ASK ME TABITHA

Why must this go on...

Why others will join you...

Why nothing can stop these men...

Why it happens so much here...

Why souls can be so twisted...

Why death is absolute...

Why these questions have no answers...

I've just realized a dream I've been working on for 29 years. It started with a theological conflict of faith. In my freshman year at ULowell I immersed myself in the contentious inner debate concerning the nature of God. The problem was: If Christianity is correct and Jesus is the Messiah and he is salvation, then Judaism (and any other faiths by default) is a false proposition and therefore against the will of God. Conversely, if Christianity is incorrect and Jesus was not the Messiah (or he didn't actually exist at all), then Judaism or Islam is the Truth and belief in Jesus as God is a damnable falsehood. It appeared very chimerical that God should place our souls on so uneven a footing as the simple fact ones place of birth, culture or learning. As I studied more I decided to search outside religion for the ultimate nature of our existence. I caromed from Lao Tzu to Sartre, from Einstein to Adams, from St. John to Sagan.

As the years wore on I started to envelop the mystery with thoughts from Albert Einstein's Relativity: The Special and General Theory of Relativity with the attitudes present in the literature of Franz Kafka and Albert Camus. I saw the scientific Holy Grail of Grand Unification in Physics as the same goal and added more ideas to the mound. Eventually my scientific understanding became enhanced by reading Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time and Julian Barbour's The End of Time and an untold amount of articles in such diverse publications as Scientific American, Discover, The Skeptical Inquirer and Astronomy Today. I never lost sight of the contributions of thinkers outside the realm of core-sciences. I evolved into a philosopher, for I believe philosophy is the bridge between theology and hard science, as well as the interface between everyday life and the extreme classification and dissection of our existence from the quark to the postulation of multiple universes and dimensions.

I began to suspect our theories on Time as the fourth dimension could lead to an astonishing insight beyond the hoped intentions. I decided to study mechanisms that demonstrate the essence of Time. Therefore I turned to Stephen Jay Gould's works for his contention that evolution is not so much a progression like the rungs of a ladder but rather a diversification emerging as the branches of a tree. His view fit the model of a universe less propelled by Time marching per se, but rather becoming revealed. If Time is an illusion as far as a constant, it is rather a dimension relative to placement within the three "physical" dimensions. Gravity, a property connected to tangible objects, can distort Time, for instance. So I kept going far afield to garner other bits of evidence to a question as much as to an answer. In building answers to questions we all too often pile them with the narrow-minded intention of a solution, ignoring the fact that the identical exhibits of reasoning could shed light on a possibly equal (or superior) mental challenge. How many examples are there of people tackling a problem discovering/creating something unforeseen - instruments designed to perform a task, which applied in another fashion have an unexpected impact. With this in mind I continued my interest in History. The Lewis and Clark expedition, the French and Indian War and the life, accomplishments and authorship of Theodore Roosevelt may be personal favorite subjects, yet when taken in context with the myriad other areas I enjoy reading about (The life and works of literature's giant William Shakespeare, the exceeding deep Thomas Aquinas and the historical writings of Francis Parkman, Barbara Tuchman, Fred Anderson etc) I've developed a sense of the grand scale of human activity. I slowly became aware that Mankind is not progressing - we are performing just as nature is: we are diversifying. No "period of activity" is more important than another.

