This entry was just gonna be another “A Quick One While He’s Away” kinda post, but I thought that it would be too… mundane. If you, Dear Visitor, are going to come visit Alastor’sReflection allll the way from -well, wherever it is you’re coming from; I’m sure it’s far- then I at least ought to offer you something to make it worth your while. Hopefully. Because I like you. I really do.
In fact, I was looking around for a present for you on That Infernal Timesink named YouTube when I remembered that I have a Favorites list that I never seem to get around to playing. So, while I was there putting off mulling over what to blog about and whether, I thought of a compromise: I’ll put up a few random Favorite videos, and not have to bore the Visitor with (or type out) details of the depressing Real Life stuff such as unemployment, instability, and…
Oops, I almost did. I can’t imagine why anyone’d be interested in that boring kinda stuff anyway LOL
So: Some time ago when I blogged about the anime ef – a tale of memoriesand posted several related AMVs, I missed this lovely one that follows (if it was out there). As the majority of the ef AMVs seem to do, this one features the pairing of Chihiro and Renji. It’s not the greatest ef AMV, but it’s pretty good. It features the song “Here We Are” by Lene Marlin, which plays very well with the scene selection and progression of the anime’s edited clips:
A major reason why I dig AMVs so much is that they expose me to songs which I’d otherwise not be listening to or hearing (two different things). The most poppiest of pop songs which sounds ugh on the radio can, when matched with a sensitive-and-concisely-edited anime, provoke a highly-pitched emotional reaction in the Viewer. It interests me whenever art-works manage to penetrate and reach so far inside of us… that is an Artistic Success no matter the “genre,” at least in my book
The relationship of Chihiro and Renji is surely high-pitched; how could it not be? Here’s the short synopsis courtesy of the Anime News Network Encyclopedia: “Renji meets a girl named Shindou Chihiro at an abandoned train station. He soon learns that Chihiro suffers from a type of amnesia where her memory span only lasts for 13 hours. He also discovers Chihiro’s dream of writing a novel, but she has never been able to fulfill that dream due to her condition. Renji then decides to help her fulfill that dream.”
Having a vested interest in writing you can well imagine that I might be drawn towards both of these characters
So, IMO, here’s the best ef AMV: “Paper Image,” created by Koopikeva and integrated with the sublime song “Gravity” by Sara Bereilles. I’d never heard of Sara before this, so this AMV not only turned me onto her talent, but also to her great song, which, if I’d heard on the radio might have put me to sleep! But with the beauty of the anime, you want to keep watching and waiting on the lyrics with near-bated breath! This is a perfect composition:
Awesome. Incidentally, the actual music from the ef series is performed by Tenmon, and its OST is probably my favorite anime soundtrack. Poke around the haystack of Alastor’s for the needles of Tenmon’s mentions; there’ve been a few of them. Or just wait. I’m sure it won’t be long before I’ve come up with an excuse to put some up here
(EDIT: Oh look, a space!
(For the ef-uninitiated, Yuuko (playing the piano in the clip) and Yuu (playing the violin) are the central characters of ef - a fairytale of the two, and their lives (and fairytales, as it were) are interwoven with the lives of a handful of other associates’ pairings, love triangles, and fateful encounters, of which Chihiro and Renji are but two.)
… yeah, I do promote this series pretty hard LOL It’s my favorite anime-story, has many favorite characters (Yuuko <3) and a typically dynamic Tenmon soundtrack. Brilliantly done, and you don’t even realize it while you’re going along (but you do suspect…)! The meticulous timing of certain plot elements and the manner of the reveals was breathtaking; the writing was as whole-heartedly dedicated to depicting its story as the direction, animation, and music composition were in their own parts. The whole of ef, you realize after finishing its two seasons, truly is greater than the sum of its parts!
Anyway, I like it. Edit off!)
Moving on… Avril Lavigne is another artist whose music I might have missed (assuming that there is no radio in this imaginary world), but catching this great Kimi ni TodokeAMV reminded me that she really does have some talent! The short clip is simple and sweet, much like this wonderfully romantic anime itself is, and offers up a convincing and touching portrayal of first love. Do you remember yours…?
