Splash du Jour: Wednesday

I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.
-- John Steinbeck –

Have a great Wednesday!

As Seen @ The Oscars...

Is there even a need for commentary on this?
And yet, it is probably time I renewed my vows, so, here goes…

Did ever a more scintillating siren strap stilettos to her stilts?
Has any runway ever received more curvacious cargo than the one this vermillion vixen trods?
Has any hope-filled Hoosier at any 4H event in history ever, ever.... EVER presented to the judges a more Healthy, Heavenly-Hooved Heifer?
No, no, and NO!

To this… this blazing Statue of Womanity, I say:
“Oh Nicole, you sweet-accented strawberry-gummed Aussiebomb!
To me you are more than just the highest-paid woman in Hollywood.
You are more than the Queen of Celluloid.
You… you are the Desktop and Screensaver of my heart!
Virtually, my everything!”

Love,
Cip

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, everybody loves them. But I thought this was interesting on the box, "Konsult Kardiologist".
-- David Letterman –

Have a doughnut!
And have a great Tuesday!

Take This Walk...

A few words about Walking The Bible: A Journey By Land Through The First Five Books Of Moses, by Bruce Feiler.
This book was truly enjoyable, eminently readable, and never [not for a minute] boring.
Bruce Feiler set out on this journey as one who held to a rather Cecil B. DeMille-like literal interpretation of everything to be found in the first five books of the Bible (the Pentateuch).
What he discovered, however, is that there is a lot of discrepancy as to the exact locations of the events described in the Bible, and that the real world, especially as presided over by border guards and umpteen grumbly officials, is not all that generous in providing him with every shred of archaeological data that he is interested in accumulating. He meets with hostility and suspicion, all along the way.

Ahh, but it is the times that he meets with cooperation, hospitality and likemindedness that make the book interesting. Wonderfully interesting locals, and countless expatriates, who have relocated to the Middle East to be closer to what they percieve as the biblical foundation of their beliefs and cultural heritage..... these people, along with Feiler's Israeli guide, Avner Goren, provide the real insight into the discoveries that Feiler makes.
So many times the reader feels that they are a part of the starlit campfire summations of the day's adventures, times in which the Bible is read aloud and thereafter discussed within sight of the actual areas described in the text.
His [Feiler's] conclusion is that the Bible is "chameleon-like" in that it has the ability to continually reinvent itself.
As U.S.A. Today has summarized: "Bruce Feiler went looking for proof. He learned that proof doesn't matter."

In essence, the author found that a lot of what he had previously thought of as a biblical presentation of literal event and/or historical truth was neither historically verifiable, nor truthfully accurate.
The amazing thing is this, though. The experience of the desert and the meeting of those who live there today, combined to convince the author that a litero-historical interpretation of the Pentateuch is not a necessary pre-requisite to genuine spiritual experience, which he maintains he had, during his journey.
The spiritual relevance of the Pentateuch is as alive today as it ever was.

It is a profoundly enlightening, rewarding read.
I highly recommend Feiler's book to all readers interested in the subjects of the Middle East and Old Testament biblical interpretation, in general.
I liked his style and approach so much that I went and purchased his Learning To Bow: Inside The Heart of Japan, and am currently waiting for the slightest excuse to open that first page, and go walking….

For a look at these, and other books Bruce Feiler has written, click → HERE!

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Splash du Jour: Monday

“In the course of a few bewildering years we have found ourselves the master, or indeed the servants, of gigantic powers which confront us with problems never known before. It may be that our perils may prove our salvation. If so, this will depend upon a new elevation of the mind of man which will render him worthy of the secrets he has wrested from nature.”
-- Winston Churchill (1874-1965) Banquet speech, Apr.28th, 1954 –

"The discovery of nuclear chain reactions need not bring about the destruction of mankind any more than did the discovery of matches. We only must do everything in our power to safeguard against its abuse."
-- Albert Einstein --

Have a great Monday!

