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

Hunters pass, ten things & sailing Italy

No, it is not Paris. It is Tahquamenon Falls in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I did not take this photograph, and have no idea who did or when it was taken, but it is an excellent illustration for another true story in column form. This is the way the woodlands were on a September day, once upon a time, in a place not too distant from there, when ....

Two hunters exchange thoughts ....
Part one of two

It is a warm day for September,
and the maples still hold their leaves,
while I wait, sitting, leaning against a fallen tree.
My vigil has lasted three hours,
and another hour of light remains
until the woodland belongs to itself.

My rifle rests across its own fallen tree
while I wait, eyes closed, listening
for any sound unnatural or new.
I sense movement at my crotch,
and my eyes open, glancing down
to discover what has found me there.

Two mice, babies, roll and wrestle
just as two kittens or two puppies often do
while waiting for time to pass.
I watch them for a moment, then slow
my breath and close my eyes again as I wait
for any sound unnatural or new.

Soft footfalls come on the trail out of sight;
my eyes open; my mice are gone,
no doubt fleeing the trail walker.
Through a tunnel, through the leaves,
I see him now, big, gray, eyes darting,
he listens, then bows his head to drink.

Seconds pass as the wolf drinks, looks,
eyes glancing, head shifting, drinks,
then steps into the midst of the stream.
He lies down, rolls around, stands,
shakes, drinks again, looks behind,
then slips off through the water.

Only my eyes move while I glimpse him,
as he goes his way, continuing his own hunt,
and the sounds return to dusky natural.
Seventeen yards, the distance had been,
so close we were, yet he stopped to drink;
did he not feel my eyes upon him there?

My intrusion to the woodland is not new,
my presence left many places upon the trails;
he must have known of me that autumn day.
He must have smelled the rifle by my hands,
but did not fear, for my mind was open to him,
and clearly he knew my prey was bear that day.

Thank you, writers of the blog ....

Several people I "follow" posted yesterday. As I keep noting, I entered the "sea of blogs" for the purpose of being a reader, not a writer, although now my presence involves both. I began writing as a diversion to winter and for fun. But, the most interesting element about being here, for me, continues being able to read about the thoughts and activities of others. Thank you, to everyone who wrote on Saturday.

The Talented Mr. Ripley ....

When I am home, I generally have three or four televisions running in various rooms. If I happen to pass by one and see something that interests me, I sit down and watch. The question usually is, for how long? Last evening, I happened to walk by "The Talented Mr. Ripley." I watched for maybe 10 minutes. Whether or not I watch the entire movie sometime is not my point, rather, it is this: While I watched, the characters were cruising the coast of Italy in a 30-foot(?) sailboat. Need I say more?

Ten things on my list ....

Here are ten activities I want to do along the way, not in any particular order. There are other things I've listed previously, here are some more: Anyone care to mention their list?

Go to a Rolling Stones concert and throw my girlfriend's bra up onto the stage and start blowing kisses at the band (what the heck, any band will do).

Go to Norway and see Fridtjof Nansen's ship, the Fram (but not for long; I generally do not eat fish).

Go to Germany and swim in the Rhine River (and drink some Rhine wine).

Go to the land of the Rus (Russia; Swedish Vikings) and swim in the Volga River (ok, I'll admit it, drink some real vodka, too).

Go to the island of Tarawa in the Gilbert Atoll of the Pacific Ocean and swim in the lagoon, sleep on the beach and maybe have a dream. (see Marine Corps; World War II.)

Live by the Mediterranean for a year or two (probably southern France; guns, books and vehicles can be stored).

Ride a horse enough so that I actually became comfortable doing it (might take a lot of riding).

Get drunk in Harry's Bar (again) to relive a teenage expectation (again).

Spend a few nights in Missolonghi (or however they spell it these days), Greece.

Canoe "the river of no return" (Salmon River, Idaho; we will put this one toward the last).

Music Note: Listening to Luciano Pavarotti ....
Specifically, "The Ultimate Collection" ....
("Torna a Surriento" .... mellow mood)

Following ancestors & "versing" the river

Before reaching the Mediterranean, there was this.

Fram the First was an avid tourist ....

Sometimes it is a bit embarrassing to admit ancestors were less than perfect, but eventually it is best to reveal the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Fram the First was less than perfect. There, I said it. Now, we will move along to the next item on today's agenda.

What? You're asking me in what way he was not perfect? Oh, I suppose I can tell you.

He was with a group of guys who raided Sarzana way back when. Yes, they did the usual amount of burning and looting. What do you expect Norwegians, Swedes and Danes would do after being cooped up all winter in an era before the age of televisions and personal computers? A guy can practice his swordsmanship only so long before going a little goofy.

