Inner Storm

January 22nd, 2006

Beyond the realm of thinking
Or mere philosophy,
You hoped to comprehend it,
Unlock reality.

The mind is much too wondrous
To squander in a rut.
You must have felt you’d find it
In your heart, bones, or gut.

“Teach a lie, conceal the whole,
And satisfy with crumbs.
Chew another piece of soul,
but let them keep their thumbs.”

Sed libera nos a malo
And tortured Gospel cries.
You always feared to swallow
Those precious infant eyes.

The pictures were too jarring,
Each time you stopped to stare.
You never thought to measure
A mother’s simple prayer.

You’ll make it through the downpour,
When you reduce your speed,
With steps the Lord will show you,
Sufficient to your need.

J A D

This is definitely a Sunday

January 22nd, 2006

I hadn’t been feeling the tenderness in my knee, so I figured it was time to start running again. My waistline had been telling me the same thing for over a week.

I ran the full cross-country course out at Mack’s farm, half before the “Shared Silence,” and half after. Milton talked about how he categorizes and charts modern myth theories. I was still thinking too much about a couple movies we watched with David and Lee last night.

The Constant Gardener
The best thing about it is the editing. The worst thing about it is also the editing. That doesn’t mean it won’t win awards, but personally I think they went a bit overboard on the final product. Nevertheless, it’s probably a masterpiece, but, for some reason, I’m not sure about that.

Broken Flowers
Bill Murray may be Hollywood’s greatest facial minimalist since Buster Keaton. I could be wrong about this, too.

Although totally different, both movies were very creative. Both had superb casts and great music. On some level I think I’d already accepted this as a given, so I really doubt if either of these films will stick with me for very long. Maybe I’m just a little burned out on motion pictures lately, or, more likely, my thoughts have been occupied most of the day with something else.

I have afternoon plans to go to Lexington with Danny and attend a full Latin Mass—my first since the 1960s.

Various & Sundry, part thirty-one

January 21st, 2006

— When I got up at 6:30 to check the weather, the wind with light rain was enough deterrent for me to call off my scheduled run. I guess I have to admit I’m not as hard-core as I used to be. Dana and I did yoga instead, with the Charles and Lisa tape, waiting for live TV coverage showing the return of the Kentucky National Guard’s 623rd. Josh and his unit had some initial delays in getting out of Iraq, since they had to fill up a plane first, but he’s been back in the States for a number of days now, and was supposed to fly into Louisville this morning. When he touches down and is greeted by family, it will mark the end of his perilous overseas deployment. Welcome back, Josh!

— Last night Hayley’s team met its match with some athletic, high-pressure ball players from Lincoln County High. Our Belle displayed some skilled moments, but most of her minutes showed a hesitancy that comes from inexperience with competition at this level of intensity. She faced a energetic, senior-dominated squad. I think she also defers too often on the floor to older teammates, rather than place more confidence in her own leadership, which she’s more inclined to do when she’s not nervous, and then she shoots more, finishes her powerful drives to the basket, or finds an open player. When she performs that way she usually has a high-scoring game. The consistency is sure to come, but she needs to find a way to bear down and trust her own abilities. I wish she had a better coach, and some day she will. She has a lot of basketball ahead of her. It will be a joy to watch.

— I made more progress today on remodelling the small kitchen off our upstairs conference room. It’s hard to explain why it’s been so neglected over the years, but this is the year to complete the project. It’s proven in many ways to be the log jam that impedes the last phase of physical organization that has to take place for us to have the kind of studio space we always intended for the Town House. I also wrote an email to the chairman of the Library expansion committee describing our desire to recycle some materials from the demolition of the church to take place across the street this summer. We’d like to take stone, brick, or both, and create a rubble-style paved driveway. I think there’s a good chance the project will get a green light, but it’ll take some “Clan-Power” for me to pull off my end of the deal.

V & S

Too gnarled a realm for this cautious blogger

January 20th, 2006

I have a desire to do another detailed Bruce Update, since his medical situation continues to improve, but the conditions of his personal life are too harsh for me to present in this format, at least for now. Perhaps in time I’ll write something for the permanent record, but, for those of you who read this log and care about Bruce, if you want to know the specifics of what’s going on, please contact me or Dana directly. I encourage you to do so, and then to communicate your best regards to him.

Untitled

January 19th, 2006

I heard a story yesterday about combat pilots in training. Each group goes into an oxygen deprivation chamber and half of them take off their masks. Eventually the half that maintains an adequate oxygen level has to struggle with the others, forcing them to put their masks back on so they won’t die.