Book 122

Much of my reading is not done alone.
I read with my friend, and she is the better half of our elite Book Club.
We are now reading our 123rd book together.
Emma Donaghue’s excellent collection of short stories, entitled Touchy Subjects. Emma is one of our most beloved, favorite authors.
The one before this, our 122nd book, was Arthur Miller’s Death Of A Salesman.
She had read it, and taught it to many classrooms, before revisiting it with me.
For me, it was a first time experience. When we covered the book in high school, I guess I was absent that year! Or stoned!
Having now read it in complete middle-aged sobriety, I am amazed at how the book stays with me. While I am driving to work in the morning, all week, I find myself thinking about Willy Loman, and Biff… marvelling at what Miller created.

My friend is somewhat of a Miller expert, having read his autobiographical Timebends, as well as the more recent bio by Martin Gottfried.
In our discussions, she related some fascinating information concerning little-known Miller-trivia. And nothing fascinated me more than the following, regarding the fact that Miller’s first impulse upon conceiving the idea for the play, was to construct a building, wherein he would [in solitude] flesh out his ideas, and DO the writing of the story of Willy Loman.
She told me, and I quote:

So, Miller had only “the first two lines and a death” when he decided – he KNEW – that he would need to find a place to write other than where he was. He needed a room of his own, so to say, and he went to a place he owned – a remote wooded area (shades of Thoreau) – and --- started BUILDING a cabin there. Instead of writing the play, he threw himself into the building of that cabin. He had “no knowledge or experience” of construction, but strongly felt the need to do this before tackling the play. He says, “for reasons I still do not understand, it had to be my own hands that gave it form, on this ground, with a floor that I had made, upon which to sit to begin the risky expedition into myself.”

Wow…. I am all ears….
She goes on to explain:

“It’s all right. I came back” – Willy’s opening words – “rolled over and over” in Miller’s head all the time he was building the thing. “Further than that I dared not, would not, venture until I could sit in the completed studio….”

He says all that time he was “afraid I would never be able to penetrate past those first two lines.”

He started writing one morning… amid the smell of sawdust in this unpainted room… It was April, things just coming into bloom… and he wrote all day until dark, then had dinner and went back and wrote until sometime between midnight and four a.m.
He skipped scenes that he knew would come easy and that he could write in later…and went “for the parts that had to be muscled into position.”

By morning he had done the first of two acts.
It would take six weeks to write act two.
But when he lay down to sleep on that first morning, he realized he had been weeping.

When the play was finished, he sent it to Kazan [his director] for a reading. He sat by the phone for two days, waiting.
Nothing.
Finally on the end of the second silent day, he called. He said, “'I’ve read your play.' He sounded at a loss to give me the bad news. 'My God, it’s so sad.'”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“I just put it down. I don’t know what to say. My father. . . "
He broke off, the first of a great many men – and women – who would tell me that Willy was their father.”

********

In many ways, Willy was MY father. [My dad was a salesman].
And in many ways, I am Biff, the son the father could never understand.
The son who could never understand his father.
My dad is gone now, as is Biff’s, in the play. Perhaps these above reasons are a part of why the story has resonated so deeply with me. But even as I think this, I know that the play’s power exceeds anything so subjective. Every thoughtful reader will see so much of LIFE, splayed out in Death Of A Salesman. And from a literary perspective, you will see genius.
I just want to encourage anyone who has not experienced Miller’s magnum opus to get it. Read it. You will be moved and shaken.
The man has poured so much of his soul into this work.
It cannot but speak to yours, in the reading.

************

Mastering Mexico

Here is yet another scene from Mexico!

Yes, that is me, giving the thumbs-up right next to the store’s motto, “We won’t jerk you around!”
But I assure you, I BOUGHT NOTHING AT THIS STORE!
No, I did NOT just come out of that open door there, my pockets full of Master bait!
I have no need….. for bait. Or mastering stuff.... about.... baiting!
I just walked by is all, and someone took a picture.

