How to tell a story

How to tell a story

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Yep

From TS ...


Q.E.D.

On the other hand ...

... a 92 y/o woman just finished a San Diego marathon ... time, 7:26 ... impressive.

Stat

I keep thinking of UCLA losing by one run ... after leaving 17!! runners on base. 3 innings in a row they left the bases loaded, no runs.

Talk about a frustrating game to warch ...

posted from Bloggeroid

Vegetable

No energy at all today.

Chores to do ...

... but where is the energy to do them?

posted from Bloggeroid

Jeez ...

Florida Couple Must Register as Sex Offenders for Having Sex on a Beach: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/firedoglake/fdl/~3/58_E8eLvFBY/

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Collapse

UCLA blew 5 run lead ... came back to send into xtra innings ... left 17 on base ... walked in Auburn's winning run.

WCWS UCLA v Auburn

Caraway rye

A shocking exit

Ranked #2 nationally, with one of top offenses in country, Oregon manages just one run in each of two losses, and goes home 0-2 winless on shortest possible departure.

Pain

I may have artritus in my left hand ... painful ... impossible to play ukulele ... a real drag!

Big day

4 softball elimination games ... will UCLA and/or Oregon survive? I think Oregon has a shot.

Friday, May 29, 2015

Yep

Catching up

Lot of yard work this morning ... getting too old to push my mower through long thick grass! But I survived, sort of. Then out of house chores, for a very productive morning.

Softball doesn't start until 4 ... winners bracket, LSU v Florida, UCLA v Michigan. Losers tomorrow in elimination games.

I love this tournament structure! I think they should expand it to more sports.

Better late than never

Smoking Gun: 1960s-Era Pulitzer Prize-Winning Journalist Says Politics ‘Is All Fraudulent’: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Truthdig/~3/BHEZqgpbZLI/

Norman Brown: "Politics is pissing in public."

Land of the free

Ha ha!

Team Clinton Worried Sanders Will Make Hillary ‘Look Like A Corporatist’: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/firedoglake/fdl/~3/754hjIA3cg0/

I'm shocked ...

... but delighted: UCLA 7 Oregon 1

It was too easy.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Mother and son

Yep, it's CD.


Hyperdrama

Theater in cyberspace

I was a pioneer ... the first to use Athemoo as a performance space:

ATHEMOO

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
ATHEMOO was a MOO which was created in 1995 at the University of Hawaii as an online performance and teaching space, for a professionals and academics who were interested in theatre.[1][2 ...

Notable performances[edit]

In its first year ATHEMOO hosted numerous performance events, in March 1996, Charles Deemer reproduced his hyper drama, "Bride of Edgefield," a play made entirely out of hypertext in the ATHEMOO space. Charles Deemer is an award winning playwright who has worked since 1991 creating 5 different hyperplays. The second performer to use ATHEMOO as a performance space in March 1996 was Cat Herbert who produced a piece in conjunction with Crosswaves Festival inPhiladelphia.[10]

Famililly, a play

Famililly
a play in two acts
by Charles Deemer

First produced at the Wharf Rat Theatre in Salem, Massachusetts, on August 7, 1998. Directed by Laney Roberts.

Winner of the 1997 "Crossing Borders" international new play competition and the 1998 Buckham Alley Theatre Playwrights Competition. Also the highest ranking stage play in the 1998 New Century Writer Awards and a finalist for the 1998 Oregon Book Award.


THE CAST:
George, patriarch of the Wellington clan, retired
Martha, his wife
Thomas, their oldest son, an accountant, 30s
Vincent, Thomas' lifemate, an architect, 30s-40s
Emily, their daughter, college professor, 30s
June, Thomas' ex-wife, budding jazz singer, 30s

SETTING:
The Wellington condo in San Francisco. Living room. Stairs lead to bedroom. Upstage exits to kitchen and den. Front door.

TIME:
July 4, 1976. Act II, scene ii: one year later, July 4, 1977.



ACT ONE


(AT RISE: The living room of a luxurious condominium in San Francisco. Stairs lead to bedrooms. Hallway leads to kitchen, den, bathroom. Front door. It is morning, July 4, 1976.)