I don’t have any particular reason to think that the story isn’t true, but last night I had a dream. I was driving a car in terrible, slippery weather and began to hear people screaming. I looked out the window to my left and saw a dam collapsing. I knew I had a split second to decide whether to flee away from the broken dam in an attempt to outpace the onrushing flood, or to drive uphill in the direction of the water, at an angle, with the possibility of escaping the rupture. I woke up before I could decide.

There’s no people like show people

January 18th, 2006

Tonight Dana had her book club, so I took the tickets Jeanne gave me and went to see the Harlem Gospel Choir at Norton Centre with my friend Danny D. The people on stage were very accomplished professionals, but the performance was too loud, too packaged, too “Show-Biz” for me. I get extremely discerning when it comes to worship-based music, but I can’t help it.

Moving kinda slow, but discovering the good stuff

January 17th, 2006

It sent out a beam like a laser sight, hitting my eye sideways from across the library, and I couldn’t believe I was the first to spot it on the new-purchases shelf. I immediately brought home “FLIGHT, Volume One” and consumed it as I would a delicacy—which, of course, it is. I’ve been to Bolt City and other webcomic sites, but savoring this collection plays to my print bias. It makes me realize how much other incredible work I’m surely allowing myself to miss. I’ve got to do something about that. A new golden age of the comic strip is already under way.

Year two, day one

January 16th, 2006

Sort of hollowed myself out with yesterday’s long entry, so now I’m just sitting here, realizing I was staring at the screen, slowly collapsing like a carved pumpkin head in November, with my menacing grin replaced by a weary smirk.

Today is King Day, and I recommend reading Gruntled Center.

Our heroes have feet of clay. Doesn’t that make their contributions more remarkable? If you don’t think so, you probably haven’t understood the nature of heroism.

About Uncle John

January 15th, 2006

(Because today is the one-year anniversary since the start of this daily log, I thought it was about time I included some sort of personal profile or “creator page.” Until I figure out a way to treat it as a separate file, I’ll just use this entry for the “About Uncle John” link. Thanks for all your help, Brendan.)

— — —

Within a nine month period, Uncle John had a niece and two nephews named Jerusha, Brendan, and Joshua, but that’s not how he got his name. Kristi or Rachel was probably the first person to call him that. He was already a stepfather, by virtue of Terie and Bruce, but was never called Stepfather John, thank goodness. Lots of exceptional young people now call him Uncle John on a regular basis and he likes it that way. Marty calls him GrandyJohn, and he likes that even more. Nobody ever called him Daddy, and that makes him sad at times, but that’s just the way things work out.

The best way to know more about Uncle John is to frequent this log, but if you want to go to school on the guy, you can learn something from what he likes and what he doesn’t like.

— — —

UNCLE JOHN LIKES—

Dana
In fact, he likes her a lot.

Family
Especially his
Mombo.

Exercise
Because his ticker came from his Dadbo.

Art
Not Uncle Art, who he also liked a lot, but the other kind—paintings by Paulo Veronese, Maurice Utrillo, Carl Rungius, Paul Klee, Andrew Wyeth, or Sheldon Tapley. He’ll always take time to appreciate a Dürer print, a Blake watercolor, a Mucha poster, a Stickley chair, a Rockwell cover, a Schwitters collage, a Patterson woodblock, a Wright interior, a Cassandre litho, a Kent engraving, a Link image, a Watterson strip, or a Glaser design.

Pirates
For good or ill, they’ve always been lurking nearby, outside, underneath, and inside.

Television
He thinks Mission: Impossible was the pinnacle of series television. In addition to great vintage shows like The Rifleman, Combat! and The Wild, Wild West; animated classics like The Adventures of Jonny Quest and Rocky and His Friends; and obscure gems like The New Breed, The Rogues, Tenspeed & Brownshoe, and The Yellow Rose, he also thoroughly enjoyed The Prisoner, Kung Fu, thirtysomething, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., and Firefly.

Words
His favorite living writers are Allan W. Eckert, Paul Watkins, Tom Wolfe, Peggy Noonan, Sebastian Junger, and Brendan Adkins. He also likes Homer, Kipling, and Clavell, but, unfortunately, they’re dead. In all seriousness, at different points in life, he’s found significance in the creative insights of Michel de Montaigne, Carl Jung, Alfred Korzybski, Ayn Rand, Morihei Ueshiba, Koichi Tohei, Gyorgy Kepes, Ann Wigmore, Mark Prophet, Juno Jordan, Twyla Tharp, and Deepak Chopra.

