today is the first day of spring–the vernal equinox. i love that word “vernal.” it sounds authoritative and dirty and sexy. spring is sexy.
so tonight, when the sun is down i will stoke up a fire in the little clay fireplace on the deck and burn my life at villanova. i have 18 years of personal files from there that i need to destroy if i’m ever to be free to go on with my life.
and this is just the start.
i will be throwing some other stuff in the mix. things which hold negative energy. this energy has been compressed over the years so that these things exert an influence far greater than their original size or import.
this will be a cleansing. cleansing by fire.
i really like that.
Category: Uncategorized
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from the NYTimes:
By MICHAEL JANOFSKY
Published: March 18, 2006WASHINGTON, March 17 — A federal appeals court on Friday overturned a clean-air regulation issued by the Bush administration that would have let many power plants, refineries and factories avoid installing costly new pollution controls to help offset any increased emissions caused by repairs and replacements of equipment.
Ruling in favor of a coalition of states and environmental advocacy groups, the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit said the “plain language” of the law required a stricter approach. The court has primary jurisdiction in challenges to federal regulations.
The ruling by a three-judge panel was the court’s second decision in less than a year in a pair of closely related cases involving the administration’s interpretations of a complex section of the Clean Air Act. Unlike its ruling last summer, when the court largely upheld the E.P.A.’s approach against challenges from industry, state governments and environmental groups, the new ruling was a defeat for the agency and for industry, and a victory for the states and their environmentalist allies.
In the earlier case, a panel including two of the three judges who ruled on Friday decided that the agency had acted reasonably in 2002, when it issued a rule changing how pollution would be measured, effectively loosening the strictures on companies making changes to their equipment and operations.
But on Friday, the court said the agency went too far in 2003 when it issued a separate new rule that opponents said would exempt most equipment changes from environmental reviews — even changes that would result in higher emissions.
With a wry footnote to Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass,” the court said that “only in a Humpty-Dumpty world” could the law be read otherwise.
“We decline such a world view,” said their unanimous decision, written by Judge Judith W. Rogers, an appointee of President Bill Clinton. Judges David Tatel, another Clinton appointee, and Janice Rogers Brown, a recent Bush appointee, joined her.
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for the rest, -
I don’t know quite what to do with myself.
This was my last day working at Villanova. 18 years–a chunk of time, that. I feel like I’ve aged 10 years this week. I hope it’s reversible.
The day was better than I thought it would be. Lee wanted to go through some stuff she’ll need to know, taking up a fair bit of the morning. Lots of people coming by to say bye. A fun, somewhat raucous lunch with Lee, Phylis and Kathy set me up for the rest of the afternoon. I thought I’d be leaving early, but Luisa needed to go through things and I needed to go through things, and Lee and I needed to pretend we weren’t ready for a good cry. We’ve been partners for 15 years and leaving her is just the hardest thing I’ve done. Harder than divorcing those old husbands.
So around 3:30 I sent out my final email, set my mail to forward to Lee, gathered up my stuff and managed to walk out the door 15 minutes later.
for the last time
When I got to the car, I set my “good luck” balloons free and drove home.
done
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From the very first day of 2006, tragedy has struck on what feels like a daily basis. Our lives have been touched by illness, accident and death. As the planet heaves under the pressures of global warming, we as individuals seem to be experiencing a trickle down effect of climate change. On Friday, Brni and I mourned his aunt’s passing and on Saturday we spent his birthday at a funeral for the sister of a dear friend. Of course, the usual cliches came unbidden to my brain…
- make sure you live each day as if it’s your last
- treat each person as if this is the last time you will see them
- never go to bed angry
and on and on
And then I decided that, although these adages, or whatever you would call them, are well worth noting, there’s more to consider. How do we really want to spend our days? How do we want to be remembered (if at all)? And what do we want those still living to do when we leave them to handle our passing?
Recently I’ve been under a lot of stress that has culminated in quitting my job of 18 years. Of course, I’ve been worrying about this being a colossal mistake–a financially irresponsible move that will bring us to ruin (yes, I do go overboard about shit like this). All this worry and self-doubt has magnified my stress levels and turned me into a very annoying person to be around. Yesterday, on the way to the funeral, I woke up.
As we were heading into Long Beach, I put in a favorite cd, “The Past Didn’t Go Anywhere” by Utah Phillips and Ani DiFranco. I highly recommend that every person on earth listen to Utah Phillips. In fact, if you are not wholly self-actualized and ready for Bliss, this should be required as therapy.
In the best storytelling tradition, Utah Phillips tells us that freedom is not something handed to us by others, but something we have to consciously assume, sometimes by force. Once we assume our freedom, we have to defend it if we wish to keep it because there are forces at work designed to take that freedom away. This idea of freedom–freedom of purpose, self-direction, of personal truth and conviction is something that I have taken for granted for most of my life. I thought I was free simply by virtue of living in a “free country,” but I have been terribly mistaken. I have been a dupe, a lackey, bound by socially and individually-imposed restrictions and obligations that I did not assume willingly. What is worse, I was unaware that I had given up my liberty for the comfort of conformity.