Okay, and now for something completely different!
What is this I don’t even -
While watching this next one I laughed ’til the tears came outta my eyes. LITERALLY! Courtesy of Loudon Wainwright III’s “I Wish I Was a Lesbian” this AMV utilizes several old-school animes in quite a unique way. The initial narrative porton uses scenes from the ultra-wack FLCLseries (aka Fooly Cooly), and the character’s lip-synching with Loudon’s voice is spot-on, which adds to the hilarity. Enjoy!
Speaking of FLCL… (and yes you should buy this 6-episode series because it is totally unlike anything else. And it’s cool. Mostly that.)…
You don’t see very many good FLCL AMVs. The show’s utterly random nature, unpredictable characters, and very incoherent plots make it difficult to edit together a consistent theme to go along with its chosen song’s lyrics. You’ll see what I mean LOL Hit or miss, to be sure. This following AMVs maker used “It Ends Tonight” by The All-American Rejects to very good effect along with the scattershot explosive animation from Fooly Cooly. Do not try to figure anything out about the story from this short; you’ll break your brain. Trust me on this. Wait until you see the show for yourself! (Caution: spoilerish activities ahead…)
…and that’s certainly a nice point to leave off. I mean, I’m kinda drained. You?
Times are hard; I don’t need to tell you that. If you’re working, have family and friends, and reasonable shelter, then you have most of what you need. If you still feel that you’re lacking, then getting the rest is up to you. But sometimes just getting the basics can be a daunting task, especially in this economy, business climate, and plain spitefulness and maliciousness of the world in general. People can be so hard, just like the times they live in…
Anyway, enough of that despair and pessimism. And we should say “ENOUGH!” but we don’t and continue on our not-so-merry way. At times during my nine-month and ongoing job-hunting (in an 18.9% unemployment rate location), I’ve felt like just giving up. It’s been a constant and growing life-or-death pressure from behind to determinedly keep on going, ever mindful of the chasm that plunges on either side of my crumbling path as I climb that damn mountain over and over again, feeling just like Sisyphus. Aside from my stubborness and desperation though, one song has always kept me going, instilling me with hope and faith and reassurance. For all those reading who are feeling equally desperate, despairing, and hopeless, I’d like to share this wonderful and inspiring song with you.
Written by Peter Gabriel and performed with Kate Bush, it’s called “Don’t Give Up.”
DON’T GIVE UP
In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail
No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I’ve changed my face, I’ve changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose
Don’t give up
‘cos you have friends
Don’t give up
You’re not beaten yet
Don’t give up
I know you can make it good
Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we’d be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn
Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground
Don’t give up
You still have us
Don’t give up
We don’t need much of anything
Don’t give up
’cause somewhere there’s a place
Where we belong
Rest your head
You worry too much
It’s going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don’t give up
Please don’t give up
Got to walk out of here
I can’t take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That river’s flowing
That river’s flowing
Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs
Don’t give up
’cause you have friends
Don’t give up
You’re not the only one
Don’t give up
No reason to be ashamed
Don’t give up
You still have us
Don’t give up now
We’re proud of who you are
Don’t give up
You know it’s never been easy
Don’t give up
’cause I believe there’s a place
There’s a place where we belong
******
Yes, there is. Don’t give up, and keep fighting. There are LOTS of things to fight for these days… survival is just the first. No one said that it would be easy, but if more of us keep fighting for change, then we can make it so, and hopefully life will become easier. Keep hoping and try to think positively, okay?