If the evolution of Species is not a majestic march forward and upward... if the exploits and achievements of Humanity are not an ever improving state... if Time does not tick exasperatingly on and on passing incessantly in the same form everywhere... I call the hypotheses generally "accepting" a beginning of the Universe a la Big Bang as unsteady as the notion that the universe is expanding, implying a movement from what has been to an inexorable future that is to be. Just as a six-day Creation and an Earth-centric may be faulty by placing us in the hub of existence, most theories spoken of presently either confine the universe within Space (the three physical dimensions) or Time. As for physicality, how can the universe have boundaries if by definition Universe is the total of all that exists? The Universe expanding should be derided for the obvious oxymoron it is. How does something, which is the entire state of reality, expand? Expand past what... into what? Another Universe... or realm? Aren't we making the same error all over again? As with the demarcation of Species, Geological Eras, Historical Centuries and Cosmological Classification - we are imposing classification and pressing our interpretation as Law. Many point to the Doppler Effect and Hubble's evidence with a certainty that it means objects are moving away spreading apart. They are quick to "remind" us that the Milky Way is not in the center. How quaint and insincere. Do our telescopes find a limit of field in any direction? Like it or not any observation puts us at the center. It's revisiting the assertion we're closer to the center and not some far-flung arm with a massive blue shift designating a huge chuck of the observable space coming towards us. More likely, we're only capable of seeing an insignificant percentage of a whole, a view bound to enlarge. It's just that the expanse is so huge we end up like the blind men studying the elephant. A Phonetician fisherman sitting in a boat lowering a net into the water had no clue as the full nature of oceans. Scientists scoff at tales of the Great Deluge encompassing the entire world, explaining the event was local and the limited view of the world distorted the perception of the immensity of the flood. They're doing the same thing. There is no evidence we're ever going to find parameters for the Universe to make informed opinions as to our place in it. I maintain parameters don't exist; yet if indeed they do, our scant knowledge should realistically preclude any serious discussion of hard realities based on scientific "laws" no matter how intelligent and interesting the claims and claimants may be. Doesn't it become apparent that our knowledge consistently alters our differentiation of existence: Aristotle, Lamark, Newton lose their grasp of science - the creator of the wheel is forgotten by inventors and discoverers from antiquity, most of whom are in turn forgotten or trivialized by modern inventors and discoverers, who in turn will visit the same fate in the future - leaders and nations progress and make war while looking back and predicting outcomes.

What if instead we realize that our rules on life forms are delusional, they're not leading anywhere - they're simply manifesting different properties altered by environment and generational whim. We designate terms and boundaries on Time and the Universe. My comments speak of Past and Future. Still remove one instant from anything and the entire state of existence collapses. If Time were to "Freeze" our ability to realize it or communicate about it would cease, therefore Change/Movement which is called Time is paramount no less than height, width or depth. If any of those three dimensions were to cease, once again Movement would be impossible - therefore Time is negated again. All four dimensions are interdependent. Remove one and the others might as well not be. Just as significant is what should be an obvious truth: If the Universe is all we know of and ever will know, if it includes every piece of matter and every bit of energy - it cannot add or subtract from the matter/energy total. There is no outside for anything to go to or come from. The combination of Matter and Energy is a mix that logically cannot be altered. There is not a single thing that has ever existed that became or came from nothing. It either changed physical state into or from another material form or realized in a form of energy. The sum total of All from the formation of NGC 6397 to the birth of a trilobite to the D key on my keyboard originated within the single amalgamation of all things, the Universe. Not one atom can be obliterated into nothingness. Einstein tells us, "Mass and energy are both but different manifestations of the same thing."

Where am I leading? I put forth a proposal, perhaps to be perceived as heretical or nonsensical. I have not the opportunity here expound on the theory in toto. Still, I believe I've laid out an interesting if not convincing argument for a concept, which although touched on by countless others from one angle or multitude of facets, has not been articulated in the form I present here. I claim there is a Fifth Dimension. How many people have searched through a mountain of statistics and abstract reasoning? How many have proclaimed our mind or some outside force, be it Supernatural or Deistic, accounts for intangibles? I forward the concept that just like the other four dimensions the Fifth is obvious and prevalent everywhere in everything. There will be a tendency to try to measure it; we already do without assigning the fact by the nomenclature of Dimension.

Step back. Imagine you're not a Firefly fan who thinks Joss Whedon has a halo of genius and that not all episodes of great shows are created equal.

I did not see Firefly when it originally aired (for reasons beyond my control). I did however buy the DVD of Serenity, fell in love with it and purchased Firefly - and loved that also.

The Good: Excellent casting (I do feel there is one exception - not to be named), great sets and effects, and a wonderful universe concept. Absolutely sold on the language - both the Chinese elements and the Western jargon. I also like the costumes - all those earth-tones.

The Bad: Fox totally messed up in not airing the double length pilot first. They should have given the series a longer chance. Also, they were dense about the Sci-Fi Western idea.

The Ugly: The ratings weren't very good. The guest stars were uneven - some wonderful - example Richard Brooks in Objects in Space - and a few were substandard. To me the real damning item involves the writing. Since the pilot had not been aired, Whedon and company must have known they were on shaky ground.

The Train Job is a super rebound after losing the pilot. We're treated to excellent characters (likewise, the cast portraying them) involved in an engaging heist tale with WOW-level special effects to boot.

