Category Archives: Space Dust

Just Another Day’s Work

lee_broom

Hello. Assuming that you, like most of the world is up and at it before I, you are by now, probably reading this post over coffee and toast, and I am slowly becoming aware that my Nietzsche-esque dream has no ending. My thoughts are about how to greet the day and how this process may fuel my thoughts for the duration.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while (one day or more) you have read my thoughts on How vs. What, on Truth vs. Proof, Process vs. Prejudice, Love vs. Need. These are the basic ideas that occupy my mind when the morning sounds begin to attract my attention; the quail snooping around the patio outside the bedroom door for the crumbs that may have dropped from last nights muffin, the peacock from my neighbor’s yard or the classical music station which has been on for several minutes. When I first awoke it was to recorded jungle sounds, a greeting from Eden to start the day.

Upsy daisy, feet on the floor, take the blood pressure, record the results, grab the meds on the nightstand, gulp them down with the apple juice sitting on the bedside table. Jeans and tee-shirt. Clip the nose hairs and nails  and off to the corner drugstore for the morning paper. I go to CVS because they don’t charge sales tax on the daily news. I also go for the morning socialization. Everyone there knows me as Lee the Writer and that I will be back in four hours for a look at the sale items of the day before I place my Nike clad feet on the Arizona Canal for their daily run.

I get that paper for any number of reasons, none of which is to learn what’s new, though on rare occasions I do get a surprise. I buy the paper for two purposes; it is small and by virtue of its condensed size, the perfect format for affirming and reminding one of the bits and pieces of news gathered on the internet the night before.  And…….it has crossword puzzles.

Preparing for Breakfast and doing the daily puzzle are a combined activity. In between word/definition matches I reach for my bowl of freshly cooked oatmeal prepared with walnuts, honey and fruit and then back to the job at hand. All perfectly natural, don’tcha think?

Crossword puzzles are created for a variety of reasons. I am attracted only to the United Feature Syndicate crossword; reason being it is less a crossword than a daily set of clues about what’s happening in the world, what we should be paying attention to, who wants to be noticed and keywords for Googling one’s way though the day.  After spending thirty minutes seeking linguistic and ideological solutions I now know that “dour” does not rhyme with “sour” and that someone wants us to know that words like Emir and Iran and Nuclear require our attention. Oreo is still competing with Hydrox. We’ve been given a small lesson in the important languages of the day and “gnat” and “natty” are still a part of everyday vocabulary. A hundred twenty or so words are now vying for my attention to become tags in today’s work. And having completed four hours of writing there will be two hours of exercise, one hour at the dinner table, I will dress for evening coffee with other writers and conversationalists and rather than slip into grubby jeans and black tee-shirt, I polish a pair of black Cole Hahns, slide into a natty black velvet sport coat, grab a couple of Oreos on my way out the door and think about the TED talk  that I watched today. And dinner with my pals is not complicated by my natural introverted manner for I have keywords and I can pose as an extrovert for the evening. (What will I think of myself in the morning?) Even worse; I’m booked for an extrovert party on Sunday. This particular event is being billed as a Superbowl potluck. Tags, tags, tags, I need tags.

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Soylent Green and the Tattooed Man

STUBBORN DONKEY

 

With the onset of vulgarity we said goodbye to subtlety and with it curiosity, the most fundamental intellectual component of human existence. Ozzie and Harriet were replaced by the Simpsons and the tattooed man on the midway gave way to Grandma with her permanently shaded eyelids and four year old great granddaughters with pierced ears and navels. When I was very young my mother sometimes covered my eyes when we went to the movies. The next day I’d ask my friends what I missed. It was usually either a nearly naked Betty Grable or a Nazi death camp.

The search for role models by American Youth now produces heroes with prison records and rappers whose vocabularies seem to favor four letter words and an alphabet that frequently gets stuck on the seventh letter. American slang is reflective of prison and street society. That segment of the population which receives free food, free rent and now free cell phones is not shrinking; it is growing at a rate much greater than that of the overall population and as the snowball effect becomes more visible the resulting influence of the values of the indolent victimizes middle class American youth and by the doing, all of American Society.

