Collecting veils & thinking about ..... about .... about ....

Attention, young ladies age 21 and over: Applications sought from bright, attractive young ladies seeking to expand their horizons. Earn college credits while studying the history of motion pictures abroad. Scholarships available; also loans with very low interest rates and easy repayment plan. Must be single and unattached. Must bring your own personal veils.

This is sort of a "state of the blog speech"

As I have mentioned about a thousand times before, when January snow and cold hits, sometimes, I might go south for a couple of weeks; sometimes, I might go on a reading binge; sometimes, well, I won't tell you everything. This year, I went abloggin' (however a word of that approximation might be spelled) and roamed the sea of blogs.

I am not certain if doing this has served any purpose or not. I am no less restless today than I was a bit more than two months ago when I began to write. While it might not remain winter, neither is it July, which certainly explains some of my restlessness. A few questions I came here with have been answered, I think, but the heavy duty ones persist. If I'm lucky, those, too, will be resolved six months or a year from now.

Being here in "blogland" has been mostly enjoyable. I've only had one troll, and sure cannot cry about having had it rough in that respect. I have been surprised and pleased by the degree of good manners and consideration I have encountered. I've been involved in a few misunderstandings, but we all engage in them every day.

The few bloggers I have followed, I have done so by intent and for specific reason. I liked what you wrote or your topics or your guts or your enthusiasm or your effort to help people or the place you were traveling. There probably are a few other reasons, but there was a definite reason or two or three for each.

Nothing has changed my tentative jump off from sometime in July. Nothing has changed my initial jump location as being into Greece for a few weeks. After that? Unless something does change in his regard, I am thinking southern France near the Mediterranean, if not actually on it (ok, beside it, on the beach). From there, another map will have to be drawn. The world certainly has gotten geographically smaller in the past decade or two, hasn't it? A hop, skip and a jump, here we go and there we are.

Despite my "advertisement" above, I decided some time back that I am not looking for anyone to actually accompany me. Selfish me, I want to experience Greece without distraction. My more recent thought has been about the possibilities if I actually do settle in for a year or two. Then, I will want a "magic girl" to visit me, or maybe to hang out with me a while and see if anything develops.

I do have three or four other things on my mind, but they seem determined to stay there. I'm out of sync today. My fingers frequently replace my brain, and they are not doing so right now. I have said in the past that my fingers do my thinking for me. (Imagine my difficulties the two times I've had an arm and hand in a cast.)

Also, winter is moving away, and my mind and body reverse themselves between winter and summer. My body is coming out of hibernation for use during the warm weather months, and my mind is going toward its stagnant period to get some rest while I collect wind, water and sun on my face.

Music Note: Listening to Jimi Hendrix ....
Specifically, "Electric Ladyland" ....
Some lines from: "All Along the Watchtower," written by Bob Dylan:

There are many here among us
who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too

Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl

Myth, tree tops & my little Amazon girl

Four myths or four truths about the Marine Corps? I had these logos left over from the other day, and decided to throw them into the mix now in order to avoid actually thinking about anything more complicated -- and, sort of, to illustrate a point. Incidentally, the guy on the bottom right, Private Gomer Pyle, taught me everything I know, while the T-shirt slogan above him, hopefully, represents me today. I never have figured out why no one ever is playing a guitar on any T-shirt representing the Marine Corps.

Magic Girl as the ultimate Amazon ....

The subject of friends and buddies came up in a sort of conversation. I am not certain when or where or why the word "buddy" came into being, and not curious enough to do any research. Its primary use seems to be in a military context, i.e., the "buddy system," and essentially is just another way of saying "friend." Or is it? Here is a thought and a story from sort of a conservative, male point of view.

I was in a situation once upon a time (love those words) where I had to pick my No. 2. There were six names on the list, five men and one woman. I had known and worked with all of them for a while. I selected the woman. I was asked why, and my reply was to the effect: "All other qualifications being more-or-less equal, she is the only one on the list I would trust to stand back-to-back with if the shit hit the fan."

In other words, under a worst case scenario, in which we both either would make it or we both would go down, it would be back-to-back, to the end. There was not one man on that list I would have trusted to watch my back. Each one of those five men, I believed from having gotten to know them rather well, potentially was a runner should the proverbial "shit hit the fan."

This might be another category under which to define a "magic girl." The particular "magic girl" in my story was, unfortunately for me, happily married and the mother of two children. The circumstances of this story would make a fascinating debate, I think, between "real worlders" such as myself and ivory tower dispensers of opinion regarding human priorities and motivations. I am speaking of those who have little actual experience in the real world, but years of "book study" and theoretical political and social activism. (I am not anti-intellectual and obviously, I hope it is clear, am not anti-book or anti-education, but simply a person who puts more value on knowledge gained from personal experience than from cloistered consultant clustering.)

