Showing posts with label video. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Prelude to Robin Williams in Hotlanta!
WARNING: Mr. Williams says 'f___' more times in this clip than some people actually do it in a year.
Okay, I decided not to post the link to the youtube 'History of Golf/Robin Williams' video. My sisters follow my blog. They don't like to hear 'f___.'
I am excited about the upcoming event. =) I would like to post links - but I won't. His best stuff is beautifully and intricately laced with common and sophisticated language unsuitable for delicate ears. Of course, mine do not qualify as 'delicate.'
Anyone who wants can hear his stuff on youtube. I was laughing at his and Jim Carrey's videos a week or two ago. Love to laugh!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The secret had to unfold,
she knew,
since they thought she told
an untruth,
had already gone back
on her word,
fell off the track,
"she's absurd."
In the capital of "food processing"
where many for more than fun are pressing,
she did not want to fit
another statistic --
in the also capital of "I'm sharing our lunch with someone else so our 'contract' is void."
To play,
but not that way, ha HA!
That messy, dirty business
is not
what she meant to express
another thought.
Not another thought of talking
or emailing with him,
never again.
Keep walking...
The right person knew
what she meant,
read all of the hints,
got the point of view.
Thx.
she knew,
since they thought she told
an untruth,
had already gone back
on her word,
fell off the track,
"she's absurd."
In the capital of "food processing"
where many for more than fun are pressing,
she did not want to fit
another statistic --
in the also capital of "I'm sharing our lunch with someone else so our 'contract' is void."
To play,
but not that way, ha HA!
That messy, dirty business
is not
what she meant to express
another thought.
Not another thought of talking
or emailing with him,
never again.
Keep walking...
The right person knew
what she meant,
read all of the hints,
got the point of view.
Thx.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Da dada da!
I love to sing along with this song. Finally looked up the word "haver," lol. I've done that. Shhhh! Oh, and yes, I try to sing with the accent. =)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Chickenfoot = The Coolest.
Davy Knowles and Back Door Slam = I own copies of their cd's now.
Davy Knowles and Back Door Slam = I own copies of their cd's now.
The show was great. We stayed for most of it, but I've been fighting a cold. Overdanced, I guess, lol. Couldn't sit still, though. Bitten By The Wolf, not on the cd, was an awesome surprise. So was Davy Knowles and Back Door Slam. =)
Some things in life are more important than others but most have significance sooner or later. As I listened to Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, I realized it was the "other side" to Till We Have Faces. All of the participants and their actions "unseen" in Lewis's novel are explicitly apparent in Sinclair's. Amused, the thought occurred to me that many hardline capitalists adopt socialist views when the topic of discussion turns from economy and profits to sin and redemption.
Anyway, I have been thinking about illegal immigrants again after watching a program on HBO (and after reflecting upon The Jungle). I agree that people who have waited longer for legal status should be first, but right now our country has a larger problem - we can't even keep kids from crossing the border. It is a sad, dangerous path for so many children. I was thankful my husband let me know that some people were using their resources to bring attention to the many children who risk their lives trying to come here, to the United States.
Which Way Home. That is the name of the HBO documentary. I knew I would cry before it ended, but I did not know I would feel so afraid when the boys did not meet up with the crew when they were supposed to. I am still angry and upset that no one knows where Olga and Freddy are. I wish I could tell Juan Carlos that he is doing the right thing. Kevin, that I am proud of his Level 4 and that he does not hurt others. Jairo has his head in the right place – my husband has done pretty well as a mechanic. Yurico is too happy and naturally good, letting the younger ones go with him, telling them to not goof off too much. He is too good to end up on drugs. Fito, a dreamer with a big heart. He lied when he said he did not care what happened to Kevin. But he was too scared to say so. I wish I could do something for them. I understand their desire to follow their dreams, to have a better life, but my heart breaks at the idea of them losing their lives on the trains or in the desert.
I want to help kids like that. They are here, too, in the U. S. Most of them have never needed much motivation to achieve, just someone to believe in them. In fact, many of them have inspired me. The documentary made me think of a child I had not thought of in a while. I don’t remember her name. But I went to see her at the hospital about ten years ago. When I still waited tables, some familiar guests, who knew that I speak a little Spanish, told me about a girl who had been in an accident. She had no family here and spoke only Spanish. When I went, I was torn to see her so small and pitiful. Sad, scared, yet somehow still proud, tubes were sticking out of her everywhere. The nurses said that she was paralyzed from the neck down. She was in a pickup truck accident and was not wearing a seatbelt.
The girl tried to smile back at me. She was 15 years old, she said, and had come up here to earn money for her family. She had a cleaning job. The worst part for her was that her mother and father could not come see her. I recall trying to imagine how I would feel if that were my daughter, ten at the time, but I could not. She had her faith, she told me. Feeling a little awkward, I held up the box with the necklace that I brought her. Slipped it onto her slender, feeble hand. She wanted me to pray with her. I am not good at that, but she wanted it. I was not allowed to stay long because of her condition. It was hard to leave, but the nurses said that someone else who spoke Spanish was coming tomorrow. Gently, I kissed the girl’s head, said goodbye.