It is beyond me how Bushwhacked ever was released as the second episode. It has such glaring problems, it comes across as something you'd expect in season three as filler to give the writers chance to think up some new material. The Reavers - we never see them. OK, I can dig that, saving them for impact later in the series. So what do we learn about them? They're vicious, practically inhuman. We are told this. We also find out they carefully clean up after themselves, leaving not one spot of blood to alarm the Firefly's crew. Again, in keeping with their tidiness, they pick up all the dead and neatly hang them up, apparently drained of unsightly blood, since there is no trace of any below them. Always the domestic madmen, they know not to leave the door open, so they lock the room where a bounty of food and the bodies are. We get past this to where Mal decides that the survivor they've rescued has been turned into a dreaded Reaver. His first thought: get everyone away from him and lock him in the medical room - without restraints! Nothing like giving homicidal madmen access to drugs and sharp objects. It gets better. The crew and the Reaver-in-waiting are brought aboard an Alliance ship. Big, big alliance ship with an operating room right by the entrance I guess, because the now raging full-blooded 130 pound Reaver actually gets out of an OR and navigates his way past all security and defenses with his mighty scalpel. His small size worked as a joke for his run-in with Jayne, but here it just plays wrong because this segment is serious (not that a sizable dude should have been able to find his way out). Poor guy, survives Reavers and a mini-army to be finally killed by Mal with handcuffed hands.

If you watched the Serenity film with its accompanying Joss Whedon commentary, you heard him explain how audiences don't like to see the good guys win purely on the stupidity or ineptitude of the bad guys. Well, after establishing that the Alliance military is uncaring and lazy in The Train Job, we are now served the notion that they are thickheaded and incompetent. As for the Reavers, we'll have to wait to see their flaws, as they've already impressed us with their ability to neatly kill defenseless people.

After Bushwacked things got better with four good episodes. Shindig is all manner of fun. Safe is a foundation sort of installment. It's not so much about what goes on, but rather a fine exercise in character development. Next is one of my favorites, Jaynestown. It's a fantastic hoot, with humor well spread on-board and off. My one snicker: Stitch is pretty spry for a guy cooped up in a 3X3X3 crate for four years. Can we spell atrophy? Yeah, but Ray, how about that song? "The Hero on Canton" is one hi-larry-ous audible concoction, well written and funny enough to save many a show less gifted. Our Mrs. Reynolds is a cute romp with a cute guest star, the type of episode best used sparingly so as to be viewed as a bit of fresh air.

Then followed the peak stretch of Out of Gas, Ariel and War Stories - three awesome shows. Could go on and on about all sorts of greatness, but that's not the aim of this blog. At this point Fox would be totally 100% wrong in ditching Firefly. The weaknesses so far were more than half of their own making. Yet, the next turn of events would offer them ammunition to defend their decision to axe the show, because after War Stories, things fell apart.

Having a SECOND episode with a goofy "cute villainess" plot line (Trash rehashing Our Mrs, Reynolds) so early makes it appear that once again the writers were relying heavily on the world they constructed and the tightness of the characters to carry a poor story. The thing is, the world they constructed and the tightness of the characters hadn't really been established fully yet, partially because the pilot wasn't aired. WAKE UP JOSS! He's too smart to be excused for not putting out his best stuff early, knowing the network was watching with a wary eye. Well, Trash didn't air and I don't think it was a great loss. It's not terrible, it's simply rehash. If it were to appear a season later it would be OK, maybe even very welcome, but it was too soon.

The biggest challenge was the fact that Firefly being a serial series, had potentially important info in every installment. So if an episode doesn't air, all the more confusion for the viewers and a jolt to the writers that they must retell the important stuff some other time. All this might be excusable if they hadn't offered The Message and Heart of Gold as the next two episodes. The Message is flawed, the continuity is awful - especially Jayne's hat. Alan Tudyk's commentary notes the vanishing and reappearing straw stuck to the hat. What he doesn't mention is how often Adam Baldwin takes the hat off - in one short segment he removes it twice. I do have a hard time watching the main guest star. If you can buy into the plot's far out concept, that's one matter. Believing anyone would remotely trust this obvious Bozo with such rare, expensive and potentially life-saving items is really pushing it. The commentary more than hints at other weaknesses. Still, I enjoy The Message - because I've bought into the whole Firefly idea. On it's own it's just OK. The beginning is very entertaining and offered plenty of promise, plus the villain looks cool, even though his sidekicks look ready for a frat keg party rather than taking on a ship full of hard cases (like it or not, the fact is we are rooting for some unrepentant killers). Thrown in the fact that bad guys are outnumbered 3 to 1 and stupid and we revisit the recurring evidence that Joss either was full of crap about the notion that serious bad guys needing to be more than buffoons or he meant it only applied to feature films - or he was doing weed. Hey, he jokes about it why can't I?

