That's My Story, And I'm Sticking To It.

Like any other skill writing takes time, diligence, and discipline to develop. And as with a trade, great skills result in self-satisfaction. Working with a group often helps any skill set improve.

The key to further developing any skill is to use it, even make mistakes if it helps the next time you build a story. Very often a mistake can lead to a new discovery or method of expression. Who originally thought that stating the absurd could be a way of making a point? How often has an author heard bursts of laughter in an unintended portion of text and realized the real success of the mistake?

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Postmodernism is a mule with its nose well into our tent, and could ruin life as we know and love it. As for contemporary entertainment, Post modern skepticism regarding morality is considered decided already; against meaninglessness on the one hand yet vehemently against moral judgement on the other.

Mankind once had knowledge of absolute values, it prevented him from despising himself--morality was the great antidote against practical and theoretical nihilism. But despite the forces of morality, truthfulness was turned against mankind. It has been advocated that truth is relative, subjective, and emotional. Objective truth was labeled as unreliable.

Postmodernism represents a pathologically transitional process. A presupposition of this hypothesis: There is no truth, there is no absolute nature of things. Values and their changes are related to increases in the power of those positing the values, there simply is no true world.

Weary postmodernism is a derivative of a famous form: Buddhism, itself a passive nihilism. Unlike its benefactor, postmodernism does not stop with the negative of judgement but is willing to exercise the "no" of the obstructionist. Consider that coupled with the pessimistic view that our world does not have the value we once thought it had. Decadence is now thought of as required and that it must be everywhere.

We have departed from land, leaving no way to return, having destroyed our way back. Figuratively we are setting out to sea (infinity) in a small boat. The latest mystical explanations are considered deep when in truth they do not even rate as superficial. Thoughtless ones suppose that human will alone is effective; that to will is something simple, a brute datum, underivable, yet intelligible on its own.

Mankind used to believe that wherever s/he saw something happen, a divine will had to be at work in the background as a cause--a personal and willing divine being. Then Schopenhauer asserted all that has being is the only willing, he enthroned a primeval mythology, that the will or willing stands on its own, aside from anyone or anything else.

The aspects are poorly examined here, in what could be the briefest attempt ever to expose the undercurrents of postmodernism, chimera not widely acknowledged or even discussed today. One of the many facets of postmodernism is pastiche, involving the imitation/mimicry of older styles. Consider the "Colbert Report." Although Colbert would probably be reluctant to admit having a secret sympathy with anything original. Nostalgia and pastiche in film and television are often mocking tricksters of postmodernism. Unfortunately, that weightlessness in postmodernism is what makes it possible for an "artist" to do whatever he chooses, yet do nothing in particular; and call it "art."

Every student of modern culture is eventually required to state a position on modernism and postmodernism even though it is not clear what these words mean. A relationship between historical conditions, attributes, and their presumed causes has been sought after ever since Virginia Woolf said human nature has changed (1910).

We are plagued by the suspicion that we are nothing and haunted by the dread that nothing remains nothing, and some regard our epoch as a post age. Post-industrial, post-capitalist, post conservative, post-theological, post-humanist. And we are in an on going deconstruction, from a movement of thought that is the work of the french philosopher and critic, Jacques Derrida. We are slowly being taken apart and scattered about. Postmodern thought is that the very notion of dividing history into chronological periods is meaningless.

Post-industrialism, post-modernism, post-humanism, et al. Suggests an awareness that the significant period of historical time has passed. The decade of the 1970s was a period of renewed talk of the decline of the west and a skepticism about the ability of political leaders to be effective. Many Americans today doubt the abilities of everything.

What ever you call it, postmodernism is already in a theater near you. Do you remember Steve McQueen in "The Blob?"

