Talk of Many Things

It is, in the States, Memorial Day weekend. We went to the cemeteries when I was a kid, and usually attended some Memorial of War victims event. Now, it's a capitalist holiday. The tourist traffic started on Friday morning. As I sat in my wheelchair waiting for the taxi to go see my doctor, many New Yorkers gawked at me. People do tend to gawk at people in wheelchairs, but NYers seem utterly surprised at seeing wheelies when they're here for a vacation. As though Vermont is a place where noone has troubles; as if we're all purple- and- turquoise- wearing, secretly rich, well-educated and perfectly healthy Kennedy clones! Little do they know I'm a transplanted Brooklyn girl. Though I sit there in a khaki dress with LLBean topsiders and no makeup, I am, and always will be, a New Yorker. You don't qualify as a Vermonter until you have at least 4 gens whose family stories are known by everyone else who's been born here. So much and sorry for blowing their snowglobe illusions.

Anyway, traffic is hell in town with all the added SUVs from the cities and will get worse as next weekend is the annual Strolling of the Heifers. I worked on the first one; it was a simple and fun Dairy festival with children leading heifers from their family farms and 4H projects up Main St to the Commons where cheeses and other lactose products were eaten. Now it's grown to a huge 5 day marathon of politics, commercialism and exhibitionism and I don't even go downstairs to watch it. The sidewalks are crowded as 5th Ave on St Pat's Day and I never loved those kinds of crowds. Why does everything have to turn into a big hairy deal?

In other events, there were 2 huge volcanic eruptions in Central and South America on Friday, but no news service is reporting. Friday night I logged online when a friend was here and that was the leading news story online- and we surfed thru all the 24 hour TV news channels and found nothing. Not to be deterred, and smelling a rat, I looked up all the volcanic eruptions around the equatorial area since BP's fuck up, and saw these just from the last week:

May 20th Costa Rica- Turrialba volcano rumbles
May 22nd West Indies- 3 volcanic, tectonic earthquakes in 1 week
May 26th Costa Rica-Arenal volcano rumbles, weak emissions
May 27th Colombia- Nevado del Huila volcano SO2 emissions & 3.8 earthquake
May 28th Mexico- 8 exhalations in 24 hours
Ecuador- 2 volcanoes erupt, spewing ash and rocks, some lava
Guatemala- Fuego volcano, 8 weak and moderate explosions
Santa Maria volcano, 14 explosions

Is it related? I don't know. But with all that oil spewing out, it's emptying something underneath, and every effect has a cause.

Today is my mom's best friend's birthday. Rosa Belfiore Albicocco is a young 70-something and I'm very glad she's still with us. I've known her since I was 13 and she's a surrogate mom to me, a mom and grandma and greatgrandma to many, and a truly lovely human. So Happy Birthday, Rosa.

It's also my Nana's 138th birthday; though we can't give her her favorite ice cream cake, we still remember.

And finally, it's been 6+ months since I got rid of wireless phones in my life. Though I now have a tracphone to take with when I'm in the wheelchair & outside, I don't use it. All the nodes on the left side of my neck are flat, the swelling on my clavicle has receded and now moved closer to the base of my neck. I don't miss wireless; my old rotary phone makes me smile, and has made changes that rippled. Being tethered has restored some manners, and I'm glad for that.

Here's a nice Memorial Day tribute:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcbaDEjfL_E

And for cemetery fans, here's a video of the Greenwood Cemetery, where my family reposes:
http://www.thirteen.org/thecityconcealed/video/tombs-catacombs-of-green-wood-cemetery

1st Big Summer Thunderstorm- and it ain't summer yet!

Last night around 10 the storm started. Beautiful flashes of color and roaring thunder followed by enthusiastic rain. In the downtown square here, people whooped and yelled for Thor as the rain brought relief from the record-setting heat (it was in the 90s in New England). The wind whipped the trees into a cheerleading frenzy. And then the power went out. Which was okay for overnight. I opened the windows in a futile attempt to air the place out and settled down with a book and flashlight. The lot went quiet and downtown, for just a bit, went back a century, to a time before electricity. The church bells rang in midnight.

Then I woke up to the sound of the garbage trucks changing the dumpsters at 6, and the power still was out. So I got the emergency wind-up radio and listened to our local dj tell how most of the area was out. Trees went down, poles snapped, roads and schools closed. So far no reports of injury or intense destruction. It seems okay for most in town now; even West Bratt is back. The AC is on, though it's still 86 in my apartment. But I gots power, so life is good.

Still, it's weird to have what was a real August-high summer thunderstorm in May.

Cops of The Sixth Sense

Okay, it's just a TV show. But I've been watching Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars before that. Not the crappy runway version America produced, but the sharp, funny and interesting BBC originals. On YT. My weekends often have BBC on YT as filler.

Ashes to Ashes was a regular-quality, good cop show. Like Hill St Blues when it began. It even had a twist, in both series the protagonist was a cop whose life in now-time was imperiled and then they woke up in another decade, still a cop, at the precinct they'd been in. They were unsure if they were really there, had flashes of the other life with fairly imaginative non-sequitors thrown in to disturb them. They were unsure of whether they were even conscious and experiencing what happens in a coma. Their running theme was trying to do whatever they had to to get home.

Behind them, or above them, was Gene Hunt their DI, played by an actor named Phillip Glenister, who owns this role. Great shows. Almost movielike, I'd lose my thoughts and troubles while I disappeared into the 70s or 80s for an hour and admired the solid production, good acting and Mr. Glenister.

