March madness .... No. 2 .... just words

Thoughts about women & other things

Hemingway (as in Ernest Miller Hemingway) once wrote somewhere, sometime that the most perfect and exquisite curve is that from a woman's waist over her hip and onto her thigh.

I tend to agree.

But, just to ensure you do not think I am becoming too risqué, I might note that while the curve of a rifle stock might not be quite so sensual, it is magical in its own way. It can be utilitarian, art/beauty and death -- and, actually, sensual, all in the same touch. And, I have known men who feel the same about the sweep of the hood or a fender of an automobile -- a 1969 Shelby GT 500 Mustang, for instance. I had one (not new) once upon a time, and damn-near killed myself in it (and, in a couple of other cars, he says with a laugh on his lips .... it even was sort of funny at the time). Some of you might recall that Mustang GTs were "my thing" for a while.

Well, enough about sexual imagery, cussing and cars-to-end-all cars.

Now, why did I write those words?

As frequently is the case, I really have no clue. I am thinking. Just thinking, simply thinking, trying to fall off the fence regarding a few overdue decisions. Rambling thoughts. Searching -- I am always searching -- to paraphrase the words from an old rock melody. Actually, cars, guns and Rolex watches are on my mind. Ridiculous, hah?

Other than concern about the health of former wife No. 2, women are not on my mind. Rather, I am reverting to thoughts about how (in a sense) to waste money: Trinkets .... the world revolves around trinkets .... and, of course, around the whims of religious nut-cases and political power-mongers .... grrrr ....

Actually, they pretty much are the same thing, are they not ?? .... trinkets, trifles, insignificant people looking for a cause in life rather than a purpose in life .... having to live in the midst of religious zealots and political fanatics, I mean. It is enough to turn a man into a nihilist or an anarchist .... hmmmm, that pretty much is saying the same thing twice, is it not ??

Well, there always is time to make a second run for Sanctuary/Refuge.

Summer is coming, and by autumn I hope to have disappeared .... in a manner of spending .... whoops .... I mean in a manner of speaking.

Then, there is March & (actual) art & music

March is the month of birthdays for me. Several among family and friends, and my own. I will not mention them in detail this year, but I will say I hope by the time my own birthday comes around in a few days, long absent weather-luck will have returned to me and I will be working on a tan under the March sun.

For an illustration, I have used "Venus and Adonis," by Paolo Veronese. It is an oil on canvas, completed in 1580 and may be found in the Prado Museum in Madrid -- should you care to venture there and see the real thing. I was relatively near to the painting once, but never actually saw it. Veronese did an earlier, but distinctly different, rendition of the scene in 1562. Anyway, its likeness is here today with this post. Make of that what you will, and do a bit of research if you are curious about the legends beyond the painting and about Venus and Adonis. Absolutely fascinating .... legends usually are ....

Since someone here mentioned legends, Buddy Holly is long gone, but his legend and his music linger on and will far beyond any of us. My son, who often seems to know me better than I know myself, gave me a copy of the "Rave On Buddy Holly" tribute album for my birthday, and I decided to pull a pair of songs on the album from YouTube to include with this post.

March madness .... No. 1 .... just words

 

Fairy tales vs. reality

She had a magic mirror. Every morning she stood before it, looked at herself, and said:

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall,"

"Who in this land is fairest of all?"

To this the mirror answered:

"You, my queen, are fairest of all."

Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the mirror spoke the truth.

So, you think this is a fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, do you? Where do you think the story "Snow White" came from; why do you think it was written?

The answer is obvious, should you look for it and think about it. It is based in a fundamental truth: There are such people.

We all feel that way to a degree, but some people really, actually, truly do more than merely think it .... some absolutely believe it .... and, there even are some who look in the mirror and see not just beauty, but a self beyond ordinary mankind. They see someone who is greater than special, someone who is uniquely unique, someone who surpasses a mere mortal. In reality, they are not special; they simply are pathological .... often dangerously so ....

Vladimir Putin is one.