Believe it or not (and, I am sure most women will), I had to threaten blood on the floor (figuratively, figuratively, figuratively) in order to have her approved for the slot. A few men in this circle, but not all, later admitted to me that I had made the right decision. I had to tell her that, because none of them had the courage to face her and to admit to her that she might be the best of all of us.

But, I also wonder how many women would find it comfortable to be in the company of another woman who is at once a feminine creature at the height of her allure, while also a warrior who possesses primitive survival skills that equal those of any man. I suspect the average woman might be frightened of or, at least, wary of, this Amazon more so than she would be of a man carrying the same set of credentials.

Come to think of it, the Greek immortal Athena was a warrior as well as a goddess and a magic girl. She aided the mere mortal, Odysseus, more than once and covered his back at times. Ah, yes, the blue waters of the Mediterranean have so much to offer. It must be in the water.

Maybe I should have said, "no" ....

I was reading another's blog in which the writer said that when he had been younger and more agile, he enjoyed sitting in a tree while reading a book. It reminded me that there were a few times when I was younger when I would take a bottle of wine and climb into a tree with it when I had a difficult decision to make. It took more time and more wine to arrive at some decisions than it did others.

Do you suppose such an action is from a lingering, genetic memory? Probably not. Seriously now, the first time it happened was by the circumstance of having to decide whether I would rather sit on the ground or on a tree branch.

I had been offered a promotion at work and was not certain I wanted it. I drove out to a friend's home to talk about it with him. He was in his driveway, rotating the tires on his car. Rather than sit down on the ground, I took my wine and climbed into an adjacent tree. Then, I proceeded to drink my wine, talk with him and stare at the woodlands and blue waters of a lake beyond.

I took the job. Money won out, although I am sure ambition and ego were contributing factors. That was one of the pivotal moments in my past in which I now question whether or not I made the best (right? / correct?) decision. I can never know with absolute certainty, of course, but my hunch is that three or four people, including myself, would be happier (more content? / better off?) today had I continued doing what I was doing and said no thanks to the promotion.

Birthday wishes to the tardy one ....

Happy birthday, Diva, wherever you've run off to. Here is a poem, "To Helen," written by Edgar Allan Poe. The Helen he is referring to is Helen of Troy. I think he might have been visualizing The Diva when he wrote it.

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!

Music Note: Nearly 2:00 a.m. here & Guns N' Roses just came on the radio ....
"November Rain," but it's March ....

Ladies, magic girls & learning to live

Lady when I'm with you I'm smiling
Give me all your love
Your hands build me up when I'm sinking
Touch me and my troubles all fade

Lady from the moment
I saw you standing all alone
You gave all the love that I needed
So shy like a child who had grown

You're my Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling, clear and lovely
You're my lady

Some lines from the song: "Lady"
written (and sung) by Dennis DeYoung,
of "Styx," about his wife, Suzanne

Live long and prosper, magic girls ....
I know that only yesterday I said, fair is fair, two photographs for London, two for Paris, two for Rome, but in every contest there must be a winner whether we wish it to be so or not. Therefore, tonight, we have a winner: No one other than a "magic girl" can represent the winner. Rather than say which city is the winner, please look up this young lady's current residency, if you do not already know. Learn, if you would, please, and appreciate.

My photo is dismal, as usual, in a technical sense, but it is mine, and to stand so close to this "magic girl/lady" requires nothing more than appreciation of the essence of female beauty and artistic talent. We might not have been alone together, but we were close together. Technology is not required, and I will leave that argument to the technocrats among us. No, I am not grouchy, simply questioning priorities, and am sort of sarcastic because it is required of me as a devotee of Ambrose "Bitter" Bierce.

May we all have mentors along the way ....
A few days ago, Etta, in her Depression Marathon blog, wrote about her mentoring experience with a teenage boy. I started following her blog not because I have problems with depression beyond the ordinary, but because I wanted to learn and to better understand how people live with depression and cope with it. I have known four people who were unable to cope. In this particular post about her teenage friend, Etta's words started me to thinking and remembering the differences between being young and being older, between naivety and experience, in my own life.

I was a Marine while I still was 18, and there were some younger than me. My immediate buddies were around the same age as I was, but I sought out men who were 15 or 20 years older than me to associate with as much as possible. Why? Because I knew that they not only had valuable knowledge about the Marine Corps, but also had significant experience about life that I did not. I wanted to learn.

When I went to college, the majority of my friends were in their late 20s and early 30s. Why? Because they were the people in my immediate world who had experience at things I did not. Many were, or had been, married. Some were parents. Many had worked construction or similar jobs before deciding a bachelor's degree could provide them with a better life. I wanted to learn.

When I entered newspaper work, it was the same. Most of the people I hung with were older than I was at that time. They could provide me with knowledge, both about the job and about life. I could learn from hearing about their triumphs and their failures and, through friendship with them, I could save myself from a few missteps and stumbles I otherwise most certainly would have made. I wanted to learn.