I do not know where the girl is now, only that she is a grown woman and not a girl anymore. Or did she lose her childhood long ago? I do not forget ever when I meet people whose light shines no matter what happens. This girl who kept her dignity, did not want pity – like the beautiful girl in Which Way Home who lost her legs under the wheels of the train. I do not remember her name because I was struck by the determined pride and beauty in her face. Certain people have something internal that drives them. Something that people will try to take away or beat out of them. But children need to be children. Documentation and legalization of immigrants – different from citizenship – would not entirely cure but help to decrease the number of illegal child laborers in this country. Our America.
Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle is a metaphor for so many instances. Note: I do not agree with Sinclair’s treatment of certain minorities in this novel. However, he correctly assessed the need for regulation of the food industry at that time and the need to protect immigrants. I have always been thankful for the Food and Drug Administration but now even more. The lessons learned at the turn of the last century are being learned again as we breathe. The parallels are uncanny, even to the trainhopping, the danger, the oppression that drives people of poverty to extremes, and the apathy of too many others. It’s about being human. It’s about being a world economy. It’s about peoples’ lives. Children’s lives. It’s about whatever you need it to be about, as long as you want to do something.
Anyway, I have been thinking about illegal immigrants again after watching a program on HBO (and after reflecting upon The Jungle). I agree that people who have waited longer for legal status should be first, but right now our country has a larger problem - we can't even keep kids from crossing the border. It is a sad, dangerous path for so many children. I was thankful my husband let me know that some people were using their resources to bring attention to the many children who risk their lives trying to come here, to the United States.
Which Way Home. That is the name of the HBO documentary. I knew I would cry before it ended, but I did not know I would feel so afraid when the boys did not meet up with the crew when they were supposed to. I am still angry and upset that no one knows where Olga and Freddy are. I wish I could tell Juan Carlos that he is doing the right thing. Kevin, that I am proud of his Level 4 and that he does not hurt others. Jairo has his head in the right place – my husband has done pretty well as a mechanic. Yurico is too happy and naturally good, letting the younger ones go with him, telling them to not goof off too much. He is too good to end up on drugs. Fito, a dreamer with a big heart. He lied when he said he did not care what happened to Kevin. But he was too scared to say so. I wish I could do something for them. I understand their desire to follow their dreams, to have a better life, but my heart breaks at the idea of them losing their lives on the trains or in the desert.
I want to help kids like that. They are here, too, in the U. S. Most of them have never needed much motivation to achieve, just someone to believe in them. In fact, many of them have inspired me. The documentary made me think of a child I had not thought of in a while. I don’t remember her name. But I went to see her at the hospital about ten years ago. When I still waited tables, some familiar guests, who knew that I speak a little Spanish, told me about a girl who had been in an accident. She had no family here and spoke only Spanish. When I went, I was torn to see her so small and pitiful. Sad, scared, yet somehow still proud, tubes were sticking out of her everywhere. The nurses said that she was paralyzed from the neck down. She was in a pickup truck accident and was not wearing a seatbelt.
The girl tried to smile back at me. She was 15 years old, she said, and had come up here to earn money for her family. She had a cleaning job. The worst part for her was that her mother and father could not come see her. I recall trying to imagine how I would feel if that were my daughter, ten at the time, but I could not. She had her faith, she told me. Feeling a little awkward, I held up the box with the necklace that I brought her. Slipped it onto her slender, feeble hand. She wanted me to pray with her. I am not good at that, but she wanted it. I was not allowed to stay long because of her condition. It was hard to leave, but the nurses said that someone else who spoke Spanish was coming tomorrow. Gently, I kissed the girl’s head, said goodbye.
I do not know where the girl is now, only that she is a grown woman and not a girl anymore. Or did she lose her childhood long ago? I do not forget ever when I meet people whose light shines no matter what happens. This girl who kept her dignity, did not want pity – like the beautiful girl in Which Way Home who lost her legs under the wheels of the train. I do not remember her name because I was struck by the determined pride and beauty in her face. Certain people have something internal that drives them. Something that people will try to take away or beat out of them. But children need to be children. Documentation and legalization of immigrants – different from citizenship – would not entirely cure but help to decrease the number of illegal child laborers in this country. Our America.
Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle is a metaphor for so many instances. Note: I do not agree with Sinclair’s treatment of certain minorities in this novel. However, he correctly assessed the need for regulation of the food industry at that time and the need to protect immigrants. I have always been thankful for the Food and Drug Administration but now even more. The lessons learned at the turn of the last century are being learned again as we breathe. The parallels are uncanny, even to the trainhopping, the danger, the oppression that drives people of poverty to extremes, and the apathy of too many others. It’s about being human. It’s about being a world economy. It’s about peoples’ lives. Children’s lives. It’s about whatever you need it to be about, as long as you want to do something.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Driving home,
Music fills
Only my ears.
