chickening out or she cancels or something we never quite get together run into her somehow we compare dreams as old people and we hug
Marge Johnson at sixflags: movie Midnight Cowboy, hippie club near Knox McKinney: “where are you from?”
Lack of self-confidence, low self-esteem, mental abuse from my father. The number that my father did on me. “I let the third one raise himself.” that’s so stupid. it’s effect on dating, value, and worth. took me a while to learn he was wrong. Avoided him, joined Mensa - “my father was wrong. I’m not stupid.”
Some contemporary art department building and a woman told me my assignment or something what is by a piece of design work - one of those was the Dolly Lama. I don’t know if that was the Dolly Lama or the llama by Salvador Dali. I was looking for it and finally asked some guy who told me it was on another floor and at the end of the building. I went to that floor but before I could find it I ran into another teacher and we got into a discussion about good and bad design. It was very exciting to have this discussion with someone else about design.
Friday pm/Sat am, March 11/12, 2010
Got in line to eat, me and one other adult
Slow, went to other line, at steps. No que ropes. Got tabke, buffet food? Used microwave. On floor. Small. Tilt plate to get it in. Food spilled. After, gathered food by hand and scooped it out onto plate. Line waiting.
Room in sep bldg. Walk by pool.
with a student group? at Disney?
Flying over buildings,
Broad slope of city ramping up to buildings
mexican rest. Authentic, some people cut in front to cafet line. Then me. Get fruit chicken burrito and chick burrito. Small bitchy woman ahead of me asks for another burrito. Fat mex lady says no more. She says He got the last one, making a big deal of it. At end of line,i go back for something. Turn back to cashier - just an empty round plate. I look up and see woman running around corner. Cashier gone to refill drinks. I chase and get to her table, she had gone to restroom? I take my oval plate of two burritos and go back
Or i trip her as she's running to her table
Or i politely explain to cashier who gets the security guard to go get her.
Car on 35
ABC Times Sq 7 miracles
False p: Bachman Perry Beck
I just authorized the euthanasia of my dog, Dallas. I signed one form. Now I wonder - why is it socially acceptable and even encouraged that we euthanize our pets to end their suffering, yet it is illegal to show the same respect and consideration for our human friends? Is it because we are more sensitive to our pets needs? Is it partly because we don't compromise any religious values killing pets? I don't know, but this makes me more sympathetic to the cause of allowing terminally ill people to die with dignity at their own choosing. March 2006.
Showing the credits for a movie after the movie has begun is like putting a picture behind text in a print ad. Its annoying - if the director wants me to get into the picture, don't interrupt with stuff to read - stuff that I don't need or even want to read. And if the director wants me to read these credits, don't interrupt them with dialogue, visuals, or plot. I came to see a movie. Boosting the egos of the production crew and stars is useless. Let me just watch the movie. If I really care or want to know who the cinematographer, costume designer, or grip was, I'll sit through the credits at the end. March 2006.
My dog, Dallas, has arthritis. I accidentally called it arfritis and it made sense, so arthritis in dogs (quite common) could be called arfritis. March 2006.
Do buildings burn down or do buildings burn up?
Black professors at a university in Oklahoma complained that their percentage makeup doesn't match the percentage makeup of the general population. Here's how ridiculous that argument is - the NBA determines its starting lineup based on skill, talent, and expertise; not on the percentages of ethnic populations (which would probably be 3 white guys, 1 Hispanic, and one from black, Asian, Native American populations). Why are we okay with the NBA having racially unbalanced starters? Because we accept that a basketball team wants to win - they don't care about employing the underrepresented - they want to win. In education, apparently, its not about assembling the best, its about providing a job service. Educators don't care about 'winning', just fear of reprisals. December 2005.
Basically, I am a pacifist. I prefer not to kill. I'll even catch bugs and release them outside rather than squash them. I am opposed to the death penalty and to aborting fetuses. But, as much as I strive to love all creatures, I absolutely hate mosquitoes, yes - hate, detest, abhor. They are miserable little creatures. I enjoy killing them. I can't find any positive value to the planet from these damn things. I do not understand why Noah did not swat that one pair of mosquitoes when he had the chance and save all the rest of us from the misery of bites and malaria. Damn you, Noah. April 2006
I may have killed my mother
Routine, cross street
Never go home again.
Peanut, don't kill me!
Colorado camping, road trip, Bill made Salisbury steaks,
Peanut galloped, reared up.
Sworn to secrecy
"Girls don't fart!"
The notes of love will tinkle in your head.
