It is only my shell sitting in the waiting area of the garage as the car is being fixed. The part of me that lives and breathes is back among the southern islands of Greece, where waters of ancient history lap against topless shores of black lava sand.
I wish my shell the best of luck.
Friday, January 27, 2012
An Elegy of Sorts
Sometimes I catch myself adrift on the waters of the early years of our friendship, a time of homemade comics drawn in pencil and stapled together with the loving care of nine-year-old hands, of daring espionage missions in the woods behind the high school, and of secret forays into your older brother's record collection when no one else was home.
On that last note, one incident in particular stands out. We were listening to Supertramp's Crime of the Century on his turntable, which was on the bottom of three makeshift shelves held up by small L-shaped brackets. The speakers, along with the world's largest jar of pennies, were perched on the middle shelf. Somehow I got the big idea that we should turn the bass up to 10, because full bass made all music sound louder and cooler, which in turn sounded like a good idea to you. So, you turned the knob as far to the right as it would go, whereupon the right bracket of the middle shelf gave out, causing the jar and right speaker to slide and fall onto the deep pile carpeting. By some miracle, the jar as well as the right speaker remained intact, while the left speaker got wedged between the bottom and middle shelves. Supertramp weren't so lucky.
In a white hot panic we got the shelf, the jar of pennies and the speakers back to our approximation of their previous state, and slid the newly-scratched record into its sleeve and back into the red milk crate as if nothing had happened.
Almost 20 years later you took your own life without leaving a note.
Your exact reasons will never be known, and I am now almost 13 years into a bottleneck of conflicting emotions just thinking about it. With each passing year, however, I feel just a little more indifferent, and someday hope to be completely blasé. I hope you understand.
Why is this coming back to me now, all these years later? It is because I had Crime of the Century playing in the car yesterday, and it took me back to your brother's bedroom in 1981, and then through a wormhole to that phone call from Rick in 1999, telling me that you had hung yourself.
My emotional basement has had a minor flood, but now the drain is clear, the water is receding, and life simply goes on. I hope you understand.
On that last note, one incident in particular stands out. We were listening to Supertramp's Crime of the Century on his turntable, which was on the bottom of three makeshift shelves held up by small L-shaped brackets. The speakers, along with the world's largest jar of pennies, were perched on the middle shelf. Somehow I got the big idea that we should turn the bass up to 10, because full bass made all music sound louder and cooler, which in turn sounded like a good idea to you. So, you turned the knob as far to the right as it would go, whereupon the right bracket of the middle shelf gave out, causing the jar and right speaker to slide and fall onto the deep pile carpeting. By some miracle, the jar as well as the right speaker remained intact, while the left speaker got wedged between the bottom and middle shelves. Supertramp weren't so lucky.
In a white hot panic we got the shelf, the jar of pennies and the speakers back to our approximation of their previous state, and slid the newly-scratched record into its sleeve and back into the red milk crate as if nothing had happened.
Almost 20 years later you took your own life without leaving a note.
Your exact reasons will never be known, and I am now almost 13 years into a bottleneck of conflicting emotions just thinking about it. With each passing year, however, I feel just a little more indifferent, and someday hope to be completely blasé. I hope you understand.
Why is this coming back to me now, all these years later? It is because I had Crime of the Century playing in the car yesterday, and it took me back to your brother's bedroom in 1981, and then through a wormhole to that phone call from Rick in 1999, telling me that you had hung yourself.
My emotional basement has had a minor flood, but now the drain is clear, the water is receding, and life simply goes on. I hope you understand.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
All-Nite Grocery Store
I like shopping late at night at my neighborhood grocery store, when it's quiet and empty. I'm the kind of guy who finds solace in the idea of things being open 24/7, where you can go and get stuff done in public and still remain invisible. And even if you do happen to cross paths with other human specimens, it's no big deal. Nocturnal creatures are always more intriguing anyway.
On this particular evening, in the middle of a January deep freeze, I am waiting in line with diapers, hand soap, and this week's issue of the National Examiner, all three of which are written on my hand as a forget-me-not. My boots (and therefore my feet) are cold and wet, and I am pondering my beard, which is now in full swing. The beard is by default, not design, and is an itchy distraction.
