about how I probably won't see you anymore

Just like that, our friendship is over. I let it grow—forced it to grow, maybe—to ridiculous proportions in my mind. Rationalizing what I now know were disparities in how we felt about each other, I told myself our friendship was so great that I could only glimpse small parts of it at a time. But it was just never that big to begin with. I was getting all of it, and I just assumed there was more. But it was out of sight, out of mind for you.

(posts) "Bruises" by Dusted

(posts) rhetoric

After the space shuttle Challenger explosion in 1986, President Ronald Reagan remarked, "We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God."

High Flight
   by John Gillespie Magee, Jr

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

 

something about "I Should Be Dead: My Life Surviving Politics, TV, and Addiction" by Bob Beckel

Bob Beckel's long political career included holding office as Deputy Assistant Secretary of State during the Carter Administration and managing Walter Mondale's presidential campaign. In the years since, he has gained a little more recognizability through his frequent appearances as a political analyst on the news networks. The confessional I Should Be Dead relays some difficult sequences from Beckel's youth and then efficiently details his professional life and recovery. His father's alcoholism is a defining phenomenon, and since childhood Beckel has lived his life as a survivor. Even though it is the book's selling point, Beckel's own debauchery does not occupy a lot of time in the narrative. The man was a functional addict, so you read about campaigns, and now and again Beckel reminds you that this narrator was working with generous amounts of cocaine and alcohol in his bloodstream. It is a painfully personal tale, but Beckel forgoes emotional depth and tells it with a genial directness that makes for an easy read.


Note: I was hoping for more of a political memoir.

(posts) a scan of something doodled during a meeting more than four years ago

(posts) "What Am I Doing Hangin' Round" by The Monkees

"What Am I Doing Hanging 'Round?"

Just a loud mouth Yankee I went down to Mexico.
I didn't have much time to spend, about a week or so.
There I lightly took advantage of a girl who loved me so.
But I found myself a-thinkin' when the time had come to go...

What am I doin' hangin' round?
I should be on that train and gone.
I should be ridin' on that train to San Antone,
What am I doin' hangin' round?

She took me to the garden just for a little walk.
I didn't know much Spanish and there was no time for talk.
Then she told me that she loved me not with words but with a kiss.
And like a fool I kept on thinkin' of a train I could not miss...

What am I doin' hangin' round?
I should be on that train and gone.
I should be ridin' on that train to San Antone,
What am I doin' hangin' round?

Well it's been a year or so, and I want to go back again.
And if I get the money, well I'll ride the same old train.
But I guess your chances come but once and boy I sure missed mine.
And still I can't stop thinkin' when I hear some whistle cryin'....

What am I doin' hangin' round?
I should be on that train and gone.
I should be ridin' on that train to San Antone,
What am I doin' hangin' round?

Note:
At 0:24, Nesmith appears to sneer at someone (or something) off camera.

(posts) a moment from two weeks ago

about the payoff

The knowing tone he artfully employed signaled to me what a wise guy he was. He always had this tone. His emails practically winked at me from the screen. And, in person, well, he winked sometimes. When I discovered his scheme--a discovery made completely by chance--I was unsettled. But when next I went into his office the knowing tone artfully employed was heard in my voice. "I was finishing my edit on the contract addendum and had to verify the effective dates against that budget report you processed."

"Oh?" he said (with a most interrogative inflection).

"Yes!" And I told him about how the contract award announcement date, the comment by the guest technology company executive on Charlie Rose, and our work on drafting the requirements all played out in such a curious little drama. And about how if a body didn't know better, he might get curious about it all.

"How much?" he asked. (This question lacked the exaggerated inflection of his last.)

I winked and pulled the door shut.

about this place

 
Nature is so ugly here. Grimy ivies smother right up to the paved limits. The heat and humidity pick at and needle back all of our encroachments. Winter can not kill the infestations.

