Archive for June, 2012


Well…wait a minute, someone just rang my doorbell…

It was a drunken-post policewoman.  She wanted to know if I was sufficiently drunk for a drunken post.  I assured her I was–that I’d had three and a half beers and eight 5-oz cups Irish coffee, but she insisted on giving me a drunkenness test.  Then she left, quite satisfied–as I was. 

I dined with the Singletons at Ruby Tuesday this evening.  Then I had my Irish coffee at home, as I listened to the the filmscore of What Lies Beneath.  Either this is the shortest filmscore I’ve ever heard, or it seemed short because I was intoxicated–you know how time flies when you’re drunk, almost as fast as when you’re having sex.  It was okay.  But I preferred the filmscore of Identity.  And I don’t think this is just because I’d seen Identity (one of the coolest films I’ve ever seen in my life), and not seen What Lies Beneath.  The best filmscores/soundtracks stand on their own–they sound great whether you’ve seen the films or not.  The filmscore is the Twenty-First-Century niche for Western classical music.  Most Western classical music these days–actually since the late Twentieth Century–is filmscores.

You want to hear some kick-ass ballet?  Google Igor Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring.  This is the only ballet I’ve ever heard that kicks ass.  I first encountered it in Music Appreciation in college, though just the first part.  Then I got  the whole ballet, and it blew me away.  It’s about pre-Christian Russia.  I’ve never seen it, but who needs to–it’s like the heavy metal of ballet.  When it was first performed at the turn of the Twentieth Century, there was a near-riot in the concert hall.  Most of the audience hated it because it was so wild.  Their reaction was like that of the older generation toward jazz in the 1920’s, and rock and roll in the 1950’s.  I’ve only seen one ballet, in it’s entirety–my dad took me to see Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker at Christmastime when I was a kid.  And I enjoyed it.  But generally I don’t watch ballets unless the dancers are all female–and by the way I saw Black Swan earlier this year, pretty well done.  But get yourself a CD or whatever, of The Rite of Spring.  Don’t watch the ballet, just listen to the music, and you’ll see the pre-Christian sacrificial rite. 

After listening to the filmscore of What Lies Beneath, I put the CD away, and listened to another CD, The Kings & Queen of Qawwali.  Qawwali really kicks ass–it will take you into another dimensional plane!  Qawwali is Islamic devotional music.  It’s like Christian Gregorian chant–except that it has instrumental accompaniment, the rhythm is much faster, and the chanting is much louder.  It’s the heavy metal of Eastern classical music.  The most famous performer of it is Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, of Pakistan.  One of his songs is the first on the aforementioned CD, The Kings & Queen of Qawwali.  Get that CD.  But don’t stop there.  Get the CD, The Greatest Hits of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, as well as the CD, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan: Greatest Hits, Volume 2.  It’s not sung in English, of course, but it doesn’t matter.  I guarantee it’s wilder and more transcendental than any rock and roll–it will take you for a ride into the next universe!

Remember my “dead” car?  Well, I finally took it to the scrapyard, and got $350 for it.  That 1996 Oldsmobile Eighty-eight LS is finally out of here!  I would have gladly taken a sledgehammer to it, but then I wouldn’t have gotten the money.  And I finally got another car–used, but in good condition.  Remember the woman about whom I wrote the posted poem, Pining–the one who resembles Gillian Anderson?  She saw my new (used) car today, and complimented me on it.  But she still has no interest in poetry, so she still won’t go out with me.  If she weren’t so indifferent, I wouldn’t be so interested.  Remember that post–nice guys finish last, mean guys finish last, it’s indifferent guys who finish first?  Well, it’s the same with women.  Indifferent girls get the most attention from nice guys and mean guys, though I don’t know about indifferent guys.  This is sad. 

