Old Testament and DNA

I can't remember where online I read this, but someone once posited that perhaps the biblical Ark animals weren't physical animals but rather DNA of all the life forms that needed to go to the New World!

If you read the Old Testament portion of the Bible (and I've been trying to recently), it's kind of mixed-up and nonsensical. There is NO WAY that you can take all of this stuff literally. No knock against God, but the people who wrote this were mightily addled and in no way inspired by a higher power. (That's what made me so confused as a youngster first trying to read the Bible---even at a young age, I realized how ridiculous MOST of it was.)

Back to the "DNA theory," though: Say there was an Original Society. (On Mars, on another planet?) And either the society's planet itself was about to be extinguished---or else they were just banishing a group of miscreants. (I tend to believe the latter.) The Original Society isn't totally cruel, so they send along their DNA samples, plus some of their societal precepts, to accompany the miscreants, but with the crazy instruction: "Don't seek knowledge!" (But like hell the new immigrants weren't going to seek knowledge! What the hell were the Originals thinking?)

Dream and Gift: "once wed in water, now widow's weeds"

I have not been visited by A Muse for decades. The Summer of 1985, for instance, I wrote and wrote and wrote, and thought I was the successor to Dickinson and/or Plath! But after that, there were few visitations. I kept writing poetry regularly through the late 1990s, but only infrequently afterwards. (Sandra in 2008-2009 inspired a few very good poems, but only then; there's been nothing since.)

My personal poetic claim-to-fame is that in early 1997, I sent the Poet Laureate of England Ted Hughes (who was also the widower of my favorite poet, and genius, Sylvia Plath) a batch of my poems. I'd been in a poetry program at San Francisco State that I hated in 1994-95, and I had had an actual dream in which I was sitting across from Hughes at a wooden table and handing him my poems... 

I sent him a letter decrying this tepid poetry program, and saying what an inspiration his work had been to me, and telling him of my dream, and including about 5 poems.

I got a note-card (with the famous "Court Green" inscription at top) in the mail, hand-written by Ted Hughes himself, dated 30 June 1997:

Dear Stephanie ---
Thank you for your cheering salute.
I like your poems --- a real language, real inner momentum.
All the best and take care
Ted Hughes

I have, unfortunately, not gone on to fulfill my poetic promise. But a dream I had last night reminded me of it:

I woke up to these very precise words: "once wed in water, now widow's weeds."

What will happen to these words? A Muse gave them to me. It's a beautiful line, but will I be able to do something with this gift?

 

The Ballad of Barney Fife

Mendelssohn: The Hebrides Overture, Op. 26 (1832)

Felix Mendelssohn: Song Without Words (1845)

Nick Drake: Cello Song (1969)

The cello is my favorite classical instrument, and it does appear briefly here----but...
This "died-young-Nick-Drake" cult stuff is a lot much. Here: Guitar-work = Good. Lyrics = Pretty juvenile ("told of a life where spring is sprung"). But I can see many a teenager (and modern music blogger) dreaming that someone will recognize their "pale and sincere" eyes and long to go to their "place in the cloud"!

 

In the past week, I just ordered 2 books about him, plus his final record "Pink Moon," plus a collection of his MOTHER's songs recorded at home! (The latter for psychological purposes---It's interesting to me to find out about the root of an artist, and of his perhaps-genetic mental illness, and the Drake family kept a LOT of personal recordings and letters, et al.) All of this ordering came about because someone online posted something generic about "Best Songs Ever" or something----and I'd heard of all of the songs and agreed for the most part, EXCEPT I'd never heard of their listed "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake. 

(I mean, I know and own all sorts of popular music of the last century, from the 1920s thru today, but I'd never even heard of this guy.)

 

So of course, I had to go check it out, and then discovered the whole press cult about him. I just received the first bio (by Richard Morton Jack)---so far, Drake just got admitted to Cambridge despite not having earned it. All his schoolmates and schoolmasters say he's quiet but "perhaps" has "potential." And he really likes his guitar...
 

Look, I hope to be enlightened into the cult as I go on. But as for his self up 'til age 19, he's kind of a slug. And since he died of a drug overdose at age 26, let's hope his charisma gets better between 19 and 26! 
 

His 3 albums were released in '69 (Five Leaves Left, age 21), '71 (Bryter Layter, age 23), and '72 (Pink Moon, age 24); he died of his prescription-drug overdose in November '74, after having lived with his parents since 1972, and having undergone psychiatric hospitalization and shock treatments---and having done many drugs. (From most accounts, he was a regular person with full control of his faculties until his street-drug use started, and then after his doctor-prescribed psychotropic drug use started.)