************

Splash du Jour: Friday

Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you're coming home his face might burn up.
-- "DEEP THOUGHTS" by Jack Handey –

Have a great Friday!
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Splash du Jour: Thursday

What is it we are questing for? It is the fulfillment of that which is potential in each of us. Questing for it is not an ego trip, it is an adventure to bring into fulfillment your gift to the world, which is yourself. There is nothing you can do more important than being fulfilled. You become a sign, you become a signal, transparent to transcendence; in this way, you will find, live and become a realization of your own personal myth.
-- Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss --

Have a great Thursday!

All Aboard The American Dream/Nightmare!

Just a few words about a great book.
Chasing The Red, White, and Blue: A Journey in Tocqueville’s Footsteps Through Contemporary America, by David Cohen.
My alternate blog-title was "Disparity, but not Despair-ity" but I settled on what you see above.
One thing this book says loud and clear is that the once direct relationship between hard work and the American Dream has never been more fragile.
Things have changed, and are ever changing!
Cohen's book shows us that for some, the American Dream is alive and well... but for a far greater percentage of Americans, the dream has become a nightmare. This work is a real eye-opening 20/20-like expose, and one that reads like a freight train blasting through myth.
The word "chasing" in the title is an accurate description of the pace.

The premise is brilliant and engaging.
Cohen, an award winning British/South African journalist comes to America to retrace the 170-year-old steps of Alexis De Tocqueville, writer of the famous treatise "Democracy In America".
The itinerary includes New York City; Flint, Michigan; The Ohio River Valley; The Mississippi Delta; The Deep South; and Washington, D.C.
Cohen diverts from Tocqueville's original journey only by adding California, the new frontier and command center of the information age.
What struck Tocqueville most, back in 1831, was the "equality of conditions" among the Americans then. This, and "self-interest, properly understood" were Tocqueville's greatest impressions and formed the basis of his praise of the American way of life.

Cohen is an expert on Tocqueville and is well-versed in the great man's journals. As he makes his way across America he interviews a diverse sampling (in my opinion, a well sought-out cross-section of the haves and the have-nots) and compares these findings against the fulcrum of "equality" Tocqueville described.

What does Cohen find?
An ever-widening gap between the haves and the have-nots!

He finds that Tocqueville's work is full of unqualified conclusions and summary statements that do not possibly reflect the general populace of America in the last half century.
Beyond being out dated and inaccurate when applied to modern times, it's questionable whether it was even all that accurate at the time it was originally written. By marginalizing his findings on blacks and Indians, Tocqueville trivialized them. By failing to qualify his conclusions he helped to perpetuate an idealized view of an America that he never saw.
Tocqueville's findings are further skewed (says Cohen) because the people he interviewed were not a balanced group. Not an unbiased cross-section of "Americans" at the time. They were always successful, professional elite (privileged aristocrats of the time) always male, and always white.

Cohen wants to avoid a similar mistake this time around, so he rides the buses to find the pulse of the common man/woman. Every indication seems to point toward a widening gap between the rich and the poor in America, and the author tells the story in an engaging, (humorous where appropriate) way. There is a section where he sends fictitious e-mails to Tocqueville and I just loved this section. The whole book is a gem, and no part lags.
By the way, it is just as NOT anti-American as it is NOT pro-Anything Else... it is just disturbingly truthful.
Amazingly, in spite of the facts, it shows that the American spirit is alive and well... as I mentioned above, there is unquestioned disparity, but not despair-ity!
But perhaps the prevailing message of this book can be expressed by the guy right there in Chapter One, the chapter on New York. There was most assuredly a time [and not that long ago] when any American would have said that a million bucks would be enough to quit working forever. This guy in New York though, he says, "Twenty million and I'll walk."
Twenty million!
Twenty million?
That's how far we've progressed along the "wealth" continuum... some people honestly feel that they will need twenty million before they quit chasing the red, white and blue!
All aboard!
*********
P.S.
How much would it take for you to quit working forever?
And if your answer is, "I would not quit working for any money because I love what I do for a living," I just want you to know in advance, I may be forced, upon reading such a response.... TO HATE YOU!
Sincerely,
Cip, the Vocationally -Challenged Blogger

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

I want God, I want poetry,
I want danger, I want freedom,
I want goodness, I want sin.
-- Aldous Huxley –

Have a great Wednesday!