In a few years the current rate of moral and ethical regression may have our country on its knees.

(Dang, my monthly supply of Soylent Green* is nearly out. These crackers are made from people, you know. Oh well.)

Perhaps we’ll come back in future centuries as something better. Our DNA will be much improved. We will have a respectable quota of aborted fetuses, providing us with the genetic assistance for morphing into something so much better. Our bodies will be muscular and long limbed, those limbs and organs replacing and healing themselves, often without medical assistance. And Soylent Green will have come and gone. Sunday will become once again a day of rest for that is when we will eat and sleep. On Saturday night we will play. We will treat our no longer aging bodies to sexual romps with friends and family. On Sunday morning we will plug in to a machine at our bedside which will keep us asleep and well fed until Monday morning. We will acquire all the rest and nutrients necessary for the rest of the week. And with raging hormones we will then continue on our competitive path, no longer content with Football or Hockey. Large carnivorous beasts will have long since been released back into society at large. They will hunt us and we will hunt them. Ahhh. Progress.

*Soylent Green is a 1973 American science fiction film directed by Richard Fleischer and starring Charlton Heston, and in his final film, Edward G. Robinson.

http://www.htcaz.com/aftercare/

 

Just Another Day’s Work

lee_broom

Hello. Assuming that you, like most of the world is up and at it before I, you are by now, probably reading this post over coffee and toast, and I am slowly becoming aware that my Nietzsche-esque dream has no ending. My thoughts are about how to greet the day and how this process may fuel my thoughts for the duration.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while (one day or more) you have read my thoughts on How vs. What, on Truth vs. Proof, Process vs. Prejudice, Love vs. Need. These are the basic ideas that occupy my mind when the morning sounds begin to attract my attention; the quail snooping around the patio outside the bedroom door for the crumbs that may have dropped from last nights muffin, the peacock from my neighbor’s yard or the classical music station which has been on for several minutes. When I first awoke it was to recorded jungle sounds, a greeting from Eden to start the day.

Upsy daisy, feet on the floor, take the blood pressure, record the results, grab the meds on the nightstand, gulp them down with the apple juice sitting on the bedside table. Jeans and tee-shirt. Clip the nose hairs and nails  and off to the corner drugstore for the morning paper. I go to CVS because they don’t charge sales tax on the daily news. I also go for the morning socialization. Everyone there knows me as Lee the Writer and that I will be back in four hours for a look at the sale items of the day before I place my Nike clad feet on the Arizona Canal for their daily run.

I get that paper for any number of reasons, none of which is to learn what’s new, though on rare occasions I do get a surprise. I buy the paper for two purposes; it is small and by virtue of its condensed size, the perfect format for affirming and reminding one of the bits and pieces of news gathered on the internet the night before.  And…….it has crossword puzzles.

Preparing for Breakfast and doing the daily puzzle are a combined activity. In between word/definition matches I reach for my bowl of freshly cooked oatmeal prepared with walnuts, honey and fruit and then back to the job at hand. All perfectly natural, don’tcha think?

Crossword puzzles are created for a variety of reasons. I am attracted only to the United Feature Syndicate crossword; reason being it is less a crossword than a daily set of clues about what’s happening in the world, what we should be paying attention to, who wants to be noticed and keywords for Googling one’s way though the day.  After spending thirty minutes seeking linguistic and ideological solutions I now know that “dour” does not rhyme with “sour” and that someone wants us to know that words like Emir and Iran and Nuclear require our attention. Oreo is still competing with Hydrox. We’ve been given a small lesson in the important languages of the day and “gnat” and “natty” are still a part of everyday vocabulary. A hundred twenty or so words are now vying for my attention to become tags in today’s work. And having completed four hours of writing there will be two hours of exercise, one hour at the dinner table, I will dress for evening coffee with other writers and conversationalists and rather than slip into grubby jeans and black tee-shirt, I polish a pair of black Cole Hahns, slide into a natty black velvet sport coat, grab a couple of Oreos on my way out the door and think about the TED talk  that I watched today. And dinner with my pals is not complicated by my natural introverted manner for I have keywords and I can pose as an extrovert for the evening. (What will I think of myself in the morning?) Even worse; I’m booked for an extrovert party on Sunday. This particular event is being billed as a Superbowl potluck. Tags, tags, tags, I need tags.