So a funny thing happened on my way to sell some of my beloved Fillmore posters last week. I blew out the rear tire on my truck halfway between home and the Bay Area where I’d planned to sell them. Clearly not a “haha” funny but a “hmmm…” funny. Or rather, an “ohmy#$%^&#!god, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with $1000 worth of posters and no money!” funny kinda thang. So, not funny at all. But we’ll try and make it so
I knew that one of my posters was worth close to $2000, according to the apparently-wishful thinking Wolfgang’s Vault (from where these poster pics are taken), but (a) they don’t buy from “little people” like myself, and (b) I was reluctant to eBay it since eBay is so suckish on posters at the moment. Also, the thought of selling it to a poster-dealer in the City who most likely would have offered only a quarter of its value rankled me. It never fails, that awful feeling of having been raped after selling collectibles for a fraction of their value to somewhat unscrupulous vendors who are trying to make a buck. Bucks. Whatever, be it posters, comic books or baseball cards,I’m well-used to the feeling, and I hate it. Nonetheless, I was stuck with having to raise a certain amount of money for bills, food, and other necessities for survival, and figured that the Jimi Hendrix poster I had, even though a second printing, would bring some money in.
my second-most favorite Jimi Hendrix poster
I called Dennis King, a well-known and longtime poster dealer from Berkeley, from whom I’d bought and sold before and knew to be reliable and honest. When in doubt, go with your people, I figured, and Dennis is “the poster guy”! Happily he was still around, as I wasn’t sure since I’d been gone from the Bay Area for the last nine years. He gave me the go-ahead to bring over some of my posters and he’d have a look. I put around eight of them into a flat cardboard box, loaded it into my truck, and took off, putting $15 of my last twenty into the gas tank.
And halfway there, the tire blew So I called my insurance company, who tried to find a tow service to bring me the 50 miles back home to no avail. A local company agreed to tow me off the freeway, and fortunately to a nearby tire company, where I left my truck with the promise to return the next day with the funds with which to pay them for the replacement tire. Tires, as I would need two of them, at the cost of $250. Ouch. So much for a decent profit…
So there I was, with a large box full of posters with no apparent way to get to Dennis, or for that matter anyplace to spend the night. Fortunately (again), I discovered that a BART station was nearby, and so I began my fifteen-minute walk there. UNfortunately, it began to rain. Trying to keep my cardboard box from getting soaked and ruining the posters inside, and cursing quite a lot, I quickly got to the station, where I spent my last money on the fare to Berkeley. Dennis said that he’d wait for me, and not to worry. Thank God, one major less thing to worry about!
the poster for Pink Floyd at Oakland Coliseum, 1977
At last I got there, and after we spent an hour or so catching up, he looked at what I’d brought and paid me $600 for three posters, which was very fair considering. I ended up parting with a Yardbirds poster (with Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page pictured), a Doors poster from The Matrix nightclub, and a Pink Floyd poster from somewhere in Utah (of all places). He even gave me a beat up second printing of that Yardbirds poster to keep as consolation for losing the original! And as another definite plus, he advised that I keep the Hendrix poster, since he already had several and they were hard to move, as people ended up buying recent (and cheaper) reprintings. He could only have offered me a couple of hundred for it, and he felt (KNEW lol) that for that little I’d rather have kept it. It’s an awesome poster, and probably one of the most famous rock posters in history, so I’m happy to have been able to keep it. See, that’s what separates honest dealers from unscrupulous ones, who’d have “gladly” relieved me of it for chump change, and then massively profit from it. Fuck those parasites :-(
And a big YAY for Dennis
A Doors poster from Chet Helms & the Family Dog's Avalon Ballroom
Knowing that I was out of cash, he wrote the check less $30 and gave that to me for BART and food, and said to stop in the next day so that he could okay the bank to cash the check; otherwise if I’d had deposited it into my bank, they’d have placed a hold on it, so I wouldn’t have had the money to pay for the tires. THAT would have been a mess, not that it wasn’t already. But things were sorting out, as they will many times if you just keep the faith, and hope that all will turn out for the best
Now I needed a place to stay the night. So I called my brother, who offered to let me sleep overnight in his studio apartment, in San Francisco. So I hopped on BART into S.F., transferred to a streetcar, and managed to meet up with him at a coffee shop where he and about 5 friends were playing Magic: the Gathering. By this time (around 9PM) it was pouring! Finally, after much coffee and a big-ass bagel (and observing much card-playing) we left, taking a streetcar and a bus to his place. Man, that’s the most public transportation I’ve taken in twenty years probably!