(VINCENT, 30s, is in the room, dressed in 18th century costume, suggesting Benjamin Franklin. EMILY, 30s, is on the divan, a body under a blanket. Vincent is reading a typed script, "going over lines," preparing for a one-man show he is doing tonight. Finally he puts down the script, stands up and begins "a dry run." In the beginning, his tone is casual, matter-of-fact; he is doing this primarily for lines.)

VINCENT: "When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for a people to change the institutions which have nurtured them since birth, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the redefinition of such institutions to which the Laws of Nature entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of humankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to such changes."

(Emily coughs, gets up and obliviously wanders out of the room, on her way to the bathroom. Vincent watches her, amused, but says nothing until she is gone. Then he turns to the audience.)

VINCENT:(to audience) Emily, the brightest Wellington of them all. Tenured professor of history at Columbia University. Younger sister of Thomas, who is my — my what? I refuse to say "significant other." Significant other what? My lover. My partner in life. It is not like Emily to come home to a family reunion. Apparently the last time, years before Thomas and I got together, she and her father really got into it. You'll get the details later.

(He looks at the spot where Emily exited, then turns back to the audience. Now he'll play his show directly to the audience at performance level.)

VINCENT: (to audience) "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all children are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Shelter, Security, Education, and Nurturing. That to secure these rights, Families are instituted among men and women, deriving their definition and social acceptance from the consent of the people. That when any definition of Family becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the people to abolish or redefine it, and to institute a new kind of Family, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its authority in such form, as to them seem most likely to effect the Safety and Welfare of the children."

(Emily returns.)

EMILY: Vincent, why are you dressed like that?
VINCENT: Emily! And good morning to you, too! Are we feeling a bit woozy this morning?
EMILY: Please don't tell me there's a costume party.
VINCENT: "There's a costume party." Close, but no cigarillo. (Modeling his costume) Who do you think I am?
EMILY: I haven't a clue.
VINCENT: You don't recognize gentle Ben, the scatological connoisseur of the Revolution?
EMILY: Of course. What do you mean, "close" to a costume party?
VINCENT: We, my dear, are riding a float in the parade. And later I'm doing a one-man show. You won't believe how I've rewritten the Declaration of Independence! Want to hear it?
EMILY: It's too early to concentrate. I couldn't find any coffee.
VINCENT: The coffee pot is in the den, not the kitchen. Be right back.
EMILY: You're a dearheart.
VINCENT: Dearheart! Is that what you academics say to one another now? Gag me!

The Big Game

This eve, UCLA-Oregon in softball world series, first of best of three ... Go, Bruins!

Killing time

Replacing class with "office hours" ... students coming by ... easy day for me, actually. And have my Fire to watch softball when no students are here.

Breakfast!

Buttermilk asparagus quiche with feta cheese ... a keeper!

Losing my mind

I woke up sure it was March 28 - our anniversary. Took almost an hour before I realized it was May.

More and more, little mental lapses like this happen. I expect my mind to go before I'm out of here, which surprisingly doesn't bother me that much. Long as I keep my cosmic sense of humor.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Dinosaur Speak

By Buddy Dooley


Yep

Bill Moyers: The challenge of journalism is to survive in the pressure cooker of plutocracy: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRawStory/~3/r_wWD52TGuM/

Mariners

A struggle, but finally reached .500. And now ...?

Hangin' in

3 classes to go ... then getting it together to ready this house to sell ... and figuring out where to next ... I'm not ruling anything out ... my goal, simplicity, no stress.

Hear, hear!

American Politicians Are Telling New Lies About the Iraq War: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Truthdig/~3/E04Lj4nDSx8/

Hear, hear!

Grim reality

In my political experience, every time I see an attractive progressive candidate in the U.S. who gains a significant following, bang!, one dead candidate.

So Bernie makes me nervous.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Sun dog

The Last Song of Violeta Parra

Commissioned by a Santiago theater company, this is a one-act hyperdrama, a great place to begin an exploration of the form.