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

How do you know love is gone? If you said that you would be there at seven and you get there by nine, and he or she has not called the police – it’s gone.
-- Marlene Dietrich –

P.S. Personally? If I was meeting Marlene Dietrich at seven?
I’d be damn sure I was there at six!

Have a great Tuesday!

Cip-Sipping!

I really REALLY miss Mexico.

Here is an action shot!
[NOTE: I do all of my own stuntwork!]
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Splash du Jour: Monday

When we read, we interact with an infinite variety of emotions, imaginings, scenery, happenings, possibilities. We see into the best minds that have ever been mindful. When we share our adventures in literature with a dear friend, we are taking part in one of life’s most rewarding intimacies. And to truly experience what books have to give us… this is something that angels look into, envying our opportunity.
-- Cipriano –
Have a great Monday!

Finally...

Just a few brief words about this incredible story.
I read it this weekend.
First time.
I know. That is incredible, huh? Most of you, I would venture to say ¾’s of the readers reading this, have read Arthur Miller’s Death Of A Salesman in high school, am I right?
Or college? Or under some other forcible confinement?
Well, at the age of 43, in a state of total freedom, I finally picked it up.
It is so amazing, such a great, evocative drama. I would love to see it performed live. This is now a goal of mine. The only other Miller play I have read is The Crucible, and I loved that, but this thing…. Salesman, is a masterpiece.
A magnum opus.
Is there really much need for me to present a synopsis? You all pretty much know the story, you readaholic brainiacs!
All I will say is that I was moved, even to tears, at times.
Death Of A Salesman!
Not just for high school!

***********

No More PAGES!

Some of you may recall that I once wrote a blog about my discovery of this great magazine called PAGES.
Well, as a result of my bloggifying, a friend of mine purchased a gift-subscription of the magazine, and I subsequently received my first issue.
<-- The same one as seen here, in the photo.
Yesterday, however, I came home from work to hear the following voice message on my phone.
NOTE: While this is not a verbatim transcript, it is very close to the actual wording…..

Beeeeeeep!
“Yeah, so remember that magazine I subscribed you to? [← My friend is a grammarian, not.] Uh-huh. Well, I got something from them in the mail today. It said: ‘Dear Subscriber. Thank you for your interest in PAGES. However, we regret to inform you that the magazine no longer frigging exists! We apologize for how this will now probably make you hate your friend for whom you purchased this subscription.”

Then my buddy eloquently offered his personal benediction:
“YOU MORON! There were probably only three people in the entire universe that subscribed to this thing! You, and two others. And I might as well have flushed $50.00 down the crapper! That’s it. I am never buying you anything again! Especially none of your geeky literary stuff!”

Apparently there was no refund of monies paid!
No pro-rated rebate, based on tread wear.
No compensation, for PAGES undelivered!

************

Wandering The Kids Section...

I love kids’s books. I really do.
I am at Chapters, writing this, and I just did a tour of the kids's section.
I wish I were a kid.
There are so many cool series out there nowadays!
Like, who’s this Garth Nix guy? The series looks awesome.
Or the Guardians of Ga’Hoole series by Kathryn Lasky. I would read this, I swear!
Even the Lemony Snickett stuff!
I want to be a kid again.

