The thought of doing anything like a ‘travelogue’ post of our voyage to Crete and Athens last September has been daunting, and therefore left undone.  To be sure, sloth factors in, but there’s also the ‘inflicting’ of the vacation pictures on friends aspect, which also inclines one toward ‘don’t’.  So, maybe just a bite-sized piece every now and then. Here’s one.

We arrived on Crete in the city of Chania, where we stayed for four days before traveling east.  Our favorite restaurants the whole stay — ‘The Well of the Turk’ and ‘The Vineyard’ — were located on the alleyway to our hotel.  Blind luck.

Around the corner from our tiny hotel, we discovered a beautiful and beautifully maintained private residence, whose street level is now a bar and gallery space.  On exhibition, a collection of photographs and memorabilia of actress and activist Melina Mercouri.  The owner of the house had been Ms. Mercouri’s hairdresser.

The six-foot banner there on the wall of the building was, well… joyous.  Smaller poster versions were everywhere.  I asked a staff member at the bar to oblige me with a very short stack of them.  Recipients back here at home have been likewise enchanted.

You might think there’d have been more suitable souvenirs, but I love poster art.  Besides, I live with Prince Tchotchke, aka Count Objet, and there’s really no more room here in the house for anything that’s not flat.

 

chaniadoor

melinam

Click for the full picture, and click the other two to enlarge.  Thank you.

Click for the full picture, and click the other two to enlarge. Thank you.

 

Fifty years ago, I suppose I was preoccupied with my upcoming high school graduation and the Vietnam War.  Voter Equality, not so much.  So, I took advantage of an invitation to Selma, Alabama yesterday.

Stephen said when he saw this first picture this morning, that it looked like I’d stuck a decal on the photo.  I think that’s what I like about it.  See the infamous Edmund Pettus Bridge off there in the distance.

NAACP stands for the ‘National Association for the Advancement of Colored People’, and of course you’d not call anyone a ‘colored person’ today.  That the organization has retained that ‘legacy’ name is a good choice, if I may say.

Because of the KKK connection of its namesake, there remains a movement to change the name of the Edmund Pettus Bridge.  I don’t know that this will ever come to pass, but if it does, perhaps the perspective of how far we’ve come in this case might also be lost?

naacp

not_forgotten

Photos happen, as with this one, placard stacked above the bridge, still off in the distance.  (‘Click’ on any of these pictures for a larger view.)  A contemporary of mine — who happens to be my first cousin — has written a book on this subject.

selma_selfie_02

Well, you know I can’t be counted on to smile, and chipper seemed wrong, so…

livesmatter01

livesmatter02

This man of the cloth was very vocal about it’s not being just about Selma.  With Alabama’s current defiance on the topic of marriage equality, why disagree?

 

incorrigibleCU

Finally, to assure you that I’m not just all about social injustice (okay?;-) here is a shot of a young gentleman I found eye-catching.  I think he knew he was being photographed and all-but posed for me.  Click for the full shot.

Forgive me for falling under his sway, but I’m old and incorrigible.  In that order.

A reference to ‘the Sixties’ here on DD from time to time is a little unavoidable.  Click here for a not-altogether-bad post which, among other things, points out that the mythical ‘decade’ was actually the years 1964 through 1972.

While I do not wish to leave any hint that I previously thought otherwise, I do believe that the appearance of the Sixties-est human being on the planet on the cover of the most recent issue of the AARP magazine has signaled the fact that now ‘the Sixties’ are positively, absolutely, undeniably — and reliably — dead.

Requiem Aeternam dona eis et lux perpetua luceat eis.

dylan_aarp

So, here we are on the day of the eve of the Academy Awards presentation.

Since childhood, I have slavishly followed the Oscars, though I cannot say at what point I resigned myself to their emptiness.  Robert Altman’s being passed over for his direction of ‘Gosford Park’, for example, but why on earth choose just one?

I had lunch earlier this month with my nephew Edwin who runs his own thriving video production company.  He is a huge, but not unhinged, movie buff.  I like to think that I had something to do with that.

Our lunchtime topic was, as always, the movies, and on that day the upcoming AA’s.  Along the way, I voiced my suspicion of Oscars for ‘Cinematography’ sometimes owing mostly to ‘Production Design’.  Yes, it was that kind of dialog, god help us.

Along those same lines, I have always been a little impatient with photographs which are essentially just records of other artists’ beautiful things.  Be that as it may, this morning I ran across this photo I snapped who-knows-when of a tear sheet and a pair of eyeglass cases, all three found lying on the bed.

At a loss to suggest there has been an actual point to this post, I’ll close saying I’m rooting for the ninefold Oscar-nominated ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’, which if you have not seen it, may Patrick Stewart turn you to stone.

