Looks like Dooce has returned. I received an incredible volume of email telling me about each and every one of Dooce's online writings, as well as many, many queries about where her 'secret underground blog' might be.
I personally think Heather just wrote some other articles, but never actually had a secret blog anywhere. Doesn't matter. Dooce is back. I'm glad.
I was going to write a post about people having really bad paintings by their grandparents or other family members. I remember a big painting with a bunch of weird earthtone Star Trek Enterpise lookin' shapes hung up in our house done by our Grandma Torgerson. I really liked that painting, but at the same time, even as a kid I had to admit it was really ugly.
My sister went to New York to practice buddhism full time, and so I got a bunch of her sentimental stuff, including a painting by my gramma t. Only about 4x6 inches, it actually looked pretty darn bad, and I was going to write a post about it, but somehow, the scan and jpeg compression improved it a lot and now it's time for this painting to begin it's charming digital life here on the tinyblog.
I think I want to follow up on this one. Do me a favor and send me any scans of paintings (especially particularly bad or particularly good ones) by your family members. I might provide an upload form for this purpose, but for the moment, please just email them as attachments to danieltalskyATlxis.net.
I'd like to display a few...any comments on your family's art will be much appreciated.
Somebody said that Mercury was in retrograde, an astrological event generally said to bring about daily obstacles and communication difficulties, so I checked, and sure enough, Mercury is in retrograde from September 15, 2002 - October 7, 2002.
I suppose that would explain a lot, because some difficult thing has happened in just about every aspect of my life. It helps a little when I can think about it as part of a cycle that must come around and then, happily, pass.
When I first got out of retreat, we stopped for lunch in a small town on Salt Spring Island, and I about choked when I saw this photo (this is just a detail) on the front page of the Times-Colonist, Victoria BC's local paper.
The headline: Doggone it, That's Wet!
The story? About a day in the local pool where people can bring their dogs. Only in Canada, yo.
I am baybeesitting. This means I sit on the babies. Actually no. It is more like I am their slaves. They can't cook so if they really need something to eat I have to cook it for them.
I like them though. They are good babies. Well, really they are not babies anymore. They are 4 and 6, but I don't really get to sit on them so it's kind of a moot point anyway.
It's always weird trying to enforce two people being respectful to each other (and the cats). How do parents do it? It's a mystery.
My spritual teacher, Lama Tashi Namgyal, was once named Micheal Wood. He had always talked of his history as a political activist, when he was younger. He had even told us, cryptically, that he had in some way exposed the CIA.
Finally while we were on retreat, a few of us finally asked him to tell us the whole story. Then we sat there with slack jaws as he finally broke it all down. In 1967, the National Student Association was being secretly funded by the CIA, to the tune of $400,000 a year, which was a lot in 1967. In addition, the CIA was influencing the elections process in order to influence international student politics.
Micheal Wood, at 23, broke this story to Ramparts magazine, setting the big dogs of journalism, like the New York Times, on an investigative frenzy that did indeed put the CIA in an embarassing position:
"It was an SDS member, Michael Wood, who took the story to Ramparts magazine after being told of the relationship in 1966 by then NSA president Phil Sherburne. In telling Wood, Sherburne was hoping to forestall Wood's imminent resignation brought on by other officers who had refused to provide him with information regarding NSA funding sources. The exposure led to a year-long series of revelations alleging CIA financing of the American Newspaper Guild, the AFL-CIO, and the American Federation of Teachers, among others."
Read the whole story in the Rampart article that broke the story. (Skip to part III for the juicy stuff.) One cool thing about the full story, is that it talks about the tricky CIA lingo that was used, which the Lama told us about in great detail.
Another good article is this Campus Watch article about the story, that breaks it down well, and in less words.
And one last story is the story in the United States Student Association website. Skip down to "The CIA Connection Exposed" for the story.
Good Job, Lama!
Oh. Did I mention I'm back?
Rzan, honey, thank you so much for such a rockin' series of posts.
I've got a few posts in queue but I keep forgetting to oupload the files when I'm home. Soon enough. I had a good retreat.