As I wandered, I noticed down on the lowest shelf, an entire section devoted to The Hardy Boys series.
I loved these books when I was a youngster. Looking at them a few minutes ago brought back many memories. The cover art is the same as it’s been for the past 300 years! Truth is, I love the datedness of it.
The fact that these books are still in print is remarkable. Simon & Schuster publishes several new volumes each year, [updated themes, involving motobikes and computers and whatnot], but the Grosset & Dunlap reprints of the original 60 or so books (known to collectors as the Hardy Boys "Canon") still are wildly popular.
I always thought it was so cool that the original author was a Canadian.
A good old Ontarian, like me!
His name was Leslie McFarlane [died in 1977] and while there are other authors that continued working on the series, it was McFarlane that established the writing style that made the books so successful.
He wrote 21 volumes of The Hardy Boys, initiated The Dana Girls series and wrote seven Dave Fearless novels.
The covers of the books attribute authorship to Franklin W. Dixon, but this is just a pseudonym for a non-existent person. To really understand the history of the whole thing, one must know about The Stratemeyer Syndicate [named after founder Edward Stratemeyer].
Stratemeyer was a writer himself but found that he had too many ideas, and not enough time on his hands to write the resultant books. In other words, he would outline the plots and then hire a team [known as “ghosts” or “ghostwriters”] to flesh out his ideas and essentially write the books. They would be paid a flat fee with no hope of future royalties.
Remember the Nancy Drew series?
Same deal.
The covers say Carolyn G. Keene is the author.
Carolyn G. Keene does not exist.
Same thing. The Stratemeyer Syndicate!
Recently, May wrote a blog about The Hardy Boys and she said she could “still remember the reassuring atmosphere of those stories, a world where the source of any fear was clearly identifiable and fought with success. Those were good times!”
They were good times, I agree.
For me, as a child, I was severely addicted to the Famous Five and Secret Seven series, by British author Enid Blyton.
I think that May is right, they were good times. And because I still read so much, they still are.
Good times.
I believe there are few things that we can give our children [not that I personally have any] that are more valuable, in a lasting sense, than a well-stocked bookshelf!
My parents never thwarted or ridiculed my innate love of books, and for this I am ever grateful.
OK, enough with the nostalgia.
I’m “getting verklempt” as Linda Richmond might say!
I’ve got to get out of here before I go and buy a copy of Charlotte’s Web.

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Splash du Jour: Friday

I think a good gift for the President would be a chocolate revolver.
And since he is so busy, you'd probably have to run up to him real quick and give it to him.
-- Jack Handey –

T.G.I.F!

Splash du Jour: Thursday

We must respect the other fellow’s religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart.
-- H. L. Mencken –

Have a great Thursday!

For My Valentine...

Iceberg

Sinking, I say it.
I love the five-sixths under water
As much as that above.
Her nose on mine, she shudders
No, it’s not there. She sees no smile
But feels it, loving
That I won’t drink of her whispered lie.
Her tongue is proof on my lips.

There is no land here, no footing.
No world.
Just her kiss, a punch through iron
And a wound one wishes for.
This ship is going down.
Hold on. Hold to the iceberg
White, and warm.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007
**********

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
-- George Eliot –

Happy Valentine’s Day!

********

Mexico Memories...

Well, I am just now [tonight] finally getting a few pictures coming in,
from my trip to Puerto Vallarta.
You may recall me saying that I did not even have a camera for this trip.
In other words, I did not take one picture!

However, the folks I was with, they were shutter-happy!
So, as I receive a few of these I will post them and tell you a bit about my trip.

In a nutshell, I loved it. I want to go back.
-- Cip --

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees.
-- David Letterman --

Have a great Tuesday!

Hallowed [A Poem-Thing]

Hallowed

In an instant every place
You were is hallowed.
The signboard and its menu.
The window you peered into,
Rejecting the décor.
The chair you draped your black
Scarf over. Hallowed.

You turned your face aside
Laughing, when I misjudged
The power of wasabi.
We waltzed to no music
And later, in an instant, the paper
Cups we tossed became holy.

A taxi took you.
And I walked those damp,
Fresh, haunted streets.
The grey bookstore-cat
Looked up at me,
Wondering

How can I be here?
And you,
Not.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

***********

Splash du Jour: Monday

"I want to go soon and live away by the pond where I shall hear
only the wind whispering among the reeds. It will be success if I have
left myself behind."

-- from Thoreau's Journals –

Have a great Monday!
********

Anne...

In her now famous Diary, Anne Frank said, "I want to go on living even after my death".
As of 1998, The Diary of Anne Frank had reached sales of 25 million copies and been translated into more than 50 languages. (source: TIME, October 5, 1998).
It has been required classroom reading for half a century now!
In a way, her wish has come to pass.
This subsequent publication, "Tales From The Secret Annex" combines short stories, reminiscences/vignettes, and even an unfinished novel to show us yet another dimension to this remarkable person. Reading these stories and little essays confirmed my personal opinion that Anne Frank was a childhood genius with unlimited potential to achieve anything she would have set her mind to.