Then there's Heart of Gold. Need a lot of weed or an uncritical bias in order to forgive such a disaster . Underwhelming villain played by unconvincing actor using an unremarkable weapon while leading unscary henchmen VS unbelievably inept crew (leaving ship practically unattended in a knowingly hostile place) protecting an unconvincing group of harlots. Looks like they outnumber the towns non-hooker residents, don't it? But the worst is the absolute ham playing the pregnant girl. Throw in some bad direction and dialogue to really make sure the thing stays dead. No wonder it didn't air... and the series was only about halfway through it's first season. I've stated my distaste for this fiasco elsewhere and don't want to go on about it now. If someone wants to knock me on it, I'll be glad to get more detailed. This should have been titled Trash.

Then came a large serving of redemption.

Objects in Space is a masterpiece: story and subtext (Depth of suspense, logic and philosophical context), rich atmosphere via Greg Edmonson (his music a consistent bonus throughout the series, I've wondered why he wasn't tapped to orchestrate the film Serenity), Ah, Richard Brooks as Jubal Early (I'm strongly tempted to assume Whedon wanted to morph this role to fit into the Serenity motion picture). Generally I'm more engaged in cinema than television, but so many superior facets meld in Objects that I would love to see it in a theatre environment. I feel it's as good as some of the greatest sci-fi films.

If you watch only the episodes that aired, you end up with Out of Gas, Ariel, War Stories and Objects in Space running one after another. The snags here and there could be written off as mere missteps. It becomes easy to understand the frustration of viewers at the initial time when Firefly was on the Fox schedule. Instead we can look back and see many of the flaws the audience was spared. There were a couple stumbles beyond missteps.

Was Firefly a good show? Yes. It could very often be a great show... maybe often enough to be considered a great show, when the heights of it's best moments are weighed in. Still, I return to my premise, Step back... survey the entire series with a critical eye. It's not perfect. As much as I think Fox should have kept it going, I believe there were signs that perhaps it wasn't realistically fated for a long run, instead a fantastic jumping board for an excellent movie franchise.

I have loved LOST since the first five minutes of the series. There have been some weak moments, episodes, performances, etc. Yet they stick out because the show is so damn good. It is my favorite series in the past 5 years - perhaps even longer. Everything about the show is THAT super, but liking it doesn't blind me to LOST's probable Achilles heel - the writing.

I hear footsteps... BIG footsteps. I hope my worries are unfounded, yet I can't shake the nagging feeling that eventually the writers are either going to offer a terrible series conclusion or (more likely) the weight of their accumulated time (or dimensional) acrobatics will eventually crush the logic beyond any acceptable explanation except, "They can do that because it's in the script".

Time travel paradoxes are fine in theory and technically are hypothetically possible if time is dimensional with separate (and possibly even intersecting) lines. However certain time travel paradoxes become automatically IMPOSSIBILITIES (actual and theoretical) if presented in a single line of time. Faraday can look nervous (isn't Jeremy Davies distractingly twitchy in every role) spouting half-sentence admissions and shady revelations all he wants, his character is really starting to amass a staggering number of potentially contradictory explanations and observations. Ben has been doing that also, but not at such a frantic (another Jeremy Davies adjective) rate.