Strange face, with your eyes so pale and sincere
Underneath, you know well you have nothing to fear
For the dreams that came to you when so young
Told of a life where spring is sprung

You would seem so frail in the cold of the night
When the armies of emotion go out to fight
But while the Earth sinks to its grave
You sail to the sky on the crest of a wave

So forget this cruel world where I belong
I'll just sit and wait and sing my song
And if one day you should see me in the crowd
Lend a hand and lift me to your place in the cloud

Neither 311 nor 911 were very helpful in Austin today!

Even on my day off from my regular job, the chore of mailing off online goods does not end, so... 

I was piddling along the back-ways to my local post office around 1pm. At the first cross-section I reached, going straight south, I had the green light. The car coming from the left (east) road did not; but they ran their red light and turned left onto my street in front of me. I honked, but thought it was just a minor careless thing on their part. That car and my car continued south until the next intersection, a more major one, with much heavier traffic. It's a 2-way road, north- and south-bound. On our south-bound side, there's a dedicated right-turn lane, and then there's the main lane, where you can either go straight, or turn left. And then there's the opposite-direction lane for north-bound traffic to turn onto our street.

What the nut in front of me did when she got to the stop-light: She, heading south as I was, pulled into the opposite, north-bound lane and put her left blinker on! Thankfully, there were no cars coming right at her, and she managed to make the left turn without being hit by anyone. I was also turning left (from the lane I was supposed to be in), and saw where she was going: She made another left into a big Goodwill parking lot (while I went on to the post office).

At this last stoplight, when she maneuvered into the completely wrong lane, I started fiddling in my purse to find a pen to write down her license number, and couldn't find one! So I repeated the license number over and over in my head until I arrived safely at the post office and could call 311 to report this crazy driver. 

As it turned out, after I told the 311 operator the details, she informed me that this incident was more serious---for 911, not 311. And so I needed to call 911. I still couldn't find a pen, and asked her if she couldn't put in the call to 911 herself, since I'd just given her all the info and was about to forget the license number that I'd just given her! (Surely the Austin dispatchers can do that! Nope! It was, according to them, serious----yet the 311 person could not put this supposedly serious report on over to the 911 side. I had to hang up with 311 and then re-dial 911.)

OK, so I dialed 911. "What is your emergency? What is your location?" 
"I'm at the post office on [location], but it's not my personal emergency. 311 just told me to call you about a crazy driver that I just witnessed."
"What is your location?"
I gave the post office location, but stressed again that I did not need any help at that location. But rather, I'd just seen someone driving crazily.
"What is your call-back number?"
I gave my phone number, but "I really don't need a call-back! I'M not in trouble---I just saw a really reckless driver."
"Where did you witness this?" 
"Can I first give you the license number of the car? I don't have a pen, and I'm about to forget it."
"No, we first need the location."
"It's on Anderson; the car pulled into the Goodwill lot."
"What is the exact location?"
"I don't know the exact address. It's on Anderson, in the Goodwill parking lot." [I KNOW the Police Dept can look this up on GPS!]
"We need an exact address, ma'am."
"You would think that you needed the license number of the car! I'm about to forget it, I don't have a pen---can I just give it to you now? It's [I finally got to give the 7 digits that I'd memorized]."
"You would think, yes. But we need an exact address."
"I don't KNOW the exact address! On Anderson, and they turned into the Goodwill parking lot just a few minutes ago."
"What is the intersection?"
OK---I had THAT! Gawd. The End. Finally, I got to hang up.

GOOD LORD, what an utter hassle! Had the person just run a red light and cut in front of me, I never would have called any police help, because that happens sometimes. But once they later swerved over into the wrong lane to make a left turn, it was clear that there was something wrong with them. Either utterly impaired or utterly incapable of driving (too young? too old? illegal?). And instead of helping, the police dispatchers gave me the runaround. And I highly doubt that they dispatched anyone to said parking lot to find out what the driver's problem was. Had I been feeling my oats, maybe I should have followed the driver into the parking lot and confronted her myself and shot some photos of the car, etc.? Ridiculous.

Kinda reminds me of the last time I actually needed Austin police help---back in, I think, 1997 or so, when a random driver rammed his car into the wall of my duplex and then ran off on foot. I immediately called the police, but they didn't show up for over 4 hours. After someone had just driven his car into my wall---and then left the car right there!