About two years ago I had knee surgery. I put it off until I couldn't walk. So while having some down time I began to watch a soap opera with my wife. But it was in Spanish. I don't understand Spanish.
So my wife would TiVo the episodes. And there we were together, me with my leg up, and her stopping the recording and explaining to me what was going on. After some time it came to a point she could ask "did you get that?" and if I did the telenovela could play on. But more often than not, I did not get it.
What a great story it was. All about the real Mexico and the Tequila plantations--love, treachery, and of course: loyalty! I haven't had so much fun since the Saturday afternoon matinee. When Rodrigo punched out the bad guy, Aaron, I jumped to my (good) foot! And who in this world could be prettier and more honest than Gaviota? No one can open their eyes as wide as the Gaviota. It was like the old magic of a Saturday afternoon theater and caused me think of all of the telenovela's characters for the rest of the day. They became real.
Especially James. The slightly goofy English guy that started out as Rodrigo's sister's boyfriend. They met in London, Rodrigo was there for his education. As the story goes, Cambridge. James comes to visit the sister in Tequila, Mexico, and decides to stay. So of course, he becomes Rodrigo's sidekick. For the first few episodes he wears a white shirt and a bow tie, and a cap. But his enthusiasm for the land and the Agave is genuine (Agave is the prime ingredient of Tequila).
While I was still recuperating we found that our niece in California was getting married. Also, that the Wedding was in Mexico! I had never been to Mexico. So off we went to California to stay with my wife's cousin and his family.
The wedding was a once in a lifetime experience, and we were surrounded by a wonderful family, a family I met for the very first time. A very large family! And the hospitality, the tender loving care we received, defies description.
The Cantina. Our cousin insisted we visit a famous cantina. I had no idea where we were except for a very large statue of Abraham Lincoln breaking the chains of slavery in the traffic square out front. Please forgive my ignorance, while wonderful, sometimes the experiences seemed surreal, and often I had no idea as to my location. This great family that I knew for only a few days provided unforgettable moments. I doubt I could ever return to the cantina and feel the way I did that wedding celebration night. And when the cantina musicians played the song from "Destilando Amor" a landmark was planted in my memory. By the way, "Destilando Amor" means distilled love. It was requested by our cousin.
Now I am retired and we live in Florida. My wife just had her birthday and my youngest son sent her the DVD set of the telenovela that was such a landmark memory in our lives. Perhaps you didn't know that Mexican soaps end. There are plenty of episodes but they do end and thankfully, our favorite has a happy ending. Best of all, the birthday present set has English sub-titles! So here we go again. But this time I understand explicitly, and love even more every moment of it. I really understand why Rodrigo had to punch Aaron the first time, and that second time too! I am looking forward to tonight's episodes. All we need is another wedding in Mexico. There is another niece to be married . . . stay tuned!

This morning started out with Hoagy Carmichael playing "Stardust Melody." Our black cat sat in the window next to my desk, lapping up the water I set before him on the window sill. We are both enjoying the open window out to the back porch that frames a cool, damp, rain washed woods.

Last night I bumped into Pandora, an internet radio project. I was captured at first glance, she proved fun and soothing. She will just play, or be delightfully interactive. Pandora displays the album covers of each individual musical selection with thumbs up, thumbs down icons at the bottom right and left corners of the albums, I could figure that out. Of course she is continually adjusting to those inputs, crafting a unique playlist that I will enjoy.

She was initiated with one request: Hoagy Carmichael. Pandora created a radio station, not of one artist, but of a music genre. As the station plays, the album covers roll by from right to left, I can pass judgement (or not). Sometimes, as the music relates to what I am thinking, or writing, I can jot down the song's particulars; having very specific information right at hand.

When I realized the artist selection established the type of music and even the time period, I opted for Santana. Resulting in a big change from Hoagy Carmichael. I was then awash in a flow of Santana selections and music and artists contemporary to them. I had my second radio station completed and saved. Pandora is like having a personal assistant for my music.

Following Santana I experimented with Freddy Fender, The Beatles, Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys--and for the smoothness of it; Dave Koz. That was last night and reluctantly I had to shut down the broadcast center Pandora, and get some sleep.

This morning I went back to Pandora's box. And I noticed I have a long list of "radio stations," and now there is a vertical slide arrow to the right of them. I want to find out what it is for. But Frank Sinatra is crooning "Indian Summer" and I cannot bear to interrupt him. Then followed by "It might as well be spring" and John Pizzarelli picks up right where Frank left off. I will just have to find out later.
VISIT PANDORA

As in "Raiders Of The Lost Ark," There is buried treasure to be had--this one too, is not quite what you might think it is. And its value depends on the eye of the beholder. Is it the ornate, jeweled cup? or the plain and worn, wood cup of a working person?