In line behind me is Bohuslav Martinů (1890 - 1959). In his cart he has a bag of lemons from Turkey, a head of cauliflower, and two cans of the first half of the twentieth century - from concentrate, of course. I feel the need to talk, so I turn around and engage him in conversation.
"This thing is bugging me," I say, rubbing the scruff of my face. "I don't have time to do much of anything these days, let alone shave. Not that I am against having a beard, per se. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm halfway to getting my hippie freak on, if you know what I mean. It's far easier to grow a beard of reasonable length than grow out your hair by a foot or two. Less of a commitment. Not many men grow a beard for the heck of it these days, unless it is for some cultural reason. Most guys just go clean-shaven, and fall back on that Ivy League haircut, as if it's now enforced by law. It must be a metrosexual thing, which I suppose by definition would necessitate lemming-like behavior, especially in the realm of grooming. It seems to me like the hairstyle equivalent of a Successories™ poster. Like, hooray. Anyway, I guess I like having a beard because it keeps people at a minor distance, as if it's some sort of novelty."
I notice Bohuslav nodding slowly as he strains to follow my words. If only English were his first language, we'd get along famously. There is a short moment of awkward silence after I run out of words, and then he speaks in a thick Czech accent. "I'm sorry. I don't know about these things."
"Well, my opinions on the modern male's grooming habits have nothing on The Opening of the Wells," I say to him as the cashier rings in my items. He nods and we both disappear back into our private worlds.
On this particular evening, in the middle of a January deep freeze, I am waiting in line with diapers, hand soap, and this week's issue of the National Examiner, all three of which are written on my hand as a forget-me-not. My boots (and therefore my feet) are cold and wet, and I am pondering my beard, which is now in full swing. The beard is by default, not design, and is an itchy distraction.
In line behind me is Bohuslav Martinů (1890 - 1959). In his cart he has a bag of lemons from Turkey, a head of cauliflower, and two cans of the first half of the twentieth century - from concentrate, of course. I feel the need to talk, so I turn around and engage him in conversation.
"This thing is bugging me," I say, rubbing the scruff of my face. "I don't have time to do much of anything these days, let alone shave. Not that I am against having a beard, per se. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm halfway to getting my hippie freak on, if you know what I mean. It's far easier to grow a beard of reasonable length than grow out your hair by a foot or two. Less of a commitment. Not many men grow a beard for the heck of it these days, unless it is for some cultural reason. Most guys just go clean-shaven, and fall back on that Ivy League haircut, as if it's now enforced by law. It must be a metrosexual thing, which I suppose by definition would necessitate lemming-like behavior, especially in the realm of grooming. It seems to me like the hairstyle equivalent of a Successories™ poster. Like, hooray. Anyway, I guess I like having a beard because it keeps people at a minor distance, as if it's some sort of novelty."
I notice Bohuslav nodding slowly as he strains to follow my words. If only English were his first language, we'd get along famously. There is a short moment of awkward silence after I run out of words, and then he speaks in a thick Czech accent. "I'm sorry. I don't know about these things."
"Well, my opinions on the modern male's grooming habits have nothing on The Opening of the Wells," I say to him as the cashier rings in my items. He nods and we both disappear back into our private worlds.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Letter to the Editor (New York Post)
Re: Schools ‘spy’ on fat kids, January 15, 2012
Dear Editor,
Enough with the skinny world's supposed concern for the health and well being of those we label "obese"! Between reality TV shows "ironically" labeling them "losers", to now forcing them to wear body monitors as if they were under house arrest, it seems to me that picking on the fat kid hasn't gone away - this classic schoolyard pastime has simply reinvented itself in sheep's clothing.
Anyways, since when do you hear people complain about how much those with anorexia are costing the health system? And what are the odds of there ever being a reality show with a title like "Last Bulimic Standing"? Slim, of course. (Audience groans, comedian apologizes...)