CHRISTMAS IN JAIL: THE YOUNGSTERS (1956)

Brenda Lee: Hound Dog (1956 on TV: "The Junior Ozark Jubilee"; about a month after Elvis's version appeared)

Brenda Lee: Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree (2023 Official Music Video)

And she's 82 in this video!

Brenda Lee: Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree (1958)

She was only 13 when this was released!

Rob Reiner: “I Am Your Child” and Why the First 3 Years Matter (1997)

Says Reiner in the interview: 

"You will not find one single person in jail for a violent crime who had a great childhood."
(Reiner was referring to "poor kids"---not his own son. He spoke so assuredly about everyone else.)

Early Childhood Development: What Rob Reiner Thought He Knew

The December 14 murder of actor/director/social activist Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle by their drug-addled son Nick was/is horrifying and nightmarish.

I watched several specials about Reiner over the weekend: On CBS and ABC, mainly covering his directing career. But then CNN ran an hour-long 1997 interview with Larry King, in which Reiner was promoting his "I Am Your Child" documentary, hosted by Tom Hanks. 

A familyfrontier.com summary (including a list of guest celebs). And an AI summary:

Overview of "I Am Your Child"
"I Am Your Child" is a television documentary that aired in 1997. It blends documentary and staged segments to explore the critical impact of community-supported parenting on infants during their first three years. The film emphasizes how small acts of love can profoundly shape a child's development.

Rob Reiner's Role
Rob Reiner, a well-known filmmaker and actor, was a key figure behind this initiative. He co-founded the "I Am Your Child" campaign to raise awareness about early childhood development. The campaign aimed to highlight the importance of nurturing environments for young children and the long-term effects of neglect.

Impact and Legacy
Reiner's advocacy extended beyond the documentary. He played a significant role in California's early childhood education policies, including the passage of Proposition 10 in 1998, which funded health and education services for children from birth to five years old. His efforts have left a lasting legacy in the field of child advocacy and education.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of the above sounds fine and dandy: Who would NOT be against helping little kids in their early development? Except that, as Reiner's own demise proved, all the money in the world (either your own or the government's) will not help prevent a child from turning into a useless, or perhaps even murderous, drug addict. 

The above "I Am Your Child" doc is a prime example of liberal Reiner's failure to comprehend complicated reality. In his mind, if you tax cigarettes to pay for early-child-care, then all children will turn out just fine! (Various other political campaigns of Reiner were similarly simplistic: Hillary = Saint; Trump = Satan.)

Similarly, sadly, I suppose that he thought making "Being Charlie" in 2015 as a favor to his druggie son Nick (who co-wrote the screenplay) was his way of making amends for something? He hadn't paid enough attention to Nick as a kid up until the age of three, according to the "I Am Your Child" precepts?

I certainly don't blame Rob Reiner for his own murder by his psychotic son. However, I DO blame Reiner for being so quick in past decades to publicly and aggressively promote extremely simplistic solutions (like throwing government money at them) to various complicated problems. Nick Reiner, I'm sure, had quite a cushy life up until age 3 and beyond. So what happened then?

There's an old trope: "A Conservative is a Liberal who's been mugged." To that, I might add, a bit glibly: "A Conservative is a Liberal who's been murdered."

Phew! Relaxing for the first time in 3 weeks!

For the past 3 weeks, my online sales for Christmas sky-rocketed---I was literally spending 4 hours a day packing up stuff, and then when I'd go to the post office with 20 or so packages, I'd still have 35 orders to do for the next day, and the next day. It was fun and exciting---this was the 3rd year I'd had my shop open, but I'd certainly never seen anything like this before! (First Christmas: Nothing. Second Christmas: Nothing special, just the usual maybe 5 sales per week. This Christmas: INSANE! Revenue for the past month = Over $3,000. (Can't wait for tax-time! Ugh. This year, I'm going to have to go to professionals to do my taxes for me.)

Anyway, now that it's the week of Christmas, it's all calmed down. Anyone buying this week does not expect it to arrive by Christmas! (Unlike last week, when I got a few frantic messages: "I need it right away!"----even when I'd just returned from the post office for the day. I never went back to the post office TWO TIMES in one day, but for the past 3 weeks, I DID go to the post office 4-5 days per week to get all of the stuff out as quickly as possible.

For someone completely inexperienced in handling any of this, I think I did a pretty good job. For the most part, I had most of my popular items fully stocked. And I also correctly anticipated the mailing supplies and ink cartridges I'd be needing, so there was no panic there. I might have lost out on maybe $100 because supplies ran out---but that was because my wholesaler sent me the completely wrong item one time, and I had to re-order (and thus wait another couple of weeks for the stuff to arrive).