Soylent Green and the Tattooed Man

lafayette compound 012

With the onset of vulgarity we said goodbye to subtlety and with it curiosity, the most fundamental intellectual component of human existence. Ozzie and Harriet were replaced by the Simpsons and the tattooed man on the midway gave way to Grandma with her permanently shaded eyelids and four year old great granddaughters with pierced ears and navels. When I was very young my mother sometimes covered my eyes when we went to the movies. The next day I’d ask my friends what I missed. It was usually either a nearly naked Betty Grable or a Nazi death camp.

The search for role models by American Youth now produces heroes with prison records and rappers whose vocabularies seem to favor four letter words and an alphabet that frequently gets stuck on the seventh letter. American slang is reflective of prison and street society. That segment of the population which receives free food, free rent and now free cell phones is not shrinking; it is growing at a rate much greater than that of the overall population and as the snowball effect becomes more visible the resulting influence of the values of the indolent victimizes middle class American youth and by the doing, all of American Society.

In a few years the current rate of moral and ethical regression may have our country on its knees.

(Dang, my monthly supply of Soylent Green* is nearly out. These crackers are made from people, you know. Oh well.)

Perhaps we’ll come back in future centuries as something better. Our DNA will be much improved. We will have a respectable quota of aborted fetuses, providing us with the genetic assistance for morphing into something so much better. Our bodies will be muscular and long limbed, those limbs and organs replacing and healing themselves, often without medical assistance. And Soylent Green will have come and gone. Sunday will become once again a day of rest for that is when we will eat and sleep. On Saturday night we will play. We will treat our no longer aging bodies to sexual romps with friends and family. On Sunday morning we will plug in to a machine at our bedside which will keep us asleep and well fed until Monday morning. We will acquire all the rest and nutrients necessary for the rest of the week. And with raging hormones we will then continue on our competitive path, no longer content with Football or Hockey. Large carnivorous beasts will have long since been released back into society at large. They will hunt us and we will hunt them. Ahhh. Progress.

*Soylent Green is a 1973 American science fiction film directed by Richard Fleischer and starring Charlton Heston, and in his final film, Edward G. Robinson.

A Warm Summer Sunday

012

I sat there on the grass that warm, summer Sunday, sat there on my assocks (that was during the time of my life when perhaps that most important thing for any young man was to have assocks upon which to sit when tramping through the woods and after coming to a clearing, succumbing to the temptation to sit) and wondered what life would be like if I could leave my body.

My denim clad legs, those slender, muscular young legs, which had been tramping through a forest of oaken splendor suddenly became a landing pod for a brand new monarch butterfly. As it settled upon the highest wrinkle on my slender, muscular, right leg, on the highest wrinkle of the patch of denim protecting my kneecap. In the middle of my kneecap, I asked that butterfly what it would be like to abandon my body as the butterfly had done; would I acquire a new body like the butterfly had done? Would I be able to flit from a tree limb to a wrinkle on a pair of denim trousers and the off to where? As the butterfly had done?

And the butterfly replied…la la la la, la la la la la la, la la la la la la…

Space Dust

lee_broom

It occurred to me today after listening to way too many commercials that if one had only toilet water to drink and no glasses to dip into that water but there was a straw in the catchall drawer in the kitchen, that one could get down on their knees, say a prayer for protection, stick the straw between the lips, dip the other end of that straw into the freshly flushed toilet and be totally confident that their safety in drinking that water could be said to have a safety factor of up to 99.9999%.

Being in a contemplative state of mind it occurred to me also that probably 99.9999% (or more) of all heroin addicts first drank milk. I seem to remember that from my college days. I didn’t really learn much there. I didn’t shoot heroin in those days nor did I drink a lot of water……or milk. I just drank a lot.

As you can see I haven’t completely recovered my senses but I’m getting there.