Click to Enlarge

Click to Enlarge

The idea I mentioned post-before-last is this one, come to Valentine fruition today, in spite of my bitching about being busy of late.

I present to you love-themed works by Corita Kent.

corita_coverbe_of_love

You likely won’t recognize Corita Kent unless you were alive and aware in the Sixties, or maybe I’m selling you short.  Click here and here to read about her.

My major in college was Graphic Design, and I was very fond of Kent’s work.  My professors in those days felt I had a real shot at becoming an actual designer, but it didn’t happen.  One of those aphorisms I pointed you to yesterday rings a bell: ‘We work for praise, and dawdle once we have it’.

Nevertheless, I have maintained a lifelong enthusiasm for design, and can spot a type font and call it by name to this day.  (Whoopee.)  As a Corita fan while in school, and even though I had not the first farthing to spend on such at the time, I bought one of her original works entitled ‘The Heart of the White’.

Very ‘Nun-esque’, black-and-white and severe, but at least includes the word ‘heart’.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Click to Enlarge

Click to Enlarge

 

I have conducted most of my life under the cracked Willy Wonka-ism ‘so much time and so little to do’, so I ought to feel ridiculous saying I’ve been very busy lately.  (My project, until it shows serious signs of success, is best left unnamed.)

I haven’t read any of the blogs I follow, which fills me with guilt, and I don’t seem to be able to cordon off time and focus in the same spot to write anything original here.  It’s sad…

The tendril-prone nature of the internet seems explanation enough for why I ran across the quote in the title of this filler post.

One thought this pithy would seem enough, but there are ‘several’ more in two volumes entitled The Neurotic’s Notebook and The Second Neurotic’s Notebook by Mignon McLaughlin.

Here is a page [ http://neglectedbooks.com/?p=734 ] about Ms. McLaughlin, which begins:

‘A book of aphorisms is among the most perishable of publications. It’s too small to command any attention on the bookshelf, too atomic in composition to be considered as a complete work, too light to carry any critical weight.  The Complete Neurotic’s Notebook, published in 1981, collects McLaughlin’s 1963 book and its 1966 successor, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, in one volume – of average size because the text is in large print – yet of the three books I can locate just 25 used copies in total available for sale online. Leaves pressed into books survive better than that.’

This is surely a serious shame, but the following ‘Wiki’ page has come to the rescue.  Thumb through them; there’s so much time and so little to do.

http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Mignon_McLaughlin

I was going to try to write something else today, but frankly, I just don’t have the energy.  Further proof of that energy-lack, abundant in my recent posts.

Fortunately, I just this minute received an email from our friend Martin in L.A., copied here, saving the day.

“You know …. I don’t think I want to live in a world where celebrities feel this comfortable talking about their lady gardens.”

http://www.refinery29.com/2015/01/81529/gwyneth-paltrow-vagina-steam?source_utm=feed

‘Lady Garden’.  I’m crazy about a new term, and I haven’t gotten one of this caliber since being gifted (you know who you are) ‘Nature’s Bachelors’.

Cheers!

Just returned from a local spot called The National, where our friends Bill and Lynn met us for lunch.  It’s my birthday and here is a birthday selfie.

I am sixty-eight today.  I am not morose, but slightly sobered by this.  Yet, left to wonder why sixty-seven had no such effect on me.

So far, none of you have come forward spontaneously with birthday wishes, in spite of my having given you memory joggers in past posts.  Let’s try again:

I share a birthday with Aristotle Onassis and they inaugurate the President of the United States on this day every four years.

I still love you, but can I make this any easier?

sixeight

Somewhere along the line, I’m bound to have mentioned that I am not a religious person.  I am, however, a fairly superstitious one.  Go figure.

Soft consensus seems to be that the recently announced taking on of marriage equality cases by the U.S. Supreme Court will have a happy outcome this year.

I shan’t add to any collective jinx gathering out there by hoping thataway.

Problem is, I’m not sure, coming up on four decades together, that Stephen and I ought to get married.  We watched the movie Gone Girl the other evening, and seems marriage does peculiar things to people.  We may stick to being roomies.

Either way, [S P O I L E R] that box cutter in the tool drawer is history.

Last post, I mentioned my seasonal NPR musical Christmas present – John Rutter’s ‘When Icicles Hang’ – now today, what to my wandering eyes should appear, but this animation with John Rutter’s ‘Angel’s Carol’ on Vimeo.  Never heard of John Rutter, now two encounters.  Synchronicity, it makes me nervous.

Offering it here, atonement for my evil remark about Johnny Mathis last time?

Well, it’s worth a try.  Please click on the picture below.  Thanks!

bunny_redemption

give dave a break

Type 'Turn On, Tune In, Time Out' in the 'Search' field (just below) for a list of links to ten posts that might (maybe) lead you to believe that I can write a better post than the current one.
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