From: owner-joni-digest@smoe.org (JMDL Digest) To: joni-digest@smoe.org Subject: JMDL Digest V2005 #280 Reply-To: joni@smoe.org Sender: owner-joni-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-joni-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk Unsubscribe: mailto:joni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe Archives: http://www.smoe.org/lists/joni Websites: http://www.jmdl.com http://www.jonimitchell.com JMDL Digest Sunday, July 17 2005 Volume 2005 : Number 280 ========== TOPICS and authors in this Digest: -------- Re: Joni Remixed [Mark-Leon Thorne ] Coming in from the cold/ njc [gerime ] the other side, njc [Lucy Hone ] Re: Joni Remixed, Colvin's long resume a who's who of song [Patti Witten ] Re: Coming In From The Cold njc [JasonMaloney71@aol.com] Re: the other side, njc [LCStanley7@aol.com] [none] [Peep Richman ] no shit? njc [LCStanley7@aol.com] F-word, anyone? njc [jrmco1@aol.com] Re: no shit? njc [Bob Muller ] Re: no shit? njc [Catherine McKay ] njc no shit ["gene mock" ] my protege performs sjc [vince ] Nightfly between the trailers and the Goodbye look (njc) [littlebreen@com] Potter/Rowling NJC [Chuck Eisenhardt ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 18:17:55 +1000 From: Mark-Leon Thorne Subject: Re: Joni Remixed > The file is "Conversation (Mikey Palms Remix)". If I have my way, > Joni's career could start all over again as a dance artist. This has > been added to the slowly growing remix project. Keep them coming guys. Thanks to Bob for Woodstock (Angry Mexican DJs Remix). Mark in Sydney. NP Swords (Cari Lekebusch Remix) - Leftfield. > Don9t know if this 1 has been posted on here already. I stumbled into > it > browsing some mp3blogs. Not so much a remix, more just giving it a > backbeat > I think. > > http://s37.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=0A37VHMRH22WI12TUIFH1XVPBP > > Gerry (out from lurkdome, briefly ) ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 10:01:14 +0100 From: gerime Subject: Coming in from the cold/ njc Yes Azeem, still here lurking. I have been on and off the list due to moving flat etc. Still loving Joni. Thank you for asking. Gerry I also wondered about what Rob Jordan and Gerry McNee are up to these days. Are you out there lurking? Cheers, Azeem ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 11:29:01 +0100 From: Lucy Hone Subject: the other side, njc This is a wonderful topic and Iwould like to add my story to this. The day before my mother died she was in and out of consciousness. we would talk to her and she would be totally lucid then drift away for a bit. At one time she opened her eyes and smiledand lloked around the bed,,but not at US but at othher "people" and said "Esmee, Robert, come in, come in..you'll have to move along the rest of you because everyone is coming today. Jim is over there.. I saw Martha too." These greetings carried on over a period of a few hours. more people would be smiled at and ushered into the imaginary space....... Esmee was her sister and Robert was her husband (dead) Jim was her brother (dead since 1958) Martha was our daschund and so it seemed they all came to get her. She faded into a deep deep coma that night (and that is when I believe she actually left this world) and died the followng day. I love to think of her slipping from her body, putting the lead onto Martha and walking free and easily along some beach with the rest of her family.I konw she will come for my father when the time comes for him.. I cannot attach any religious thing to this, its beautiful and it gave me enormous strength to know she went happily. Off to see REM today. Love and hugs to you Lucy xxxxxx From: "Marianne Rizzo" Subject: the other side, njc I went to a memorial service the the other day for my friend Ruth who died at the age of 73. . She is my friend and I am also friends with her 5 daughters/ / / / / Her name is Ruth Kilgras. . she had a painful life, physically and emotionally. . and now her body is freed. . She is a beautiful person. to a spiritual note: as it is OUR BODIES BELONG TO US . . . BUT THEY ARE NOT US. I wanted to share with you a few things that were mentioned at her memorial service. . her brother told this story: It is a true story There is a man named Robert. Robert's mother was dying and Robert would visit her every day . . While his mother was dying Robert's son, Robbie, had gotten menengitus (sp?). . and was in the hospital. Robbie (the son) was 18 or 19. Because Robert's mother was so close to dying, he didn't want to burden her with Robbie's sickness so he didn't tell her that he was running to the hospital see Robbie. Robbie went into a comma and died. Robert did not tell his mother that her grandson died. She was to die a week or two later. . As his mother was dying she seemed to pass on to another place. . she called out three names (for example), Josephine. . . . " There's josephine!. ., " she said (her sister) "There's Margaret!" . . "There's Nicholas. . .!" (All people in her life that had passed before her... . .) and then she said. . "THERE"S Robbie!. . .YOU DIDN'T TELL ME Robbie was here." soon after she died. I believe this ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ Next story. . a few days before Ruth died, 1. she saw her sister Pat (who had died) standing there. . 