Remember these? I was talking to my friend Jenn tonight online and we were trying to remember the name of Shirt Tales. So many “classic” cartoons are listed on this page.
Her name was Jackie, 23, who lived in Manville for 17 years. My deepest sympathies to her family and friends.
A memorial appeared earlier this week on the bridge over the railroad tracks that connects my neighborhood and parts beyond. Each day I’ve watched it grow in size, without any awareness of who it celebrates or what circumstances caused it to appear. On my walk tonight, I saw several teenagers arrive and walk up there, no doubt to view what has occurred and leave their own marks behind.
This past weekend, a second student this semester jumped from a balacony at a library in NYU. In summarizing the student reactions, I couldn’t help but think that while there may be a reaction there now, in time, that reaction will fade. Eventually, for those that come after, the memories will be gone, something rumored about but generally forgotten.
I always remember this time of year, though. It always touches me a certain way. The grieving process is one of the most difficult parts of life, both for those grieving, and for those who care about the griever. It is a process that can be at once private and public, shared and yet borne in solitude. And those who offer comfort so often find themselves torn, looking for the right words and unable to find them. My only words are cold comfort, that part of loving is letting go, and part of living is losing, and there is no avoiding it. Celebrate what times you had, remember them, cherish them, and live your life to the fullest.
I’m starting to get excited about doing a complete revamping of my website. There are a number of parts that I don’t update often, if at all. And I would like to better manage the way I handle linking, potentially by including links as an addendum to each entry. I would also like to de-emphasize certain sections, maybe remove others, and simplify the navigation. I may also implement the site with stylesheets and Struts, making the whole contraption easier to maintain. Since I’m my migrating to my new jCentric server anyway, now feels like a good time to spend a few days rewriting the site.
There are too many medical marijuana stories that miss the point with headlines such as Supreme Court Says Docs Can Recommend Marijuana. What the Supreme Court did, first, is without comment let stand an Appeals Court ruling that said the DEA and law enforncement is not allowed to investigate doctors who recommend marijuana. This closer to me making a recommendation that you rob a bank to resolve your financial woes than any large triumph. After all, users and producers of marijuana for any reason can still be prosecuted. And doctors can’t prescribe it, either.
Slate’s Well-Traveled series is in Tokyo. Today Seth Stevenson reports on his “investigations” in to the fascination with manga and anime.
My favorite line: At least once a day you see something, or someone does something, and you cannot for the life of you figure out the purpose or meaning. It’s refreshing, at times, to have no idea what’s going on.)
Last night I went for a walk around the neighborhood. I had to take the recyclables out anyway, and for weeks now I’ve found myself craving the rain. Decked out in black khakis and a black jacket, I wandered down my street, singing “Here Comes the Rain Again” to myself as I carried my super-sized Candinian umbrella, bright red and white with maple leaves for decoration. I wanted to stand out in the rain until I melted away, listening to the pattering of rain against the taut frabric of the umbrella. Instead, all I ended up with was my khakis soaked to the knee and waterlogged feet despite my waterproof sneakers.
Some mornings, I want to simply roll over. Just go back to sleep, not worry, wait for tomorrow. And some days, I do just that, and then fifteen, twenty minutes later, I’m suddenly rushing to the bathroom, showering, and heading in to work 15 minutes late. Those days seem more common lately, far more often. Then again, this always seems to happen in Autumn. The dying of the evening light always speaks to me this time of year, reminding me that “No, you’re not getting any older.” All those choices in life you have to make, you can’t put off forever.
I hate hangars. I really do. They’re just so uncooperative, for pieces of bent wire or molded plastic. They cling to things you don’t want them to cling to, they don’t come when you want them, and you can never find one when you really need it. I mean, just because I actually washed all my clothes at the same time, and maybe bought a new pair of jeans, or a few new shirts, doesn’t mean when I go to hang them all up, I’m missing three hangars, does it? And then suddenly you find yourself looking through the closet going, “well, I don’t wear this anymore, I can just fold it up and put it in the drawer” or “My God, what possessed me to pick that out? Quick! Stuff it away where no one can see.” Honestly! Who needs that kind of crisis just because you want to hang up a few pieces of clothing?
Austin, a good friend from college who is moving to San Francisco in December (most likely, anyway), asked me what neihgborhood I would suggest he move to. I have to admit, I would probably look to either the Russian Hill/North Beach area, the Castro, or maybe the Haight areas. Those are the three parts of the city that I personally would probably look to first, as they’re in pleasant neighborhoods with events going on but not necessarily in the middle of the hectic parts near the Wharf or in Union Square or South of Market. And yet they’re generally close enough and accessible to those areas so that heading in to them isn’t difficult.
A Times piece on Kill Bill with a reaction similar to my own.