If the acting, engaging characters and dialogue continues throughout, the series probably will always be enjoyable. Still, there are limitations to science-fiction. However akin, it is not as unbound as Fantasy. It may be fiction, but the science of Science-Fiction must follow a logic, however bizarre. Just because stories and premises are fantastic it doesn't mean they can avoid following that inner logic. It's looking now as if the creators might be painting themselves into corners with some of the plot devices. Hopefully there doesn't come a critical (in both senses of the word) time where the vast majority of viewers go, "No, they did not just give that as an explanation!" Handing the out excuse, "It's only TV" might satisfy many viewers. Still, I'm sure I'm not alone in dreading the idea that this remarkable production - from acting to sound design - could be ruined or damaged by easily avoidable misplays. This is not the quirky trip-out of Dr. Who nor the roller-coaster romp of Farscape... As with those two shows I love, I'll always enjoy nearly all episodes of LOST, but the overall serious nature of this "universe" relies on drama and action based on the world we live in. An instance of total fantasy here and there can pass by, if it doesn't involve the larger picture - as in series resolutions. Poor actors or roles can easily be swamped by the high quality across the cast. The effects, scenery and camerawork are hardly anything less than top notch. Still, throw just one MAJOR "That can't happen" moment involving something that a highly important series mystery hinges upon and the show could be compromised. It's happened to other great shows, leading to a deservedly diminished appreciation on the part of the loyal fans. There's still a lot of the LOST series left. It would be a shame if things started tanking a la X-Files.

LOST is far too grounded to hand people storyline solutions that are 100% baked AND disappointing.

Will the show stay the course, go astray slightly or totally collapse? Time, ahem... will tell.

The revolution has begun -

No, it has always been -

And can never stop -

For if we win we become them

I don't go about wearing rose-colored glasses. Also I realize the sad fact that religion has been trammeled, stomped and spit on. Still I turn to the forgotten discipline of philosophy to mediate my minds tempests. My personal philosophy allows for the oft mentioned contention of physicists - infinite or highly plural universes. In my darkest hour when the whole world denies me pleasure or satisfaction; when indeed my God is as apathetic as a grain of sand on a planet a galaxy away - I envision through my tears that the daydream, the core of my soul's desire, exists somewhere. Call it self-hypnosis, spiritual mumbo jumbo, or plain wishful thinking but it's MY vision. Considering the billions of trees falling never to be heard, people long past forgotten, stars never to be seen - MY vision is more real than any of them. We're told they exist; then what of my dream?

GOTH TEASE

Mine brain kist by succubus again...

Lips, a touch from which I shall ne'er win...

Eyes offering hope, where there be none...

All enchantment torn by the sun...

All thine charms could not be listed...

Indeed thee be a Harlequin Twisted

WINDSONG

In the meadows there

Aboded a flutist fair

And on her songs they say

She can steal your breath away.

For playing so beautiful,

Melodies so sweet,

Caressing the persons

Of the ears they meet.

But as I find her not there

It is but the whistling

Of the willows swinging in the air

GOTHIC PARADISE

I have amnesia

Yet, this bothers me not

Amongst these trees

Despite the crackle, snap, snap

Of my campfire

Above the night chirps, coos, whoos

Of the deep forest

I discern the crush of leaves, twigs

Beneath her beautiful bare feet

The swish of a silver nightslip

Against her pristine marble-white flesh

Is lusciously deafening

The vision of her supple dance-walking form

Shrouded by smoke and fog

Is binding, enticing, soothing

I wipe the blood from my eyes

To witness her hand come to my cheek

How did you die? We echo to one another

I have amnesia

Yet, this bothers me not

A DREAM IN BROWN AND WHITE

Deep, rich wood

For walls and floors

An easy chair large enough to be lost in

A faithful hound resting, yet alert, at my feet

A brick fireplace aglow

A sturdy, small table at arm's length distance

On which lies a good thick book

A snug robe fitted down to my ankles

Deep, rich meerschaum

For a pipe kept on display

A comforter large enough for two

A cockatoo, fast asleep on a perch on high

An alabaster statue worthy of Olympus

The face of a reliable clock, not needed at this hour

The page I've just read before she put

Her arms around me

JEWEL

Did I tarry too long

To speak of mine

Admiration for that lustrous stone

Sparkling virginal and fine

And did I miss the chance

To stoke the flame

Seated in the transparent heaven

Locked fast within that gem's name

What I would give up

In order to win

Another occasion to meet

That cashier named Jewel again

According to The Big Read, the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books on their list.