The Cast:
  • ALBERTO, 20s, the groom [begin] "Voltaire told us to tend to our own gardens. I think he was right."
  • LUISA, 20s, the bride, inheritor of the house [begin] "I want life to be a honeymoon."
  • JUAN (EL ROLO) RAMIREZ, 20s, the gallery manager [begin] "We were still determined to let the world know the truth about the death of Violeta Parra."
  • EDUARDO MEZA, 20s, an artist [begin] "I do my best work when I'm upset."
  • FRANCISCO LARRAIN, 40s-50s, an art critic [begin] "The weapon I choose is Wit, Eduardo. You're dead."
  • CARMEN EYZAGUIRRE, 40s, a business woman and art collector [begin] "The degeneration of culture is very real, I'll grant you that, but it does not mean that I have to pay for it."
  • ANA, 20s, her daughter [begin] "Customs will not worry about someone as wealthy as mother. She will take the painting to Madrid . . ."
  • GUILLERMINA, 20s, asst to Juan [begin] "I wanted to do something important in the world. To make a contribution."

So little changes

Ran across Three Songs for the 1968 Election ... and, alas, they work for the 2016 election as well. Time marches on.

Capitalism

Capitalism does not permit an even flow of economic resources. With this system, a small privileged few are rich beyond conscience, and almost all others are doomed to be poor at some level. That's the way the system works. And since we know that the system will not change the rules, we are going to have to change the system.


“Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.” 
― Edward AbbeyThe Journey Home: Some Words in Defense of the American West



The country is governed for the richest, for the corporations, the bankers, the land speculators, and for the exploiters of labor. The majority of mankind are working people. So long as their fair demands - the ownership and control of their livelihoods - are set at naught, we can have neither men's rights nor women's rights. The majority of mankind is ground down by industrial oppression in order that the small remnant may live in ease.” 
― Helen KellerRebel Lives: Helen Keller



“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.” 
― Franklin D. Roosevelt



“The problem with Marxism is the proletariat isn’t going to rise up against capitalism and consumerism. The only time they’ll rise up is during a commercial break to either go to the bathroom or grab more beer.
” ― Jarod KintzUntitled


“The superior man understands what is right; the inferior man understands what will sell.” 
― Confucius



This is progress?

I miss the old Internet, before everything is a sales pitch with video, audio, pop ups, all number of gimmicks to get you to listen to a sales pitch ... when all you want is to link from here to there. Simple linking becomes less and less likely with all the commercial interruptions along the way, even when you make an effort to avoid them. The sellers have more tech savvy than the buyers, in general.

Yet another great invention totally ruined by commercial control. Capitalism sucks.

In the office

A rare appearance in my office this term ... spending as little time on campus as possible, it turns out.  Now in the final two weeks, where they do a project for their grade. The first 7 weeks, in workshop format (no assignments, no requirements, in class work), were successful, I think, and the quality of writing may be better, certainly no worse, than students in my past traditional classes. I did this selfishly, because I had limited time at home, but the intensity of the in class work seems to have paid off. Maybe I should have been doing this all along.

At any rate, only half of the students attended and they are doing very well. We'll see how the others, who chose to study my tutorial on their own, end up doing. I suspect not as well. Indeed, I am sure there are a few who have done nothing. I am grading "harder" than usual (as I warned them), so they may be in for a surprise.

The money for teaching this term is very helpful, and I have enjoyed myself, but teaching is more tiring than ever, even in workshop mode, and I am not going to do this again. It will take me a week or so to recover, then I have to reevaluate where we are with getting the house ready to sell.

Poor Harriet means well but when you can't remember things day to day, well, it makes it hard to make plans. I am doing more and more unilaterally, which I don't like doing, but if I don't, nothing gets done. Harriet has "chores" she has been going to do "tomorrow" for six months now!!!

My salvation has been cooking. Bread, of course, my mainstay and best item. Pasta, which I don't do as often as I might. I like making biscuits but eating that many is another thing. I am not fond of eating gnocchi, really, so I think I'll drop making them.

If we move into an apartment with a rec room, I will have a place to put baked goods! I definitelyt need more mouths than our two.

Nice to be in a quiet office, actually, though I miss D., the mainstay of this office who usually is here at this time. I hope she's ok ... older than I, I expect. A new secretary had to let me in, surprised I am in the emeriti office, not the adjunct office! They have treated me very nice here, always, for 20 years. No complains ... well, except no benefits ha ha. But I knew that going in.

Picked up two tickets for a campus concert Sunday, international music.

Watched the first season of the HBO series 24 ... about as intensely suspenseful as storytelling can be but too many explosions and chases for my tastes, and not always plausible. But it kept up the tension, that's for sure. Might go on to season two. Free, with Amazon Prime. Wouldn't pay to watch it ha ha.

