Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Places you might not ever expect to be, or .... the heat of the moment

Here we have "looking left" to discover "Volume II" of "Still Life of Dust." I hope you know I am making fun of you -- teasing, sort of, for the most part. "Looking right" made its appearance on January 9. If you are puzzled, ask questions. Beyond that, what we have here are some odds and ends, again, left over, for the most part, from 2016. The dialogue quoted is from the 1962 rendition of a film entitled, "The Manchurian Candidate." Figure it out, why it is here, if you are able. I may as well mention the music which is here now, too. Music comes and music goes .... as do we. I learned a while ago through a post on another blog -- that of Daliana -- that Greg Lake had died. Most would associate him with the bands Emerson, Lake & Palmer or King Crimson, but Asia enters my mind when I hear his name. Cancer caught him on December 7. A self-inflicted bullet caught Keith Emerson of ELP last March 11. The first offering of music is a concert by Asia with Lake as the front man at the Budokan in 1983. I rolled through the Kodokan once upon a time, but never rocked through the Budokan. Get it? Never mind. I watch Lake perform here, and I see the physical image of a thousand "frat" boys I knew in college .... but, this guy had real talent and I appreciate having moved through life at the same time he was on stage. The second piece of music is, "Drive," performed by the Cars. When you read the post (or, should I say, if you read the post ??) you might understand why that song is here.

Just wrapping up a few loose ends

A bit of dialogue between
Colonel Milt and Major Ben Marco
in the 1962 film version
of "The Manchurian Candidate"
from a novel by Richard Condon

Major Ben Marco: Colonel!

Colonel Milt: Ben. May I come in for a minute?

Major Marco: Oh, please do. Of course. Come on in. May I ask the Colonel: (a) is this an official visit? And (b) may I mix you a drink?

Colonel Milt: (a) Yes, it is, and (b) you certainly may.

Major Marco: Scotch all right?

Colonel Milt: Fine. My God, where'd ya get all the books?

Major Marco: I ... I got a guy picks 'em out for me at random. Water all right?
 
Colonel Milt: Fine.

Major Marco: He's in, uh ... San Francisco. A little bookstore out there. And, uh... he ships 'em to me, wherever I happen to be stationed.

Colonel Milt: Have you read them all?

Major Marco: Yeah. They'd also make great insulation against an enemy attack. But the truth of the matter is that I'm just interested, you know, in principles of modern banking ... and the history of piracy ... the paintings of Orozco ... modern French theatre ... the jurisprudential factor of the Mafia administration ... diseases of horses ... and the novels of Joyce Cary ... and ethnic choices of the Arabs. Things like that.

Colonel Milt: Ben.

Major Marco: Sir.

Colonel Milt: The army's got a lot of things wrong with it, but it does take care of its own people, which is why I'm here. As a public relations officer, you're a disaster.

Major Marco: I never wanted the job.

The Apocalypse .... or Ragnarok .... or ....


Me, either. I never wanted the job. Most of them. Some of them I did, I guess. But, mostly, I like to move around and hang out here and there. Life does catch up to you at times, though, and sometimes a bit of work is required for a bit of money (honey) or, more simply, a necessity to maintain self-discipline and to accomplish a goal or two or .... you know ....

Since I was a junior in high school -- sometime during the months when I moved from age sixteen to age seventeen -- the number seventeen became unlucky for me. Laugh if you wish. I am superstitious. Fine for you if you are not.

So, I assume you have noticed .... this year is 2017. You might imagine what is on my mind. One thing has been thinking back about how many times I could have been dead or should have been dead -- remembering the past and wondering if this year of 2017 will be like running a gauntlet.

I will not go into the litany of why it is the way it is about the number seventeen, suffice to say more than a few bad things have occurred in my life which I identify with the calendar date or some person, place or thing in which the number seventeen has had a role. No litany, but a few isolated examples without details of the dreaded number of seventeen:

When I was seventeen, I went through the ice on a lake three times in one week. Twice, I was near enough to the shoreline so that the water was only four or five feet deep. No big deal. The third time I was in the middle of the lake while taking a "short cut" home after hunting and where, I knew from having swum across the lake twice during past summer months and periodically diving to the bottom to learn the various depths, the water was about twelve feet deep.

Sometime, I might explain why I still am here and not at the bottom of that lake, but in the interest of brevity -- I am laughing again -- I will pass over that segment of the story for now, as well as any mention of other times in other years of feeling the ice collapse beneath me ....