Octopoid Country Joe & the Fish Fillmore poster
Now, my brother is a notorious snorer. I mean… LOUD. You might even say “earthshaking,” or at least futon-shaking, as the one on which I was sleeping was practically vibrating. But I was so very grateful to at least have shelter for the night that I paid it no mind. Make that littlemind. On the whole though, despite the lack of any really restful sleep, we had a great time; it had been so long since I’d been in the City for an overnight that really it was just a big, happy, and “funny” (see above) adventure! But mannnn… I was groggy as hell the next morning o.O
one of three posters for Pink Floyd's (and Procol Harum's) first shows at the Fillmore
After a breakfast (of sorts) at yet another coffee shop in the Inner Sunset, we parted ways, and I took the streetcar back downtown to BART back to Berkeley (yes, “to BART” is a verb LOL). But… the streetcar travelled close enough to my old neighborhood that I got a little homesick, so figuring that (a) I might not get the chance again, and (b) IT WAS AN ADVENTURE!!!, I got off and walked down Dolores Street, the street on which I was born, and lived most of my life. It was bittersweet though, as I passed the flat where I lived for my first 7 years (and weirdly and funnily enough, where Jimi Hendrix had visited after we’d moved, but that’s another long story), and down the block a little further, the beautiful Victorian where I’d spent the large part of the remainder. In fact, I so loved this area that when I wrote my novel Unbound, I planted Lily’s mother in this house, and wrote several scenes around this neighborhood at 16th and Dolores Streets. They say that “you can’t go home again” and that’s certainly true enough, but you definitely won’t if you don’t try! So, Unbound will help to keep the place alive in my memory, and I believe that most San Franciscans will enjoy this and all of the other neighborhoods of the City portrayed in it. It’s sort of a love story for the San Francisco of my memories :-)
the poster from my very first Fillmore/Winterland show, featuring Cream!
So, after hitting the bank in Berkeley and touching base with Dennis, I was able to finally pick up my truck, pay the man, and GO HOME! I would have kissed the ground, but, you know, it’s dirty. Definitely slept the sleep of the just that night! Anyway, check out Dennis King’s website if you want to browse for posters or learn about that wonderfully-weird era (the most favorite time of my life), and if in Berkeley or environs, and close to the University, drop in and prepare to be mind-blown at all the posters and artwork!
Okay… maybe that was more “haha” funny than “hmmm…” funny.
… my cat was a GRUMP! Gone four days and I thought she’d be happy to see me, but NOO-oo! Pennie just sulked in “her” chair and didn’t even get up when I came through the door. Some cat :-/
But as soon as I mentioned “kitty toy” and “mousie”, that did the trick, and she trotted over to see what I’d brought for her. Obviously, a kitty toy that is a mouse. A catnip-filled mouse, yet! THREE OF THEM. In about fifteen seconds all was forgiven.
So, I’ve returned, and what a great trip I had! A few months ago a vacation was the last thing I was expecting to take, but thanks to selling my Hulk #1 comic book for $1500, my trip was enabled just in time for a very wonderful and warm reunion Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to go, given my shaky financial state. THEN I would have been really depressed! Funny how some things come along at JUST the right time, huh? Now I’m broke again, but (a) I would’ve been anyway sooner or later, and (b) a wish that I’d wished for for years was granted, so the money was totally a secondary concern because it enabled everything
Dee met me at the airport and proceeded to show me a great time; we had so much fun that it was as if the twenty years between being in touch were as but a moment. Another return to each other’s embrace; it was so sweet She’s still the same awesome girl that I remembered from what were among the happiest days of my life. True, much water has flowed under The Bridge, but the taste was as sweet as it always was. So… thank you Dee
Dee's smile is as bright as the Sun
That’s my most favorite picture
After spending the first day reconnecting, on the second day we drove to where I used to live on the Puget Sound. I got the chance to go to my old house, look around, and go through the things that I’d left with one more chance to remove the smaller items that otherwise I’d have left. The house is almost sold so this was probably my final opportunity. Then we visited my former place of employment where I said hello (and goodbye) to my co-workers, some of whom I’d missed giving my parting sentiments. Finally we toured the island and stopped at a large park that is on the point, covering the whole northwest corner.
