Saturday, May 28, 2016

Confused.


From: C. Walker, Jr.
Sent: ‎5/‎8/‎2016 5:40 PM
To: C. Walker Jr.
Subject: Confused.

I am currently sitting at a table outside a restaurant waiting for a to-go order.

A woman exited with a beer and sat at another table.

I stood up to make a call, came back and sat down.

While tapping on phone, I realized that she was now sitting at the same table as me...smoking a cigarette.

Aside from the empty table she was first at, all the rest of them were empty as well.


confused.

Let it all go.



It's all just metal and glass and plastic and paper and dirt.

Just let it all go.



Once, when I was in high school, I went to the drink machine installed in my dad's office to get some Delaware Punch.

In the process, I dropped a quarter which rolled underneath the machine. I went to some length or another (I believe a coat hanger) to try to retrieve it.

My father seeing my up to some activity inquired, and I told that I'd dropped a quarter.

Incredulously, he replied, "well, let it go!"

To understand the import of this to me, you have to understand that my father was the frugal one in the house. You have to understand that he is the reason why I thought it was so important to get it back (all the while viewing him as cheapskate...in that way parents make us in spite of them or ourselves). You have to understand that he said "let it go" in a way that he would be been equally incredulous to know that his was the influence that had me on knees trying to fish a out a thin, round slug of currency.

I've thought of that moment many times since. It was a striking instance.

Now, were this a lovely tale, you'd read that from that moment on, I learned to let things go that weren't that important.

It is, however, not.

I don't let things go very well.

Maybe I used to...well, I don't think I ever have. In fact I used to pride myself on my ability to keep hold to a grudge; the permanence of my memory.

But I don't now. Things fester, and crust, and fester.
I've hung on to so many things, for so long, that it is hard to get new things in. The only new information that seems to stick are experiences that probably need to be let go.



I broke something tonight that probably cost me few hundred dollars.



It happened. And it was annoying and disappointing.

But then I sighed and shrugged.


and thought about the story above.


and realized that I'd decided to just let it go.




(:-#Sr.



Let it all go.



It's all just metal and glass and plastic and paper and dirt.

Just let it all go.



Once, when I was in high school, I went to the drink machine installed in my dad's office to get some Delaware Punch.

In the process, I dropped a quarter which rolled underneath the machine. I went to some length or another (I believe a coat hanger) to try to retrieve it.

My father seeing my up to some activity inquired, and I told that I'd dropped a quarter.

Incredulously, he replied, "well, let it go!"

To understand the import of this to me, you have to understand that my father was the frugal one in the house. You have to understand that he is the reason why I thought it was so important to get it back (all the while viewing him as cheapskate...in that way parents make us in spite of them or ourselves). You have to understand that he said "let it go" in a way that he would be been equally incredulous to know that his was the influence that had me on knees trying to fish a out a thin, round slug of currency.

I've that of that moment many times since. It was a striking instance.

Now, were this a lovely tale, you'd read that from that moment on, I learned to let things go that weren't that important.

It is, however, not.

I don't let things go very well.

Maybe I used to...well, I don't think I ever have. In fact I used to pride myself on my ability to keep hold to a grudge, the permanence of my memory.

But I don't now. Things fester, and crust, and fester.
I've hung on to so many things, for so long, that it is hard to get new things in. The only new information that seems to stick are experiences that probably need to be let go.




I broke something that tonight that probably cost me few hundred dollars.


It happened. And it was annoying and disappointing.

But then I sighed and shrugged.


and thought about the story above.


and realized that I'd decided to just let it go.




(:-#Sr.



Tuesday, May 24, 2016

The California Cycleway



"The inventor and promotor of the cycleway was Pasadena resident Horace Dobbins, who attracted ex-California governor Henry Harrison Markham to join him in the venture. Together, the two sought approval from the California state legislature, which was ultimately granted (after a first attempt was vetoed) in 1897. The California Cycleway Company bought a six-mile (10 km) right-of-way from downtown Pasadena to Avenue 54 in Highland Park, Los Angeles.
Construction began in 1899, and about 1.3 miles (2 km) of the elevated wooden bikeway were opened on January 1, 1900, starting near Pasadena's Hotel Green and ending near the Raymond Hotel. The majority of its route is now Edmondson Alley. A toll booth was located near the north end, in the present Central Park. Had the full route been completed, it would have continued past Highland Park, on through Montecito Heights, crossed the Los Angeles River, passed Elysian Park, and continued to the Plaza in Los Angeles. The full nine-mile run would have had a maximum grade of 3% and an average grade slightly over 1%. At its highest point, the elevation of the roadway was 50 feet (15 m).
The portion built was constructed almost entirely of Oregon pine and was wide enough for four cyclists to ride abreast, with provision for eventual doubling of the width. It was painted dark green and, at night, brightly lit with incandescent lights. The toll was 10 cents one-way, or 15 cents round trip."


(wikipedia)

Saturday, May 21, 2016

I Am Love - The Jacksons



if they'd stayed together...they might all be alive...and have their original noses.

the GIRLS, too

and, YES, that matters


someone close to them told them as children that they were ugly as children,

and,

whomever it was,

they were in that house.


You plant pain early enough,

it will sprout,

and take root deep.



Don't tell children they're ugly. Even in jest.

They believe it. It eats them from the inside later.

What you learn when you finally watch Spike Lee's doc about Mike.

Joel Schumacher,

king of Batnipples,

was the screenwriter on

Car Wash (the original)

Sparkle (the original)

and The Wiz (the original that was an adaptation of a play that was an adaptation of a book).


hm.

Monday, May 16, 2016

alas. I've fallen down the internet hole again.

Casta paintings

Casta paintings @ wikipedia


I often find myself getting lost in wikipedia.

The same thing used to happen with encyclopedias.

Short attention span - I can absorb large amounts of small pieces of information, but it takes effort to sit and read a long arc of narrative.

(articles vs books novels....pictures help a great deal.)

Monday, May 09, 2016

Katherine Johnson Langley Building Dedication

At space.com


So NASA used to have a separate building for Black computers (people, not machines).


chix R nerdz.

Friday, May 06, 2016

Dear Aspiring Prose Writer,

Do Yourself a favor.

Do The World a favor.


Do not write an entire novel in run-on sentences.


No, no -

Shush. Sssssshhhhhh.....


There, now. There you are...

Um-hm. Yeah, I know the other -

I know - I know.

Ssshhhhh...

I know what they said.

"Writer's privilege",

"artistic license".

Mm hm.

I know.


Just -

don't.

'k?

Tuesday, May 03, 2016

Sunday, May 01, 2016

I'm that insane person that keeps finding $20 bills in public it's not keeping them.

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