I was sort of a wild one as a teenager and "liked" to tempt or to dare fate. (Please, do not tell my mother.) There was a "game" called a "chickie run" -- which, as you might guess, had nothing to do with "chicks." Two guys (I am not aware of any girls who did it) would separate by about a mile on an isolated road and drive their cars at each other as fast as the cars would run. Whoever would turn away at the last moment was a chicken.

Die or be a chicken. Crazy, hah? Yeh, so is life. We did it -- I did it twice as a driver and once as a passenger, all while I was seventeen -- even though seven who we knew in two cars had been killed doing it when neither driver swerved. They all were in high school (and, probably, mostly, if not all, age seventeen).

We will skip over the Marine Corps and its relationship to the number seventeen for this exercise, although I do have four good stories including an "Alamo" tale I could tell you if you had your own "bona fides" (no punks allowed) and got me drinking heavy some night -- or morning .... or afternoon ....

Well, anyway baby/honey/sweetie or whoever you think you are, I trust you follow my drift. (If you think you are all three -- baby/honey/sweetie -- wrapped up in one, give me a call !!)

Yes .... back on point .... we are about to enter 2017, and superstitious me is looking over my shoulder as I walk along through an entire year whose name is seventeen. Without more details about how the number seventeen factors into all these events, its "bad luck significance" is not sharply defined -- but, trust me, it is there, lurking in the background.

It seems everything I write these days is long, long, long, so I will try to begin to wrap this up: I plan on keeping a low profile for a while (laugh, if you must). My current existence, which includes the sea of blogs, does not hold my fascination any longer. Specifically regarding the blogs, they do not seem to serve a purpose for me as they once did.

 (To be continued .... at least, that is the plan ....)




4 comments:

ANITA said...

Well its a long fascinating post Fram!

I am glad you made it.

So gonna leave the blogs?Ok may be thats a good thing for you..There soo much more out there..Will be missing your post though..

For me I am chewing on a sentence my son came with yesterday

ignorance is a blessing


Hope you find what your looking for out there Fram

May the force be with you

Thanx for all good post you have made trough the years.

Anita

Smareis said...

Boa noite Fram!

Eu gosto de leitura longa, por isso minhas postagens são tão grande. Agora eu estou sorrindo. Tem pessoas que não gosta, mais eu gosto.
Uma bonita foto. Gostei mais da parte da direita onde tem dois vidros de conserva. Acho que é sim. Lindos esses quadros.
O meu desejo é que você não deixe o mar de blog. Mais eu não sei qual era o seu propósito quando abriu esse blog. Se acha que não tem mais utilidade , abre outro blog e comece de novo.
Essa musica Drive "The Cars" é maravilhosa. Mas a letra é triste.

Quem irá te dizer quando
É tarde demais
Quem irá te dizer que as coisas
Não estão tão bem

Você não pode seguir, pensando
Nada está errado, mas adeus
Quem irá te levar pra casa
Está noite?

Quem irá te levantar
Quando tu caíres
Quem irá atender
Quando tu ligares?

Quem prestará atenção
Nos teus sonhos
E quem irá tampar o ouvido deles
Quando tu gritares?

Você não pode seguir, pensando
Nada está errado, mas adeus
(Quem irá te levar)
(Quem irá te levar)
Quem irá te levar pra casa, esta noite?
(Quem irá te levar pra casa)

(Adeus baby)
(Adeus baby)
(Adeus baby)

Fram, eu ainda não atualizei meu blog. Na verdade eu vou mudar o Layouts do meu blog por esses dias. Todo ano sempre eu faço alguma mudança de cores e outras coisinhas. Acho que mudar alguma coisa no blog sempre deixa a gente mais animada. Asim que tudo estiver pronto eu coloco no ar de novo.
Há músicas que ouvimos e nos tocam.

Eu estava lendo sua postagem e ouvindo (John Grant - Where Dreams Go To Die (Strongroom Session) me indicaram essa canção e por curiosidade fui ouvi-la e gostei demais... Fiquei ouvindo por várias vezes... A princípio tocada pela melodia e depois pela letra. É uma canção triste, mas uma canção de amor. Achei-a linda demais! E o título da canção é tão poético!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNfckqekxY4&feature=youtu.be

Até Fram!
Um monte de sorriso pra você .
Você ainda tem meu e-mail?

Fram Actual said...

You are "jumping the gun" just a bit, Anita, figuratively speaking. Remember, the words of the post were unfinished and the final few paragraphs are yet to be written. Well .... written in a post, although they pretty much are written in my mind. In a day or two or three, I will finish the post and explain what I have planned.

I am not sure what to say/think about Alexander's remark that "ignorance is a blessing." There certainly is a school of thought which tends to think that way. In fact, it might be said that some religious sects live their lives that way: Hutterites in South Dakota and Montana, for instance, and the Amish and the Mennonites in other regions.

