Forward

I've moved to extrabronte.wordpress.com and I'd love for you to drop by.

The Queen of Refuse

I found your mix in my car, tucked near the back of the CD Wallet of Shame that I should probably throw out.  Thing goes down as maybe the lamest way to say "I'm sorry" in history; a gift I sent which was rightly returned to me because, really, who makes amends to someone by UPSing them a black rubber CD case with a capacity of 64?  (This was around the time I thought I had Asperger's, but I've learned that is not a good excuse.)

But the mix, now.  That was from you, and I won't throw it out, though with you my screw-ups abounded.  The date on it is a year after the fallout, after words had been harsh and silences harsher.  Then forgiveness, but a fragile one; and then, these songs.  They are of their time, and of your taste.  I remember liking it enough, playing it through several times but then, moving on.  

Five years later, driving home in the throes of a recently mustard-gassed romance, I was feeling incredibly and senselessly victimized, and then this disc showed up and took me back to when I was the killer. I didn't kill you, of course; what an arrogant thing to suppose. But the "it" that we stumble upon with people, the thing both awaited and unexpected ... I snuffed "it" big time.   And I have no business demanding that "it" to be there for me that way again, like the white ribbon you get just for participation.  Not like we haven't all done it --- let someone down, broken something up ---but doing the deed changes you, especially if you do it all small and shifty, and for no other reason than you don't want to be loved for you, because you're hoping to find out you're someone else.  

Now I'm someone listening to a mix you might not even recognize.  And it may seem like I'm regretful, but that's not quite the feeling.  You are so beyond fine you don't know this is about you.  Nothing should be different.  I guess I'm ... grateful?  That I found the CD when I did, so I could get over myself and all this "it" supposedly dying on me.  "It" is as dead as Tom Sawyer watching his funeral.  It's stupid and alive, hiding, a little stunned at the needless grief. And it'll crash through the ceiling one day and piss me off worse than ever, but maybe come home with me, too.  

Oh.  And it won't be a 12-year-old boy, in case that imagery got too solid.

If so, that was an excessively long rebound

and I'ma do a hook shot with my eyebrow.

PRANX!

We run a tight ship here, Fetus.

Sendings

The 19th century Baptist church in Thomas, Rhode Island now houses the city's history museum and a cluttered library of colonist biographies and handicraft how-to's.

You can find love letters there.  A new one every few months, except ... they are not new. The paper is thin as spider silk; the ink is more etching than paint. One at a time, they appear, folded and wedged into the architrave of a small window, hidden from view by a "natural wood" Ikea shelf. As you peruse a study of Wampanoag cooking ... reach your hand back and to the left ...

"Dearest Madam,

You gave a lovely performance again this evening.

Every night I see it, you change a little thing here, pause in a new moment, laugh when before you had shed a single tear.  And always, there is the light that shines, not on you, but from you. I am not the only one who feels it, I know, who hopes that beacon beams secretly for them.

But I am the one who will tell you this: stop it.

Forget your lines. Put away the props. Climb down from the stage. Be still and show me nothing.  Give me no clues. Do not create another word, smile, or gesture until I have found you. These are the distractions that others mistake for the truth, and you let them believe it. You leave them talking to your shadow as you run far away. They think they hold you, but you cannot feel it. And when the light fades and they lose sight of you, you lie to yourself that you are lost.

I will find you."  

Brevity.

On the 1-10 scale (1 = suck, 10 = The Rapture):
A). Rate how much you love hearing someone clear their throat twice every three minutes, followed by a string of shouted expletives, into a microphone, for six hours a day, four days in a row.
B). Rate the Franklin Mint Jimmy Carter Gold Medal.

Subtract B from A.


I know, right? Nothing is helping.

Delay Jose

A gentleman bought me a sandwich in the airport ... an older gentleman, born in Honduras, raised in New Orleans ... who shined shoes and slept on the streets ... who served four years in Vietnam and came back a wreck in every way ... who had a three-year courtship of correspondence with his wife of 44 years ("whatever you believe of heaven, she is going to be there" says he) ... who loves to go out dancing, who can't stand to be idle or indoors, who has had three bypasses and now has prostate cancer and can't drink water comfortably, who will work until the day he dies ...

"I've never met a stranger," he said.

Sorry again.

Yesterday on the freeway, I drove behind a car pulling a small horse trailer.  And upon the doors of the horse trailer were painted two horses' behinds.  And I thought of all the times I have been one of those.

Laws of Badminton

Life is a game of rules; Badminton is a tournament of laws.  A part of its credo follows, concerning the "shuttle," casually referred to as the "birdie" or the "daisy" by individuals who are now in prison.

SHUTTLE

2.1 The shuttle shall be made of natural and / or synthetic materials. From whatever material the shuttle is made, the flight characteristics generally shall be similar to those produced by a natural feathered shuttle with a cork base covered by a thin layer of leather.

2.2 Feathered Shuttle

2.2.1 The shuttle shall have 16 feathers fixed in the base.

2.2.2 The feathers shall have a uniform length between 62 mm to 70 mm when measured from the tip to the top of the base.

2.2.3 The tips of the feathers shall lie on a circle with a diameter from 58 mm to 68 mm.

2.2.4 The feathers shall be fastened firmly with thread or other suitable material.

2.2.5 The base shall be 25 mm to 28 mm in diameter and rounded on the bottom.

2.2.6 The shuttle shall weigh from 4.74 to 5.50 grams.

2.3 Non-Feathered Shuttle

2.3.1 The skirt, or simulation of feathers in synthetic materials, shall replace natural feathers.

2.3.2 The base shall be as described in Law 2.2.5.

2.3.3 Measurements and weight shall be as in Laws 2.2.2, 2.2.3 and 2.2.6. However, because of the difference in the specific gravity and other properties of synthetic materials in comparison with feathers, a variation of up to 10 per cent shall be acceptable.