Behind on my main things, music and reading especially. Can catch up after my grades are in.

That's about it this morning.

Buttermilk At 3 a.m.

this must be the drink of the gods
or why else would it have

the silky thickness of a blanket
the tangy taste of a kiss
the blissful after-taste of a song

this is the mother of all
comfort foods

it only takes a small glass
to light the way back to bed
for a deep sleep with the angels

Monday, May 25, 2015

A doggy morn

Lyrics of the day

As I was walkin
There was a sign there
And on the sign said
No Trespassing
But on the other side
It didn't say nothin
That side was made
For you and me

One bright sunny mornin
In the shadow of the steeple
At the relief office
I seen my people
As they stood hungry
I stood there wonderin
If God blessed America
For me

This land is your land
This land is my land
From California
To the New York island
From the redwood forests
To the Gulf stream waters
This land was made
For you and me

--Woody Guthrie

Of course, it is the genius of America to turn a radical song like this into a celebration of our national parks.

Sunday, May 24, 2015

A Cassius Clay memory

TS has a note on Clay.

When I was in the Army and a bar fight started, we linguists would say, Ah, if Cassius Clay were only here! The father of one of us was part of the Louisville business syndicate that owned Clay as he turned pro! How hilarious, to own a boxer - and with such a ridiculous name. We had great fun with the notion.

O Warriors!

what a sad ugly truth
that our government has sent
soldiers to die in vain

we don't admit it
because our wars
cannot be avoided

we don't admit it
because our wars
are always righteous

our soldiers are heroes
our soldiers are patriotic
our soldiers follow orders

the prior war is forgotten
by the time it's revealed
to be based on lies

and a great wind
of waving flags celebrates
the new and righteous war

which in turn will be forgotten
but not all the dead soldiers
who surely did not die

in vain

8 to Ok City WCWS

UCLA, Oregon, Tenn, Mich, Auburn, Alabama, Florida, LSU

Flor and LSU scare me, Ore very strong, UCLA great power but inconsistent.

UCLA-Oregon play first round ... Ducks should win but I'll root for Bruins.

Starts Thurs.

Kovic on war

Reflections on the Vietnam War: The Things a Warrior Knows: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Truthdig/~3/tTcfp34jwIM/

posted from Bloggeroid

R.I.P.

Nobel Prize winning ‘Beautiful Mind’ mathematician John Nash and wife killed in car crash: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRawStory/~3/iRmegd0RRIE/

posted from Bloggeroid

For some time now

Has the west given up on democracy?: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/firedoglake/fdl/~3/sKS3BQpob4c/

posted from Bloggeroid

Miracle

As good as my buttermilk is, this morning's glass was even better. This is a live culture, always changing ... not sure how good. or less good, it can get.

This was the best I've ever had. Period.

posted from Bloggeroid

Ta da!

School prep done!

Be nice to get good weather for a little yard work.

2 hrs to softball ...

In Memoriam

I grew up in a military family in which Memorial Day was personal: my mother losing her brother at Pearl Harbor; my dad losing friends in WWII. The larger national mythology was ignored.

In fact, in all nations many soldiers have lost their lives in vain because some wars, including recent ones, are so wrongly entered. But how do you admit this?

The ancient Greeks were right: we are fools, playthings, toys, for the gods. Brown is right: what we engage in as war is war perverted, and the problem is not the war but the perversion.

The true fight is the mental fight. The last line of Love's Body is ... "there is only poetry".

Softball

Oregon in, UCLA in if they win 1 of 2 possible today. World Series of 8 teams starts Thursday.

2 more chores to do this morning before games ... baking bread at moment.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Ah, the Irish ...

Ireland Makes History: First Country in the World to Vote for Gay Marriage: http://www.commondreams.org/news/2015/05/23/ireland-makes-history-first-country-world-vote-gay-marriage

posted from Bloggeroid

Ambrosia

That's how I feel about my buttermilk ... smooth, slightly thick texture, tangy, great after taste ... man, am I glad I learned how to do this.

Procrastination

Had planned to have chores done by now ... will be a daylong struggle with so much good softball on, both Oregon and UCLA playing today.

Homemade v. commercial

The difference in quality between what I make myself and can buy varies from item to item. I make great bread ... but I know I also can buy great bread. I prefer mine for personal reasons more than qualitative ones.