I could be completely mistaken, however.  I want to point out that–as with anyone else–I could be mistaken in any of my beliefs or opinions.  I state, for example:  We have much control over our actions.  We have some control over our thoughts.  But we have no control over our feelings or beliefs.  But this, in itself is a belief.  I believe it’s true, but I could be mistaken.  I don’t believe in a devil–I believe all evil comes entirely from us humans, that there is no supernatural being behind evil.  But I could be mistaken.  One of my favorite song lines is from The Eagles’ Victim of Love:  …I could be wrong, but I’m not… That’s hilarious!  I could be wrong, but I’m not!  Seriously, though, I could simply be wrong.  No one in the world knows everything.  Only one being, only one force knows everything, and that is the Creator.  Only the Creator (known by many names, God, Yahweh, Allah, etc.) knows everything.  Only the Creator is omniscient.  But the Creator doesn’t tell us what only the Creator knows.  We have to find out for ourselves, as best we can.  There’s a short story by Leo Tolstoy entitled, God Sees the Truth but Waits.  I’ve never read the story.  The title says enough.  Why does the Creator wait?  We don’t know, we’re obviously not meant to know.  I’m very relieved that Tropical Storm Debby didn’t land here, that it took a direct path eastward.  But I’m still annoyed, perhaps angry that it didn’t go west instead–into Texas, and up through New Mexico and Colorado, where rain was so desperately needed.  Why?  Why is the weather so damned unfair?  Is it simply to give strangers something to talk about?  Would we be bored out of our minds if the weather were perfect all over the planet?  Perhaps.  Religious arrogance annoys me, but scientific arrogance amuses me to no end.  Scientists believe they know the age of the universe.  I understand the process–measuring the distances between celestial bodies, based on a central location for the Big Bang.  Yet even if the Big Bang is fact, and not just theory–determining the age of the universe is impossible for us.  Because in order to truly measure anything, one must know its boundaries–where it ends and where it begins.  And for all we know, this universe (I believe there is at least one other universe) is infinite!  For all we know, it has no boundaries, no beginning or ending!  As I write in one of my poems, There is no time–it is a construct of man, who cannot comprehend eternity.  There is no space it is a construct of man, who cannot comprehend infinity.  In other words, we don’t know shit!

Well, I’ve got a headache (gee, I wonder why)!  What foxy lady should I end this drunken post with?  How about Fay Wray?


Another question from Gregory Stock’s book is this:

What is the longest lovemaking experience you’ve ever had?

I have no idea.  Nothing makes time fly faster than having sex.  Women often joke about how men don’t like foreplay.  But I am one man who loves it.  I really like to take my time with a woman.  I also like afterplay.  So a typical session with me lasts several hours–often till late morning.  And I can honestly say that though I’ve never been driven to exhaustion by a woman, I’ve driven a woman to exhaustion countless times.


Dear Debbie,

Such a sweet name you have.  The National Hurricane Center spells your name Debby, but it’s sweet either way.  It reminds me of a beautiful, sweet girl I knew in high school I lost.  On the drive to our first and only date, we got into a silly argument over religion or politics (can’t remember which).  And she and I being equally opinionated, we never went out again.  Now she’s married, so I’ve lost her forever. 

Looking out my sliding-glass door, I see you are grazing us with your presence here in Escambia County, Florida.  And I appreciate this.  Only thing is, Debbie, we were inundated with record-breaking rainfall here, earlier this month.  Any more rain, and we may drown.

So if you have to make landfall at all, please land elsewhere.  Texas can probably use some rain.  Please grace Texas with your presence–then move into New Mexico and Colorado, where you would not only be welcome but highly appreciated. 

And wherever you land, and hover, be gentle, be sweet–like America’s Sweetheart.




Another question from Gregory Stock’s book is this:

In selecting a life partner, do you think it is more important to follow your heart or your head?  Would you ever let yourself fall in love with someone who wasn’t at all like the image of the person you would hope to find?

In selecting a mate, it is more important to follow your heart.  If you follow your heart, instead of your head, you may be miserable.  If you follow your head, instead of your heart, you will be miserable. 