All of this selling stuff aside, I'd also been unpleased with how my apartment has been looking recently---primarily all of my Joan Crawford books/ephemera crammed onto a 3-shelf bookshelf and looking crowded and ugly and dusty. A week or so ago, I ordered a new black 5-shelf case so I could have a project over the upcoming Christmas holiday. Today, I was so energized by NOT having a million things to pack up to mail, that I dived (dove?) right into my Joan shelf-building and reorganization! Here she is (with my Mini in the kitchen background)!

 

 

 

 

Who feels the need to act like this?

My Air Force father requested to be stationed in the Philippines around 1975, when I was about 10 years old. (I must say, I enjoyed the calm time around the home in Texas while he was gone.) 
The parents had been having problems for years. Earlier, in 1973, he'd requested to be stationed in Georgia just because the marriage was so bad; after a couple of months, my mom weakened and dragged us kids there to join him. So I was taken out of my regular school for just this one year, then back to Texas.

Decades later, after I was long into my 40s, my mother revealed to me that my father had said re their marriage relations, upon coming home from the Philippines: "I got all of my meanness out on the whores. I'm better now." (This was supposed to be a hopeful declaration for the future!)

Those poor, desperate women in the Philippines, having to have sex with American servicemen for money. And here's a blond one with a pleasant, smiling face---maybe this time won't be so bad! God knows what poor women he smashed in the face or raped or whipped.

My father also once mentioned casually in writing that he was often mean to our longtime pet dachshund Fritz whenever the rest of us were away. As a kid, I noticed that Fritz would always growl whenever my father was around. After my younger brother's birth in 1971, Fritz---once an inside dog---was relegated to the backyard. So hopefully, he didn't have to encounter my father too often.

Who feels the need to act like this? Who abuses prostitutes and animals---except psychopaths? (My father was mean to both my mother and myself, but of course not on the level that I'm sure he subjected the women in the Philippines or my dog to.)

p.s. Funnily/Sadly, my father was voted "Friendliest" in his high-school senior yearbook.

I'll Fly Away (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Andy Griffith: Turn Your Radio On (The Carol Burnett Show, 1972)

I just posted this same video a few weeks ago, but I was in such an ANDY MOOD
tonight, that I had to do it again. 

 

[As I posted weeks ago: Andy has the patience of a saint in the face of the clueless effetes
who choreographed and performed this number! Though, in their defense: 

Being a weekly show on a tight schedule, they had little time to think up something 

better. Plus, I don't think they had any idea of what an old-school revival really was.]
Aside from my criticisms of the weirdo "Russian peasant" dancers: 

This is an interesting song to me, RE the concept of "being a receiver" for God's vibes.

Away in a Manger: The Andy Griffith Show (1960)

Somebody Bigger Than You and I (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Andy was classically trained; he's using his "Big Voice" here. 

Lead Me To That Rock (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Billy Sherrill produced this album---the same producer of George Jones in 
this exact same time period!

Brown University Shooting

Watching news now, with suspect "Claudio Neves Valente" found dead in New Hampshire.

So many incompetent spokespeople for Brown over the past few days---the full panoply of DEI:
Brown President Christina Paxson (research specialty: consequences of Hurricane Katrina on "vulnerable populations")---Doesn't know what's going on.
Brown Police Chief Rodney Chatman---Doesn't know what's going on. 
Providence, RI, Police Chief Oscar Perez---Doesn't know what's going on, breaks out in Spanish when he gets especially confused.

------------------------------------------

Since I wrote the above, Brown Police Chief Rodney Chatman has been fired.

"Andy Griffith Show" episodes in last 3 seasons

The show ran for 8 seasons total (1960 thru 1968), the first 5 with Don Knotts and in black-and white; the last 3 sans Knotts (except for 5 guest appearances) and in color. I've visited online chat sites about the show, and, of course, everyone likes the first 5 seasons a lot more than the last 3! As a newcomer to fandom of the show, I thought everyone was being either overly dramatic or overly nostalgic for Knotts. But----Since I got YouTubeTV last summer and, by saving ONE show to DVR automatically then saved ALL the shows for all 8 seasons... So, instead of just watching them randomly on "TVLand" when I got off work each afternoon, I started watching in order from the very beginning. 