My pasta, on the other hand, is better than what you can buy dried, though specialty stores sell fresh pasta that is close. But I am limited to two shapes. And I still use commercial pasta when I'm in a hurry.

But my buttermilk! This is a different species. There is nothing out there short of buying from a farmer that comes close. Remarkable! So easy! Why was I so late to discover this?

Friday, May 22, 2015

Shaping up ...

... to be a fun day. Half gal of buttermilk now in refrig ... 5 to 7 softball games, incl Oregon, and 2 will move on to World Series. Need to fit in a few school chores. Onward.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Double up

Buttermilk is so good, I have two new batches brewing, to get to the half gal mark immediately. Then make a batch, which takes only a day, whenever I fall below a quart.

Going to be trying it in all my breads ... maybe it'll become my secret ingredient ha ha.

Love doing this! Fills the writing vacuum.

O my!

My buttermilk is fantastic! I haven't had buttermilk this good since it was delivered by the milkman for my granddad.

Guess what? So-called progress often results in an inferior quality.

Naturally I started a new batch. Need to have a half gal around as routine.

Oregon, UCLA

Begin play on Fri and Sat evenings respectively.

The struggle

Looking forward to getting home and having a glass of cold home brewed buttermilk! and watching softball! Tick tick tick ...

Ah youth!

Telling encounter between TS and a journalism student:
http://roundbendpress.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-future.html

Reminds me of class a few years ago in which no one, including English majors, had heard of W. H. Auden.
posted from Bloggeroid

Hangin' in like Gunga Din

Beginning to feel this is the kind of day I'll have. At least the softball series cranks up again.

Buttermilk

Thick and tasty this morning, the culture working well. Will bottle and refrigerate.

A mess ...

... aching, brooding ...

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

I ache, therefore I am

Everything that moves, aches ... one of those days.

Buttermilk brewing. Tomorrow I'll see if it worked.

Whole wheat honey biscuits

From TS via TC

Malcolm X

Buttermilk bread

Hungary breaks the dodging silence

First Head of State Backs Campaign to Save the Planet: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Truthdig/~3/yli4LXh-UdM/

Softball ...

... resumes tomorrow. I'll be there!

Changes

Giving co-author of resurrected splay a buyout option, so he can take control of it. Works for both of us.

Buttermilk

Going to start making my own buttermilk from culture. Begin today or tomorrow. Too much hassle to buy the real stuff here.

Self-sufficiency marches on.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The New Old Age (for Susan Jacoby)

I don't trust your intentions
when you say you know how
to make me live longer
to make me feel younger
to make me screw younger
to make me remember everything
to make me run a marathon
to make me climb a mountain
to make me full of energy

because everything you say
comes with a price tag

I have an idea
why don't you take your products
and shove them up your ass
and shut the fuck up

I like my old age
filled with peace and quiet

Three stories from Prism International

PRESENTING THE ANNUAL INTERRACIAL PIG ROAST
By Charles Deemer

From Prism International, Spring 1971
Roll of Honor, Best American Short Stories 1972

GROOVY, THE WHOLE SCENE, even better than his short-timer's party in Baumholder, Germany, a year ago: the roast pig, which Tee was still carving, his large black hands glistening with fat; the colossal supply of beer and booze, which Phil was serving from behind the portable bar in the back comer of the yard (grass was verboten, Tee being straight); the huge happy crowd, predominantly black, predominantly middle-aged, incredibly friendly; and the sounds, out of sight, of the jazz combo on the patio; and the dancing, which Roy dug most of all, that sensuous and rhythmic elasticity which was theirs alone (man, how they could dance!). In line for seconds, Roy watched and saw the obvious: only a spade could dance like a spade. Witness whitey who was trying now and being made a fool of by the black girl who was his partner. Hours earlier Roy had witnessed whitey's arrival in black turtleneck, bellbottoms and shades, whitey chanting Skin, baby! to every black man within reach. When Roy's turn came, whitey merely had nodded, as one white man to another, and Roy had turned and walked away. 



