Inspired by a number of misfit bloggers mostly whose honeymoons have long since been over. Inspired by those who share a taste for a raw, unfiltered Japan. Definitely not part of any press club.
Over the past few days, I'd actually been thinking of both of the bands. Not that I was old enough to listen to and appreciate what their music meant when it first came out.
First, Debbie Harry.
Another Geiger Giger masterpiece
Once upon a time, she was in a movie called Videodrome. You don't have to know who Debbie is. You don't even have to know what a video is. You don't have to know anything in this day and age of a digitized reality that is maybe 50/50.
Half-in and half-out.
The battle for the mind of North America was fought and won with the assistance of the video. Now, the Net and YouTube seem to be doing such an adequate job with the world. An adequate job catching what the boxes don't.
At one time in life, fate
may require a person to endure or sit through a live dance performance. While making that choice was still an option, witnessing a production put on by one of the best
troupes on the planet wasn’t such a bad idea. If they are ever close by again, I
would be a fool not to see what they are up to.
This is not pretty, but
the thoughts keep circling around a shape the conscious mind doesn’t quite
understand in a way that can be fully articulated at the moment. Best to let simmer and stir occasionally.
Often times, before
speaking, there was a search for words. The search was motivated by feeling a
need to express thoughts in a way that could be understood by the ‘others’.
In the early stages, many
of the others did not understand. Not that the thoughts were original or all
that complicated, it’s just that there are certain stock words and phrases
(chunks) that are more easily digestible than others.
Call it a coincidence or whatever. It's been over a year since being pushed out of the cargo hold (some might even say jumped). Either way, there's been progress. And that progress has been good. Or it wouldn't be called 'progress', now would it?
Well, as coincidence/chance/fate would have it, today's revelation comes across in a similar way as last year's, only perhaps a little more compact in terms of the 'viewing time' (3:53 vs 1:56).
In many ways, listening to the interview brings to mind why some blogs/books/movies are more interesting than others. More interesting is not necessarily fun and usually not comforting.
They say there's a backstory to every joke. And sometimes, the truth is just too much for people to handle, so there are things that get taken out. Even some of the classics that have become canonized wisdom for the street-wisdom that gets passed along.... there's even more to some of the classics than may ever get told.
Put on your boots and take a breath 'cause it's gonna get deep.
This is a bull.
And if you look closely, you might be able to see it's...
If you get it, you get it. If you don't, no need to press anything, 'cept maybe the last one - 'cause it's funny.Either way...
So, you think your gonna be a teacher?
(Or maybe you already are...or something)
'How are you?' or 'How are we?' When someone insists you don't know what you are saying when you are trying to be polite, there are several avenues of approach. Humor can be useful.
That punchline that kind of explodes...you know, the one that ends with something like, "It's wafer-thin."?
There's a kind of humour that some of the religious nuts miss out on. So, shit ends up getting banned. Some places pride themselves on their relative 'morality'.
The English and their subjects are united in a very complex web with tons of 'history'.
History that bleeds through in everyday matters. Like language.
When a child watches another human being explode and everyone laughs, there is gross potential for something bad happening besides just nervously laughing along with something that may be kind of horrifying. Mental mis-conditioning, imprinting, or some other Latin-based word harking back to some other time. And adult words, those short-cut expletives:
Pardon my French.
Cocktail parties can be almost predictable at times. The 'wafer-thin' line is often accompanied with the garnished laughter as a way of showing that, "Yes, we get the joke. We saw that movie. We are your in-crowd." Forced laughter. Nervous, forced laughter.
Well, a kid just figured out what was so funny. For real this time. First the clip. Will only take a minute. Or not.
(First 30 seconds)
"Bon apetit!"
What's really funny though... is how familiar all this looks.
10) Now, if you click the 'universe video', the title will tie it all together.
Ready, set, go...
Coincidences. Happen all the time.
Like that man on the bed.
No, that is not a man. That is not a man on a bed. That is not a man on a bed like the one at the bottom of this post that is safely written off as a massive coincidence.
(The man on the bed shows up at 47-ish seconds in)
(No, the lightening has no breasts and is not sitting on a bed)
The lightening shows up on Youtube if you look for :
Tangerine Dream - Force Majeure (Complete)
RichieFZ's channels is interesting. His 'Synaesthesia - Consciousness' video will make teaching the kids about the solar system and beyond all the more interesting.
(Too long to watch unless...)