While I agree with the notion there is no substitute for experience, I also think there is no better way to get a head start on it than by having a few friends who already have been around the block, and by learning from them as well as from our own travails.

We all are learning every day, and we all have a great many choices about what we spend our time learning and, more importantly, many options whether or not we use what we learn to the benefit of ourselves and, maybe, to the benefit of a few others. Thus spake Fram, and here endith the sermon.

Sorry, I have already been down that road ....
So many times I have read or heard people say that if they could live their lives over, they would not change a thing. I would do exactly the opposite. Everywhere I turned left the first time, I would turn right the second time. Every time I said no before, I would say yes now. This does not imply regret; it suggests curiosity. There is not enough time to do everything, much less to do it twice. Except, maybe, some things, with a few very special people and for a few extraordinary events.

Music Note: Listening to and sort of watching "Styx" ....
Specifically, "Return to Paradise" ....
("Lady" & "Come Sail Away" .... what else?)

London, courtly love & another pair

And, before reaching the Seine, there was this.

Cruising the Thames with Fram the First ....

As I promised yesterday, I have delved further into the previously unpublished travel journals of Fram the First. And, what can I say? His travels began as a bad boy. His journals indicate that he was among the rampaging hordes that swept into Britain before moving along and searching for greener pastures and brighter gold in lands to the south.

By all indications, Fram the First did enjoy cruising on the Thames and bobbing in and out of coastal towns, as well. He thought the folk friendly, the girls beautiful and the ale adequate. He did, however, mention in his journal that he preferred traditional, realistic art to the modernistic stuff finding its way into the Saatchi Gallery in London town.

My assumption is that had Fram the First been heard of beyond his 27th year, he would have grown to enjoy art ranging from blue girls to green girls. There might be more to be told regarding Fram the First's frantic existence. Apparently, he did make one earlier, civilian trip in, about and around the Continent, however, he was traveling with tintype camera gear during those voyages, which makes it difficult to relay the sights he saw.

There also exists a legend that he was among the first Norsemen to arrive in present-day Minnesota. I shall check into it.

The lover is bewildered, helpless ....

I became wrapped up in the notion of romance a few days ago, even to the point where I began studying it again in literary terms. (What can I say? English majors, i.e., witless fools.) By study, I mean examining how writers and literary movements over the centuries have viewed romance and recorded it. I have discovered that I probably am a "courtly love" man. A brief description:

"According to the system, falling in love is accompanied by great emotional disturbances; the lover is bewildered, helpless, tortured by mental and physical pain ... He agonizes over his condition and indulges in endless self-questioning and reflections on the nature of love and his own wretched state. His condition improves when he is accepted, and he is inspired by his love to great deeds. He and his lady pledge ... and must remain faithful in spite of all obstacles ... C.S. Lewis has made a detailed study of courtly love in 'The Allegory of Love'."

I did not stop there. I continued by adding historical study of romance to the mix. In this instance, I was thinking primarily in terms of how my Scandinavian ancestors viewed it. From the "The Poetic Edda," specifically within the "Hovamol -- The Ballad of the High One:"

"Soft words shall he speak and wealth shall he offer
Who longs for a maiden's love,
And the beauty praise of the maiden bring;
He wins whose wooing is best."

and this:

"The head alone knows what dwells near the heart,
A man knows his mind alone;
No sickness is worse to one who is wise
Than to lack the longed-for joy."

and one more:

"Fault with another let no man find
For what touches many a man;
Wise men oft into witless fools
Are made by mighty love."

Technology races forward, but wisdom and knowledge were born long before any of us. It is there to assist us if we wish to look for it. No date can be ascribed to the "Hovamol" but, undoubtedly, parts of it are relics of ancient Germanic poetry.

There are women who make me shake in my boots, but .... time to stop writing and to resume my studies before I get any deeper into trouble. To be continued ....

Night run & the magic girl ....

Here are two more true tales told in column form rather than in paragraph form. This is sort of fun.

Night run ....

I miss seeing the stars at night
beneath clean, clear, country skies,
while running along a graveled road
at midnight in January,
with the temperature below zero,
dressed in insulated clothing and boots,
smoking a cigarette, as I run.
I did not dream after such a night,
after running the frozen road beneath the stars.

Magic girl …

I look at her face, I stare into her eyes.
She is there yet, the girl from long ago.
Her smile has dimmed only a slight degree,
but her face shows scars from tears,
a lonely expression there for all to see.

I sense her there, the girl from long ago,
I know she is she, and once she was for me,
but how do I know what is left inside her?
Is she magic still, or has life changed her?
Can a woman return, a magic girl to be?

Music Note: Listening to and sort of watching David Bowie ....
Specifically, the "Glass Spider" tour ....
(Third time in about four or five weeks .... why?)