2. she felt an arm on her shoulder when no one was there . . . and then this report: 3. She was laying in her bed and she said to her daughters, "there's MIchael Landon (sp?)." "What?" her daughter replied. . "There's Michael Landon. . he is sitting right there in a chair.." and she pointed to the corner of the room . . no one else could see him there.. Later that day the hospice worker came to the house. . and they told this story to the hospice worker, and the hospice worker said, oh, my goodness. . "Ruth is the second [dying] person today who said they saw Michael Landon." . she had never heard this before. . Marianne ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 07:14:43 -0400 From: Patti Witten Subject: Re: Joni Remixed, Colvin's long resume a who's who of song Bob wrote: > The Shawn album you referenced (A Few Small Repairs) is by FAR my favorite of > hers so far. You'd think it would be "Covers Girl" wouldn't you? Maybe, but "A Few Small Repairs" is my favorite, too, and the only Shawn CD I own. I guess because I'm so fascinated by original songs and I adore John Leventhal's production and musical contributions. I first heard him on Patty Larkin's Stranger's World, another great record IMO. Everything he does is beautiful. Patti - -- Patti Witten on I-Town Records www.itownrecords.com MySpace http://myspace.com/pattiwitten http://pattiwitten.com ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 07:12:16 EDT From: JasonMaloney71@aol.com Subject: Re: Coming In From The Cold njc Hello Azeem and Jacky; lovely to hear from you both and I'm delighted to find you're still on the JMDL. I don't think I'd have ever left if things in my life at the time hadn't taken the decision out of my hands. My old website doesn't exist online anymore (I may resurrect it in a smaller version one day), but in my years of "exile" I've worked on a different project that isn't too far from completion now; a fully searchable archive/database of albums from the past 40 years or so - the modern rock era, if you like - - with release date and other related information . That was another factor in my Joni re-awakening, too - looking for all the original vinyl sleeveart for the 70s albums really triggered off memories of the list. I've been keeping a low profile since early 2002; bad things happened elsewhere online which made me uneasy with being part of any sizeable discussion group or list; I just wanted to stay out of any possible firing line and let the healing process take its course. I suppose Father Time has done its bit now. Surprised to hear that Colin's not around these days! Best, Jason. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 09:56:45 EDT From: LCStanley7@aol.com Subject: Re: the other side, njc A lover of souls wrote: to a spiritual note: as it is OUR BODIES BELONG TO US . . . BUT THEY ARE NOT US. Ommmm, My body IS me. I am my body. My body is my soul. My soul is my body. I am one. Separation is only an illusion, an illusion looking at this side or the other side. I am one, not two but both sides now, together, forever, a spiritual body, eternally. Look for my spiritual body when you die, and you will recognize me. To love one's body is to love one's soul. We are children of the earth, a spiritual body in the heavens, created out of love to be love. Take care of your lungs as you would the air you breathe. Yin Yang. Love, A spiritual body _Infinite ceiling Arkansas now has the worldbs only EpiSphere_ (http://aolsearch.aol.com/aol/redir?src=websearch&requestId=42b847af42f32b3b& clickedItemRank =4&userQuery=episphere&clickedItemURN=http://www.ardemgaz.com/ShowStoryTempla t e.asp?Path=ArDemocrat/2005/06/23&ID=Ar03900&Section=Features&title=Infinite+c e iling+Arkansas+now+has+the+worldbs+only+EpiSphere,+a+...) : _http://www.aerospaced.org/episphere/_ (http://www.aerospaced.org/episphere/) ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 07:22:43 -0700 (PDT) From: Peep Richman Subject: [none] Hi Everyone! Many thanks to Laura for turning us on to great photos. I remember sitting on wet and muddy grass listening to Richie Havens at the original Woodstock....I had just married and we hitched from Philly to Woodstock, arriving several days before the concert began. When Joan Baez sang it was pouring tear drops from