Motion Pictures
At the top of Uncle John’s list are movies like this: Forbidden Planet, The Great Escape, Silverado, The Big Country, Out of Africa, The Player, Groundhog Day, The Pale Rider, Braveheart, The Sting, Will Penny, The Conversation, Gorky Park, The Cowboys, Spirited Away, Indian Summer, Master and Commander, The Princess Bride, Fitzcarraldo, The Last of the Mohicans, Amadeus, Five-Man Army, The Rounders, Open Range, The Verdict, Red Sun, The Hustler, Quigley Down Under, The Great Santini, Z, The Man Who Would Be King, Hell in the Pacific, Sneakers, My Dinner with Andre, A Clockwork Orange, and It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. (Like hell he’s gonna provide links for all those!)

Uncle John has a very likable business with Dana in Danville, Kentucky. He also likes to make greeting cards, collect vintage plastic toys, catch fish from Lake Huron, listen to music, shoot all types of firearms, and, like everybody, spend time with his friends.

— — —

UNCLE JOHN DOES NOT LIKE—

Coyotes, opossums, cormorants, and snapping turtles.
Idiots who yell at cyclists and runners.
Con artists who aren’t in the movies.
Computers that won’t cooperate.
Sloppy or incompetent work of any kind.
Manipulation (except advertising and politics, of course).
Squandered potential (especially when it’s his own).
Lies (that includes advertising and politics).
The absurdities of safety-net health care.
Leaf blowers, hydrogenated fat, do-it-yourself junkyards.
Litterbugs, deprogrammers, identity thieves.
Ideological elites.
Meth pushers.
Abortionists.

— — —

Some other things you may want to know about Uncle John:

He normally doesn’t write about himself in the third person. He wishes he could still be a gardener, teacher, and practitioner of Aikido (and perhaps someday he will). He’d like to run a half-marathon in under two hours. He hopes to visit Alaska, Chile, Norway, Slovakia, South Africa, and Japan. He looks forward to documenting all the details of his lifelong “Legend” project before he heads to that big playset in the sky. He wants to build a studio in The Knobs and live to see each of his nieces and nephews become grandparents, unless he or she is destined to bequeath only influence, rather than genes—like him—and in that case will always be welcome to stop by the Valley Retreat for a visit, taste some Amarula, and listen to the Blue Bank Farm whippoorwills…

— — —

Obscure celebrities of Nordic history

January 14th, 2006

Ian’s face-recognition blog entry is hilarious. I had to try it, too. So I uploaded a recent picture of me that Dana likes.

Who the hell is Christian IX of Denmark?

Sulking, I looked through a few more pictures, and—you guessed it—I selected a picture of my notorious alter ego, Headley Lice.

No picture of Admiral Lice would return a result at the MyHeritage.com site. Very curious. The fear of this pirate’s dreaded wrath extends deeper than I ever presumed.

And so I used my old Muscle Club shot.

—Theodore Roosevelt— YES!

Then I took the big plunge. Uploading a photo of Dana in high school, I sought scientific proof that ever since the night I first watched El Cid, I had spent my youth trying to lure Sophia Loren into the pillows.

—Isabelle Adjani— Hmm, not bad

Who the hell is Sophia Loren?

Various & Sundry, part thirty

January 13th, 2006

— You asked for them…
BIG JimThe BIG Guy HimselfThe BIG ValleyThe Other BIG Guy Himself

— The BIG news of the week in Danville was the corporate restructuring of Ephraim McDowell Health, with the president of the medical center being ousted in the process. When I chatted with him today I suggested he run for County Judge Executive, just to see his reaction. He didn’t dismiss the idea at all and said, “John, I’ve thought about a lot of things this week, but that wasn’t one of them.” It was almost as if I could hear that familiar Lalo Schifrin tune, and felt like I was finally stepping into the shoes of YOU KNOW WHO.

What’s up, Docs?

— We just got home from the BIG Danville-vs-Boyle-County basketball double header. As Cliff predicted, the boy’s game was intense, given the deep local rivalry. I haven’t felt that kind of energy near a basketball court since my high school days, when a Northmont or Vandalia-Butler showndown brought the student body to fever pitch. Both Boyle County teams won, and I agreed with Marty that the girls’ game was more satisfying to watch. If I counted correctly, Hayley’s point total made it to double digits again. She’s a real playmaker and had a number of significant assists. She also continues to be prone to mistakes that accompany her inexperience with sustaining game focus. It’s scary to think how good she’ll be when she stops making them.