The Idaho Jacket

Prism International (Spring, 1973)
Roll of Honor, Best American Short Stories 1974

Charles Deemer

RICHARD, realize one thing: I am beginning to wear the Idaho jacket comfortably now. Perhaps I'm not wearing it as comfortably as you would have, had genetics not played its tricks on us all and given the second son, and not the first, the bulky characteristics of the father. To Buck, I gather, biology remains so much scientific claptrap and when he gave you the jacket he did so knowing it was not your size. But you had asked for the jacket as a kid, the story goes, and so when you turned twenty-one, Buck gave it to you. And I have no quarrel with any of this past history, Richard, not even as I wear the jacket today. Frankly for a long time I did not understand why you gave me the jacket, particularly with the gesture by which it became mine. Not understanding, I was unable to wear the jacket comfortably. I wore it, yes, but rather with the self-consciousness with which a timid boy will wear a Halloween costume. That soon may be history, too.



The Man Who Shot Elvis

Prism International (Fall, 1977)

Charles Deemer

SO HERE HE WAS, in the casino with hundreds of other tourists, waiting in line two hours before showtime, bored, drink in hand, watching his wife shoot craps. Mary was losing and angry but all the more striking for it, her blue eyes intense as she shook the dice in a fist near one ear. She brushed aside a strand of blonde hair that had fallen across her face, still shaking the dice, softly demanding of them five, five — she reminded him of a mad Scandinavian queen who had one roll to win or lose a kingdom. For a moment, he looked away, attracted by the ringing payoff of a slot machine, and when he turned back the blonde queen was coming toward him, dethroned and pouting.
"I hate that game, I just hate it," Mary said.
"You love it," said Lester.



Two early stories from The Colorado Quarterly

The Thing at 34-03-15N, 118-15-23W

The Colorado Quarterly (Spring, 1969)

Charles Deemer



Falling into the generation gap, I miss Willie Mays' home run

I CAN HEAR THEM out there. They are, to ignore the language's index of elasticity, dancing. And they are dancing with each other, I am asked to believe, although the fact of the matter is that when I left the patio they were exhibiting their individual spasms of ecstasy over a separation of six to twelve feet. Now I ask you: is that dancing together? I will admit that they are — for lack of a better word — involved. Yes, they are involved. They are so involved that they neglect to admire the new patio, the excuse for this party in the first place. I finished it last Wednesday, designing and building the whole thing myself, setting it into a three-colored form of a navigator's compass, at the center of which a brass plate marks the exact location of the patio: 34 degrees, 3 minutes, 15 seconds north, 118 degrees, 15 minutes, 23 seconds west. Having been a navigator in the Navy during the war, I made that measurement precisely. Myself.



THE TEACHER
By Charles Deemer

From The Colorado Quarterly, Summer 1969

            If I were a menial clerk, to whose gloom a Dostoevski or a Melville could give cosmic importance, then readily would I win your understanding. We are in an age the sensibilities of which are riveted to the absurd and what, after all, is more absurd than filling a ledger book with numerals, sorting out dead letters, filing away last year's purchase orders or pulling a lever in a factory? If I made my livelihood in so dreary a fashion, you would accept my gloom as being inevitable, deem it significant, and find in it an occasional metaphor for your own misgivings, whatever your employment; you would offer me understanding, empathy, sympathy, at least something more meaningful than what you now offer me, which is flattering but undue praise, or what usually is called "a good press." Were my life filled with physical danger and pain, were mine the life of a hunter, a mountain climber or a boxer, I then would be judged to be a kind of existential hero, for my temperament is naturally introspective. Would that I were a revolutionary, for Christ's sake! But in fact I am a high school teacher, a teacher of the physical sciences, and though compliments, even admiration, periodically come my way, they are presented not with understanding nor with respect but out of social necessity, in precisely the way one might admire the wife of an alcoholic: what she puts up with -- it's heroic!

Opening of 1985 full-length play, a favorite

THE SADNESS OF EINSTEIN

by Charles Deemer

THE CAST:

Robert Manfield, an amateur physicist, 20s
 Henry Bruno, his companion, an amateur physicist, 20s
 Leonora, a college student and prostitute, 20s
 Oskar Gold, a businessman
 Hermann, a businessman
 Albert Einstein, the physicist (Oskar, Hermann and Einstein are played by the same actor)

THE TIME:

Autumn, 1927

THE PLACE:

Brussels, Belgium

THE SET:

A hotel room in Brussels. Entrance is stage left. A bed is stage right. Upstage, a window
looking down on the street. The bathroom is shared and located in the hall (exit stage left).