My reactions A) A few too many recent entries B) A bit too British overall C) Four by Jane Austen but none by Twain, Hemingway, Kipling etc

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicise those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee

6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot

21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne

41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon

60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61. Of Mice and Men John Steinbeck

62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold

65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt

81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

I've READ and LOVE: 6/100
I've ONLY READ: 34/100
I INTEND TO READ: 2/100
I HAVE NO INTENTION OF READING...: 64/100

Quixotica

Dealing with the universe as it stands

Sets upon me certain demands

Because I feel ever responsible

For that which I bring about

Every need within my sight

All the wrongs to be made right

Whether important to anyone else

Or just in particular to me

In this my heart and soul insist

That always I act the existentialist

And realize my every act

Has expected and unexpected results

I root and clamor for the rejected

And offer more than is expected

It's not that I play the martyr

It's just the way I am

But for all the evils of this world

Little escapes me of the beauty unfurled

There is so, so much to sense

So much to appreciate

Cool sheets in the evening against my skin

Warm moments enhanced by Gershwin

Quiet hours spent with good friends

The taste of maple walnut

Laughter rising from beautiful girls' hearts

Tears from their eyes at sad movie parts

Witnessing the pageantry of clouds

The innocent questions of children

The immense power of the surging sea

And it's sunset tranquility

The firmament- widest sea of all

With stars to awe my mind

The feel of guitar strings at fingertips

And a song's lyrics leaving my lips

Stiletto heels enhancing shapely peds

The sound of rain falling

The sensuality of feminine form and grace

Kisses transcending time and space

The nobility of mere existence

The innate clarity of a bird's song

Ideas captured and set free in a book

A sweet cashier's come-hither look

A strong woman's conversation

A good man's loyalty

Without dignity and truthfulness secure

All these things might be no more

Than sad ramblings of my mind

Held in a madman's dream

Willing to protect with flesh or voice

I exercise my freedom of choice

And issue forth energies

Towards the objective

I own neither a knight's lance or steed

Yet there are all the windmills I may need

To keep me occupied 'til I pass

From this Earthly life

So during this time when I can relate

I perceive life in a romantic state

Exposing both my darkness and purity

In a collection of Quixotica

Dena Da debutante

I went to a party dee other night

Da crowd dare wuz quite outta sight

Rubbin' elbows wit sen'tors an' stars

Some arrivin' in stretch limmasine cars

Ol' Louis wuz a-blowin' his horn

While dat cat Cab wuz skattin' along

An' Josephine wuz cutting the rug

While the Great Profile wuz lookin' smug

Den dey were hit wit a social boom

When one young lady entered the room

She's Dena da debutante

Yeah, Dena da debutante

I sed, Dena da debutante

She got cool style an' class

Oh, dat Dena's a gasss

Ol' Elton wuz a-hittin' da keys

While Mick wuz howlin' on his knees

An' Angelina wuz givin' great face

While Denzel wuz scopin' da place

But jes' one person drove dem wild

It wuz dat funky Buddha Child

She's Dena da debutante

Yeah, Dena da debutante

Lordy, Dena da debutante

She got great brains an' ass

Oh, dat Dena's a gass

ORANGUTAN

Got a little story here

About an orangutan

Believed in reincarnation

Figgered when he'd die

He'd come back as a man

Got it all sorted

To live just like me or you

Yes, the way he saw it

Being human would do

He'd just have to build

A tree house up in the air

And live his life

With nary a care

Chompin' on mangoes

Ain't that what men eat

Oh, life in the tree house

Would be ever so sweet

Visit a lady friend

Once in a while

And when the Nature Channel cameras come

MR. OBSESSIVE

While listening the other day to Danielle Dax

Nearly swooning in her sea of sound

I got to thinking 'bout my own musical journey...

Now I didn't think much about Rock 'n' Roll

Till I was about eighteen years old

But once I caught the bug I ate it up - Now that's not a pretty sight

See I've done nearly a million things in my life

'Cept going to the Moon and finding a wife

An' that drives me just a little bit crazy

They say I'm anal retentive, you know what that means

Figure it's in my upbringing or something in my genes

'Cause I'm obsessed with everything I like

Like buying harmonicas and history books

Foreign coins and learning to cook

Hey, that's just the start of the list - I like making lists

I'm into writing poetry like it was a curse

Collecting movies and watching women - I wish that was reversed

But just like with computers, I haven't got a clue

I can eat pizza any time of the day

And drink a gallon of Diet Coke along the way

And I may shave my head just for fun

Don't get me wrong it's been a bumpy ride

Things have been downright hard, yet I've got nothing to hide

(Ask me sometime to write my personal vice list)

So when you come around here to party or relax

Please bring a tape of Danielle Dax

Though meeting her in the flesh is what I'd prefer

And if you can't come over I'll still invite her

I'll remember all we'll say and whatever will occur

And I'll be ever obsessive and put it all in a song - No kiddin'

I was sifting through my notebooks piled on my desk when I came across this bit of writing from 2005...

