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Diversion from the Humdrum
Okay, now I am getting worried. What is happening?— May 13, 2009 7:43 p.m.
Diversion from the Humdrum
And that is two weeks of "Where's John?" Again, I hope all is okay.— May 8, 2009 8:25 a.m.
Diversion from the Humdrum
Here we go again: "Where's John?" instead of "Where's Waldo?" Fingers crossed everything is okay....— May 4, 2009 9:01 p.m.
Diversion from the Humdrum
Dear John... You should check out the website hulu. You can watch old television shows. They even have "It Takes a Thief" with Robert Wagner. Well worth your time. And we wonder why the aliens won't visit us. The Intergalactic Good Taste police have us cordoned off. And it is for the best, I'm sure.— April 22, 2009 2:10 p.m.
Thoughts at 4:13 a.m.
Nothing new about the following observations, of course. When one is young, the future is a combination of mysterious jungle and neon-festooned playground. Everything is possible, good and bad, and the facts are unknown. But as one grows older, the laundry list of past actions is engraved like a lurid tattoo on the soul. Most people tend to focus on "bad" decisions, rather than "good" ones. Talking to people, watching television, whatever, can distract. But in the early hours, the "hour of the wolf," the "might have beens" and "I wish I had"s cast increasingly long shadows. Possibility had become concrete, and could always be better. With age comes perspective. From the questionable Wikipedia: "The hour of the wolf is the hour between night and dawn during which the wolf is said to lurk outside people's doors. In Swedish and Finnish folk religion it is the hour when most people die and are born. It is the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their deepest fear, when ghosts, demons and nightmares are most powerful." Tru dat, as our overscheduled and distracted youth would say. But their unformed future will become, soon enough, fact chiseled into the past. Their "hour of the wolf" will arrive, soon enough. And here is a far more well crafted set of thoughts on Mr. Brizzolara's observations: "GOD guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone; He that sings a lasting song Thinks in a marrow-bone; From all that makes a wise old man That can be praised of all; O what am I that I should not seem For the song's sake a fool? I pray -- for word is out And prayer comes round again -- That I may seem, though I die old, A foolish, passionate man." William Butler Yeats How one lives becomes the measure of a person. Like Jung wrote: "You are what you do, not what you say you will do."— April 15, 2009 1:12 p.m.
Moral Failure?
I don't know if the criticism is entirely fair. Mr. Brizzolara is expressing his own frustration, and is not shy about expressing that emotion toward himself and his own actions. There are no winners in all of this. Yes, it is frustrating to be a physician trying to save lives, and have one's patients making choices that undercut that effort. But it is not as simple as freedom of choice for a substance-abuser. I just want Mr. Brizzolara to do better physically, and emotionally.— April 13, 2009 6:56 p.m.
Peruvian Currency
So where are Mr. Brizzolara's columns? Is everything okay?— April 1, 2009 5:20 p.m.
Peruvian Currency
I kept waiting to read about the giant stone coins of Yap. Peruvian money is just tip of the annoyance iceberg in stores!— March 12, 2009 9:49 p.m.
Cute Little Thing
Also, John, I was waiting for the Poison Apple metaphor! Which brings me to Bel Biv Devoe's song "Poison." Still, the right person is the Holy Grail. The winners of the Grail are not the virtuous or deserving. Take it from me. I'm just lucky.— February 25, 2009 7:30 p.m.
Cute Little Thing
Hi John.... Well, I cannot speak to the situation with Barry. But you helped me through a toneless and spiritually novocain'ed divorce and at least two fulminating and spectacularly dramatic cases of bad relationships. For all the sturm und drang, my ex-wife actually wishes me well from time to time. The other two, not so much. A lesson there, I guess, about intensity and drama? Still, things worked out for me, having just celebrated ten years of marriage (and thanks for having come to that event in 1998). Proof again that I am far, far luckier than I merit. Lucky, too, in my choice of friends.— February 25, 2009 7:20 p.m.