----

                                                                ACT ONE


1/

(AT RISE: ROBERT and LEONORA are in bed, making love, Leonora on top with her
back to the audience and a sheet around her. She frantically rides Robert below her.
HENRY is at the window, looking across the street with a pair of binoculars. Leonora's
sexual frenzy will increase to the orgasm indicated below.)

   HENRY:   The paper this morning called it The Copenhagen Interpretation. Niels
     Bohr debated Einstein and won. Poor Einstein, nobody believes him any more. The
     city fathers welcome him as a hero, the greatest genius of his time, they celebrate
     Einstein Day, but his peers prefer to listen to an unknown from Denmark. The
     Copenhagen Interpretation.


                                                                                                                                                I-2.


(Henry turns to the bed.)

   HENRY:   For God's sake, woman, aren't you finished yet?

   ROBERT:   I think she's close


This was supposed to open a new play festival in Seattle but the theater lost its funding at the last minute. It still has never been produced. It was supposed to be the first of a Quantum Quartet but I got sidetracked with hyperdrama, the real "quantum" drama of our times.

My late friend Ger was a great fan of this script, which I sent to him in draft in Arizona, where he was living with a painter lady. He went ape for it, made some good suggestions. We were going to go up to Seattle for the opening together, the opening that never happened. 

Opening of 1975 one-act, an old favorite

The Stiff
a farce in one act
by Charles Deemer

THE CAST (4M, 2W):
President John Jones, the leader of the people
Mrs. Eunice Jones, his wife
Chi Chi, his mistress
Neck, the mortician
Charles, his assistant
Dr. Alberts, the doctor

THE TIME:
Any time

THE PLACE:
A back room in the Public Hall in a foreign country.

THE SET:
Upstage center is a table on which is a casket. A window, upstage left, looks out upon the square. Entrance into the room is stage right. Modest furnishings: this is the room in which the corpses of public figures are kept before being put on display to the people.


(AT RISE: DR. ALBERTS has his back to the audience, inspecting a body in the casket. Waiting expectantly are MRS. JONES, NECK and CHARLES. Mrs. Jones, who is in mourning, is dressed in black. She holds a black lace handkerchief over her sobs. The doctor turns and moves away from the casket.)

NECK: Well, doctor?
DR. ALBERTS: Your suspicions are correct. I find the organ to be tumescent.

(Mrs. Jones breaks into tears.)

Refinement

Pleased with my biscuit mechanics, using the Grandma two hands for everything model. Now to look into de-hydrogenated fats, like old school lard from a local farmer. Much healthier actually! But more expensive, too, but that's fine, once the learning curve is over, I won't be making as much as often. In Portland, local farm products readily available at Farmer's Markets, even at  a few small outlets.

Onward!

Monday, May 18, 2015

Go, Paul

Go, Bernie

Bernie Sanders wants to make college free — and he’s going to tax the rich to pay for it: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRawStory/~3/cL_iH-VYer0/

Cosmic Sex Day

35 years ago, as Mt. St. Helens erupted, my girlfriend and I were getting it on. True story! Afterwards we looked out the window and it was raining dust. Of course, we took credit for the earth moving.

She just sent me an email, a Happy Cosmic Sex Day card, you might say. Nice memory!

I wrote a poem about this in a different context, HAVING COFFEE WITH AN OLD GIRLFRIEND, which is in my book IN MY OLD AGE.

Some memories are more memorable than others.

Baking

Gaining confidence with biscuits and gnocchi ... bread and pasta are second nature.

Everything by hand, by feel.

Productive morning

...did most my class prep
...made biscuit-sausage casserole for breakfast
...made whole wheat biscuits
...mowed grsss
...trimmed vines

now to finish prep ...

Whole wheat biscuits

Sunday, May 17, 2015

UCLA, Oregon, Arizona ...

... still alive. Ariz St, having upset LSU, faced them again in regional final and lost two in a row.

Sweet 16 starts Thur, 2 out of 3. Love the format.

Bruins move on

Biscuit & honey

Gnocchi, biscuits

Keep it rolling

Next, see if I can make gnocchi with left over oatmeal ...

Practice

Made another batch if biscuits ... felt better, see how they turn out.

Procrastination

So much to do but softball calls ... can catch up later today or tomorrow.

And still closer

Best by far, almost there ... working flour a tad too much ...