The Squiddo Lens archive of the PotPieGirl tells a unique story. And if the die-hard explorer diggs deep and is thorough, he or she will find a brave heroine and a story both compelling and inspiring. But first one must locate the archive and exhume the entire historical treasure, examining the earliest artifact to the latest one. The treasure lies in their entirety.

There are labyrinths in the archive so don't get side-tracked, stick to the chronological order of things and deep secrets will be revealed to you. I preserved copies of each in RTF, carefully wrapping them so I could activate each of the tasty links later. There will be a sequel.

You will have to start at Squidoo. It is like the old busy streets of Cairo. You must ask around for information on the PotPieGirl. Once you find her temple you can dig about for her archive. Although a bit dusty, I am sure you can find it. Divided into months, it starts at August, 2007. Do not be deterred and do not dally about, I am also sure its value is soon to be realized, whereupon the now free tome will be whisked away to a university, or some such institution. Once you are in, be sure to examine it from front to back, make your rubbings and get out. Watch out for snakes, but for goodness sakes, get started!

Here Is A Hint

I am getting fed up with being bombarded with ad pitches and requests for reciprocal site tags by most of the people I interact with on the web. even my group at BlogEvolve has been targeted by rude-marketing.

However, while web-surfing today I ran across this serious piece of intel on the relationship between technology and group dynamics: Clay Shirkey on internet group forming There is no SEO in this. And for me at least, is a direct and linear explanation of how technology has and could affect group dynamics and the forming of groups. Settle down for a forty-five minute video. And have a note pad handy.

I received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost in the winter of 1978. The experience was explosive. In the same way the "Big Bang Theory" is portrayed; the event created an expanding universe in my own life that I can feel the effects of today.

While finishing an apprenticeship in the skilled trades, I met a man who would become a life long friend. He pointed out the possibility of the experience in much the same way he explained the trade. And he did so with a Bible, reluctant to explain or give examples without it.

In those days, anyone willing to talk about themselves having had the powerful experience was considered crazy, including some members of the religious establishment. I promptly declared myself certifiable.

It was a tough group of men my new friend and I worked with. We pretty much stayed together and worked construction sites and power plants all over the greater Milwaukee area. And our confessions went with us.

Our church was criticized by the local community for its raucous worship music and fiery preaching. We battled zoning ordinances meant to block expansion and throttle the rapidly growing new church, and we won. City hall eventually became our ally.

The music, the preaching; not new when I first experienced it, is accepted now. Matter of fact, it is sometimes celebrated in the mainstream media and used to promote politicians. That would have been difficult for me to envision as we reveled and were called "Holy Rollers" in those earlier days.

That explosion of the Spirit of God is a powerful and expanding universe today and will be for many more people. He is unstoppable.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

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Nothing earth shattering to report, I'm just tired of hearing "panty bomber," "underwear bomber," "crotch bomber," etc. Maybe it is generational, but this works for me, and I will throw in some Wiki: "BVD is a brand of men's underwear, which are commonly referred to as "BVDs." BVD stands for Bradley, Voorhees & Day, the New York City firm that initially manufactured underwear of this name for both men and women. BVD is now only for men. It was founded in 1876 and named for its three founders.[1]".
Therefore I submit: "The BVD bomber." It is short, historical, and I will bet you know who I am talking about. So move along now, there is nothing more to see here.

I was suffering from that bit of undigested beef. So, I went cruising the net for music. Caught in a 1950s roundabout I had accrued about twenty really basic rock and roll tunes that I was going to add to my blip.fm playlist. I was listening to The Crewcuts version of "Sh-boom," also called "Life Could Be A Dream" when the syncopation of it resonated eerily with contemporary events. Then I burst out laughing when I realized it fell into pattern with the president's speeches! And of course, there have been enough of them to be fixated in my head. The result will be that now, whenever I hear him speak I will be humming sh-boom, sh-boom, and the following pattern that keeps time with his speeches. What a delightful way to enjoy the many more presentations I am sure he is to make.

See For Yourself

The latest sh-boom.