What? Yes, fine. I'll tell you everything. They thought it was Rome they were sacking, not Sarzana. So, they got lost and were a little confused. They were only a few hundred miles off course. No one is perfect, you know. They still came home with a ship full of gold and Italian girlfriends, didn't they?

And, yes, before the Mediterranean and Rome ... I mean before Sarzana ... they did do a float up the Seine River and they did do a little damage in Paris. So what? That's what guys did back then to earn a buck.

Was Fram the First involved in any other mischief, you ask?

I will have to look at his other travel journals before I can answer that question. I'll get back to you.

Swim with me where the river flows deeply ....

The moment has arrived. Not since I was a college boy have I tried expressing myself in verse. I am not certain if this would qualify even as free verse. Probably not, but it at least tells another true tale. Think of this as a story told in column form, rather than in paragraph form.

A nearly identical event to this had taken place only a month or two earlier on Lake Superior. The "dummy" on that occasion was in the second canoe on this trip. After this, I banned liquor from my canoe trips until camp was set for the night. Two strikes were enough.

The canoe spills,
not by accident,
but by drunkenness,
and down the river we go.
I love it,
and swim with the current.

But dummy cannot swim.
The other idiot, me,
did not think to ask.
He is under, then up, choking.
He grabs the rope I trail behind,
clinging to it for his life.

I know I am smiling.
I should not be, but I am,
I am one with the river now.
I catch the canoe and pass it
and grab onto it, pulling, towing.
The current finally is cut.

I slap dummy around and curse him
after I get him to shore.
He laughs,
too drunk to know he has been a whisper
from watery, meaningless death,
from killing the both of us.

The other canoe rescues my fishing gear.
I had known my priorities,
and tied my own life vest to it.
I lost my grandfather's sweatshirt, though.
It still rests, I know, beneath fast, deep water,
one with the Escanaba River now.

Music Note: Listening to a classic rock station on the radio ....

("Wheel in the Sky" by Journey is playing)

Destiny & destinations sometimes cross paths

So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you'll wait for me.
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again.
Oh, babe, I hate to go.

John Denver
Some lines from his song: "Leaving on a Jet Plane"

Who can ever know the possibilities?

I keep running into individuals who have travel on their minds, and we are not talking just down the road, either. We are talking big time travel. Getting on a jet plane and seeing new places for a while instead of the old familiar. Time waits for no man, someone once said, and my assumption would be the same holds true for women. We all are racing the clock.

With this in mind, I rummaged around and decided to run with a photograph to illustrate a location in the Mediterranean region which might be worth a stopover. Flying on a wing and a prayer, so to speak.

By coincidence, on this day I also decided to post an illustration of one of my ancestors. Fram the First was the first in the family to visit the Mediterranean region. He is shown at the bottom of this page, should you be curious.

There was more to Kim Novak than Kim Novak

I turned television on Sunday afternoon and, after establishing that World War III had not begun, stumbled into "Vertigo." The movie had been running for 30 or 40 minutes, but I was in the mood for it and stayed with it, only losing more of the film when taking time to keep my coffee cup full or to grab an occasional snack.

It has been a few years since I last saw this movie. I notice "Rear Window" and a few other flicks from Alfred Hitchcock frequently playing, but rarely seem to encounter "Vertigo." A few days ago, I commented to the effect that I had an appreciation for the paintings of Henri Matisse, an appreciation that I had not previously experienced. Sunday, it was that way with watching "Vertigo."

Mostly it was from watching Kim Novak and Kim Novak and Kim Novak and some guy. What's his name, again? Jimmy Stewart? Seriously, while watching this movie Sunday afternoon I understood, probably for the first time, that both of them really were excellent actors.

I've always understood the difference between "good" actors and "hot" actors, but not really considered that an actor might be both “good” and “hot” throughout an entire career. This was the case with Novak and Stewart.

Possibly the only good thing to come from cable television is the showing of movies from decades past. There obviously were many lousy movies made in "olden times," but there really are some gems that many of us around today would not otherwise have the opportunity to see and to enjoy and to appreciate.

In the meantime, I am beginning to worry about myself. Matisse? Me, actually appreciating a non-realist style of painting. (There is a girl of his with a blue/green face who is beginning to look really, really good to me.) Novak and Stewart? Re-measuring the skill and appeal of certain actors?

This sort of phenomena actually began two or three years ago. Football has been "my sport" since junior high school. But, abruptly, I began appreciating baseball more than football. Frightening, isn't it? What's next?

Music Note: Listening to Great White ....
Specifically, "Once Bitten" ....
("Save Your Love" -- yes, please)

Searching again for the eternal flame ....