One of my favorite writers is Jack London. In his novel, "The Sea Wolf," one of the central characters, Wolf Larsen, said this about his brother, Death Larsen: "Wolf Larsen answered, with an indescribable air of sadness. 'And he (Death Larsen) is all the happier for leaving life alone. He is too busy living it to think about it. My mistake was in ever opening the books.'"

I have said the same thing, myself, about books.

There is not an exact answer to this. We all are individuals, and it seems you are generally happy and pleased with the way Alexander is handling life. I do think about him and his age and how life was for me when I was his age. (Have you noticed that?) Feel free to talk to me about these things, Anita.

Anyway .... back to the sea of blogs. I will not disappear entirely, Anita. As I said, I will write more about this in a few days -- maybe, on the 13th or the 15th and no later than the 16th. My first blog was born on January 15, 2009 .... I began this blog on January 21, 2009. I kept them both for a few weeks, then eliminated the original one. Anyway, this is the timetable I am working on with my plans.

And, even if I should stop posting, that does not mean I would not visit your blog.

I was watching, "Vikings," on television earlier this evening. When I was "into" the Old Norse seriously a few years ago, I read, maybe, twenty novels and sagas and assorted other sources/variations about the life of Ragnar. In the miniseries, they just had Odin appear before Ragnar's sons to tell them he was dead and on his way to Valhalla. I think it is phenomenal that a contemporary television show is being so true to the beliefs and the customs of the Old Norse .... you know me, a superstitious romantic to the end, who has worn Thor's Hammer for a few decades alongside a Marine Corps dog tag and an 1876 dime coin.

Thank you, Anita, for staying with me .... as usual, later ....

Fram Actual said...

Yes, you are a writer and a reader, Smareis. I could write for twenty-four hours and you would read every word of it. Most in the world are not that way, however, and the only solution is to write for yourself without worrying/thinking about whether anyone else ever will read it.

I have had many newspaper articles published, some magazine pieces, have ghost-written a couple of books, written specific sections in non-fiction books, had a few short stories published and done a couple of other things in a literary sense, so I have definite feelings about what is important to me in terms of writing and what is not. Having what I write read by others is secondary at this point in my life to simply writing for myself.

I also have jumped from airplanes, swum for miles in darkness on an unknown, dangerous river and run for my life and, in all honesty, those memories make me smile more than the thought of having someone read one of my posts. The concept of relevance has many meanings ....

You do not know why I came to the blogs .... hmmmm .... the reason I came was with the thought/hope that I might encounter "the right" woman, preferably, one living in another country, to last me and to stay with me from now until the end (of time).

I did learn what I should have already known back then, that a man like me probably could not exist in a country other than the United States. There have been women who interest me intensely, but circumstances and situations never have been completely right at the time. I sometimes joke that I should go to a saloon or to a church, and that the odds of success at finding someone would be greater than those of finding the "right young lady" on the blogs.

Some say (probably most) that a successful marriage takes a great deal of work. Well, to me, life outside the home is work/work/work .... so, in the home I want smile/smile/smile made that way because our thoughts run parallel to one another.

I also have said many times that I wanted a companion who I absolutely trust and who is capable of watching my back when I need it. These women, I think, are few and far between .... but, in reality, this is less of a "prerequisite" now than it was, say, eighteen or so months ago. I believe, though, the right woman would have enjoyed our "field trips" as they were then.

Anyway ....

I might mention that I think the song, "Drive," by the Cars was present on my post for meanings different than those in the video. I was sort of teasing. I was thinking that a "young lady" might not want to drive home with me because she might find herself in a "chickie run" along the way.

As for the actual tone of the song, I think many of us have encountered men or women we would like to save from themselves -- from their fatal loves or their addictions. I have written before, but probably not where you have seen it, Smareis, that, for some of us, it is easy to be like Jesus, to emulate his actions; what is difficult is to realize there are some beyond (earthly) redemption and to move along to the next. I saw this often when I ran a prison. You save/help those who you can, realizing not everyone can be or, at times, even wants to be .... stupidity and evil are very different, but both are as real as are night and day ....

Yes, "Drive," is beautiful song, and a sad one. I enjoyed your John Grant, too, but, to be honest, not so much that I would buy his recordings. (I buy very few, if that makes you feel better !!) I have not looked at the lyrics of his song yet, but I will during my tomorrow.

Yes, I have your email. Do not worry. I never am far away. As close as the full moon, right now ....

Thank you, Smareis, for reading me and, I think, understanding me .... take care ....

Something special ....