heaven, a gesture, I thought, in honor her......yep, I was rolling around in the mud slides and having the greatest time. Seeing the photo of Laura Nyro was heartwarming...I adore her music. Off to another subject....Marianne, the story you shared with us is beautiful. I remember working with a young woman (42) who was given a week to live. I was called in to help mother and daughter work through any final issues. Being a student of Viktor Frankl, I worked hard to give Cathy (fighting cancer) a sense of purpose to her life. Soon I got her up, out of bed and walking the nursing home halls. Then I seized the opportunity to give her a "caseload" of patinets to visit and asked her to take a few notes so we could talk about how each person was doing. This sense of having a purpose to live lasted 6 months. I visited her every single day during that period of time and to quote the title of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's book "To Live Until We Die", I was able to participate in this magnificent process. Cathy told me, shortly before her death that she saw my father (who died in 1981) sitting in a chair in the day room waving to her. Cathy had never met my father but I had no doubt that she saw him. When the final days of her life began, I got in her bed and held her in hope of soothing her fears. One night I told Cathy that it was okay to let go.....she died several hours later. One of the things she enjoyed was listening to Joni and becoming familar with Joni's music. I showed her the covers of each album to convey the magnificent art she produced. Cathy was so taken by Joni that in her final days she enjoyed Joni's magical gifts. There is always a purpose in our lives regardless of any condition or set of personal circumstances presented to us as sometimes overwhelming "tests". Joni has always been there for me, soothing my wounds and helping...urging...allowing me to reach down into my soul finding answers to enormously difficult questions. Joni touches so many people on such a personal level. I send you happy vibes and hope each one of the members of the Digest are enjoying their life. Love to all from Bo Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 15:54:35 EDT From: LCStanley7@aol.com Subject: no shit? njc In the 16th and 17th centuries, everything had to be transported by ship and it was also before commercial fertilizer's invention, so large shipments of manure were common. It was shipped dry, because in dry form it weighed a lot less than when wet, but once water (at sea) hit it, it not only became heavier, but the process of fermentation began again, of which a by product is methane gas. As the stuff was stored below decks in bundles you can see what could (and did) happen. Methane began to build up below decks and the first time someone came below at night with a lantern, BOOM! Several ships were destroyed in this manner before it was determined just what was happening. After that, the bundles of manure were always stamped with the term "Ship High In Transit" on them which meant for the sailors to stow it high enough off the lower decks so that any water that came into the hold would not touch this volatile cargo and start the production of methane. Thus evolved the term "S.H.I.T." (Ship High In Transport) which has come down through the centuries and is in use to this very day. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 16:57:31 -0400 From: jrmco1@aol.com Subject: F-word, anyone? njc Dear Cecil: The following question isn't something I could send to Action Line, but I've always wanted to know: what is the origin of the "F" word? A friend told me it's an abbreviation of "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge,'' which was supposedly stamped on the foreheads of couples who were locked up in the stocks for fornicating without benefit of matrimony. Also, whither the expression "fuck you"? I've always agreed with George Carlin, who says "unfuck you" would be a more appropriate curse, indicating you hope the person you are cursing would never enjoy the pleasure of sex again, rather than wishing them the opposite. - --Lois S., Mesa, Arizona Cecil replies: This is going to be a little crude, folks, but let's try to keep a stiff upper lip. I've heard a number of variations of the "fuck-as-acronym" story, none of which, in my opinion (and that of most linguists), is even remotely likely: (1) It stands for "fornication under consent of the king," which was supposedly tacked up over the doors of government-approved brothels in early England. (2) It stands for "for the use of carnal knowledge," which allegedly was stamped on condoms, or, alternatively, used the same way as "for unlawful carnal knowledge." This passion for preposterous acronyms seems to be peculiar to Anglo-Americans, and