As for the second part of the question, falling in love is not something one can choose.  I couldn’t help but fall in love with someone, whether she met my expectations or not.  This is because love is a feeling.  And as I’ve stated in a previous post: 

We have much control over our actions.  We have some control over our thoughts.  But we have no control over our feelings or beliefs.


Another funny email:

To all the girls who are in a hurry to get a boyfriend or get married, a piece of Biblical advice:  “Ruth patiently waited for her mate, Boaz.”  While you are waiting for YOUR Boaz, don’t settle for any of his relatives, Broke-az, Po-az, Lying-az, Cheating-az, Dumb-az, Drunk-az, Cheap-az, Locked-up-az, Good-for-nothing-az, Lazy-az, and especially his third-cousin, Beat-yo-az.  Wait on your Boaz, and be sure he respects Yo-az.

(Bet everyone of us, male and female, fits in at least one of those categories, at least some of the time–I’m Po-az, and sometimes Lazy-az and Drunk-az!)


I added these pictures to the previous post, then deleted them to get them positioned right, and now I can’t add them when I try to edit the post!

Anyway, the first is a photograph of French Composer Camille Saint-Saens, whom we have to thank for Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix.  And the second is of how I feel when I hear the aria.


I’ve heard many different arias from many different operas–but my all-time favorite is Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix (My heart opens itself to your voice).  This aria is from the opera, Samson et Dalila, which was composed by Camille Saint-Saens.  I’ve never seen the opera.  In truth, I’ve only seen three operas (two on video), and listened to one more on my stereo.  I’m not a big fan of opera, in general, but I do love many pieces from different operas, including arias (which are really just songs from operas).  And I love this love song from Samson et Dalila, best of all.

Unfortunately, I am unable to upload videos onto my blog–however I can provide links.  Below are links to videos of four different mezzo-sopranos performing Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix.  I list four because different performers have different styles (there are many more videos of other mezzo-sopranos performing it).  Their names are given below the links.  If you don’t want to watch/listen to all four, just pick one, and you’ll understand why I love this aria so much.

Marilyn Horne

Grace Bumbry

Manca Izmajlova

Elina Garanca


After Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story, More of Paul Harvey’s The Rest of The Story, and Destiny: From Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story, there came a fourth Paul Harvey book entitled, Paul Harvey’s For What It’s Worth.  Unlike the previous three (which were written by his son) this was written by Paul Harvey himself, though edited by Paul Harvey, Jr. (Paul Aurandt).  It was published in 1991.

These short bits of actual news were included at the ends of Paul Harvey’s radio news broadcasts.  And though dated, they’re timeless.

Here is the first in the book:

Our For What It’s Worth Department hears from Hershey, Pennsylvania–where the woman in the Mercedes had been waiting patiently for a parking place to open up.

     The shopping mall was crowded.

     The woman  in the Mercedes zigzagged between rows–then up ahead she saw a man with a load of packages head for his car.

     She drove up and parked behind him and waited while he opened his trunk and loaded it with packages.

     Finally he got in his car and backed out of the stall.

     But before the woman in the Mercedes could drive into the parking space . . .

     A young man in a shiny new Corvette zipped past and around her and HE pulled into the empty space and got out and started walking away.

     “Hey!” shouted the woman in the Mercedes, “I’ve been waiting for that parking place!”

     The college-ager responded, “Sorry, lady; that’s how it is when you’re young and quick.”

     At that instant she put her Mercedes in gear, floorboarded it, and crashed into and crushed the right rear fender and corner panel of the flashy new Corvette.

     Now the young man is jumping up and down shouting, “You can’t do that!”

     The lady in the Mercedes said, “That’s how it is when you’re old and rich!”

May 22, 1987


My thanks to Heather for identifying my lost cat!  She is indeed Rose McGowan.  And here is a link to a site devoted to her:


I have no idea who this is, but she is included among images of Melissa Sue Anderson, and I must have her!