Barack Obama is one.

Saddam Hussein of Iraq was one until the hangman ended his life. Muammar al-Gaddafi of Libya was one until he received a bullet in the head. Hugo Chavez of Venezuela was one until natural causes ended his life. The "Castro boys" of Cuba -- Fidel and Raul -- continue to be. Bashar al Assad of Syria continues to be one. I could name any number of others, including some in living memory much more notorious, such as one an Austrian/German and one a Georgian/Soviet, but I suppose a few people would object to identifying true heavy-weights with light-weights. These are men who would be dictators, tyrants and are, in fact, lawless psychopaths to one degree or another.

The bottom line is that these are (and there are many) individuals whose entire lives revolve around their narcissism. Some people are paranoid; some people are schizophrenic. This is true. But, less recognized (or, at least, less acknowledged) are people who are so absolutely and profoundly wrapped up in their own "mirror, mirror on the wall" mentality that they are incessantly obsessed with a "grand illusion" of themselves. And, if they have a certain amount of charisma and ambition, they have the ability to lead people like lemmings over the abysses into some sort of destructive oblivion.

The next time, for instance, you are being led down a path following someone proclaiming "global warming" as the "greatest threat" civilization faces today (Obama's words), pinch yourself, look in your own mirror, quit being a hero worshipper and examine the motives/psyche of the piped piper who is leading you in that direction. Frankly, I think it goes beyond that level, but enough for now.

Some people wonder why civilization advances so slowly. It really is fortunate it advances at all, given the fanatics who rise to power on occasion and interrupt order and stability with their grandiose self-indulgences -- and, by that means, disrupt (and sometimes end) the lives of ordinary people. Beyond that, there are times when civilization is at a standstill or, such as now, when it even retreats a bit simply because there are too many mirrors in the world.

To conclude with this thought from Lewis Carroll in "Alice in Wonderland:"

"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
 

"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more."
 

"You mean you can't take less," said the Mad Hatter: "It's very easy to take more than nothing."
 

 "Nobody asked your opinion," said Alice.

The moment is gone, but not the memory

As for the music, listen to it. It explains in itself why music from the 1970s and a few years on either side, give or take, surpasses more before it in a contemporary sense and absolutely anything since then. Actual art actually is not present for every generation that comes and goes on this Earth. Just about everything in life is hit or miss, which most of us figure out somewhere along the line.

Finally and most importantly .... happy birthday, kid .... the day you were born -- March 5 -- is locked into my memory .... in my mind, I am there once again in the blink of an eye .... happy shooting ....
 

Happy birthday, Grandpa

I recall seeing my grandfather drive a car only once. It was during an emergency medical situation, otherwise he probably would not have done it. He did not like cars. Grandmother was the driver for the two of them. So, why a photograph of a snow-covered car today, February 27, my grandfather's birthday? Because the car and the snow are part of my life right now, just as my grandfather was, is and always will be part of my life, and my mind is drawn to him most strongly when winter winds howl in the month of February -- the month of his birth. Snow lends an element of beauty to most winter days, even to the day of this photograph, which was viciously cold. Snow might be beautiful; cold is not. (The winter camper's axiom that I learned while still a boy is this: Snow is your friend, cold is your enemy.) All right, enough of that .... the music fits my grandfather, especially "Ghost Riders in the Sky." Grandpa was a cowboy when he was a young man. He settled down when he married. He loved horses. He raised a few; he raced a few. In many ways, grandpa lived in the past. He was born a couple of generations too late in time, as some of us seem to be. My only memories of him are happy ones. Chocolate cake and ice cream this evening, if you are free and available to stop by .... anyway. A word about my former wife and her visits to the Mayo Clinic, since I mentioned them in earlier posts. I never have seen a more professional, impressive medical system in my life than that which exists at the Mayo Clinic. It is not a simple doctor/patient relationship; it is an entire team of medical professionals/patient relationship. Her current circumstances are satisfactory; her next follow-up visit will be in May. I wonder where the stars will be in May? I wonder where I will be in May? As for me now, I am off for a bit of work .... yippie yi oohhhh .... yippie yi aayyyy ....