(posts) Jefe's "Waiting On My Time"

Waiting On My Time
  by Shy Glizzy

I'M just waiting on my time, I'm just waiting on my time

They say why you never smile? cause a lot be on my mind
When they ass ain't have a dime they was with me all the time
These niggas get some shine now they actin' like they blind
Oh they must've seen my Role(x), I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm waiting on my time
My VVSs shine, bitch I'm waiting on my time
Homie have some lines while I'm waiting on my time

Oh now y'all wanna worry 'bout Glizzy? bitch I'm good
A couple niggas told me they could get me out the hood
You think I listen to them niggas? ha, I wish I would
I'm still thugging with the same niggas from my hood
I stunt out on a hater, yeah I pull out in my new toy
They ain't making no noise, they ain't making no noise
They like look at old boy, remember he was broke boy
Now he got that dope boy, he might take your ho boy
I been on some shit, my mama said I'm actin' different
She know her baby well, there's some shit that I ain't mentioning
Real nigga walk up in this bitch, you better listen
Bought my bitch an Audi, she ain't getting shit for Christmas

They say why you never smile? cause a lot be on my mind
When they ass ain't have a dime they was with me all the time
These niggas get some shine now they actin' like they blind
Oh they must've seen my Role(x), I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm waiting on my time
My VVSs shine, bitch I'm waiting on my time
Homie have some lines while I'm waiting on my time

I'm tooling, you know that
Get rich and get your racks
Knock her up and get your ho back
I fucked her to that Kodak
I'm trying to make some Ms, I ain't trying to be your friend
I been seeing trill niggas act like they don't see him
Soon as I switch it up they just gonna do that shit again
Made a hundred in a month, next month I do that shit again
Glizzy keep the heat, Yeezys on my feet
Bitch I'm looking sweet, you ain't fuckin' then it's peace
I got goons to go, eenie miney moe
Used to get it in Ohio, never been to Idaho
I got my jewels from Joe, I hit every bitch you know
If the rap shit don't blow then it's back to what I know

They say why you never smile? cause a lot be on my mind
When they ass ain't have a dime they was with me all the time
These niggas get some shine now they actin' like they blind
Oh they must've seen my Role(x), I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm just waiting on my time
I'm waiting on my time, I'm waiting on my time
My VVSs shine, bitch I'm waiting on my time
Homie have some lines while I'm waiting on my time

something on "Remember How I Love You: Love Letters from an Extraordinary Marriage" by Jerry Orbach, Ken Bloom, and Elaine Orbach

Most people probably know Jerry Orbach as the actor who played NYPD Detective Lennie Briscoe for 12 seasons on the long-running NBC crime drama "Law & Order." Orbach got into the habit of writing (by hand!) a poem to his wife every day. She saved them all and has had them published in this short volume. Looped in among the playful poems are personal anecdotes and biographic material shared by Elaine Orbach. This is a glimpse inside a genuinely affectionate marriage.

Notes:

• Sam Waterston wrote the book's foreword.
• Law & Order ran for 20 seasons.

 

about burying family

She flew home to bury her sister for Christmas and caught the return flight two days later. People started asking how she was. "People die all the time," she thought. "What difference does it make if it happens to me or you or anybody else?"

(posts) a doodle

about the politcal landscape after Trump's first month

Instead of building their local networks and promoting policy positions to win voters back, Democrats are banking on a Trump administration implosion. Presumption and inference will not do it, though. A Bangladeshi factory is standing by, ready for orders to produce t-shirts emblazoned with "Four More Years."

about people

When someone tells me how smart their dog is, I think of how dumb the person must be.

about choosing a Russia-friendly oilman for Secretary of State

Under the guise of a supercoalition, the US can outsource to Russia some of the intervention grunt work in the Middle East; this would permit more US time and resource investment in Asia. The oil-rich lands of Russia and the Middle East represent the past; Asia will be a larger part of the future. 


Note: Not the actual reasoning behind President Donald Trump's pick for Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson.

(posts) audio for Deicide's "Misery of One"

"Misery of One" 
   -by Deicide

Failure, claim to fame, abject the soul
Ending your own dream; you closed that door!

The end of time has come, for you and him are done
Dissension has begun 
The misery of one

Liars, petty thieves, out for their own
Sadness turns to grief; the truth now known

Now take your place with god, unburdened by your thought
You got just what you want: a life of pain and loss

Dooming oneself for one selfish belief
Only yourself by yourself was deceived
Nobody wants to remember your name
Only what if's now remain in your place
Seen for the fraud that you put on display
Live with your actions while digging your grave
Choke on the truth, slap to the face, life without you is a much better place

A wish of death; no hope for happiness
The flame of wealth no more of yours to delve

Concurred defeat is all you'll ever reach
Embraced your hell as long as time will tell
 
Failure, claim to fame, abject your souls
Ending your own dreams, you closed that door!