2.4 Subject to there being no variation in the general design, speed and flight of the shuttle, modifications in the above specifications may be made with the approval of the Member Association concerned, in places where atmospheric conditions due to either altitude or climate make the standard shuttle unsuitable.

http://www.worldbadminton.com/rules/#1

Out With the New

Back to the old layout.  Obama's got a lock on Change and won't let me have any.

I Am Forced to Have Depth, Due to My Limitations.

Just Be Yourself!

Das ist aber schade.

Know what I do on days off? Stuff like, reteach myself a passable German accent by nightfall.   But I may have an undiagnosed LD -- Tower of Babel Syndrome (http://www.tbs.com). 

Here are all the other accents coming out of my mouth instead of anything near German:

1. British (Standard) 
2. British (Keira Knightley)

3. French

4. Russian

5. Swedish Chef

6. East Indian

7. %*$#*&@#$%*#! (that might be getting closer ... ja?  Nein.)

To "Somebody Splendid"

Whoever you are, you are. Thank you for your secret act of friendship, and for being so kind to this Melancholy Molly. Cheers!

Sophisticated Wallowing

If Love Were All
by Noel Coward

I believe in doing what I can
In crying when I must
In laughing when I choose
Hey ho, if love were all
I should be lonely.
I believe the more you love a man,
The more you give your trust,
The more you're bound to lose.
Although when shadows fall
I think if only
Somebody splendid really needed me
Someone affectionate and dear
Cares would be ended if I knew that he
Wanted to have me near.
But I believe that since my life began
The most I've had is just a talent to amuse.
Hey ho, if love were all.

A lonely song, but not exactly sad. It's a frank self-assessment, with a confession of longing that is bold in its mildness.  

Below, two performances, by Rufus Wainwright and Judy Garland. Martini, meet cigarette.



Can't embed it, but go and listen to Judy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpZqYq8DN5I&feature=related

My Little Bride????!

I'm not sure what to say about this, but I want to say something. I keep watching it, repressing it, then watching it again.

From Wikipedia:

My Little Bride (어린 신부 eorin sinbu) is a Korean language romantic comedy film about an arranged marriage between a new teacher and a student. It was directed by Kim Ho Jun and was released in 2004. It was the second most popular Korean movie of 2004 in Korea, behind the blockbuster hit Taegukgi, with 3,149,500 visitors. It was 4th most popular among all films. [1]
[edit]Plot

Boeun (Moon Geun Young) is an ordinary high school girl who worries about grades and has a crush on her school's baseball team ace, Jungwoo. One day, Boeun's grandfather orders her to marry Sangmin (Kim Rae Won) because of a pact he made with Sangmin's grandfather during the Korean War. Despite the grandchildren's opposition, they are forced to marry because of Boeun's grandfather's strong influence. Boeun's undercover married life begins: She pretends that she doesn't have a husband and starts dating Jungwoo. Boeun believes that she can manage both men and live a double life. Everything goes smoothly until Sangmin visits Boeun's school as a student teacher.
Sangmin finds out about Jungwoo but decides not to make it an issue. Meanwhile, three school girls learn about Boeun and Sangmin's marriage, and decide to take it against Boeun because of their jealousy of her relationship with Jungwoo. They reveal the truth during a school festival, but Sangmin steps up and tells the audience that they should not deprive Boeun of being a normal school girl since it was not her will to marry him. Boeun then steps up to the stage and makes a heartfelt speech declaring her love for Sangmin. The film ends showing that Sangmin and Boeun living a happy marriage.

Blue-Eyed Boy

What a legacy. Thank you for the life you led, Mr. Newman. You will be missed.

Also. In 9th grade, I named my cockatiel Butch Cassidy because of you. She was a she, but I found that out much later, in a stressful egg-laying incident.

Adopt This Restaurant

Please go to Fassica! It is a very good Ethiopian restaurant in Culver City, and on a Friday night at 7 pm, my date and I were the only patrons there.


Look at this picture.  We ate this picture.  TORE IT UP. Literally, you tear off pieces of injera, which is the large, slightly spongey sourdough flatbread upon which all these delicious food items rest.  The lady who runs the place was lovely, we all watched some of the McCain-Obama debate, and the two of us left with happy pot-like bellies.  

This can all be yours.  10401 Washington Blvd, Culver City, CA  90232.  

An Informative Letter

Dear Dude Representative of Quite a Few Dudes:

When railing against the ignorance and intolerance in our society, please be aware that you and your friends, more than any folks I know, use "gay" as an insult, and the insinuation, or full-blown charades game, of male homosexuality as the height of hilarity.  You may argue that it is a kind of meta-humor, bringing to the fore the overblown fear of many heterosexual men of being thought gay, or actually being gay.  In half of these instances, yes, you could make a case for that; what you do or say can be clever, audacious, ridiculous, and not necessarily mean-spirited.  But the other half ... well, the line you're crossing has fuzzed into a lint-trap. Remember: some people are born a-holes, but for others, it is a choice.  

When you talk politics, you're all sorts of left and liberal, but your behavior falls well short of your ideology.   But don't worry; you're just religious. Welcome.  It's tough to actually be as good as you hope to be, isn't it?  Maybe we just need to recognize that failure is not necessarily hypocrisy.  See, I'm already sorry for calling you an a-hole.  

Your friend in demerits,

E.

Frog and Toad Are Friends

So far.