April 3, 2020

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An Ongoing Series

 A compendium of thoughts, reflections, asides or just whatever

 from a variety of writers, artists & everyday folks, during the Pandemic

Michael Ventura to James Medlin: 

The answer to everything these days seems to be: We are all connected so stay isolated.

Where's Jean Paul Sartre when he's needed? NOT playing baseball, that's where.

Yet baseball remains the most grounded and comforting of all absurdist philosop...

April 1, 2020

Let heaven decide our place in the world while we decide to be happy in it. Let us ask, what place is this? Let us ask, who are these people? Let us explore this place, trusting there are treasures to be unearthed and extraordinary companions to meet along the way, landmarks we have not yet learned to cherish and strangers who one day will be our best friends. 

Photo of Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge, Delaware. Photo an...

When I lived in Texas, no one ever cut my throat although I was twice threatened with such action. My throat was completely off-limits in California. And during our time in New Mexico, I experienced pneumonia but my throat remained untouched. And then I became Florida Man! How quickly the knives come out on this ultra-flat peninsula of gators, crackers and Disney characters.

At 5AM on the morning of my neck surgery, Lynn proc...

March 19, 2020

My hope now is that we can slow the spread of the coronavirus so our hospitals are not overwhelmed, so that everyone who needs it can get good medical care when they need it, everyone, even me. That hope comforts me until I stumble over the word everyone. Everyone? With that question, the comfort of my hope vanishes, and that’s a good thing. Everyone includes anyone anywhere facing this contagion, even those with scant medical...

March 19, 2020

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Michael Doucet

Lacher Prise

Beausoleil’s Michael Doucet is surely one of the high priests of Cajun music, and has been for a very long time. On his latest go-round of the rollicking music he loves so much, Doucet throws caution out the back door and lets the good times completely roll. His new solo album takes a wide-range view of the sounds and styles he’s embraced all these years, and with the band Lacher Price kicks everythin...

March 3, 2020

Sometimes everything seems perfect. Sometimes all the pieces fall into place, as though an unseen hand were guiding our hands, as though a subtle quiet power was shepherding our thoughts. Such moments are gifts, but from whom? It is as though we were musicians in an infinite orchestra, each one of us improvising our small part, somehow knowing which notes to play and when. Is this a glimpse of heaven? Are we fools to praise th...

March 3, 2020

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Terry Allen and the Panhandle Mystery Band

Just Like Moby Dick

If there is a renaissance person alive in the world today, better make it Terry Allen. Between his paintings, plays and music, Allen has whacked out his own swath the past 50-something years in all kinds of directions. He made most of his early noise in Texas, starting in Lubbock around the Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore and Butch Hancock crowd. But Terry Allen has alw...

February 28, 2020

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They’re Trump-bit. His teeth-marks are all over their behavior when together on a stage. Warren, Sanders, Biden, Klobuchar, Steyer — they might as well scramble around biting each other all over as do what they did in South Carolina. They looked silly and frantic. A question of life or death for this republic: Can their behavior from this day onward erase the collective impression they’ve made so far?

Buttigieg can be congratul...

February 26, 2020

      — or

A Salute to Character Actors

      — or

How Hollywood Screwed Up My Life Before I Even Got There

       

On November 20, 1944, the whole world changed for me. At 2 am I reluctantly departed the womb and came face to face with … well, I’m not sure what you call it, but certainly NOT the stuff dreams are made of. My highly acclaimed modesty makes me reluctant to credit my emergence with t...

February 23, 2020

My wife and I, excluded, stand on the wrong side of a frosted-glass wall. It separates us from those on the other side who are enjoying a good meal. We were turned away! Are we angry? Envious? Do we feel left out? Not at all! It is our own fault we cannot get in. We simply did not make reservations. We were enjoying the day at our own speed and did not want to be tied to a time table. God help me, my thoughts often go to extre...

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