No beach today; VERY high tide!
On the way out a few deer decided that we weren’t worth running from. They kind of look like statues, no doubt due in large part because I forgot to turn off the flash!
Sightseeing deer pause for refreshments
That night Dee fixed me a great meal with salmon as the main course. Believe it or not, this was the first real home-cooked meal I’d had in eight years :-O And it was so fitting and sweet that she was the one to provide it for me. Very much contented, we called it a night.
The next day we visited her sister, whom I hadn’t seen since the ’70’s, and who since has raised a wonderful family and landed in a very nice part of the state, and on a large spread that is nicely isolated from neighbors and such commotion. Lovely farmland near river-country, with grass-covered fields and a rushing creek that ran through a corner of it. I met her husband ( who was great fun to talk to), and her two children, a very brave and bright boy of around 8, and a daughter who, at age 12, already shows great promise as a writer (among about a dozen other things)! (Names are withheld to protect the innocent ) They make for an excellent case for Home Schooling, let me tell you!
AND ANOTHER HOME-COOKED MEAL, W00T! Her sister prepared a delicious pot roast, yum! It was a lot of fun getting together, and it truly was a happy house. Which is very nice to see, and to feel, especially in these considerably shaky times. And seeing Dee interacting with her niece and nephew was heartwarming for me; it was so good to see her genuinely happy
On my last day we had a fair amount of time before the flight back, so she took me to tour the surrounding area, which was a lot larger than I expected. One of the places we drove to was the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, but we didn’t cross it, just approached it where I took this pic, because the angle was intriguing to me:
Looking at the seemingly-intertwined twin bridges of the Tacoma Narrows
And then, finally, it was time to go…
All went well with the flight except that the jars of Jalapeno jam that she made didn’t make it through security. DAMMIT!!! I was so looking forward to my delicious jams
And so to Home… where THIS awaited me:
"Oh... you're back." *snif*
She’ll want me when it counts :-/
Anyway, I’d like to send a big Thank You to Dee for taking care of me, entertaining me, and making it more than worth my while to make the visit at this shaky time. I’m so glad that I did
Looking forward to our next reunion… and return ;-)
Life is funny, sometimes… you just never know what it has in store. Which is good, if you like surprises
Well before finding myself perched atop the highest mountain peak of my existence, I’d already endured trying trials of endurance, fortitude, and faith. It was the latter I’d been having trouble with. Lily too, come to think of it! Quite some time after the seeds of my novel, UNBOUND, had been sown, I’d found myself trapped in a hostile work environment and struggling to find time and energy to write the story. Not to put it over-dramatically, but the torments I stubbornly tolerated over the years threatened my health, sanity, and constantly tried to break my spirit. But I was bound and determined not to lose to the invading forces that always were battering at my Doors of Perception (pretty literally, as it turns out). The more they battered, the stronger my resolve became to wait them out; it was the principle of the thing. But would my faith in the story, and in myself, be sustainable?
It might not, I feared. And so I fought my way out, engaging The Enemy in his own court at his own game. At which I proceeded to get my ass kicked even more. My faith in my ability to outlast them wavered, although the ideas that had sprouted from the Story’s seed were taking root and growing through the impacted earth of the battlefield. These I was able to scribble down on stickees, collecting them like butterflies, and placing them in a box. But I couldn’t stop either to write or to smell the roses, as I was being constantly harrassed…
What had happened: I’d hurt my back after volunteering for a job that should have been done quicker by the proper department, but the Branch Manager wanted it done more quickly. So, I was tasked with moving a heavy desk that slipped off its transport, and when I moved to save it, wrenched my back pretty badly. (The nurse at the hospital took one look at it and exclaimed “oh my God!” when she saw how my spine looked.) You’d think that that things would go smoothly, it obviously being a Workmen’s Comp case. They did not, due to clever and malevolent machinations; management became determined to fire me or force me to quit. I resisted (to say the least), which only made things worse. Much.