It's hard to imagine this thirteen year old girl writing with such depth and perception, while living in seclusion, terror and fear for her life. She was writing from her heart, not with an expectation of being published. And yet these stories shine with a polished brilliance, and a certain unforgettable quality. I read this book for the first time 8 years ago, and have returned to it now, remembering the stories as though I had read them just last week. My favorite is entitled "Kathy". In three short pages, Anne captures every emotion experienced by a kid who is misunderstood by her mother, assaulted by schoolyard bullies who mock and rob her and cause her to lose the gift she was bringing home to her mother.

Here is how she ends her essay entitled "Give":
"If only our country and then Europe and finally the whole world would realize that people were really kindly disposed toward one another, that they are all equal and everything else is transitory! Open your eyes... give of yourself, give as much as you can! And you can always, always give something, even if it is only kindness! No one has ever become poor from giving! If you do this, then in a few generations no one will need to pity the beggar children anymore, because they will not exist! There is plenty of room for everyone in the world, enough money, riches, and beauty for all to share! God has made enough for everyone. Let us all begin by sharing it fairly." (written March 26, 1944).

Anne was sent to Bergen-Belsen, where some time during March 1945, she, her sister Margot and hundreds of other prisoners were stricken with typhus. Their captors, preoccupied with the advancing Allies, left them to die.
World... read her book!

For a very important blog I once wrote, about the Franks, click HERE.

*********

A Poem...

Superior

The regular get-together rolls around.
Michigan, Huron, Erie, Ontario.
The Big Guy is invited, but he never shows.

Too busy… too many boats on his back, says Erie.
Too deep, murky, heavy for his own good, says another.
(Nodding all around, considerable turbulence.)
Unfriendly is what! Strutting his own endless shoreline
like he’s the King of Freshwater.

Then Michigan, silent until now, clears his long narrow throat:
Calm down lads. He is the King, but remember…
He’s only above us if we’re looking at a map!

Have you ever heard four lakes laugh?
I mean all at once?
It shook birds out of their trees in Buffalo,
And sent several quick waves to smack that Pier
jutting out into the Chicago harbor.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

*********

On Jealousy

I have not died!
I am feeling quite better, in fact. Almost 100%.
Mexico was great. I will write of it some other time, when I have a few photos to display.
See, I did not have my own camera and so I am relying upon photos that will be sent to me by my fellow vacationers.
For now, after a week of being back to work, I am resuming my reading of Stendhal’s (1830) novel, The Red and the Black.
Many of you will be familiar with this somewhat epic story of the ambitious young pseudo-cleric, Julien Sorel. I am almost finished the book, and my most recent reading has got me all fired up about the topic of jealousy.

Julien really bugs me. Irks me. And I’ll tell you why.
See, [where does one start]… but in ch.18 of Part 2 he is courting the affection of the noblewoman Mathilde de La Mole. She is inifintely above him when it comes to social standing, and this was an age when social standing was the be-all-and-end-all of everything. [This portion of the novel taking place in early 19th Century Paris].
Mathilde falls for him.
And in a colossally impetuous moment, she declares her love for him, in a written letter.
As soon as Julien reads it, he is elated. But his rapture is based primarily on the contemplation of how this confession [of hers] can be used for his personal advancement, even if it means her ultimate disgrace and ruin.
This bugs me, hell yeah, but it is not yet the real reason why Julien bugs me as he does. Julien sinks lower in my estimation when, after spurning Mathilde’s sincere emotions, he sees her cavorting in the garden with other possible suitors, and he is driven to a state of maniacal jealousy.
How idiotic!
I would love to be able to somehow get right into the pages of the book right then, grab a plank that is conveniently lying on the ground nearby, and wallop Julien over the head with it!
See [and I give the author credit for making me feel this intensely about it].... see, I understand jealousy. Like totally.
But what BOTHERS me about jealousy, is when the person who is jealous does not really want [want to possess for themself] the object of their jealousy.
I cannot even tell you how much this bothers me. I think it is such a major intrusion on another person's life.
It is a CRIME!
Like see.... if Julien wanted Mathilde for himself, then his jealousy is entirely proper. If she is spurning him, and he is jealous and would snap her up into his exclusive domain if given the chance.... well and good!
But in this scenario.... he wouldn't.