So, we meet again, and in more ways than one

Frederic Remington arrived at Wounded Knee, South Dakota, not long after the engagement between Sioux and Seventh Calvary troopers, therefore, his illustration of the battle is based on after-action commentary rather than on personal knowledge. His drawing, the one here, appeared in Harper's Weekly on January 24, 1891. The encounter had taken place on December 29, 1890. I will not get into the political debate of whether it was a "battle" or a "massacre." I have read a number of accounts contemporary to the event and own a number of books (including some with rare photographs), and think both words are appropriate. Anyway .... I stopped by the site on my return from the Black Hills of South Dakota to Minnesota. I have been there before, but never during winter. In many ways, it is holy ground and a place where ghosts linger. Incidentally, many of these same individuals had met before when the Seventh Cavalry encountered Sioux and Cheyenne at the Little Bighorn in Montana fourteen and one-half years earlier -- June 25, 1876. I am glad I made this brief journey, including this particular stop: It reminded me I am part of a spirit which links me to immeasurable ancestors and their memories, as well as to my own experiences. By the way, do you think the sketch/the words/the music do not fall into place together? Look again, baby ....

Because it makes me happy

I am not sure if this qualifies as a post or not, but ....

 

I am back in Minnnn-e-e-e-e-so-t-t-a-a-a-a ....
 

I ran out of ammunition and had to come home to reload. That is a joke. I am the type who has never run out of anything .... except, maybe ....
 

Well, to move along .... once upon a time I never ran out of ammo or forgot to carry three packs of cigarettes when I left home. Now, I never run out of ammo or forget my cell phone when I walk out the door. Pitiful, hah ??
 

All right .... to the point .... my former wife has a follow-up examination next week at Mayo Clinic, and I will be taking her there and spending a few days with her. After having been apart so many years, it is strange being in daily contact with her via telephone calls and actually spending so much time with her. Time twists everything, but, the good and the bad, the right and the wrong, have not changed. Nothing really has changed; we both are the same people who love each other in a sense, but cannot live together.

Anyway, after that I will be gone for a few more days doing a bit of work. Yes, I sometimes do work. (Somewhat reluctantly; I try to avoid it.) Free lance. Not journalism on this occasion, although I do that from time-to-time. When I was a policy and management analyst in corrections, I "outsourced" now and then. (Do not snitch me out to my old employer, please.) It was sort of like being a consultant (I even have a chapter in a book about the intricacies of starting a prison from scratch), and, from time-to-time, an opportunity arises to make a few bucks going into a place or a situation to analyze and to recommend and, on occasion, to finalize matters.

And, although my leg is off kilter enough yet to prevent a six-minute mile, it can manage that distance in about eight minutes (even over ice), which is good enough for this particular task. If you cannot figure out the logic of that, just smile or even laugh and give me the benefit of a doubt.

The title of this post comes from my emotional reaction whenever I hear this song. Although it is sad in nature -- even heart-breaking -- it is uplifting and promising to me. It is exquisite in so many ways, and IT MAKES ME HAPPY .... if only for a few moments.

A person, a moment, a song, a concert, a piece of work well done, even a smile from someone with a certain glance .... these things and so many others might make you cry and laugh in the same instant .... a sunset, a flight of birds, the howl of a wolf in an ice-bound camp (that is real to me, if not to you .... so imagine it.)

Listen to this song, allow yourself to drift into it and to become part of it, and you will never be the same again. At least, that is what happened to me the first time I heard it and every time since, and I am glad for it.

And, to answer a question from another, as long as there is life, it is never too late for anything .... whatever I have wished for has become reality if I really, truly, actually have wanted it .... yes, I know, I am beginning to repeat myself .... and, a few days can be more meaningful than a few years when hearts and souls meet .... but, only if the stars allow for it to be so ....

A kiss or two and a sentence or two usually reveal all there is to tell ....