some believe it started around World War I, about the same time many acronyms began popping up in government. Others I've come across include P.O.S.H. ("port outward, starboard home"), said to have been stamped on the tickets of first class passengers on India-bound British ships who wanted their cabins on the shady side of the boat during the passage through the tropics; C.O.P. ("constable on patrol"); and T.I.P. ("to insure promptness"). All are rubbish. The best guess is that "fuck" comes from the Middle English fucken, to strike, move quickly, penetrate, from the German ficken, meaning approximately the same thing. A related word may be the Middle Dutch fokken, to strike, copulate with. We get a clue here as to the level of delicacy and tenderness that has characterized the sex act down through the ages, and which is recalled by the charming epithet "fuck you." Many other possible etymologies have been offered. Some claim the F-word (sorry to have to resort to this lame expression, but you have no idea how tiresome it can be to type "fuck" a million times) is a truncation of "fecund." Richard Spears, author of the splendid Slang and Euphemism, says the word may be a disguise of the French foutre, same meaning, which comes from the Latin futuere. Another possible origin, Professor Spears says, is the Latin pungo, to prick. Give me a break, doc. Having totally ODed on gutter epithets, let us move briefly to the cheerful world of euphemism. Professor Spears has amassed an awesome collection of synonyms for the generative act (under "occupy," p. 278, in case you're the type who likes to look up dirty words in reference books), including the following, which gives you an idea of the never-ending richness of the English language: bang, batter, beef, bumble, blow off the loose corns, bounce the brillo, dance the buttock jig, do a dive in the dark, flimp, flurgle, foin, foraminate, futz, get one's leather stretched, get one's nuts cracked, get one's oil changed, go bird's nesting, go bush-ranging, go like a rat up a rhododendron, go star-gazing on one's back, have a bun in the oven, have a game in the cock-loft, have a leap up the ladder, have hot pudding for supper, hide the ferret, hide the salami, hide the sausage, hive it, jazz it, knock it off, lay some pipe, light the lamp, lose the lamp and pocket the stake, make her grunt, mix one's peanut butter, palliardize, pestle, pheeze, pizzle, play cars and garages, plow, plug, plook, ram, rasp, ride below the crupper, shoot between wind and water, strop one's beak, varnish one's cane, wet one's wick, wind the clock, and work the hairy oracle--some 675 synonyms in all. The ingenuity displayed in this, ahh, well-plowed ground is nothing short of awesome. - ------- - -Julius ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 14:15:39 -0700 (PDT) From: Bob Muller Subject: Re: no shit? njc And running a Snopes check on it, we see that this is false: http://www.snopes.com/language/acronyms/shit.asp Bob LCStanley7@aol.com wrote: In the 16th and 17th centuries, everything had to be transported by ship and it was also before commercial fertilizer's invention, so large shipments of manure were common. It was shipped dry, because in dry form it weighed a lot less than when wet, but once water (at sea) hit it, it not only became heavier, but the process of fermentation began again, of which a by product is methane gas. As the stuff was stored below decks in bundles you can see what could (and did) happen. Methane began to build up below decks and the first time someone came below at night with a lantern, BOOM! Several ships were destroyed in this manner before it was determined just what was happening. After that, the bundles of manure were always stamped with the term "Ship High In Transit" on them which meant for the sailors to stow it high enough off the lower decks so that any water that came into the hold would not touch this volatile cargo and start the production of methane. Thus evolved the term "S.H.I.T." (Ship High In Transport) which has come down through the centuries and is in use to this very day. Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 19:14:23 -0400 (EDT) From: Catherine McKay Subject: Re: no shit? njc No shit, Sherlock! Still laughing my ass off at Julius' list of f*ck synonyms! - --- Bob Muller wrote: > And running a Snopes check on it, we see that this > is false: > > http://www.snopes.com/language/acronyms/shit.asp > > Bob > > LCStanley7@aol.com wrote: > In the 16th and 17th centuries, everything had to be > transported by ship and > it was also before commercial fertilizer's > invention, so large shipments of > manure were common. Catherine Toronto - ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 16:37:26 -0700 From: "gene mock" Subject: njc no shit since we're on the subject of shit. THE MOST FUNCTIONAL WORD IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS..... Well, it's shit........ That's right, shit! Shit may just be the most functional word in the English language. Consider: You can be shit faced, Shit out of luck, Or have shit for brains. With a little effort, you can get your shit together, Find a place for your shit Or decide to shit or get off the pot. You can smoke shit, Buy shit, sell shit, Lose shit, find shit, Forget shit, And tell others to eat shit and die. Some people know their shit, While others can't tell the difference between shit and shineola. There are lucky shits, Dumb shits, Crazy shits, and sweet shits. There is bull shit, Horse shit And chicken shit. You can throw shit, Sling shit, Catch shit, Shoot the shit, Or duck when shit hits the fan. You can give a shit Or serve shit on a shingle. You can find yourself in deep shit Or be happier than a pig in shit. Some days are colder than shit, Some days are hotter than shit, And some days are just plain shitty. Some music sounds like shit, Things can look like shit, And there are times when you feel like shit. You can have too much shit, Not enough shit, The right shit, The wrong shit, Or a lot of weird shit. You can carry shit, Have a mountain of shit, Or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle. Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit, And other times you fall in a bucket of shit and come out smelling like a rose. When you stop to consider all the facts, It's the basic building block of creation. And remember, once you know your shit, You don't need to know anything ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 20:22:12 -0400 From: vince Subject: my protege performs sjc from my friend in Mexico on his daughter's first concert: you will note that her US musical advisor Ti`o Vince played a role in the song selections... ______________________________________________________________________________ For the past four or five weeks, Daniela has been working on putting together a concert. She went out and rented a theater and then hit up everyone she knows with a business to sign on as a sponsor. Within a few days, she had all her costs and expenses covered. She put up posters all over town, announcing the concert and advertising the names of the businesses that had lent her a hand. Then began the creative part; getting all her musician friends together in order to rehearse the songs. She worked hard, from morning to night. Everything was carefully planned. A couple of nights before the concert, she proudly showed me her notebook. She had a checklist of at least fifteen pages of things to do. "Everything is ready," she told me. Yeah, I thought, everything except making sure that a five hundred seat theater has enough people in it on the night of the concert. Last Thursday night, I headed for the theater. The marquee announced: Daniela Voigt En Concierto Made me think of the old Barry Mann (not Manilow) song, On Broadway. I was standing near the door, waiting for a few of my friends to arrive. My anxiety about the number of people began to dissipate as the line got longer and longer at the ticket booth. I breathed a sigh of relief and started to relax. Things were going to be all right. In the end, there were more than 300 people in the concert hall. The opening act was a three-man jazz band: bass guitar, sax and bongos. They got the crowd going and then moved off the stage. Ximena, up in the lighting booth, turned down the stage lights and Daniela came walking out. For the first and only time that night, tears came to my eyes when there was a roar of applause. My little girl looked so tiny up there on that stage...and yet so sure of herself. I'm not sure which part of that brought the tears. After that, I just sat back and enjoyed the concert. She picked up her guitar and did a folk song. From there on out, she brought out one group after another of the best friends she's made among the musicians in the cafes downtown and did a wide range of songs, including an old Mexican bolero with Jorge Santoyo, a Joni Mitchell song, a fine folksy number by a Mexican group called Presuntos Implicados, a wild version of Cry Me a River with another woman. She and Alan, the preacher's son, did a duet on Bill Wither's Lean on Me. She brought the jazz band back out and did Summertime with an interlude of Besame Mucho. She did a Brazilian song in Portuguese. She also put one of Pablo Neruda's poems to music and brought the house down with a touching rendition. It was a fine mix that finished off with a raucous, mind blowing version of Turtle Blues that would have made Janis smile. What a trip. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 01:02:34 +0000 From: littlebreen@comcast.net Subject: Nightfly between the trailers and the Goodbye look (njc) [Content warning: As with my last long note, I've marked this njc although I quote Joni briefly, and again, this is rather vivid, so if you've a weak stomach or are sick and tired of hearing about this stuff, skip on to the next posting with my blessing] A Nightfly Down South between the Trailers, and the Goodbye Look July 16, 2005 Hi, gang, Some of you may have been thinking (hoping?) I wore myself out with that last epistle/essay (Solstice, Blue Transparency and the Three-H Club), hence my absence of late. Things have been busy, and I intend to answer every one of the wonderful notes of support you sent me, individually, as soon as I can sit up long enough to so (more about which below). But no, things have been buzzing merrily along  Robert sleeps almost all the time (which cuts into my piano playing, maddening since I recently increased my sheet music holdings, but the piano is in the bedroom, arrrgggh), and I had a series of illnesses which I have chosen to ignore because, well, I had to. Also, P.S., the Wonderful and much beloved Skeeter the Wonder Dog (a greyhound the size of a Buick who could fold himself smaller than a breadbox in if got him into position for better cuddling), has gone on to doggy heaven He lived with our neighbor Richard for eleven years, and for the past eight, we were his favorite uncles and frequent caretakers. This was a painful decision for Richard, but just in his final two weeks, Skeets back legs had increasingly stopped functioning, probably from a slight stroke. Richard kindly let us borrow him one last time the night before the appointment, and I heaved him up between me and Robert on the couch, and he was happy. But death is already very much in the air in our household, and after the hour visit, Robert tearfully asked me to bring Skeeter back home. THIS FLIGHT TONIGHT I saw a falling star burn up Above the Las Vegas sands It wasn't the one that you gave to me That night down south between the trailers [snip] Turn this crazy bird around I shouldn't have got on this flight tonight Joni Mitchell, This Flight Tonight, from Blue (1971) In the meantime, I ignored a three-week chest cold (what can doctors do, anyway?), and it did actually finally go away, but then I found, oddly, that I couldnt swallow; and then there was a pimple of sorts down south between my trailers (thank you for sharing, I can hear many of you saying)  but what male over a certain age doesnt have those? Dime a dozen. Besides, there were things to do Well, the not-swallowing finally got on my nerves, and the zit thingy where the sun dont shine started to grow. I couldnt see it, mind you, and Robert wasnt inclined, but tangibly it seemed to be getting bigger. Frustrated and finally inspired, I grabbed the shaving mirror from the shower stall and a flashlight, and via contortions, got a look at it. Hmmmm, I said. I got on the phone and got an appointment with one of the doctors on my team at Kaiser Permanente the next day (my own doctor is on vacation -- one of Murphy's Rules, as I'm sure you all know). Thrush, said Dr. Neuhauser when she looked into my throat, not a big surprise. (For those not familiar with the term, she did not find a woodland bird in my throat, which would have been much more interesting, an almost certain improvement to my singing voice, but, no, its a type of fungus). There are pills to take for it, so no biggy. Then I dropped trou and bent over and, she said, Oh, dear. She poked at it gently, we both stood up, and immediately she made an appointment for me in surgery a few hours later. Well, it was kind of too late to turn the crazy bird around and get off the flight, so to speak, so I killed time at the medical center and up the street at a shopping center until my appointment with Dr. Mendez came up. I got there 45 minutes early, but signed in anyway. Imagine my surprise when my name was immediately called!! A nice nurse came in and told me to take my shoe off - yes, she used the singular -- and wait for the doctor. Shoe, I asked? Yes, dont you have a plantars wart?  