The end of time has come, for you and him are done
Dissension has begun
The misery of one

 

something about John C. Masterman's "The Double Cross System in the War of 1939 to 1945"

The Double Cross System in the War of 1939 to 1945 is a report on an anti-espionage program run by the British intelligence and security service MI5 during World War II; MI5 recruited and employed Nazi agents in Britain to disseminate disinformation back to the German Government. (Bits of legitimate intelligence were mixed in to lend the double agents credibility with the regime.) This nonfiction work relates methods, the anonymous people who used them, and various operations, successes, and failures.

The author of this report, John Cecil Masterman, was integral to the program. Masterman, an academic who was drafted into clandestine government service, reports that the program was mostly a success. Masterman's writing is also a success, albeit a modest one. Dry in its telling, the narrative does not require a lot of chewing; it's mercifully brief.

(or doodles)

about the Rolling Stone article "Keith Urban's Hard Road"

Keith Urban achieved fame Down Under before relocating to Nashville, USA and hitting it big. Married to famous actress and fellow Aussie Nicole Kidman, he's a huge commercial country-rock success whose own celebrity status grew even larger recently through his casting on hit TV show "American Idol."

The famous musician is the subject of this short Rolling Stone profile with the foreshadowing subtitle, "His rise to fame, paved by talent, looks and drive, has led the country megastar to the darkest of places."

He is a legitimate songwriter and musician, but baby pacifiers have more edge than Keith Urban. The man seems charmed. So it's somewhat compelling to read about him that, "In truth, the hard times were harder than almost anyone except his wife knows, and more desperate, and more frightening, up to the point of should-I-live-or-should-I-die, with him favoring the latter. 'No, man,' he says later on, 'I didn't just walk into this gig.' And then he proceeds to open up a little bit about some of the stuff that happened."

When he opens up, we learn that Urban's darkest places are filled with piles of cocaine. From the profile:

He's going back in time, to 1998, seven years since he released his four hit records in Australia, five years since that girl called him a novelty, another long year away from success. He was at a house out in Franklin, about 20 miles south of Nashville, staring at a big pile of coke, about to embark on another one of his binges, which is how he used to roll–-a few days or weeks off, then blammo.

"I had plenty of stuff," he says. "I didn't seem able to stop. There was no stopping this time. I'd go to sleep, wake up a couple of hours later, go at it again, drinking to take the edge off. I remember thinking, 'I'm probably not going to make it until tomorrow.' And then I thought, 'Fuck it. I really don't care. It'll be a relief to not have to. I'll take an Ambien and at some point I'll pass.' I was taking everything. I remember thinking, 'Oh, good, this is the end of it, yahoo.' I was quite happy about it." He leans back in his chair, smiles and shrugs. "Well, I woke up the next day at lunchtime, in my bed, sweating, going, 'Fuck! Guess I'm not going to get to go this way.' I thought the choice to quit would be taken from me, which would be easier than me trying to do it on my own. There was coke left, so I went at it again."

And that is pretty much it. There is a discrepancy between this shoddy profile's melodramatic setup and this payoff.

How can you foreshadow "the darkest of places" and then omit the details that would really comprise a tragedy, like, how much money was he blowing every day? was his health failing somehow? what symptoms led him to think he was going to die? who was around him? was he alienated? did he have any troubles with the law? what were his days like? is there something particularly seedy about being "at a house out in Franklin, about 20 miles south of Nashville"?

Those kinds of details are missing. Instead we hear his claims that he "had plenty of stuff," didn't care, and was even "quite happy about it." (Buddy, if you have coke left in the morning, maybe you have more self-control than you think.)

Addiction is serious and I do not doubt that he suffered from it. Urban apparently had a coke problem, but that is as far this story goes.

Urban and the author similarly skip past dark places in the subject's childhood. About his father, Urban says:

"My recollection is that he was a physical disciplinarian. Ten years ago, I would have said, 'He never did anything I didn't deserve.' Now I realize it's not about deserving it." He leans forward, says, "I don't recall him ever telling me he loved me as a kid. I'd do a gig I thought was fantastic and the only thing he'd say is, 'When you speak onstage, you've got to slow down.' He never commented on anything else. And the way he disciplined me, he seemed to have forgotten about it as he got older. I don't think he was in denial, he genuinely had no recollection. 'Hitting you? I never did that!'" This comes as a bit of a shock, mainly because Urban has never publicly mentioned it before ...

Is this an allusion to child abuse? Urban uses the word "disciplined," not abuse. There is nothing dark about being disciplined.

The profile promises darkness and pain, but delivers only pithy allusions.


Notes:
I had to reread the article to verify that the author was not being sarcastic. I blame both the author and Urban for the misdirection.