“Roadhouse Blues”
Rhythms drill
A hole in the dampening valley
between my thighs.
Rolling hills,
Curving fences with matching treelines,
Pointed, rounded, protruding,
Rise and plunge
With the silky, smooth bassline,
The thumping, humping
heartbeat of drum.
Bursts
of piano adrenaline,
Intermittent guitar
grunts and groans
Of harmonica
Stroke the skin along my
Naked arms, shoulders,
Creep under the seam of my
Tank top, waistband,
Crawl up inside my pants' legs.
My hips tilt back in the
Driver’s seat,
Responding to
Jim’s command to
“Roll, Baby, roll,”
And I wish you were here.
We’d do it right
There by the pond,
The cows,
The tin roofs,
The old cemetery behind the trees,
You scattin’ my name
While we rolled,
Babe.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
I decided to repost this poem that I originally posted on Tuesday, July 7, 2009, and I just added to it. Something has been on my mind. I felt left out nearly my entire life, but now, I know what has been missing. I'm fine with myself. Don't need the things that I thought I did. Not for my soul.
Unfit for proper society,
a homebody,
but relaxed.
Not much choice.
Sigh.
Better this way,
to not lose the soul.
Spiritual peace,
worth more than gold.
The Pearl Jam song, "Daughter," seems an appropriate accompaniment to this poem. People cannot choose their earthly families, but we can choose our spiritual families. I need my spiritual family that does include many in my earthly family, so please, comment or email me if you are not sure what I mean. I am figuratively (can I literally?) attempting to 'disown' the evil in the world of which I do not wish to akin myself. My opinion: God separates us from the evil if we choose Him.
Eddie Vedder sings "It's okay, you don't have to run and hide away." Reader, or listener interpretation for myself, I do not plan to hide. However, I realize I am among those who reject certain, overwhelmingly powerful ways of the world. Sometimes I feel like hiding, but I either trudge through it, or I wait calmly for the moment to pass.
Also, I still have love for all people if not their ways. I still believe that all people are worthy to receive love if they choose it. All people can share the goodness of the world if they choose it. But it has to be a choice, not forced, or it is not real.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Just heard this by Jesus Jackson a few minutes ago... omg, wow.
Gonna pick up this cd next time I'm out - I'm broke, but I'll make a cut somewhere else, lol. The music kicks ass, and the lyrics simply kill.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Boxer is probably my favorite Simon & Garfunkel song. I have always been a fighter, but I just went the distance, won, then handed over the title. I want to share my humble fighting spirit with you now. My favorite lyrics are just below; however, I no longer wish to run but face my enemies. According to interviews,* Paul Simon said that at times he felt like running away from criticsm. I get that. But he still writes (and sings), and I still write (and fight).
*http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=2751
"In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he
carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
till he cried out in his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving," but the fighter still remains..."
In this youtube video, the duo talk a little with Letterman before they sing. I found it comforting that they described how being closer together rather than farther apart helped them to work out their differences. The song is even longer than usual because they added alternate (previously omitted in recordings) lyrics about how people are more alike than different. I hope this will be my experience.
Lyrics (by Paul Simon) to The Boxer
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/s/simon+and+garfunkel/the+boxer_20124664.html
I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told
Ive squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm
When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Li la li...
Asking only workmans wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
Just a comeon from the whores on 7th avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than Ill be, thats not unusual
No it isnt strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
Li la li...
And Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home
Where the new york city winters arent bleedin me, leadin me to go home
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes he still remains
Li la li...
Additional lyrics**
Now the years are rolling by me
They are rocking evenly
And I am older than I once was
And younger than I'll be, but that's not unusual.
No, it isn't strange
After changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
**http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Boxer
*http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=2751
"In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he
carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
till he cried out in his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving," but the fighter still remains..."
In this youtube video, the duo talk a little with Letterman before they sing. I found it comforting that they described how being closer together rather than farther apart helped them to work out their differences. The song is even longer than usual because they added alternate (previously omitted in recordings) lyrics about how people are more alike than different. I hope this will be my experience.
Lyrics (by Paul Simon) to The Boxer
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/s/simon+and+garfunkel/the+boxer_20124664.html
I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told
Ive squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm
When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Li la li...
Asking only workmans wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
Just a comeon from the whores on 7th avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than Ill be, thats not unusual
No it isnt strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
Li la li...
And Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home
Where the new york city winters arent bleedin me, leadin me to go home
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes he still remains
Li la li...
Additional lyrics**
Now the years are rolling by me
They are rocking evenly
And I am older than I once was
And younger than I'll be, but that's not unusual.
No, it isn't strange
After changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
**http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Boxer
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