How could anyone ever forget Gillian Holroyd? Is she Ms. Perfect?

But I just know I've seen her somewhere before!

"I want to love you but I better not
touch (Don't touch)
I want to hold you but my senses
tell me to stop
I want to kiss you but I want it too
much (Too much)"

Alice Cooper

From his song: "Poison"

Where, oh, where does Ms. Perfect reside? Who, oh, who might Ms. Perfect be? When, oh, when will I encounter Ms. Perfect? What, oh, what will Ms. Perfect be like?

As you may have guessed, my thoughts are returning to my quest for the eternal flame, otherwise known as the "ideal woman."

I seem to remember one particular movie with one particular witch that I couldn't turn my eyes away from .... yes, Gillian. Yes, "Gil" Holroyd. The movie was "Bell, Book and Candle." Very attractive. Very bright. Very witch-like.

The idea of setting up camp with a witch is compelling. If you want to go canoeing and it's raining, just produce a box of chocolates and trade it with her for a sunny day. If you're overworked and underpaid, just ask her to plant an idea in the boss' head -- like a million dollar bonus -- and offer to split the cash. If you have an urge to eat Russian caviar, she'll probably go for the idea and there would be no necessity for an exchange. In fact, instead of snapping her fingers and bringing it to us, she probably would twirl her wand and instantly transport the two of us to a place such as Derbent. There, we could enjoy the "real" Russian caviar, chased with a (very large) sniffer of the local brandy. There, we could spend the day searching for the Gates of Alexander. There, we could sail the Caspian .... whoops, I'm allowing my mind to wander unfettered .... but, well, who knows? I might even start smoking again long enough to indulge myself with a cigarette or two of Russian tobacco.

All through the movie, I kept wondering if Gillian had a sister. I knew I'd seen someone who looks just like her somewhere before. The question still is nagging me. Did Gillian have a sister?

I know. She looks just like Madeleine Elster. You remember, don't you? Judy Barton. The woman in "Vertigo." Yes, remember the movie, "Vertigo?" Gillian and Madeleine/Judy just have to be sisters, maybe even twin sisters. I wonder if they're both witches ....

Well, back to the discussion at hand. I suppose finding a real witch would be pretty difficult these days. I suspect they have to lead sheltered lives and remain in the shadows to avoid the politically correct epidemic. Probably not a good idea to settle down with a witch, anyway. If she ever were to get angry at you, she might decide to transport you up the creek without a paddle.

Hark! Do I hear the Sirens singing their song?

More than one-half of February has come and gone. Spring is approaching (finally), and my thoughts dwell more and more on a change of scenery. At minimum, a lengthy vacation. At most, relocation to a sunnier clime. And, the direction I seem to be drifting is toward making a very large leap.

I've visited a few other countries, but never resided in one. (Military occupation does not count as residency, in my book.) Beyond the obvious, major news stories about this and that in foreign lands, I really do not know any details regarding the current state of affairs anywhere other than in the U.S.

I do know that I absolutely dislike what is happening inside the U.S. Economic conditions like those occurring right now do not develop overnight. Many people blame eight years of George Bush in the presidency for the problems America is facing, but anyone who actually has a sense of history knows we have experienced 16 consecutive years of fiscal irresponsibility, practiced both in the White House and in the halls of Congress, all the while with pretty much the same grandiose tax and spend policies being displayed by elected officials in state and local governments. Add to that corporate thievery and corruption, over-saturation of the market place, union greed and avarice, unlimited credit for any idiot who has any job, and two foreign wars to siphon away money needed at home -- well, add it all up and the course for economic collapse was clearly being chiseled in stone years ago.

Not since the Jonestown episode in Guyana has mass suicide been so popular. Fortunately, this time, so far, it only has been economic suicide. But now, with the Pied Piper in charge, my instincts tell me that the worst is still to come. Spending money that does not exist hardly is a viable solution for creating economic, political and social stability. All anyone who requires a road map need do is to pull out a copy of Edward Gibbons "... Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" to find one. Sounds corny, I know, but the truth often does.

Enough, enough. So, I'm more than a little dissatisfied with the "change" being initiated by the new administration to combat the problems created by the past two. So what? So, to borrow from the old cliché, "love it or leave it" -- I believe that I will, at least for a long, long vacation from it.

But to where, to where? That is the question. Somewhere with a distinctly more pleasant climate -- and, I'm not just referring to the weather. Somewhere around the Mediterranean? Those words have an appealing ring to them. Is that the call of the Sirens I hear?

Music Note: Once more listening to a classic rock station on the radio ....