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Dispatches From Middle Age: When You Can No Longer Remember Shit ...

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Saturday, April 4, 2015. When You Can No Longer Remember Shit . As I see it you either turn 60 or you write a truthful memoir, but you can't do both. Because after 60 (or after chemo and radiation or post-partum or terror or other life-changing extended sleep-depriving events) you simply don't care that much for accuracy. You can't, it's an unattainable goal like having the body you sported at 20. Who cares if the year and the employer are wrong? Spring in New Haven. A Better ...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: January 2014

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Monday, January 27, 2014. As you may have surmised, the interlude between posts has almost everything to do with the fact that I am not writhing in the crucible of Mathematics these days. By comparison, the things I consider on a daily basis - death and taxes - haven't driven me mad enough to post. Or more accurately, they are both too personal to post about. Yet. Well, suh, as my grandmother used to say. Comme Ci Comme Ça. Links to this post. Math is hard and life is short.

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Dispatches From Middle Age: July 2014

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Saturday, July 19, 2014. A Cure for Everything But Death. Although I will never write a memoir - buried bodies will remain buried bodies - I do tend to think of my life in narrative. What is the story? That I'm not at all morose, just realistic. Comme Ci Comme Ça. Links to this post. I Hate Summer, 2014 edition. You into my soil would you say that you had volunteered. I mean, if you were a seed.) Some of my migrants are undoubtedly weeds and drive the people who walk aroun...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: A Letter to My Reader (Whom I Assume is Reduced to n = 1 Because I Never Write, I Never Call ...)

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Sunday, May 24, 2015. A Letter to My Reader (Whom I Assume is Reduced to n = 1 Because I Never Write, I Never Call .). I have rounded the bend of functional youthfullness to early old age. There are days when everything but my eyelashes hurt. I panic as I make conversation with someone I'm certain I've met but can't remember their name or the circumstance of our meeting. I am the tired swimmer trying to make it to a far shore. And where and for how long? And death (of parents,...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: Pussycat, Pussycat Where Have You Been?

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Monday, June 29, 2015. Pussycat, Pussycat Where Have You Been? A to London to visit the queen. B burying the dead. The answer, Dear Reader, is B. But, not in the way you think. In the way that I now realize is what is the long long arc of transmuting a living being to a what? I don't even know what to call a friend now dead - history? As I am tired and the hour is late I'll cut and paste from an email that I sent to one who helped me pack:. I ask, postmodern Christian that I a...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: June 2014

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Saturday, June 28, 2014. A Letter to My Faithful Readers. Do as opposed to what one can. And once you've bought that definition of yourself, you've taken over the maintenance of your oppression. Then it's game, set, match for the oppressor. Math is my instrument; public school students and adult learners are my audience. To have the math to work with them I have to do more coursework. It's as simple as that. And last night I dreamed that I was in prison, but. And the dance bet...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: August 2014

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Sunday, August 17, 2014. America, America, God Shed His Grace on Thee . You know how these things go: we are going to get There from Here. I brought reading with me, the kind that I never seem to have enough time to do while at home. I finally started Taylor Branch's At Canaan's Edge. Comme Ci Comme Ça. Links to this post. Labels: US racial politics. Sunday, August 10, 2014. Gone to the store . To get cigarettes. Will be back in approximately 14 days. Comme Ci Comme Ça. Shoot ...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: Africa/America: Blood Drum Spirit

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Saturday, April 4, 2015. Africa/America: Blood Drum Spirit. David Bindman, saxophone. Wes Brown, bass. Royal hartigan, percussion. Art Hirahara, piano. Comme Ci Comme Ça. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A Better Urban Neighborhood. Friends of the Congo. My Weigh This Time. Sam Newsome's Blogspot: Soprano Sax Talk. The Phil Dyess-Nugent Experience. Comme Ci Comme Ça. View my complete profile. Africa/America: Blood Drum Spirit. When You Can No Longer Remember Shit .

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Dispatches From Middle Age: March 2014

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Friday, March 14, 2014. Who Needs an AR-15 When You've Got a Seasoned Cast Iron Skillet? I live in a state that is home to hunters. All kinds of people hunt here. Enjoy it. Part of how they were raised. yadda yadda. I have no problem with any of that. But where and why did all that morph into these Army of One nuts who sleep with one eye open because the government (and it's just a matter of time) is gonna get them? 1 RICO (racketeering) prosecutions,. For them there are not e...

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Dispatches From Middle Age: January 2015

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Dispatches From Middle Age. Saturday, January 24, 2015. How I wish that the above title had the qualifier "Saturday Poetry:" in front of it. But it doesn't, which means that what I am about to tell you has no redeeming literary value, that there are no inherent metaphors, no larger lessons to be learned. This is not Pep é. Put foam insulation or boiling water in the burrow? Cuthbert: We need 2 skunks trapped before Valentine's Day which is when She Skunk starts to breed. Skunk Trapper: No problem. Look m...