— After the ball games, while taking Marty home, we learned that Bruce was being admitted back into Methodist Hospital. It has to do with replacing some of his dang “pipelines and spigots.” I guess BIG problems could result if this kind of thing were ignored or downplayed during his steady recovery.

V & S

What can I say? It’s the vibes, man

January 12th, 2006

Earlier today I wanted to take advantage of the mild weather and paint the porch eaves. While grabbing some newspaper to put underneath my paint can, I noticed a story from December, 2004 about the Danville-vs-Boyle-County girls basketball game. Hayley scored five points. I’d just been thinking about going to her game tomorrow night. And then Jeanne pulled in the driveway, so we started looking at the details of the story, sizing up the opposition.

Cosmic.

Don’t let Brendan have all the fun

January 11th, 2006

Marie Antoinette never said “let them eat cake” — this is a mistranslation of “let them eat The Carson Family.”

All of the roles in Shakespeare’s plays — including the female roles — were originally played by Pirates.

The horns of Sugar Boop are made entirely from hair.

The number one cause of blindness in the United States is Stench Pit.

Thought Form for 2006

January 10th, 2006

I’m not sure how long I’ve been formulating them, but it’s become a custom for me to cultivate a certain receptivity at the beginning of a calendar year, attuning to what I end up calling my “thought form” for the coming cycle. A year ago it was, “Get your act together and live life while you’re alive!” Anyone who knows what my family was coping with might have a clear sense of my mental state at the time. After many months of intervening disruption, I look forward to a new level of wholeness and cohesion in my affairs.

“Symmetry and proportion in all things: the triumph of order.”

I don’t know where that came from, but it resonates…

Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man

January 9th, 2006

As Dana and I worked our way back toward Danville, we found ourselves near the Kentucky Theater, with the chance to catch a showing of “The Squid and the Whale” during its last week in Lexington. We hadn’t been in the adjacent State Theatre since the screening of Andrew’s movie last summer. Seeing this kind of film reminds me how much I appreciate the full spectrum of cinema, from the huge spectacles like “War of the Worlds,” to small literary pictures like “Squid.” I’m not enough of a groupie to outline any details, but I recognize the quality of the creative output coming from this particular circle of film makers, including Noah Baumbach, Wes Anderson, Jennifer Jason Leigh (Vic Morrow‘s daughter), the Wilson brothers, and others. The nature of the circle’s connection to talents such as Bill Murray, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Kevin Kline are unknown to me, but serves as a clear reminder that the movie biz is a relatively “small world” at the nontechnical level. “Squid” has obvious parallels to “The Royal Tenenbaums,” but it also triggered some reflections on “The Anniversary Party.” Beyond the dynamics of the artistic circle (usually behind the camera, but occasionally in front as well), these kinds of low-budget, quasi-autobiographical pieces tend to fascinate me when well executed, not so much because of the typical, self-reflective focus on dysfunctional relationships, but the way in which the art affects me at an emotional level and stimulates personal objectives. For me, that’s what movie-going has always been about—the lingering internal ripples of the following day (and beyond, if I’m lucky, or did a decent bit of homework before making my choice of feature). For instance, in spite of all the attention to the unattractive snobbishness of intellectual elitism, I come away from “Squid” with the distinct desire to reverse my practice of keeping at arm’s length the major works of great novelists—Dickens, Melville, Proust, etc. It brings to mind the words of Michel Seuphor, which I copied in my journal a while back: “You can never see too many things in a work of art. Itself, the work is a means for discovering what is already within us. The true work of art is more than its creator; it is always behind him; soon it enters another orbit not his, because the artist changes, he dies, while the work lives in others.” Twyla Tharp takes it a step further, examining the potential power of sub-art, with her story about Jerome Robbins: He was “a true man of the theater, who made a point of going to see everything because he could find something useful in even the worst productions. He’d sit there, viewing the catastrophe onstage, and imagine how he would have done it differently. A bad evening at the theater for everyone else was a creative workout for him.” No bad art, only bad observers? I wouldn’t take it to that extreme…

Completing another weekend circuit

January 8th, 2006

We drove to Indianapolis yesterday to deliver late Christmas
presents and spend some time with Bruce. He seems to be doing quite well at home. I can’t describe how marvelous it was for Dana and me to eat supper with him, seated at his own dining room table, which he hasn’t been in a position to do for almost ten months. Source of all blessings, be praised!