If she came to him and fell at his feet in abject worship, [which she, in effect, did] he would immediately be scheming [power-tripping] on how he can USE this contingency to his greatest advantage.
In other words, he does not LOVE her. He really does not.
And so this completely invalidates his jealousy [his right to jealousy] in my opinion.
If he does not want her, [and the rule whereby a person knows if they want the other is by measuring how much they want to give themself over to them...] he has to let her go.
There is no other mature or responsible way to be.
I say all of this because I am a very demonstrable professional at this.
I live my life in the following way..... → I refuse to allow myself to be jealous of a woman's affections unless I want her affections entirely to be directed [only] toward me.
In other words, I think it to be entirely unfair to expect her to "love" me exclusively [as Julien seems to be expecting Mathilde to be towards him] unless, were I made aware of this "love" I would give my own self entirely to her.... to the same degree that I am desirous of similar treatment vice versa.
Does that make sense?

In other words, if I broke up with a girlfriend, I would immediately [and unequivocably] release her.
Thus, "breaking up" would mean [to me] the immediate relinquishing of all rights toward jealousy. That does not even mean that I would not FEEL jealous if I saw her with someone else or whatnot, it simply means I would recognize that feeling as entirely invalid and I would literally not embrace it, or nurture it in any way.
Plus, I would not blame her for my experience of those feelings.
As for the "nurture" aspect, I would not try to see her, or hear about her.
And I have practised this, [all that I am saying, above] like tons of times in my life.
Entirely let go.
My conclusion, regarding this story, therefore, is that Julien is one of the most emotionally immature characters I have ever encountered in literature.
I am not sure if I am supposed to feel this strongly about him, but I find him deplorable.
I find his petty selfishness disgusting, really.

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Splash du Jour: Friday

“If I were an archaeologist, digging through the layers of old paper that mark the eras in my life as a writer, I’d have found, at the lowest or Stone Age level – say around ages five to seven – a few poems and stories, unremarkable precursors of all my frenetic later scribbling…. After that there’s a great blank. For eight years, I simply didn’t write. Then, suddenly, and with no missing links in between, there’s a wad of manuscripts. One week I wasn’t a writer, the next I was.
Who did I think I was, to be able to get away with this? What did I think I was doing? How did I get that way? To these questions I still have no answers.”
-- Margaret Atwood –

Have a great Friday!

Splash du Jour: Thursday

Have a great Thursday!

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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

I realized that If I had to choose,
I would rather have birds than airplanes.

-- Charles Lindbergh --

Have a great Wednesday!
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El Sicko!

Well, turns out that "what happens in Mexico" does NOT necessarily stay in Mexico!
I was not going to say much about it because I don't want to portray a negative image of my holidays, but the time has come to confess that in some rather significant ways, I am sicker than a donkey!
And [again, like a donkey!] I went to work today, but left at around noon, and went to a doctor.
I am ill.
And I have been ill since Sunday.
At around the time that Devin Hester was running back that opening kickoff, I was incapacitated in my Puerto Vallartan hotel room, watching the tele!
Three of the five people in my vacation party were sick. Obviously something we ate is trying to kill us. Other than this minor setback, everything was superbly fun and excellent. I loved it.
Except for the part where we are now dying and all.
So I am just writing this brief little synopsis tonight to let you know that I miss blogging.
And I will soon be back to my usual braying and hee-hawing.
Unless I actually die.
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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

A three-year-old boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath.
"Mom", he asked, "are these my brains?"
"Not yet," she replied.

Have a great Tuesday!
Hey, I am back from Mexico!
Back to some serious sub-Arctic temperatures!

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