I'm now up to nearly the end of Season 8, the last season. The last 3 seasons ARE really sub-par. I blame the writers for this. Griffith is still handsome and folksily charming. And the show maintained its top ratings up until the very end. And I always found Don Knotts to be annoying neurotic, so it wasn't that I was missing "Deputy Barney Fife" so much at first... BUT: What the Fife character brought to the show was someone for Andy to talk to and reminisce with. They were cousins, they'd gone to high school together, they had over 20 years of history together in the town. Barney was often pretentious and silly, but there were two main things that the character allowed for the show: (1) The comedic, but sometimes poignant, personal reminiscences and interactions; and (2) The comedic sheriff's-office daily routines: The locals breaking the law (including town-drunk Otis); the occasional "desperadoes" who made their way to Mayberry.

Once Knotts/Barney Fife left, there was no one for Sheriff Taylor to interact with in the Sheriff's office, and so the show's focus shifted to home life----lots more of Aint Bee and Helen and Opie/Arnold: Did we really need to see Aint Bee/Clara in Mexico? Or Opie/Arnold and the baby? And then lots more of Goober and Howard: Did we really need to see Howard leaving Mayberry for the Caribbean? All of these side characters were just fine in small doses, but NOT as the main focus of any episode. (And if I have to listen to Aint Bee's shrieky/warbly voice again, I will SCREAM! In the early episodes, she actually did not always speak in this annoying fashion.)

There are a few good moments in the last 3 seasons: I thought Andy/Helen dancing wildly at Opie's school party was cute. I thought Aint Bee putting on eyelashes and acting "wild" to put off a suitor was cute. And I really thought it was funny when the elderly Clara initially went to lecture Opie's new rock band about "priorities in life" and then we later see Clara jamming with them! But overall, though, the latter 3 seasons... they're a DRAG, man! (As Clara would say.)

George Jones: You Can't Get the Hell Out of Texas (1981)

It's true! Just try to drive across it---it never ends! :)
And if you're born here (me, George, and Joan Crawford)---same thing! :)

George Jones: The Cold Hard Truth (1999)

George Jones: The Lone Ranger (1996)

As a feminist with good taste in music, here's what I'd rather listen to from 1996 

instead of Bikini Kill or Sleater-Kinney:

The Heart Throbs: Dreamtime (1990)

The Heart Throbs: Blood From A Stone (1990)

The Heart Throbs: Kiss Me When I'm Starving (1990)

The Heart Throbs: I Wonder Why (1990)

"If heaven can wait, why then can't I?" Indeed!

"The Punk Singer" (2013), and then trying my best to listen to Sleater-Kinney

I've had Sleater-Kinney's "Dig Me Out" (1997) and "The Woods" (2005), allegedly their best, cranked up for hours now, and I'm just utterly irritated, not at all inspired. I just can't, and can't stand, any more. Most of the songs aren't that good.

I was of Riot-Grrrrl age in the mid-1990s and knew of Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney. Didn't at all get into them then. In the early/mid-'90s, I liked Belly and The Heart-Throbs a lot---much better lyrics and much more tuneful and soulful. 

More to come later on "The Punk Singer," which I just watched on Criterion last night RE Kathleen Hanna of "Bikini Kill" and the supposed "mystery": Why did she disappear after 2005?? OMG! 
I'll go ahead and give the big reveal: She got Lyme Disease!
Didn't some "Housewives of Beverly Hills" get this at the same time? Wasn't "Lyme Disease" the "disease du jour" for just about every rich lady during this same time period? (No men, mind you---I never heard of one man going public with his "Lyme Disease." Not even a gay man! Why is this?)
Like I said, I'm not going to go into the specificities of "The Punk Singer" right now, but... Kathleen Hanna complains often about people not believing her---and thus not believing WOMEN as a whole. Sigh. There are women you believe, and there are men you believe. Neurotics of either gender, you tend not to believe. 
Though---wait, wait: "A broken clock is still right twice a day."

AKA Mildred Pierce, Businesswoman: Part Two

OK, this isn't quite the same as making money from selling stuff online (see my post of a few days ago), but I was still proud of myself Thursday for showing another bit of business smarts:

On Wednesday, my elderly car died while pulling out of the post office after delivering another massive batch of online sales. ("Phew!" I thought to myself. "At least I got these out before I don't have a car any more!" And the tow-truck came within 45 mins, and I got to ride in a tow-truck for the first time on the way to the garage. It was hard to climb up in, and hard to get down out of! But all of that part of the solution was relatively OK, and even semi-interesting.)

The next day, the garage (which I've been going to for the past 5 or 6 years, so I have a record with them) called and told me that it was my fuel pump, and that the pump and labor would be over $2200! Labor itself being about $600. I said OK, take care of it. 