So, after years of increasing incidents the number of which I will spare you, I began to get battered down. I was still able to write down ideas and sketches of my Story, but they became fewer in number as the constant battles at work went on. My back got worse, as so did their attacks. Eventually, seeing that I was not going to leave of my own accord, they piled on desk assignments, duties and responsibility, eventually giving me three desks that had formerly been handled by one person full time. And all were backlogged. I was ordered to get them caught up, with no mistakes tolerated. And if I had a problem with that, then I should know where the door was. Yeah, I did. AND, I did. So, I stayed, and fought, and worked.
You might be wondering: WHY did you stay? Well, because (a) I was doing good work and contributing to my community, (b) I was valued there, (c) I felt I was doing a small part to make this oftentimes cruel world a better, kinder place, and (d) I enjoyed being part of the Justice System, flawed as it might be. My mother, in my younger days, and alarmed at all the demonstrations and protests I took part in, and my “hippie lifestyle” (LOL), told me that “if you want to change The System, try to change it from within.” So, I thought I’d give it a try…
“They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom/for trying to change the system from within,” oh yes…
Well, I’ll tell you: The System doesn’t WANT to be changed, and will chew the shit out of anyone who tries. And so, upon discovering that, I became resolved to be a stone, and break their teeth whilst they gnashed at me. They monitored me like vultures would a ripe carcass, and picked what meat they could when they could, which was often. Soon enough, I was barely more than a skeleton’s worth, and fought not only them but my continual back pains, pneumonia, chronic bronchitis, and major depression, all brought on my their cruel tactics. I knew that it was time to change mine… but how?
One night while lying on my back on the floor, because there was nowhere else I could feel comfortable, I was in complete despair. Finally broken down, I curled into a fetal position and let the tears come; I couldn’t care anymore. I tried to ponder my options but couldn’t; there weren’t any. Trying to live in San Francisco without a good job was impossible. Things were bleak… and nothing but darkness was ahead on the road.
But then… in that particularly dark moment, ”She” came to me… that voice which I attributed to the one faithful and devoted being to have kept me company throughout these years while she teased me with snippets of a story she wanted to be written; that of my beloved Muse, who calmed me as I listened, ever grateful for her presence. And she said (more or less)… “Extricate yourself from this present situation, and then you may write our Story when you’re free. Have faith in me; keep it for your self and persevere. Do this and get it out into the World, and then all good things will come to you, and She will come as well.” (The “she” mentioned refers to That Special Person.) From that point on I worked at these goals, although it took some years to manage. Never once did I mistake this “still, small voice from within” for madness or hallucination or the like, so convinced was I of its sincerity, and what followed was and is the proof.
And to be sure, once I did escape and set about to writing, everything flowed as she said. Not only that, but the longer I lived “keeping the faith,” the more that positive encounters and events popped up along the way (aside from economic/unemployment matters, which sucked). The negativity and malicious beasts of my recent past had been left behind. Encouraged, I kept spotting signs of beneficent illumination provided by these signposts and marking my way as I climbed up the Mountain…
Then, I reached the top, when all of the creative work was finished. Time to return down to Earth, so as to present our offspring to the World! I reflect upon my Muse’s words and that prediction and that promise…
Navigating the treacherous waters surrounding the publishing industry, looking for somewhere to land… And now, after my query letters have finally begun going out in quantities hopefully sufficient to gain an opening in the Publisher’s walls, “She” has showed herself! You might have read about Lily here, and her conceptual designs/inspirations, and my mention of “Dee” being one of them. She is indeed Special For many years we’ve been apart, and I’ve fruitlessly searched for her by as many means as I had at my disposal. One recent day I was on a social networking site and thought, “what the hell; might as well try here.” And what do you know? She responded to my PM and sure enough, it was her! After nineteen years we’re going to have a reunion this week, and if she’s as joyful about it as I am then it’s going to be wonderful
Something she shared with me:
Choose your own analogy/symbology/metaphysics
So far, the Way of Living Through Faith has been unpredictable, scary, strenuous, exciting, exhilarating, and always interesting; this Grand Experiment of mine is coming alone fine. All that remains is to find that Agent or Publisher willing to be the conduit through which the Story is delivered… and so we’re working on that
…and so it’s come to this: After submitting well over a dozen job applications and getting no call-backs due to nobody hiring, an unemployment rate of over 16%, and a general tightening of belts and new hires, I’ve decided to SELL EVERYTHING.