Which is just another one of those 'coincidences'. That seems to happen a lot these days.
Tangerine Dream... remember hearing their name and not really realizing how connected to everything they are. My link was from watching the following clip today:
At 1:30 in the opening credits:
Music Composed and Performed by Tangerine Dream
Simple curiosity about Tangerine Dream, because of how the credits caught my attention, led me to Youtube to find their music and two clicks later, I saw the lightening.
Just a coincidence. But pretty neat.
For the coincidence in the final part that 'ties is all together' for this piece, you could go here and press play (either before or after you read or merely scan the article). The universe just got bigger.
Context is necessary in order to drop in on the following wave of information. This message at the bottom of this post is what can be called a peripheral, sent out on request. The idea of having the message published is that this is exactly the kind of thing people need to know.
What feels like ages ago, but what must have only been a few weeks now... my good neighbor passed on. When I say good, I mean good in a way that few people may ever live up to.
When my neighbor introduced himself, he crossed a line. He crossed a line where I was building my fence. A line that really wasn't there. Somehow he knew. His sincerity was completely disarming in a way that I can only recall coming close to maybe once in my life.
When neighbor Good passed away, I was surprised to learn that he was 80. You see, his days were spent outside, beneath the sky, tending his garden. After more than 45 years of work and living in a flat in some big city that really could have been anywhere, after what must have been a few lifetimes, he came back down for his last seven to tend the soil.
Even though I might have thought he crossed a line when we first met, he was above it all.
Later, I learned, that he'd spent his work-life walking the edge, steadily building those things that scrape the sky. He mentioned that when you are up to a certain level, you feel like you're somewhere special, away from the noise and chaos of the crowds. And if you look out over the horizon before a glance up at the sky, those lines down below all seem so pointless, arbitrary...
The day we first met, there was something in his eyes. Maybe it was just me. He must have understood how beautiful the skywalk can be and how quickly we can fall.
His fall was fast. From the time he was diagnosed till when his number was called was maybe two months.
I'd taken a bunch of pictures of his garden and had them blown up to where he'd be able to see them with what vision he had left. Nobody was in his hospital room when I got there. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do. Not wanting him to strain himself on his way out for my sake, I held up a few of the photos for him to see and he croaked out a 'Thank you".
We were planning on taking the kids in to see him the next morning. Which turned out to be too late.
His coffin was the first I've ever help carry. It was so light... so light. I was totally unprepared.
Just the other day, Wifey took me to be fitted for a double-breasted funeral suit. She said that I'd be needing to look good when we pay our respects next time and started naming off a long list of aunts, uncles, grandparents...
I'm totally not ready for any of this.
Now, for the periphery that was mentioned earlier. The following 'communication' took place between two people, one whose father was in what may be or may have been his final place. But that's not as important as what is in the message. (And, after having said farewell to neighbor Good, it helps me cope)
Whatever...
PERIPHERY
I remember from my time working at
the hospital that often people would confuse letting someone die who was dying
with killing someone. Families would fight each other about pulling the
plug (which is different than your scenario) and families would disagree about
stopping food and water.
If your Dad can make that decision,
it would be best if he is the one to do so. How to frame the discussion
may be impossible now, if he really isn't clear enough. If it was
discussed in the past, it would be helpful. He may still be enjoying being with
you all and that is good and it may prolong his life, which may still hold
value for him. In that case, he may be with you for longer than seems
possible, given what you see. The will to live can't be seen.
I
mentioned before that if he starts swelling up it might be a time to really,
really restrict water because of the discomfort. If he keeps drinking, he
could possibly last way beyond 3 weeks and everyone may need to be prepared for
the possibility and think about what that may mean regarding getting some extra
help. You could all be totally exhausted without some more assistance.
If he has said he is ready and
really WANTS to not prolong the discomfort and can understand that he can
choose to stop eating and drinking and that doing so will not be painful, but
rather easier and that if there is pain for any reason, there are medications
he can take and still be aware and alert, then it is kind not to force him to
eat to keep his family happy.
Who are
they doing it for?
If he answers the simple questions
and seems alert, ask him if he wants to talk, then give him space to talk.
Just letting him know you are willing to listen to whatever he has to
say.
Whatever.
You or anyone else could also ask,
"Do you want to rest or talk right now?" You could ask that
periodically, depending upon how alert he seems.
