July 2011 Archives

Drugstore

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by Carl Dennis




Don't be ashamed that your parents
Didn't happen to meet at an art exhibit
Or at a protest against a foreign policy
Based on fear of negotiation,
But in an aisle of a discount drugstore,
Near the antihistamine section,
Seeking relief from the common cold.
You ought to be proud that even there,
Amid coughs and sneezes,
They were able to peer beneath
The veil of pointless happenstance.
Here is someone, each thought,
Able to laugh at the indignities
That flesh is heir to. Here
Is a person one might care about.
Not love at first sight, but the will
To be ready to endorse the feeling
Should it arise. Had they waited
For settings more promising,
You wouldn't be here,
Wishing things were different.
Why not delight at how young they were
When they made the most of their chances,
How young still, a little later,
When they bought a double plot
At the cemetery. Look at you,
Twice as old now as they were
When they made arrangements,
And still you're thinking of moving on,
Of finding a town with a climate
Friendlier to your many talents.
Don't be ashamed of the homely thought
That whatever you might do elsewhere,
In the time remaining, you might do here
If you can resolve, at last, to pay attention.



- Posted from my iPhone

So much more than I needed to know

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You read a poem written almost a hundred years ago which has a small part that resonates so sweetly with you. It surfaces in me when times are tough to bear.

In our modern life we are so connected. Social media, sharing thoughts from friends, from
the news from strangers, can get difficult to process sometimes. Amy Winehouse died of a drug overdose. The inevitable stream of "Well we knew that was coming" "No big surprise" and so much worse make me want to unplug completely.
A gunman killing children in Oslo, and it escalates to where I just don't want to think about it, it's so overwhelming. I can't even sleep, the minute details all provided make avoiding the nightmare impossible.

In my mind I can hear Robert Frost reading his poem; "I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better."

I was overwhelmed by the anger, the lack of compassion, the sharing of horrific details by the news agencies; news that no one needs to know. Things that journalists tastefully omitted in the past now simply must be included, until you feel like you can't rid yourself of the innapropriate horrible details.

I just want to leave it all for a while. This place. No, no not forever. Just rise up and leave and come back down when things have gotten better.

If they ever do.




- Posted from my iPhone

HARD LUCK

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By Edgar Albert Guest




Ain’t no use as I can see
In sittin’ underneath a tree
An’ growlin’ that your luck is bad,
An’ that your life is extry sad;
Your life ain’t sadder than your neighbor’s
Nor any harder are your labors;
It rains on him the same as you,
An’ he has work he hates to do;
An’ he gits tired an’ he gits cross,
An’ he has trouble with the boss;
You take his whole life, through an’ through,
Why, he’s no better off than you.

If whinin’ brushed the clouds away
I wouldn’t have a word to say;
If it made good friends out o’ foes
I’d whine a bit, too, I suppose;
But when I look around an’ see
A lot o’ men resemblin’ me,
An’ see ’em sad, an’ see ’em gay
With work t’ do most every day,
Some full o’ fun, some bent with care,
Some havin’ troubles hard to bear,
I reckon, as I count my woes,
They’re ’bout what everybody knows.

The day I find a man who’ll say
He’s never known a rainy day,
Who’ll raise his right hand up an’ swear
In forty years he’s had no care,
Has never had a single blow,
An’ never known one touch o’ woe,
Has never seen a loved one die,
Has never wept or heaved a sigh,
Has never had a plan go wrong,
But allas laughed his way along;
Then I’ll sit down an’ start to whine
That all the hard luck here is mine.




- Posted from my iPhone

DFW

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true freedom “means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed."


- Posted from my iPhone.

My Newton is down not out.

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My beloved Newton 2100 web server is offline. it's fine. The wireless router died. 

The Newton (not upgraded) is running NPDS and has a wavelan silver PCMCIA card.
I was using an airport express for the Newton's 80211b wireless with WEP security. 
This is unfortunately the highest settings you can use for wireless on the Newton.
It was strange (and awesome) )to find the airport express had failed well before the Newton.

I don't want to change my other wireless from 80211N to B and WPA2 to WEP because 
of our close proximity to lots of neighbors.

Fear not, gentle reader. We shall figure this out. In the meantime if you have an old 
wireless router you'd like to donate, ping me.


Newton 2100

Who knows.

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I gotta keep breathing.

Because tomorrow the sun will rise.

Who knows what the tide could bring?


- Posted from my iPhone

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This page is an archive of entries from July 2011 listed from newest to oldest.

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