But then started doing some research online: I have an old Mazda 2, and both AutoZone (which is right down the street from this shop) and the local Mazda dealership listed Mazda 2 fuel pumps as ranging from $580 used to $780 new. I searched the price at about 8 or 9 different places, came up with the same thing. And then called my garage back with my findings: "I have the AutoZone page open right now---a new Delphi fuel pump is only $780. Do you want me to take a bus there and buy the pump and bring it over to your shop?" The guy that I'd been dealing with said, "No, no, let me do some more research and get back to you." He called me back 10 mins later, and---lo and behold!---he didn't know why the initial parts store he'd looked at had been so expensive! He was going to send a man to the AutoZone down the street to pick up the fuel pump and have my repair done by that afternoon. For only $1200. Not the original $2200. 

So, ladies (and gents): DO YOUR ONLINE RESEARCH! Your car shop is assuming that you don't know a thing about how much parts cost---but since you have dozens of sources available at your fingertips to check, then check them and come up with an average price to report to the garage.

If all else fails, leave a bad Yelp review! I've done this twice before years ago, after learning after-the-fact that I'd paid far more than the average cost of a particular part----both times, the manager of the car shop contacted me after reading the review and offered me a partial refund if I would revise my public review. Hey, if it saved me $500 or more, then no problem!

Shaun Cassidy: Take Good Care Of My Baby (1977)

I didn't appreciate this at all when I was 12, but:
Cassidy really enunciates well, and he has a very supple and attractive voice!
I mean, I thought he sounded sexy when I was 12, but listening now: 
He's actually a very good singer!

Shaun Cassidy: Morning Girl (1977)

Morning girl
Where you been so long?
Your lips have got some color now
A little too much color now
Your clothes have gone from nylon
To lace somehow

Morning girl
My, you've been around
I see you haven't found your man
The diamond's on the other hand
Well, a man is hard to find
In all this land

Oh, don't let too many fears
Wash away your dreams
Just tell yourself that nothing matters
But be prepared

'Cause someday, girl
You'll forget my name
And all I've ever said to you
And all I've ever meant to you
And now you're getting up
And I've got things to do
Morning girl

Shaun Cassidy: That's Rock 'N' Roll (1977) + My First (and only) Groupie Experience

Shaun Cassidy was my second musical love, after the Bay City Rollers.

 

And the BCR would have been my first concert, except they didn't sell enough tickets at the Tarrant County Convention Center in Fort Worth, so they had to cancel the show (after my mom had already bought tickets for me).

Shaun Cassidy DID sell enough a few months later----and HE was my very first concert, in 8th grade. My MOM took me and my best friend, Debbie! (Opening band was "Virgin.") Most people's "first concert" stories don't include their mother! 

My second concert, later in 8th grade, also at the TCCC, also involves a mother: This time, Debbie's mom took both of us to see Journey---a bit cooler than Shaun Cassidy! (Opening band, "The Babys.")

 

It wasn't until I was a freshman in high school that I finally got to attend a concert with a friend sans any Mom accompanying us---The Knack! I can't remember now why Debbie couldn't go (were we fighting?), but I went with a very casual friend, Kim. Her mother dropped us off and picked us up after---at SMU's small McFarlin Auditorium in Dallas. (Kim lived in Azle, like I did, which is about an hour's drive away from Dallas; what did her poor mom do in the meantime?)

 
I initially had on a glittery tube-top that Kim had lent me---and my mom said that I was NOT leaving the house wearing that. So, duh, I put a glittery pink shirt on over it and buttoned it up---then promptly took the outer shirt off later! 

 

And this concert was where I got to act like a little groupie (the kind that Debbie and I had been avidly reading about in "Creem" for the past 2 years): I came on shamelessly to a college-student usher/ticket-taker at McFarlin and let him grab my butt a few times...And he actually got me and Kim backstage passes!!! (My god---the thrill of my young pre-sexual life! I was never to repeat this triumph!) Backstage, lead singer Doug Fieger was there with THE Sharona, and I posed for a pic with them. But, with bassist Prescott Niles and guitarist Berton Averre, I overtly asked them if I could kiss them! And both of them gave me a polite "minor" bit of tongue! I got pictures with them also, and a pic with drummer Bruce Gary (but no kiss). And all of them, including Sharona, signed the program that I'd bought. I still have the program, and the Polaroids, somewhere back in the depths of my closet---should've dug them out for this post, but too lazy! :)  

 

The next Monday at school, Kim and I both wore our jeans with The Knack backstage passes still plastered on the thigh. Debbie and I must have been feuding at the time, because I remember parading it around her without actually talking to her about the excitement. SHE had never gotten a backstage pass, heh-heh-heh, is what I remember feeling. And what's also strange is that Kim and I never went on to become real friends. We had this one brief intense experience together, but we never really hung out afterwards; and we'd never actually spent much time together before the concert, either. Weird. I remember that she was very nice/calm, and had bleached-blonde straightened hair. And later went on to date a school football player---the less-talented younger brother of a star school football player. (I would later see her sitting in the school mall on a daily basis with her hand on his thigh.) But I can't remember a single conversation I ever had with her, or why she and I ended up going to a concert together!