She paced listlessly across the living room floor. She wanted to cry, or scream, but felt too overwhelmed and exhausted to bother. What was she waiting for anyway? Who was she waiting for? She didn't even want to remember. The whole day had passed with a restless feeling of anticipation, like a child waiting for christmas, or, she thought ruefully, more like a dog waiting for its master to come home.
Pathetic. Suddenly irate, she stormed into the bedroom and threw off her clothes, tossing them onto the floor recklessly, knowing her anal retentive side would force her to pick them up soon.
As usual, the skinny girl in the mirror looked back at her with a dissatisfied expression. Slowly moving closer, she examined herself with a discerning eye, sliding her hands over her lanky hips and little breasts. She held each one up in turn as if to weigh the small, soft handfuls of flesh. Turning, she watched her long, tousled blond hair swing, felt it brush smoothly across the small of her back.
Not too bad for a thirty year old ass... but as soon as the thought crossed her mind she felt silly. She wrapped her arms around herself reassuringly, rocking slightly. An amused smile curved her mouth. Enough of this funk! No more waiting around. She began to move sensuously, hips wiggling and her lips curled in a thoroughly feline grin. Time to dance!
She twirled over to the closet and fingered through her dresses, pulling out several in a whirl of greens, purples and blues, then discarding them on the bed. Reaching into the farthest recesses, she felt around untill her fingers hit leather. Yeah, that's the one for tonight.
Cobalt blue leather and it still fit her like a glove, a tiny, tight glove. A quick dig through the pile of shoes at the bottom of her closet yielded up her high heeled boots. She buttoned them up, dragged a comb through her hair and was out the door.
This will probably be my last post, as Daniel should be back today-hurrah!
It's been yay supah fun, as Samadhi would say.
Unless something really cool and inspiring that I simply MUST share pops up, which isn't terribly likely considering that I'm in charge of the kidlets today(not that kids aren't cool and inspiring in their own right, but they aren't terribly conducive to writing and blogging) I now return the helm to Captain Talsky.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
did anyone else have highschool nightmares? I only went to public school for my last two years of HS, and for years afterwards I'd have dreams about trying to get to school, desperately attempting to find my classrooms, unable to find my locker. In general just being frustrated, lost, confused and helpless.
In college the setting changed, I'd be wandering around campus, trying to find my classes, books, etc. The theme of worry and confusion was the same.
Well, in a few weeks I'm starting school again. I'll be going to Brenneke School of Massage(Daniel's alma mater-if a massage school can be called such a pretentious term). I'm really excited, I've wanted to for a really long time. I even got an anatomy coloring book-whoopee, muscles and tendons and whatnot, colored all pretty by moi.
But, last night I had the dream again. I couldn't get to massage class. My ride left without me, there were no buses that would get me there on time, I lost my books(all two thousand million of them heavyass suckers)and I kept trying to call a cab, but no one had the number. One place I asked said they could only get a cab from Capistan, which was apparently on the other side of the globe. Bah!
So, I guess I'm a leetle nervous...
We watched "Queen of the Damned" late last night. Boy can Ann Rice make bloodsucking monsters look sexy!
Vampires have come a long way since I was a kid sneaking a forbidden peek at the TV under the swinging door in the kitchen. My sister and I slept on the fold out couch in the living room. We'd be curled up together, paralyzed with fear, unable to take our eyes off the set. I still remember the line from one vampire flick: "The sun's gone down!" uttered in tremulous terror by the heroine. Those words echoed through many a sleepless night of my childhood.
Then there was The Exorcist. That gave me nightmares for weeks. Why do we do that to ourselves? I hated being so scared, but I couldn't stop watching.
Now, the vampires are the heros despite their penchant for swooping down and viciously biting the throats out of us hapless mortals. No matter that they are unholy bloodsucking fiends, if you really get to know them, they're really kinda...sniff...noble, and so darn sexy you just gotta forgive them for a little murderous bloodlust here and there. They're really kind of sweet if you don't mind a nip or two.
Good fun and no nightmares.