Well, not everything, exactly, but… most of it. “It” being a large collection of sports and non-sports cards from the ’50s through the ’80s, various magazines, an extensive Silver/Bronze Age comic book collection, and assorted and sundry items such as Fillmore/Avalon posters & handbills, weird bakeware (hah?), and anything else I can uncover. Really, I’m only keeping my record and CD collection, as music is the one thing I can’t do without. Maybe I’ll part with some books I’ll never read again, but those and movies/VHS tapes and etcetera really aren’t worth the time and effort to post sales for, or so it seems. Selling something for four dollars is hardly anything to get excited about. Or buy a sandwich with.
I suppose it really depends upon how hungry I get
So, for the past week I’ve been looking into it in depth, and even though it seems that general eBay sales are sluggish in the areas that I have to contribute, I do have enough materiel to get started. And some income is better than none. Or so I hear. But what a learning curve! Man… brain = drained.
Anyway, I might post an article/link to the sale(s), once I decide on whether it’s a good idea or not. I’m not very anonymous here LOL Not that that matters. Or does it…
More thoughts on this experiment to follow as they occur, assuming they can transmit through the wailing, rending, and the gnashing of teeth.
Wow, I’m finally back! I had to return to the old homestead to retrieve my truck out of storage, and since going by air was too complicated logistically (lack of transport to and from airports) I decided to drive. That’s 902 miles and 14 1/4 hours each way, according to GoogleMaps. Unfortunately, GoogleMaps is about as useful as a back-seat driver Turns out to have been about 930 miles, and… NINETEEN HOURS driving time! So, basically I drove 1,860 miles in less than two and a half days, getting back here safely at 2AM (early Sunday morning) :-O
To further complicate matters, my roommate was also going to be gone during this time, and so sweet little Pennie would be left all alone over the weekend. That was my biggest concern, the absolute insanity of the driving schedule notwithstanding. I haven’t ever left her alone in all of her eleven years. So getting back to her was foremost on my mind. And there was a lot to do; I wanted to swing by my former house to load the items I hadn’t had room for or time for when I moved, so I had to do that. Oh, and sleep before going back. I was a total mess after that drive up there…
I rented a little Kia and “zoomed” back up to Washington State; I left Thursday night at 7PM and didn’t arrive until 1:30PM on Friday driving like mad the whole time, apart from several breaks at rest stops. (I’ll repeat: A NINETEEN-HOUR DRIVE!!!) Since the drop-off point was about 15 miles from my truck (which was walking distance from my old house), I needed a way to get there. Fortunately, my former Realtor (the one who I had to let go after she couldn’t find a buyer after 6 months), said that she’d be able to do it. What a sweetie!
By the time I finished loading up the truck, it was 8PM on Friday. I’d been up since 9AM the previous day, worn myself into a zombiefied state with that hellacious drive, and been up for a not-so-grand-total of 35 hours :-O I’d had the foresight to bring my sleeping bag, so slept in it for nine hours, getting up at 5AM, and finally leaving the house for good at 7AM. And as I shut the door for the last time with a melancholic eye sweeping the interior, I couldn’t help but think of Kate’s (that’s Bush for those Not In the Know) little song, “One Last Look Around the House Before We Go…”
And so I did.
