Monday, May 28, 2007

time and women

Sunday, May 27, 2007


Saturday, May 19, 2007

you've given me everything I've ever needed

Gilmore girls

Fast talking Babes that even Groucho Marx would've enjoyed keeping up with.

I know I did.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

pet loss

For Peg & Marc and Lilly too.....
on the passing of their beloved, Roméo....

Oh, Roméo
A Gift, lost, and then found
By a tender and loving couple
A guarding spirit to Lilly

No more pain, quiet friend
Now in a garden near a flowering plant
Where falling white petals hover
Buried deep in our hearts

Thursday, May 10, 2007

little love affairs

Nanci Griffith and The Chieftains..

Monday, May 7, 2007

film of the day

The Spirit of The Beehive

Directed by Victor Erice
Spain 1973
With Fernando Fernán Gómez, Teresa Gimpera, Ana Torrent
Spanish with English subtitles

The Spirit of the Beehive is a haunting allegorical film on innocence and illusion, set in post-Civil War Spain.  Ana and Isabel, two lonely young sisters, see the film Frankenstein at a makeshift theater.  Ana, unsettled by the brutal acts of the monster and the townspeople in the film, desperately seeks explanation.  Taking her to an abandoned barn, Isabel claims to see the immortal spirit of the monster in the well;  Ana becomes obsessed with the idea of befriending it.

This film is a deceptively lyrical tale of idyllic childhood memories and a disturbing portrait of isolation.  It reminded me of another film of childhood loneliness, The Curse of the Cat People.

Ana Torrent, as Ana, is extraordinary.  And this is one film I wish I could've seen on the big screen for the beautiful vistas of Spain.

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

in a van down by the river

This morning, downtown was completely gridlocked as people-without-hope swarmed to the RCA Dome for a motivational event. As I was crawling along in traffic, I was laughing to myself thinking about my favorite motivational speaker:

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

'radio was here'

While patronising a trophy and sign shop today I saw a bronze-lettered-on-black plaque leaning on a shelf with those 3 wonderful enigmatic words! Radio Was Here.  I couldn't take my quizzical brown eyes off of it for some time.  What did it mean?  And who was it for?  I wanted it for my very own.

I imagined different scenarios after leaving the shop.  Perhaps it was made-to-order for a radio-lover like me to defiantly plaster onto a historic old broadcasting building in fond remembrance of the Golden Age of radio.  Or, maybe it was custom-made to be bolted onto a brick "Welcome To...." wall on the outskirts of a town boasting a proud heritage of sweet radio days gone by.  Perhaps just to lean against the wall on my nightstand where the ancient Philco tube radio once glowed.

I pictured a hunched-over elderly gentleman slowly entering the trophy shop, the door chimes ding-a-linging, removing his hat and enquiring if his sign was ready from the lady with coke-bottle eyeglasses behind the glass-topped front counter.  She would nod and smile, then carefully wrap the plaque in glossy lemon-yellow paper and tie it snugly with white string.

He would turn to me and I would see for the first time the outlined resemblance of Jack Benny's face, and he would kindly ask in a low raspy voice if I would be so kind to carry it out to his black 1923 Maxwell convertible, and before making it half-way to the door, it would slip from my trembling hands and crash to the floor (in slow-motion of course!), shattering into unrepairable metal crumbs.
And he would say, flabbergasted: "Well!"

If it's there tomorrow I'm going to swipe it.
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