Again, if he is worn out and this
isn't the end but the response to events, let him rest as much as possible and
be quietly present.
Is your Mom able to just sit with
him and hold his hand?
A calming and
comforting touch is to place one's hand slightly low on his solar plexus.
And so it goes. Personally, I'm not counting on ever being so lucky. But it sure is nice to know that some people are. Until then, it's what we make of it that counts.
I'd picked up something in a second hand music store, thinking is was going to be something special. This was a few years ago. The music was somehow catchy. Only a few weeks ago, I was killing time and thought, "No... she wouldn't be on Youtube, would she?" Turns out she is. And turns out she's not what she seems.
And finally, it turns out that I agree with the first comment at the top of this post. Only, I haven't made myself watch the whole video. A minute in and I'm thinking, "This is..." and the poor brain just shuts down. For some reason, I feel a liiiiitle strange actually being glad I'm not from Texas...Is that wrong?
After passing the test, we
had a trial period that lasted for about a year, after which there was an unexpected raise. What I
learned the following year(s) was simply mind-blowing (for me anyway). Enough about me.
First for the background,
then for the test.
And finally, maybe what may
have led to the raise.
Now, let’s get on to some of
what ‘heaven’ looks like. Heaven…
yeah, a place where people get to
play god. Or, from their angle,
where the gods get to play.
Oh… it is never what you
think.
This morning I saw three...
In the rain, through my eyes, they looked beautiful.
Unless of course, you’ve
been there.
Ready, set….
Background.
Dr. Mercy spoke with perfect
textbook English along with numerous interesting expressions thrown in. Though his timing was perfect, his
voice was not loud. But his eyes… his unforgettable eyes remembered everything.
For me, it is good enough if I only remember the simple fact that he actually cared.
My recall is far less accurate
that it could be.
Forgive me, for I must
paraphrase when this story is told.
By font
Dr. K. Mercy in --- arial
W. Teach ---- courier
Everything else ----- times
“Thank you very much for
the class. I came here looking for an English teacher. Unfortunately,
obligations keep me from continuing. Time-wise, it’s an issue of conflicts.
Might you know of someone or… would you have time?”
They’d been learning together
in the class for a cycle. One of the subcontracted (and therefore overworked)
part-time clerks at the nationally tax-funded Bloated Broadcasting Organization was letting him know that labor conditions were kind of changing. What was formerly a ‘sweet job’
(or so he had been told before stepping into the orchard)... the sweet job wasn't gonna be as sweet... maybe even... let's see... sour. Love it. Hate it. Or both.
Love it when educational.
Or hate it for the scandal. Oops.. hate it for this one. Or both. Just
make sure they pay their crew…
Instead of paying a flat
fee for services, Will would be expected to show up and teach whoever was going to
be there. They local branch of the beloved network, BBO, would be doing the ‘advertising’ - something none of the subcontracted clerks had sort of done for a
few seasons. Sort of.
Anyone who has labored in
an orchard before knows that a lot of work, sweat, and love, as well as sun,
shade and rain, goes into keeping your trees healthy. If they are going to bear
fruit. When Will came in, he couldn’t help notice that most had already dropped. Why? He wasn’t too sure.
Nobody seemed to know what was going on, at
least on the ground, anyway. There hadn’t been rain in a while and the clerks
working as labor contractors apparently didn’t know jack-shit about irrigation.
Instead of paying a flat
fee for services, which is somewhat common in this field, the bureaucracy had
started trying to count beans. Yeah, that’s when you know you are in trouble.
Maybe someone in Houmas House had smelled something coming in from the field.
Either way, this being far south an' a 'pow-lite' society and all, everybody was Hush
Hush about it.
Sorry...fuck it, I'm not. This goes here for more than what the title of the song says.
She's moving.
No, it’s not the modified (chopped) Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte version,
but god, I just love watching her sing this… the way
she kind of sways….
Okay, back to the story. File her in your memory, she IS important.
Getting back to work...
Will had done his job. Tended the orchard best he could. Time was
right and everything was ripe. So he watched them fall and then picked up a
few who told him they were interested. And he got to work.
You ever want to brew up something, got to
choose your season right if you are following the rule.
Before BBO's miscarriage of a
scandal, the economic one, broke water all over the newspapers, so to speak, they’d been trying to stave off the
inevitable. Corners were being cut. Chop, chop...
Now, getting back to that
test.
"So, Will, what do you say?"