NIGHT OF THE HUNTER: A Eulogy

HERE I sit in a world without Hunter S. Thompson. Surely he was not a saint and, quite frankly, he certainly would be freaked out at the notion of him being revered. Still, as journalists go, Thompson was an icon. For the open-minded reader, the man's approach and bearing tore apart each topic he stumbled into. Upon finishing any of his works you felt that you got a view devoid of hidden agendas. Oh, he was a player of illusions and convolutions but the result and aim were pure truth - as he sensed it.
Thompson's suicide recalls the demise of George Sanders. The talented and acerbic actor led a turgid personal life and decided to end it all because, as he tersely stated, "I'm bored." Apparently Thompson didn't want to be saddled with any such ennui either. So we're left to pick through his paper jungle that stands as his indictment and blessing of America. Never doubt he WAS an American.
Few people of perceptual stature are lionized. The media, governments and most of the public want their information packaged and delivered in a digestible manner that "appears" fair and objective. This is fine for textbooks and science papers. Journalism is a whole different arena. For every William F. Buckley there must be a Hunter S. Thompson. The lines must be drawn so we can determine for ourselves what is the straight dope. I don't want all the cotton stuffing and candy coating of the left or right.
Still mindless ranting does no one any good - Mr. Limbaugh & company. Neither do slime tactics - Mr. Moore. Thompson didn't hide his drug-addled dregs as Rush did. And do you really think Michael would take a beating from the Hell's Angels to dust off a story?
So I bid farewell to the manic genius in the sunglasses, sporting a cigarette holder clenched in his teeth. I don't know where he is now, but one thing's for sure, he's giving someone an earful for the way things are... and that's no bull.

Epilogue - William F. Buckley has recently passed away, and leaving with him is one of the truly great conservative minds of our times - as I said, a perfect counterpoint to Thompson.

CORDITE

what's that i smell? burning from hell?

what's that i hear? a blast in my ear?

i must never forget these things.

i must hold on, so dear.

all that i think, i'm at the brink.

all that i see, in such clarity,

everything i can now sense

is all that's left to me.

the realization of knowing nothing,

that this all could be

the dream from which i'll awake

or soon i'll enter the endless sleep.

this pain will end

never to see the blood i've lost

or that which i love.

The song Cordite is a tribute to Kurt Cobain. I recorded it as I wrote it. As it appears on my CD, Noir, there's no overdubs, just hiss reduction - just me with my acoustic Epiphone guitar and my Echo harmonica. What you're hearing is as real as it gets. I feel it coincidentally (I recorded it in '94) sounds as if it could be on a compilation with Johnny Cash's rendition of NIN's "Hurt" from 2002.

Cordite is a relatively obsolete odorless explosive powder, sometimes used in firearms. I chose it as the title of the song for a few reasons: The obvious alliteration of the first two letters, CO. Despite the fact that cordite had nothing to do with the shotgun that killed Cobain, it is still nevertheless a product used expressly for guns. Finally, the nature of an explosive powder is to dissipate upon the successful attainment of its purpose - much in the same manner that Kurt Cobain's volatile life peaked and blew out.

I was very sick when I sat down that day to play my guitar and harmonica, preparing to record myself on a cheap boom-box. I had been continuously ill for over three years. Kurt had died just the previous week at the age of twenty-seven - five years younger than me.

I wept, thinking of him, asking myself, what the hell did I have to leave behind for those I loved. Then I thought of his child - what if he thought of Frances as he passed away, the moment as his last senses ceased. While my eyes were closed the lyrics came from me in first person. I remembered back to every time I nearly died, those last bits of consciousness before the dark veil.

It seemed a matter of course to sing in the first person, seeing how I was internalizing the subject. When I went about putting the words to paper as a poem I wrote the "I"s in lower-case to accent the insignificance of the self during the act of suicide. I have asked myself the philosophical questions from the song a thousand times.

Not every song of mine is driven by such profound existential musings (or highfalutin' bull, if you may) but I'm satisfied with the result. Ironically, over the years I never thought I'd ever share this song with anyone (except as a poem). I only played it that one time.