To this day, I still think that about 33% of Cassidy's songs are good

 (including all posted here!), and that about 90% of the Bay City Rollers' songs are good!

Shaun Cassidy: Right Before Your Skies (from "Under Wraps," 1978)

[written by Shaun Cassidy]

Places please
The lights go down
A brand new town
And we all look the worse for wear
Hiding on the stairs
Holding onto all we know
Surrounded by the protocol
I hear the place was packed last night
But last night's group played basketball

And suddenly
We're so far away
From yesterday
And tomorrow we'll be far from here
We just disappear
Living in disguise
Remember how it used to be
Right before your skies

Holy Crap! I feel like Mildred Pierce!

About 2 years ago, I opened up a shop online to sell crystals and things. For the first 6 months or so, nothing much. Maybe one sale a week. It was a hobby, so I wasn't anxious about any sales.
From then until last summer, it picked up a little bit: Maybe 10  sales a week, to where I was making about $350 a month, which was nice pocket money. 

But after this summer, it went nuts! About $1000 per month from summer thru October, and then $2000 in November, and then $1200 in the first week of December alone! I'm sure most of this November/December is Christmas shopping, and things'll taper off again----but it sure is exciting! And also mildly stressful! (Only "mildly" because I'm making money! It's not like some annoying person in my life is stressing me out!) In this money-making case, I'm mildly stressed because I have to constantly be aware of my stock, and what's selling and what's not, as well as constantly being on the lookout for wholesale items that I can buy cheap in bulk---but they may be triple in price the very next week if I don't catch them in time. Plus what size boxes/envelopes I have to re-order per the stock selling, and the ink (for printing shipping labels) and tape, and all that sort of thing.

It's very interesting to me! A whole new world! Seriously---I was an English major, interested primarily in lit'rature, movies, music, and pop culture for DECADES. And then I figured out: The business world moves on subterranean intuition and currents, as well: "Buy low and sell high"! :) BUT you also have to be logical about your stock; you might initially "feel" that something might sell, but if you discover it does not, then mark it down or re-combine it into some sort of bargain mix, then move on (and don't order it again).

At any rate, I do NOT expect this $2000-per-month side-hustle to last outside of this holiday season. However, the experience of learning over the past couple of years which items sell and which don't has been informative---I've had piles of stuff sitting around my spare bedroom for a while now, and in the past few months, those piles have been WAY whittled down with all the sales, thank goodness! (And now I know what to never order in bulk again!)

It's kind of exhilarating! Making a sale actually feels to me like getting a poem accepted in a small magazine did in the '90s! Nowadays, only minority poets are considered "worthy" of publications and awards. Look at the most-recent Yaddo photo (hardly a male in sight, hardly a white person in sight) and compare this lot to past years, and to past accomplishments of its residents, like Bernstein, Bishop, Capote, Carver, Hughes (Ted and Langston), Lowell, Plath, Welty. Social-engineering sickness has taken over merit.

Sales can, of course, also be influenced by social trends; but, ultimately, either you like a product or you don't. And if you don't, you don't keep buying it. There's no government funding forcing you to buy it.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Music Box

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Chu-Chi Face

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Toot Sweets

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Me Ol’ Bam-boo

This is insanely hard to do! Wow! What talent the choreographers and dancers had!

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Theme Song (1968)

Ronnie Howard Sings ("The Music Man," 1962)

How cute is this?!
I used to think that I hated all musicals. 

BUT: "The Music Man" and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" are GREAT! :

Andy & Opie sing the Crawdad Song

I miss sleeping with fresh air.

I live on the ground floor of an apartment complex. 
And so I can't ever leave my windows open at night to get any fresh air in.
Thank you, Manson Followers and Bundy! (Seriously, every time I think about leaving my bedroom window open, I have to recall: Even when you're very rich and live in the hills of Los Angeles---there can always be some random creep who comes in through your open window to murder you.)

Robyn Hitchcock: Somewhere Apart (1986)

From 1986 to 1988, I loved Robyn Hitchcock (his "Element of Light" and 

"Globe of Frogs" albums), and listened to him constantly.