Not unless they've developed the ability to show up three feet further north than ever before. Reddening, she looked at the chart in her had and said, Oh, Im sorry, we had a cancellation, and Ive got the chart of the person who cancelled; whats your name again? I gave it to her and silently reflected that I may have missed my one chance to have my ass pedicured. THE GOODBYE LOOK The surf was easy on the day I came to stay On this quiet island in the bay I remember a line of women all in white The laughter and the steel bands at night Now the Americans are gone except for two The embassy's been hard to reach There's been talk, and lately a bit of action after dark Behind the big casino on the beach The rules are changed It's not the same It's all new players in a whole new ball game Last night I dreamed of an old lover dressed in gray I've had this fever now since yesterday Wake up darling -- they're knocking The Colonel's standing in the sun With his stupid face, the glasses and the gun I know what happens I read the book I believe I just got the goodbye look Won't you pour me a Cuban breeze Gretchen  From The Goodbye Look, Donald Fagen, Nightfly (1982) As I waited for the proper chart and Doctor Mendez to appear, I couldnt get this song, a lovely, darkly funny Calypsoesque number from Donald Fagens Nightly album, out of my head. Its a nice, bouncy number about a guy who goes on a Caribbean vacation and finds himself caught in the middle of a Revolution; his fate is not entirely clear, but he seems resigned to it, and the last line I quoted above (not the last line of the song) always makes me laugh  things have gone badly, but hes determined to enjoy his vacation anyway. Bravo! Dr. Mendez, a pleasant fellow, showed up a few moments later, and it was clear hed read the short form Id filled out, which revealed, of course, that Id had a non-Hodgkins lymphoma in the very same neighborhood of the pimple, where neither sun nor fallen stars shine, but a doctors flashlight may, if he asks real nice. Dr. Mendez was real nice, so I let him both look at poke at The Thing; he seemed calm, although he couldnt keep completely keep the goodbye look out of his eyes, in spite of my being relentlessly upbeat. He called in a nurse and they biopsied as much of it as they safely could, given its sensitive location and my medical history. Next Tuesday, Ill learn if I have (a) essentially nothing to worry about and antibiotics will do the trick  this one gets my vote; (b) a fistula, which means that one of the many small tributaries left behind by my earlier run-in with cancer is shaking hands with, and opening a long-term trade agreement with, the outside world via the skin infection; this will mean surgery, to secure the border, as it were; or (c) the big C has come back with its stupid face, its glasses and a gun -- ballsy considering how badly I whupped its ass nine years ago. I feel great at the moment, especially now that the thrush is nearly gone. My butt hurts a little bit, but who doesnt expect a large fag to walk a little funny? And I do sit down rather carefully, but not so anyone would notice. Again, wish me heart, and while youre at it, would pour me a Cuban Breeze? Thanks, Walt - -- Let the walls go tumbling down Falling on the ground And all the dogs go running free The wild and gentle dogs Kenneled in me ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 16 Jul 2005 21:24:26 -0400 From: Chuck Eisenhardt Subject: Potter/Rowling NJC Lama and Reuben et al were conversing on the new book. Haven't read any of them, but that doesn't stop me from wondering: what other great books or book series do we know that can similarly inspire young folk to reading, and getting engaged with books? That would be good. In the same fantasy vein, I think Le Guin's Earthsea trilogy (plus) is top-notch. Also, the Anne McCaffrey dragon books are completely captivating. These are dragons you would want to know. Another personal favorite is 'Wind in the Willows', because it's just so great. There are more. I think everyone has had enough mention of the Ring books by now, but they can also be the sort of transporting literature that gets a young person 'getting' the magic of reading. I hope the Potter books lead young readers into such accessible scholars as Joseph Campbell, Mircea Eliade, and Alexander Heidel, who wrote on some apparent congruences of world religions, and seeing and focusing on what is the same instead instead of what is different. And who knows where these interests will lead them? Just thinking, perhaps the Catholic Church is correct in the fretting over the Potter books. now reading: Why Birds Sing, by David Rothenberg chuck eisenhardt Subject: Re: Giving JK Rowling her due, njc I'm with you on this one, Jim...like the books or have the greatest apathy: they've done a good thing for young readers all over the world. (Not to mention old readers like me, who happen to enjoy them :) ) Reuben > Post messages to the list by clicking here: mailto:joni@smoe.org > Unsubscribe by clicking here: > mailto:joni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe > ------- > Siquomb, isn't she? (http://www.siquomb.com/siquomb.cfm) ------------------------------ End of JMDL Digest V2005 #280 ***************************** ------- Post messages to the list by clicking here: mailto:joni@smoe.org Unsubscribe by clicking here: mailto:joni-digest-request@smoe.org?body=unsubscribe ------- Siquomb, isn't she? (http://www.siquomb.com/siquomb.cfm)