While on the road today, we had lunch in the highlands of Louisville, at an eatery recommended by Brendan and Bob H, too. Although we had to wait awhile for a table, it was a tasty meal and a unique setting. There’s only one word that can adequately describe Lynn’s Paradise Cafe— PSYCHEDELIC!

Lifetime friends and fallen timbers

January 7th, 2006

I hope everyone knows what it’s like to enjoy the continuity of a
friendship which effortlessly picks up where it left off, no matter how much time has passed—that’s the kind of comfortable bond that I have with Mike Menke—and I probably don’t need to say much more than that about spending a day with him and his parents at the cozy home Mike grew up in near Greenville. I don’t know if he came to love my folks as much as I came to love his, but I wouldn’t doubt it. In any case, I’ve been privileged to participate vicariously in many of the Menke family developments over the years, especially since I lived with his brother Tom for a year before I got my design degree and left Cincinnati. We drifted apart during my time in Chicago, but had an opportunity to solidify our “buddyship” when I got a job at Wright State without knowing that Mike was there getting a graduate degree in behavioral science. Mike’s life has had some strong connections to our Clan. At an age when we both should have known better, we were still climbing trees together at the Blue Bank Farm. He took a severe fall that directly influenced his pursuing a new career in chiropractic care (a legitimately outstanding one). In recent years he sold a successful private practice in Silicon Valley and moved to the Southwest, where he formed an association with Andrew Weil, became an expert on smoking cessation, and began working on another doctorate. Last night Dana and I were part of a family dinner in town and stayed awake ’til late to catch up on news. I spent most of today helping Mike and Tom cut firewood with their father, Stewart, who, despite some recent health challenges, can still drop a desirable tree precisely where he tells us it will fall. The brisk day was perfect for the task, and there still aren’t many things as satisfying as looking at a big stack of stove wood that wasn’t there a few hours before.

First 2006 road trip

January 6th, 2006

We’re leaving together for our first journey north in quite a while, and, after the pattern of last year, I feel a bit rusty getting ready. Before our arrival at Bruce’s place, we’ll spend some time at the Menke Homestead in Dark County, Ohio. I met James Michael Menke in 1970 as a
fall-quarter freshman at the University of Cincinnati. After running
into John Michael Hoover (a grade-school chum from the community our
family had left six years previously), I soon became aware of “the
Mikes,” two quickly popular roommates living a couple dorm floors beneath me. Somebody must have considered it logical to pair a James and John without knowing that they both went by their common middle name of Mike. 35 years later, one Mike has long vanished, but the other is
still my “best buddy.”

Strike three call

January 5th, 2006

I’ve been thinking on and off all day about how to express myself on the subject of Brendan’s generosity of spirit, plus the joy and fascination he’s brought to my life by sharing his interests, discoveries, and human connections, but I can’t get it to coalesce.

It’s like I’m trying to sketch with my hands wrapped in duct tape.

Perhaps the words will come another day…

Well done, James

January 4th, 2006

Does my brother James realize the immeasurable contribution he’s made to the long-term viability of our Clan Council as a collaborative body of decision makers? In my appraisal, he sees his recent efforts—to bring both Mombo’s Trust and the Council Charter to fruition—as the fulfillment of a personal commitment to his mother. That it is, indeed, but so much more…

Captain Zero vs Marvin and Boop-0

January 3rd, 2006

One of these days we’ve just got to dig out all of Mombo’s photos of the “Blackboard Comics.” How many years has it been? Quite possibly it could take forensic expertise to read the dialogue.

Just in case you aren’t familiar with this long-running series, it just happens to be one of the most awesome collaborative formats ever conceived. Anyone in the vicinity above the age of six is invited to add a frame to an evolving pictorial narrative until the evolving chalk drawing has filled it’s designated space, followed by prompt documentation before anyone in the vicinity under the age of six follows his or her urge to be similarly creative.

There’s nothing like drawing with real chalk on real slate. It’s in my blood. On New Year’s Day we decided to mess with perfection and develop our strip in reverse. It was a space-western vignette, of course, due to the prevailing supremacy of a certain defunct TV show.

It’s all leading somewhere

January 2nd, 2006

It’s interesting how one simple act—in this case, my appointment to the Bicycle Commission—can trigger a chain reaction of unexpected developments. Less than a year ago I wouldn’t have expected to become so interested in subjects like the simultaneous crises of aging baby boomers and obese children, transportation enhancement issues, and regional planning, and now I’ve just discovered the sober but potentially controversial analysis of Robert Bruegmann. Does any of this have to do with bicycles?

It most certainly does…