“Sure. I’d definitely
consider it. What are you thinking… what do you have in mind?”
“Well, I was wondering if you would be wiling to come
to my office in the evenings, on a weekly basis. I need to be able to
communicate with my English speaking colleagues here and when I go overseas.
No… nothing technical, I just need practice communicating.”
Look. Will's educational
background is nothing to be proud of. The grains of individual words slip though his fingers…
and it is not necessarily the fault of any of his past recreational activities. That's a different story. Not for here. No keys to open the 'short-term memory box' will be given at this time.
But we do need to mention memory because Dr. K. Mercy never forgot anything.
NEVER
Yeah. That good. You ever realize that you are having a conversation with a person who has what some might understand as a photographic memory or almost perfect recall? (This has to do with the test... but only part of it. The trial period took a year, remember?)
Dr. Mercy had had it with language schools. Their prices were as outrageous as the charisma of their employees. Nobody good seemed to want to stick around long anyway.
Test and trial.
During the trial year, Dr. Mercy asked Will for clarification of the meaning of a word or two, apparently trying to clear up confusion about the meaning. Will had just used a word in a way that conflicted with what was given a few weeks prior.
No, Will had not lied about 'knowing' something. He'd actually given one of the definitions of a word with many meanings and usages. Will grabbed his dictionary to verify. A big red one.
Not the actual dictionary... this is just a stand in.
Nothing beats a good dictionary... 'cept maybe a Playboy.
The Good Doctor was still using his dictionary from high school. Surprisingly well cared for. But nowhere near adequate. Hadn't anyone ever asked him about his dictionary?
"I think you might want to consider purchasing a more reliable dictionary."
"I'd never thought to buy a new one for conversation. Those medical dictionaries are too big. And this one has more or less gotten me through."
Will reaches over and looks at the historical tome. "You mean, you have been using only this... the entire time you have been learning English?"
"That and the books I read in school."
"You mean, you learned English from reading Japanese English textbooks from way back when? And you can speak like this? You must have had to study hard when you were little. You must have been quite a dedicated student."
"No, not really. I was too busy in the dojo. If I can understand a concept, I remember it." Then he tilted his head and reflected, "I only ever needed to read a school textbook once."
At that moment, Will understood. Everything became crystal clear. He looked into the Good Doctor's eyes and calmly gave his reply, "This is the first time I have met anyone with what may be called a photographic memory who..." he may have stuttered before going on, "I-I think... I think I understand now... If you don't mind my saying, teaching... working with you has been a pleasure. Thank you."
"I have also enjoyed your company. What is it that you are using there?"
At the next 'meeting', the Good Doctor had a new friend.
The actual test during the trial period involved honestly participating in conversations. Conversations about chopsticks, whale meat consumption, and consumption. Just kidding... that was never on the test, but it was talked bout. The test involved preparation for each and every class, showing up (and showing up on time), in addition to a number of other things Will did that were filed in Dr. Mercy's head.
Often, the conditions tests mandate is that the subject not be aware that it, the subject, is being tested.
Example:
"You want that coffee?"
a. Say, "Fuck off!"
b. Say, "Sure do."
c. Offer, "It's yours."
d. Do nothing
Life is all about context. The situations we find ourselves in, as well as the ones that we put ourselves in from time to time. You never never know. I'm not going to pretend to. Sure, you can use your head, but it can be one of your worst enemies... unlike the trusty dictionary.
And though there may be no obvious moral to this story, the key... one of the keys that allowed access to a brilliant (and compassionate) mind also gave Will a number of incredible 'stories'. All he had to do was sit, listen, and give an honest response. Those stories include the following:
It's called postural sway. And though postural sway is nothing new to, let's say, neurologists, it was new to me. And the day that word was new to me, Dr. K. Mercy explained it in plain English. And told a story that kind of blew me away.
There is no time to write it down at the moment. But there are enough details still in that box (the one that keeps closing itself)... there are enough details and pieces available.
Now, this post is more or less done. "Stick a fork in it," so he said.
There is plenty on this page that can be unlocked with questions. They keys. For anyone interested, as long as this blog lives, questions will be answered. Will knows each and every post fairly well. They are all part of a much bigger picture that YOU are part of even if you've gotten this far and are wondering, "What the fuck?"
Even if no one really cares:
Thank you for your time.
(virtually unedited continuous flow... it just doesn't matter)
Hello hello
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This is Tokyo Ghetto Pussy