As Hamlet pointed out in casual conversation:

And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
 

We shall see. I have made a few decisions. I hope this is me talking and not Southern Comfort, because if the ending were not a happy one, I would have to rewrite it ....

 

God bless rock 'n' roll, baby

As promised, here is the Smith & Wesson Model 57 .41 caliber magnum I just purchased. I misjudged its age. It is not from the 1960s (oh, well), but, rather, from 1975. Never-the-less, look at it .... forty years old and just like new. It is breathtaking, from my point of view. Now that I have it, I am not certain I ever will fire it (he mumbled Saturday) .... hmmmm .... well, I did (he admitted Monday) .... bang, bang .... it is a masterpiece. I just might delegate it to be next to me in my home work area in case I ever need it and, in the meanwhile, look at it from time to time .... the bluing is radiant (despite not having been cleaned since I fired it) and the natural patterns/grain of the wooden grips are spectacular. It is firearms perfection personified; it functions as a weapon and it is a work of art in the same breath. By the way, freshman art theory 101: Can you visualize the revolver from the description, but without the photograph; can you visualize me admiring it lovingly ?? [Adjusted this segment a bit Monday evening, February 9, 2015, after entering "Dakota Territory."]

A few things

I will be gone for a week or two. I am reprinting part of a comment I made to Anita in case you did not see it, which should explain the situation:

My Smith & Wesson .41 magnum revolver will/did arrive on Saturday. I am restless -- and, I continue to be wired and nerved-up and strung out. I am disgusted with watching barbarism flourish around the world while Europe and America stand idly by watching it. Winter and I are no longer friends, and I need to hibernate a bit and to renew the "Zen" of shooting. I am planning on taking the .41, the .38 Super and the Browning BAR .300 WinMag to a sheltered canyon in the Dakota Black Hills where I have access to an isolated cabin.

There, for a week or two, I will be a hermit, think, dream, drink brandy, listen to rock and/or read late into the night, commune with Nature and see if my shooting eye remains true. No need to leave the cabin even; just open a window and fire off the kitchen table. Very relaxing. So, no posts after this from me for a while; if you post, though, I will see it unless I decided to leave my computer at home.

Now, another matter

I see there are a few who visit my blog frequently, but never leave a comment. And, as I often say, I am curious. If you would be so kind as to reveal yourself and to tell me why you are so often present, I would be grateful. There is nothing to lose by saying hello via a comment or an email. Right? But, if you prefer invisibility, your wish is granted.

 

And, there are some who seem to have wandered away from me who I still have feelings for and I miss. Before I forget the past, I would like to know that the past has not forgotten me. Does that make sense? You see? I am making decisions about my life at the moment.

The final matter (for now)

This is not the fourth of the promised February posts. That will come later, if it comes at all. The "winds of change" are sending me in another direction, I think, and I am trying to tie up a few unanswered questions (in my mind) before I try to set a course.

I also have a leg wound which still needs a bit more time to "fix" itself. You might recall a photograph a while back which included crutches. (No, I did not shoot myself in the leg playing "fast draw," so no wise cracks, please.) No more crutches, but I still am walking like Walter Brennan in old Western films.

I also have a former wife with some medical problems. I have not mentioned this except to Smareis (thank you, angel), and although my former wife and I have been divorced since 2007, I need to shelter and to protect her in any way and every way she needs, at least for a while. She is the mother of two of my three children, and "semper fidelis" is very important to me, although I live in a world where fidelity counts among fewer and fewer as each year passes.

Uffff .... even a non-post, post seems to get long ....

But .... anyway .... I finally am leaving one of my posts open for comments again .... and, again, I am curious. Under the circumstances, though, I either might not reply or there might be an interval of days before I do reply.

The title for this post comes not from me, but from the music accompanying it .... I have been listening to concerts all evening -- remembering some, thinking about others I missed, imagining what it would be like to attend concerts by some bands I yet want/hope to see .... hmmmm .... like most things, concerts are best when shared with another ....