Sharapova wins Italian open

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Oops

So wrapped up in softball I missed the Preakness ... just watched replay, and we have a good shot at TC winner in 3 weeks.

Softball

Oregon first team to Super Regional, or Sweet 16. Unless UCLA loses two in a row tomoorow, also will go ... easily beat Texas. Ariz St upset LSU, upset of day. Cal, Wash, Utah all lost but still alive ... but need 3 in a row now to go.

Much excitement, all day long ... and continuing. Great escapism!

West software

Day 2 not starting well ... Washington got creamed ... Utah getting creamed ... at noon UCLA has tough game against Texas.

Indy 500

A very big deal growing up, my dad glued to the radio. I didn't get it ... sounded like noise to me. Bill Vukovic so big. my brother imitated him on his tricycle.

Biscuit adventure

Found two recipes to adapt to my Grandma Hands Only technique: a 1908 whole wheat biscuit and a biscuit spinoff of Irish Soda bread. The next to try.

But not today or tomorrow!

posted from Bloggeroid

Great structure

Softball series: 4 teams at 16 venues ... 2 games ... winners play ... losers play, eliminating one team ... 1 loss teams play, eliminating another ... then 2-1 plays 2-0 ... former has to win two in a row to advance to sweet 16.

Really makes for exciting series.

posted from Bloggeroid

No baking today!

Too much to eat ... but great biscuits and gravy today, same to H when she gets up.

Yard work! but another wet day. First dry day will be hard work.

Prep tomorrow! A necessity.

Today ... SOFTBALL!

posted from Bloggeroid

Friday, May 15, 2015

Variety

Chestnut bread ... 5 kinds of biscuits ...


Oregon wins! Washington wins!

Cal has 7-3 lead half way ... Utah won ...
posted from Bloggeroid

Brainstorm

It just occurred to me that my biscuit method permits making every one differently! I can bake 8 varieties at once, much more efficient way to try things. I'll start soon.

Softball does it right

64 teams, 16 venues, double elimination. Great way to pick the NCAA champion. Go, Bruins! Go, Ducks!

R.I.P. B. B. King

Blues Boy King, the LA DJ called him on the radio when I first took notice around 1952. The vocal style became less frantic as he aged but the guitar power never faltered. Like Little Walter, one of those post WWII blues artists who defined an instrument style.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Win. Lose.

Oregon 8-0 softball victory. Mariners lose on dropped fly ball.

posted from Bloggeroid

Wishful thinking

How can I get H to move to Tucson? Weather, cost of rentals, much better for us, and it's a university town. Man, I want to be there ...
posted from Bloggeroid

Biscuit method

I emulate 2 videos and one photo essay, all of elderly women doing everything by hand in a bowl, using 3 ingredients. Variations in technique ... and I'll find my own. But this will be my method. No boards, cutters, etc. One bowl, two hands.

posted from Bloggeroid

Cartoon

Art v. politics ha ha

Art critic rips ‘sexually sick conservatives’ after Fox channel blurs out breasts on Picasso painting: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheRawStory/~3/tqq4_0xBTYk/

posted from Bloggeroid

Closer

Best, a method works for me: don't measure flour, just be sure to pour more than you need ... then work in well and do it all by feel. I do bread and pasta dough by feel, not much different.

Now to experiment with fat/liquid ratios.


Sodom, Gomorrah & Jones


"...intelligent, funny, bawdy and real."


A short novel. In this dark comedy, a retired history professor struggles to live his last years with dignity in a corrupt world. 

Carlton "CJ" Jones is a septuagenarian U.S. citizen with a bone to pick about American society. Carrying the baggage of a past he cannot reconcile with today's realities, the retired history professor and widower watches the awful news on television every evening, reads heavy tomes on the Native-American genocide and the Kennedy assassinations, and formulates his own understanding about the way things are. He broods and reflects and puzzles over the newness of everything in the lives of today's young people.

"in its gruff and curdled way ... is a comedy"


But it is not until he befriends a pair of young women in their twenties that he begins to understand exactly how much things have rubbed against the grain of his perceptions. Then CJ discovers a secret concerning his deceased wife while going through her personal papers. That secret convinces him to do something about the longing and depression he has felt for years. CJ develops a new vision and a new way of settling with change in a challenging world.

Paperback and Kindle editions.

Go to book.