I am ashamed of myself for that
With freedom comes the obligation to speak and live from the heart. To act as you believe. This is a very hard thing if you were raised to be polite person. But, there is no room for manners when your life is at stake. I’m not talking table manners. I am all for polite eating habits at the table. I’m also not saying that speaking the truth is license to cause pain or humiliation to others (unless they deserve it). No, this sort of truth is the kind that you must face squarely with the veils pulled from your eyes. You see, I have talents and I have things that are very important to me. If I fail to use my talents or if I give up what is truly important for the convenience of others–bosses, governments, gods, or even just to avoid confrontation with someone at odds with me–then I’m not just being untrue to myself, I am handing over my power–my freedom. I become nothing more than a performing monkey.
A long time ago, Harry Harlowe ran a series of famous experiments designed to find out the influences that nature and nurture have on behavior. The infant monkeys used as subjects in these experiments had all their physical needs met, but were isolated from social contact of any kind. Some were fed by a wire “mother” and others by a soft, cloth-covered mother and their resulting behavior was studied. Many fed by the wire mother failed to thrive, but unfortunately, all the monkeys exhibited poor social skills which came to be known as isolate behavior. At the end of the studies, Harlowe was left with a bunch of neurotic monkeys who exhibited very aberrant, atavistic behavior. One such behavior was termed the “phantom arm” whereby a monkey’s arm would slowly move as if sneaking up on itself and then suddenly give a good whack on the back of its own head. The monkey would scream and yell as if it had been attacked, obviously in ignorance that its very own arm was the offending beast. So, good Harry decided to see if he could remedy the situation by exposing the young isolates to normal monkeys, the idea being that the isolates would learn how to be normal. But this proved not to be the case. In fact, what happened was that the normal monkeys began showing isolate behavior.
I have found this phenomenon replicated many times over the years among us balder primates. All it takes is one very convincing asshole to move into an intact, productive, “normal” group and disrupt the hell out of it. Why is that? I don’t really know, but I wonder if we can make this phenomenon work to our advantage. Can we, as free people, people who would advocate for peace, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for the greater good as well as our own good, “disrupt” the status quo and get the assholes of the world — those in places of money and power — to rise up and smack themselves upside the head?
but, i digress
I have decided that my own, personal climate change is in order.
Since the only certainty in life is death, we can’t hope to die right if we aren’t willing to live right. We have to resist doing nothing about our lives and we have to resist taking things for granted. No one knows what we want or what is important to us if we don’t speak up. And I do not, under any circumstances want anyone to dictate to me the manner of my life or the manner of my send-off from this world.
To that end, I hereby tell you what I want and what I do not want when I kick that proverbial bucket.
What I do NOT want
- I do not want a viewing, funeral or memorial service of any kind in any sort of establishment run by an undertaker, church, or any sort of place where there is a profit to be had at the expense of my loved ones.
- I do not want to be preserved, fumigated or made toxic to the environment.
- I do not want anyone to spend any money on my passing that they normally would not spend for a modest dinner with friends.
MY DEATH WILL NOT BE AN EXCUSE FOR STRANGERS TO MAKE A KILLING!
What I DO want
- I want to be composted, but if this proves difficult due to zoning restrictions, then I want to be cremated. CHEAPLY! Do not let them talk you into buying a box, or crypt or other expensive thing in which to deposit my ashes. Any ol’ receptacle will do.
- Eat sushi! Juliet came up with the perfect idea at the funeral–get a bunch of spicy crunchy tuna from the Hana and put it in the middle of Charlie and Kim’s pool table. Now, if you haven’t already disposed of my ashes, feel free to “feed me” one of those little morsels before dumping me into the compost pile.
- Climb into the hot tub and have a good, long soak.
That’s it really…keep it simple, tasty and get nekked.
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wow. haven’t even left yet and there is talk about how i ran my department.
i had a feeling things would be said, but i thought that they’d have the decency to at least wait til i was gone.
the next 7 days are going to take a very long time.
what a hurtful place. -
last night, i went into the kitchen to make dinner. now, i can’t cook in a messy kitchen and brni has a habit of dumping stuff on the counter which means i MUST clear the counter before i can cook (even when the offending stuff is not in my way).
so i pick up a plastic shopping bag and ask brni, “what is this?” he says, “it’s your birthday present.” i am taken aback and exclaim, “we don’t DO birthday presents!” and i look in the bag. it’s a wacom tablet. i’ve wanted a wacom tablet for years!
i cry.
then he gives me another present — baccala!
for those of you who are not italian and are not initiated in italian foodways, baccala is salt-cured codfish. the fish is split, filleted, salted and hung to dry. it looks just like a large ping-pong paddle, only stinky.
in the old days, dried, salt-cured cod, or baccala, was found hung in the kitchen of every italian home. before cooking, the baccala was soaked in water for 3 days. the water was changed everyday to both hydrate the fish and rinse away the excess salt. after the baccala was all plumped up, it was cut into chunks and poached in a tomato, onion and pepper sauce. of course, every region had it’s own variation, but for the most part, this was the theme.
now, italian women, being very practical, had the concept of multi-tasking down before there was even a word for it. so, it’s no wonder that when the children were acting up they were threatened with the biggest, hardest thing at hand–baccala! this was such a common household weapon that baccala became slang for spanking.
“you want a baccala? no? then get out of here!”
the practice of hanging baccala in the kitchen died out a generation or two before i came along, but i grew up with the threat of baccala over my head just the same. i think i was a teenager before i knew that baccala wasn’t the english word for spanking.
and yesterday, brni gave me my first, real baccala. it’s real stinky, but it’s the best birthday present ever!
i think i know what i’ll be making for our anniversary dinner on april fools day.
Croneswood Art 