One line has always echoed in my mind---back then, and for the past 40-odd years: 
"I'll never ever be a dancer."
Even back at 21, when there wasn't actually anything that I had NOT been yet.
But I knew the future regret, the future impossibilities, in that one line.

A similar jolt of recognition about life occurred after seeing a re-run
of the 1960 "Twilight Zone" episode "The After Hours" back in 2010 or so---
"That's EXACTLY what life is!"
And it's not depressing (to me, at least)---it's actually INTERESTING 

to find glimpses of profound truth revealed even via such odd conduits.

Somewhere apart
Somewhere you must be dreamin'
Somewhere the world is screaming
Somewhere apart
A space between is not a final answer
I'll never ever be a dancer
So get me fish eggs and a violin

I'm gonna burn your bongos tonight
And let Graham have a chance
'Cause no one ever lets him dance
And all them see-through things are crawling
From the sea

Somewhere apart
A whistle summons up the lava
We must be somewhere East of Java
"O shed your bags, here comes a mule!"

The phantoms of the dispossessed
Wander through the wilderness
Crying out in mortal stress
Never ever come to rest
Somewhere apart
You know they're always
Somewhere apart

Somewhere apart
With flowers and a Geiger counter stumblin'
And for his distant keys he's fumblin'
Mule-headed man
Somewhere apart

George Jones: I Just Got Tired Of Being Poor (c. 1966)

My life with trouble goes back to the candy
That I stole from Jessie Walker's country store
A penny separated me from choosing sides with honesty
And I just got tired of being poor

Some folks eat their supper off of silver
And the only world they'll ever know is wealth
But I can't blame the rich folks for these big tall walls
This prison is the doings of myself

Freedom ran away from me at twenty-three
I broke the lock on one too many doors
My hungry hands would not behave
When they got close to things they crave
I just got tired of being poor

 
I remember Willie Jackson laughed at me
And the talking about the ragged clothes I wore
That's when Willie got a taste of all my knuckles in his face
I just got tired of being poor

Some folks eat their supper off of silver
And the only world they'll ever know is wealth
But I can't blame the rich folks for these big tall walls
This prison is the doings of myself

Freedom ran away from me at twenty-three
I broke the lock on one too many doors
My hungry hands would not behave
When they got close to things they crave
I just got tired of being poor
I just got tired of being poor...

Tammy Wynette: You Can Be Replaced (1976)

Somebody new is loving you
And you're gonna go with her I know
But there'll be no tears running down my face
Go on with her---you can be replaced

Take back your ring and everything
Let's both forget we even met
There is no love time can't erase
The minute you're gone, you can be replaced

You can be replaced by loneliness
By sleepless nights and all the rest
I'll miss you so but none-the-less
You can be replaced by loneliness
You can be replaced by loneliness

Tammy Wynette: It's a Matter of Time (1970)

Someday, some way, you'll realize that you've been blind
Yes, darling, you're going to need me again
It's just a matter of time

Go on, go on, until you reach the end of the line
But I know you'll pass my way again
It's just a matter of time

After I gave you everything I had
You laughed and called me a clown
Remember, in your search for fortune and fame
What goes up must come down

I know, I know that one day you'll wake up and find
That my love was a true love
It's just a matter of time

Tammy Wynette: Crying Steel Guitar (1974)

I'm not surprised to find you here in this old dim-lit world
I'll bet you've helped a thousand poor broken-hearted girls
You sound so sad, you must have had your share of misery
But you're just a crying steel guitar so cry again for me

Cause while you're crying, his mem'ry's dying
There's a special kind of sigh in the lonely way you cry
You express my feelings and my tears no one will see
So let your cold blue lonely strings cry once again for me

I'll be here at this table again tomorrow night
Each time that I'm close to you I know I'll be all right
I loved him more than anything but it's over I can see
If you don't mind please steel guitar cry once again for me

Cause while you're crying...

In the Afterlife...

Many people have fantasies about meeting up with family members and/or past loves when they die. At age 60, I've finally figured out: I have no desire to be with any of these people! My family (aside from Ma-Maw in the 1970s and Uncle Monte in the 2020s) has been pretty negligible when it comes to being kind to me. And my two supposed "great loves"?? Ha! I loved them, but they didn't love me. 

And so I tell myself: Live on for your own intellectual interests. Read, listen to music, watch old movies, pursue your hobbies. All of these things are very interesting and a way to be a part of the world that you live in, both past and present. And they will sustain you until the end. Most PEOPLE will not.