Kill AHS spirit ribbon, store in Northpark Center, Cashier points out AHHS (Arlington Heights High School)
Ms Delaney’s choral music class:
Sir, France is bakin’
Sophomore 10th grade.
Mcfarlin exit thru row, hey buddy,
Kneel in aisle to explain and apologize. Guy catches me in lobby, tears
Takes me to hospital, mom died,
people trapped inside waiting out hard rainstorm
one by one they leave the Stuckey's, never to be seen again
Drove to the beach
Sigma Chi house in Houston
Slept in car
Recorded surf waves
Felt free, excited
I stole a Schlotzky’s, South Congress.
Raccoon in the road, semi truck coming, no way out. I knew the tires were going to get that raccoon and splatter guts. I couldn't get the window up fast enough.
"Summer doesn't officially begin until I've had my Shack Dog” Joyce, June 2009
Suicide drinks at SVCC, annoy the Coke Pepsi war - I drink both, half of each. Unique taste. Some stare, most are intrigued. Can't tell much difference. Coksi
While riding on the subway, a woman got on with a large trash bag full of something soft - maybe clothes. Even though there were several empty seats, she scrunched her bag and set it on her lap so she wouldn't take up two seats. People were leaving the seat next to her empty, thinking she might want to set the bag there. But she never did. She was so considerate and mindful of her space and the needs of others. I couldn't help but watch this sweet woman. She also had a very nice smile to go along with her demeanor. I was somewhat envious - this woman, with her big load, still managed to be polite, courteous, and considerate of others. I so wanted to say something to her but couldn't think of the right thing to say. I thought I could at least tell her she had a nice smile. But then my station approached and a crowd came between me and her as we stood to get off. Another opportunity missed. How often I wish I had acted on my impulses.
Woman sitting on planter at Obama Inauguration. Neatly dressed, clean shoes. Pensive reflective mood on her face. She had lived through segregation,
Presenting a lecture and workshop and later teaching at UPAEP Mexico.
Class at 6:30 (?) - students start arriving at 6:45 and the class is assembled by 7:00. I normally expect students to be punctual, meet deadlines, and appointment times. I couldn't count off here - it was their custom.
Took a break. Went to the union snack bar - got dinner. I was in the classroom waiting - usually breaks are about 10 minutes, maybe fifteen. I went searching. Found the class sitting in the union, laughing, talking. I joined them. Learned the new routine - slow down. Take it easy. I like it.
Lowan B Wholed
I was sitting at the Border's Books on 59th and Lexington (I had just come from seeing the Frank Gehry collection of jewelry at Tiffany's on Fifth Avenue). I was watching people meander around the store when one person approached this narrow passage, stood on the floor, and the floor moved. First it moved her forward about two feet (her feet didn't move) and then - and I'm not making this up - the floor she was standing on began to move up at an angle, like a staircase but she didn't have to climb the steps. By golly, she just stood there. What a great invention that is. You stand on the floor, don't move, and the floor takes you up to the next level. You just stand there. Holy cow. What's next - a small room that goes straight up and down?
The other day, I got inside a machine that I store at my house in a special room. I sat in a comfortable adjustable chair and by moving my feet and arms this machine smoothly transported me to wherever I guided it to go. I sat in a lounge chair, in a climate-controlled environment, and listened to music on a custom sound system of songs that I had programmed earlier. I was quite comfortable and without having to exert much energy, I was transported to stores and restaurants, all in a matter of minutes. I call this amazing machine my PTU, Personal Transit Unit. What a great age we live in. We no longer have to walk or ride a horse to get around.
Mom and grandma (not to mention cousins uncles) can see me from the AfterLife
Barely get undressed in front of my mother. Getting a hard-on is tough. Froze up. Wife not happy.
Pastor: they're so busy in heaven, its not likely they're watching.
But they can
Well, yes, if they choose.
Therapy: all in mind, just beliefs. Make up a new heaven, or they can't watch, or not a Christian.
Therapy is expensive.
Decide to change my beliefs. So I can have sex again.
Where I’m from
I am from stepping into shorts and running outside,
To play all day long.
"Time to come in, tomorrow's another day."
I am from complete villages of houses and roads
in the sandbox next to the garage.
Dinners with the family.
I am from road trips:
From New York to California, sights and sounds,
Distant relatives and familiar Disneyland.
I am from plastic building blocks that led
to highways, houses, and skyscrapers.
I am from Mimosa blossoms,
cool Bermuda grass, and a warm kitchen.
Exploring the alleys,
With Doug, David, and Margie.
Exploring the vacant lots,
they became whatever we thought they were.
I am from square dancing at George B Dealey school,
the music, the movement, the smiles.