I would love to see the students in Long Island risk expulsion and tell the school officials to perch and rotate.
James Deagle
Ottawa, Canada
Dear Editor,
Enough with the skinny world's supposed concern for the health and well being of those we label "obese"! Between reality TV shows "ironically" labeling them "losers", to now forcing them to wear body monitors as if they were under house arrest, it seems to me that picking on the fat kid hasn't gone away - this classic schoolyard pastime has simply reinvented itself in sheep's clothing.
Anyways, since when do you hear people complain about how much those with anorexia are costing the health system? And what are the odds of there ever being a reality show with a title like "Last Bulimic Standing"? Slim, of course. (Audience groans, comedian apologizes...)
I would love to see the students in Long Island risk expulsion and tell the school officials to perch and rotate.
James Deagle
Ottawa, Canada
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Letter to the Editor (Calhoun Community Press)
Re: The
Republican Position: OWS-spoiled brats, bums, and anarchists,
January, 2012
Dear Editor,
For someone who is so quick to lob
insults at those whose political views diverge from his own, Gene
Howard's criticism of the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement is
founded on shaky assumptions.
Firstly, he seems to think the OWS
protests were specifically against the Republican Party. This is untrue - otherwise,
it would have been called “Occupy Republican National
Headquarters.” In fact, the OWS has been very critical of the
President. For example, back in November OWS protesters were out in
full force at an Obama fundraiser dinner in New York, holding signs
with slogans such as “Obama is a corporate puppet”.
So when Mr.
Howard says “the uninformed and unwashed associate pin stripes
with Republicans, and assumed they were attacking conservatives,”
he is clearly obfuscating the issue with blatant untruths. The OWS
protests were certainly not an Obama love-in. Then again, when you're yelling at lefties, it is best not to let truth get in the
way of anger.
Another questionable area of Mr.
Howard's screed is where he says the OWS protesters are making use of
“the resources and innovations of capitalism” such as the
Internet and social media to connect with each other. Let's set the
record straight – the Internet began life as early as 1963 as the
ARPAnet, a creation of the U.S. Military's Advanced Research Projects
Agency. Most true innovation in high technology occurs in
publicly-funded laboratories or universities – it is only after the
fact that capitalism comes along to capitalize on it, and perhaps
hire away some of the original researchers. To specifically call the
Internet an “innovation of capitalism”, however, is absurd.
James Deagle
Ottawa, Canada
Letter to the Editor (The Birmingham Times)
Re: Does Obama deserve four more
years?, January 5, 2010
Dear Editor,
I wholeheartedly agree with Kervin
Fondren that President Obama should be allowed to finish what he
started with a return to the White House in 2012. The President has
certainly ruffled a lot of feathers in certain quarters simply by
focusing on stakeholders, rather than shareholders, and for this
reason the feather-ruffling should be allowed to continue for another four years.
Abraham Lincoln once said “Government
of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from
the Earth.” I'm sure this idea must seem very threatening to
Republicans and the Tea Party movement. Their continuous demands that
government be trimmed and gutted to skeletal proportions seems to
imply a distaste for their fellow citizens, or at least those who
can't afford country club memberships.
In my opinion it is President Obama's
insistence on serving all people, rather than just elite people, that
truly rankles his enemies on the right.
Having said all that, however, I would
be delighted if President Obama decided to relocate to my country and
run for Prime Minister, as we have some neo-conservative androids in
power who need replacing.
James Deagle
Ottawa, Canada
Letter to the Editor (Birmingham Business Journal)
Re: Economic Forecast 2012 (Legal),
December 30, 2012
Dear Editor,
In helping decrease the amount of time
corporations spend suing each other into oblivion, the recession is a
blessing for everyone concerned – except lawyers, of course. I
often wonder how much money is wasted by corporations on throwing
sand at each other in court, and what could be accomplished if those
funds were redirected into growth and innovation. Take a look at the
technology sector, for example, where many companies have decided to
become 'patent trolls,' and and have turned litigation into their key
revenue stream rather than bringing new and wondrous things into the
world.
James Deagle
Ottawa, Canada
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