This last weekend brought the end of A2A. Many, though not all, ends were tied off and resolved. Questions of why and what are mostly answered and there were even surprises. But it felt kinda cheesy (bringing in Satan is the Godwin's Law of television- no matter how outstanding the acting). And I thought the series deserved better, like Gene Hunt did. OK it's imaginative enough and isn't a bad thing for an afterlife, doing what you love. But the whole Satan temptation in the form of an Internal Affairs inspector? Reminds me of the end of Stephen King books. The books are great, a good ride, but the endings always flounder. It's like eating healthy meals. You're satisfied, but not all happy-fied with the afterglow of say, chocolate cake. Not that life should be about cake, but when it's a multiple funeral, bring out the chocolate cake, godammit, I say!

So now I'm hunting for another TV series to pick up. Done The Royle Family, QI, Jonathan Creek, Hetty Wainthrop, You Rang M'Lord, and most of the panel shows. I've all but given up on cable TV. I'll still watch PBS regularly, and the (now renamed) "SyFy" channel. After 3 years of not having TV, nothing's changed in US television. It's idiot programming, meant to keep people stupid, content and fat. That's how they like us. Thank gods for YouTube.

Happy Birthday Cathy Saar and Wendy Machaver!!

Just realized that today is May 23rd, the birthdate of 2 women who were close to me at very different times of my life. We've lost touch for years now, but I hope somehow maybe they might google themselves and come across this. I'd really love to know how they're doing.

If either of you see this, email me!! and Happy Birthday, old pals.

Missing Brooklyn Again

My old pal the Princess went to Coney Island, rode the Wonder Wheel the RIGHT WAY, and sent me a note with a fortune from Grandma, the undead old woman in the box. And all of a sudden, I was homesick. Not for the way Brooklyn is now, but for the Brooklyn of the 60s. And the Cyclone, and Wilson's and Hinsch's, the Hammer films at the Dyker Heights Theatre. The Brooklyn of the union of mothers, of free bologna slices at the meat markets, of Mr Softy, truck rides and blackened sidewalk outside the fish & chip shop. Of sharing a small front garden with a group of boys, we with our barbie dolls and them with their tonka trucks.

When this strikes I usually go look at Bay Ridge and city videos from Christmas. I'm not letting it go that far. Brooklyn summers live in my heart. If I could go back it would ruin it. It's better to leave that innocence be.

BTW Grandma's fortune is so wonderful I'm not posting it. I do believe in magick, after all...
;)

It's Gonna Be Allright

Good news and a long-needed mission made this week better than most. In fact, both combined to get my ass outta the mud and, "sit me back at the table, proper," as Pop used to say.

First, my close friend won her case against her former hospital employer, and she'll finally get the surgery she needs. Never mind that the cause of her injury was in saving a patient who was killing herself; they didn't want to give her healthcare. A hospital who doesn't want to heal people. Says it all about the US. Well, it took 2 years, but she's got a surgery date. That part of the trip to Mordor is over. Bonus Round; her daughter-in-law and youngest grandchild are coming to help her through the surgery. Which is exactly the love she needs. And kinda payback, cuz she went to help them when the little guy was born. It's all good.

Then, having been given a Very Good bottle of vodka for my birthday, I took on a mission. It's been damn near a year since I got stinko (who can afford it?) so it was overdue, and I spilled my guts to said good friend. Just realized I'd been playing martyr/the hero by not telling her my griefs for a year or so. And they're real losses, ones I should be honoring. Ah well, it's a process. Got it outta my system, cried over the phone like the drunk I was, and woke up feeling years younger the next day. Hungover mildly, but lighter, ya know? I guess I'm at the age where alcohol can be used medicinally.
It's about as expensive.

And my good friend Stevil started a blog, which I'm looking forward to reading; he has a unique view of the world and things.
http://www.auto-de-fey.blogspot.com/

As I often say to my close friend (who shall remain unnamed) , "It's all gonna be allright, -------."

Bizarre Dreams of the Osbournes

Among the many recurrent themes in my dreams are the multiple employments I have with the Osbourne family. I have never worked for Ozzy and Sharon, never met them and probably never will. However, I have in my dreams been their cook, a roadie, an office assistant and a kind of emergency fixer to them.

Last night I dreamt I was traveling with them as some kind of aide and we were in a huge hotel. A 5 star hotel, of course. All was chaos and by the time they were settled down and I got to go have supper in the hotel dining room it was closing. And Bill Clinton beat me to the last dessert they had.

Why the Osbournes? I mean, I loved Ozzy when I was a teen and always thought we'd make a good couple. We resemble each other. He looks more like my brother than my brothers do. And I admire Sharon a great deal. If I could be anyone, I'd probably be Sharon Osbourne. But why am I working for them in my dreams?

And what the hell with Bill Clinton zooming in and getting the last dessert in the house?

Mother's Day

A well, a day late. But I wanted to share Julia Ward Howe's thoughts:

"Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
’We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.’
From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: ‘Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.’
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace."

I hope to see this in my lifetime.

Damn Hot & Death Watch

This is ridiculous. Yesterday was Beltane and today it's 88' F. My household thermometer is at the top and not moving, and neither am I. It's so hot in here I've a headache. Time to clean out the AC and have it ready.

My ill brother's wife called last night to let me know he's in the hospital. Seems he's been repeating 1969 by nodding out after taking huge amounts of pills. She had to quit her job because of his erratic (read "fucked up on pills he steals from anyone he can") behaviors. She's afraid he'll burn the house down. On entering the ER he told the nurse he was ready to die. He's also desperately trying to control what goes on after he dies. It's all bad. He'll be an addict to the end.

Today he called to say he'd signed himself outta the hospital because he's not leaving debt when he dies. Great country, America. Live a bit longer if you have the bucks, but go home and die if you don't.

I tried reasoning, but he's beyond reason. He has Medicare. my stepfather did, too, and there was no bill after his death.. I can only do so much. It's become another death watch.