Butterfinger bars for lunch;
Afternoons and evenings on the stage.
Plastic model cars and balsa wood ships.
I am from the neighborhood of freedom and play.
Several thousand years ago, a small tribe of ignorant near-savages wrote various collections of myths, tales, and gibberish. Over the centuries, these stories were embroidered, garbled, mutilated, and torn into small pieces that were then repeatedly shuffled. Finally, this material was badly translated into several languages successfully. The resultant text, creationists feel, is the best guide to the complex and technical subject of evolution." - Tom Welter
Those primitive 'people' were sincere but mistaken and sloppy in their research & transcribing and just thinking with the limited knowledge they had at their disposal.
Later, came lies by money-grubbers that had discovered a new way to market the "myths, tales and gibberish" to make a buck.
Just had a good workout. Drank a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink and about to finish eating the last Hi-Fiber bar (35% daily fiber per bar) from a box of five. Plan to have a very entertaining evening of projectile diarhea. Maybe even get in some target practice.
T-shirt with metallic thread in the outline of them Lucy gun and a bomb going through security and they break out my brother Gunns I pick up my coat and it's just a T-shirt and they're baffled missing me back through brother guns
If you believe that god is in control, then you must be consistent. You can't go and point fingers elsewhere when reality isn't in line with your idea of a loving sky daddy. Either he is controlling EVERYTHING that happens, and thus is a horrible being standing by and watching living creatures suffer, or he isn't in control and would love to intervene but can't. Because he is either powerful or his powers are limited.
Emergency Teaching Certificate. I just had to verify that i was working towards certification each semester
AMHS: fac meetings, library
Class finish early - now what? No prep for teaching.
Driving lessons, nigger, production set designs, marijuana
Satisfying - need for male role models, reward
Sleighbells drifting in the open snow.
Arlington hotel: rearrange lobby
brgr: girls talking
Lucky number 4, Dealey field day
Lites go out: Wash 6, Disney
"Don't make us think."
Punctual: dad Elite Waco
Shake LBJ hand “Damn son, I've got my dick in my hand.”
Killer: Kinsolving, frat house
Rome: minimal room
Locked keys in LA pk groj,
Lost keys from luggage at DFW
Embarrass: Richland gym fart
Mormon Church with Seth: “I could fuck her eyes out.”
Kinsolving with Sarah: “Can I see your tits?”
Parking tickets, school zones
Playing volleyball with faculty in Wantland.
The crying times: the death of Conor, a student in Graphic Design I; the OKC Never better: friend, funny, house
Pets: hamster stories, pets as a kid: chameleon from Fair, ducks at Easter (dropped box on one), turtles
Dogs: pound, greyhounds
424 construct: plan from memory, fotos, cut door=dust!
Dealey: walked halls during PE, miss class - had to do situps by myself, farted each time, student holding my legs, we laughed.
Cereal with melted ice cream
Lucky number 4, Dealey field day
Lites go out: Wash 6, Disney
"Don't make us think."
Punctual: dad Elite Waco
DTHerald, manual, intern award
Shake LBJ hand "Damn son, I've got my dick in my hand.
Killer: Kinsolving, frat house
Rome: minimal room
Locked keys in LA pk groj,
Lost keys from luggage at DFW
Embarrass: Richland gym fart, Edmond Presby Pee
Mormon Church with Seth: "I could fuck her eyes out."
Kinsolving with Sarah: "Can I see your tits?"
Parking tickets, school zones
Playing volleyball with faculty in Wantland Hall.
Helping mount exhibits in the campus Museum of Art. Benches under art. Dinners at Wallo's.
Attending design conferences in New Orleans, New York City, Las Vegas.
Presenting a lecture and workshop and later teaching in Mexico.
Sharing the energy and inspiration of New York City with students.
Witnessing many corporate boards and clients applaud and cheer after a ClockTower presentation.
Performances in Mitchell Hall, Hair, plays, walk over Sunday matinee, CT programs
Emcee Parents Orient
Participating at OSU: football games, Homecoming judge.
Exploring Oklahoma: 1989 celebrations, Remington Park, Penn Square renovations, Route 66, Interurban, Tulsa, small towns and rural roads
Signs in LA are like, “Oh, by the way, that was your exit.” Okay, I’m exaggerating, they don’t really say, “Oh, By the way.”
Just had a good workout. Drank a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink and about to finish eating the last Hi-Fiber bar (35% daily fiber per bar) from a box of five. Plan to have a very entertaining evening of projectile diarhea. Maybe even get in some target practice.
© James Robert Watson, PhD, 2019