Anyway, I’m still recovering, so I’ll cut this short. 52 emails to go through and 4 forums OMG…
I’ll leave you with this appropriate song by Everything But the Girl, called “Drivin’”. I know I could probably have picked an even better driving song since it’s a topic that every artist seems to have covered, but this one always runs through my head whenever I go on long drives. Tracy Thorn’s voice is simply amazing, beautiful, and moving. I discovered EBtG accidentally, when I found a Ben Watt EP (vinyl) with hero Robert Wyatt. That led me to EBtG, and discovering Tracy’s prodigious voice. I bought everything I could find LOL
Well, I’m back! Crap, that was the worst move EVER. I’m finally getting things sorted out, but it’s slow going. VERY slow. But this pace is a welcome relief from the hectic and frantic weeks leading up to the actual move, which was a nightmare. God. Glad that’s behind me! I’m already blotting it all out of my mind, so I’ll recap if I can, while I can…
The good news: I got the 26-foot diesel-fueled moving van picked up on time, which was a minor miracle since I had no way to transport myself to the Budget pick-up lot about ten miles away. But the owner of the lot said that he’d pick me up early and bring me there since I was on his way to work. For twenty bucks
THEN the Mormons who’d offered to help me load couldn’t come on that Thursday, so the truck was left empty as I continued to pack up a three-bedroom house worth of belongings (crammed into a 1 and 1/2 bedroom house). They did come on Friday though and after just the couple of guys who’d bicycled over saw the enormity of the load, called for reinforcements. Shortly thereafter, I had another 8 guys who rapidly filled the truck up. But… they had to leave by five PM, leaving ME with a lot of stuff still to cram in. So after loading the heaviest stuff, they left me to my own devices. Which pretty much were nonexistent. Two arms, two legs and a sleepy-head, ’nuff said…
That night after loading more into the truck I gave out around 3AM and slept on an air mattress on the floor, rose at around 9AM on Saturday and continued with loading all the “light stuff” that still needed boxing, such as clothes and etc. I kept expecting to be leaving at just any moment, but always there was more… always more… Loads of books, magazines, memorabilia, collectibles… You wouldn’t believe all the stuff I simply had to leave behind. Just no room in the truck, and already way overdue to get the truck unloaded and returned on time by Tuesday morning.
I’ll cut to the chase: I finally left the place around 5AM Sunday morning after being up (and working my ass off) for twenty hours. Ready to take on a 900-mile move? Oh yeah; let’s GO!!! So I put Pennie’s litter box and food & water dishes on the floor of the passenger side, put her in her carrier box (she did notgo willingly, big surprise), and various bags of necessities/snacks beneath the seat and took off.
One little aside about Google Maps: They lie. Well, they got the mileage right; it was902 miles. But a fourteen hour trip? Noooo….. not exactly. Fourteen hours later I was still in Oregon, around Roseburg if I recall. (I also was utilizing the Rest Areas along the way; it was really a tiresome challenge to steer this huge truck.) See, they don’t actually figure into the equation that a moving van’s best speed will be around 55mph and will only take grades at about 30-35 miles an hour. There had been very few up to that point. I had noidea what was ahead for me LOL But I was determined to drive straight through to my destination, an “undisclosed location” south of Sacramento.
Pretty much everything between Roseburg’s southern vicinity and the border between Oregon and California is uphill. So, it took me another four hours to climb over Grant’s Pass, through Ashland, and finally cross the border. Where it started raining right at the Inspection Station where all vehicles must stop. I’d been up at that point for about 38 hours, and I guess it was telling, because the Inspector recommended that I get to the Rest Area ahead for some sleep. On the three-mile drive there the rain began to POUR down; I could barely see the road. Visions of the truck crashing and scattering my belongings all over the highway flashed before my eyes (where that particular scenario had been playing out constantly for some time during this insane drive). I drove on…
At the Rest Area, I tried to sleep but couldn’t; the rain was too loud, like the impatient drumming of horned demons’ fingers tapping on the roof as if to say, “Get on with it! You can make it; what’s a little water?” Well, it was a LOT of water, and it was falling in sheets that draped across the roadways and off the cliffs on the other side of the shoulders. Finally after 45 minutes, a break. I thought if I could make it to Yreka, I could get a motel room, because with the last of my senses failing, a good decent night’s sleep was absolutely necessary. Dodging bullets of rainwater I finally got through; the rain was now very light and manageable. At 1AM I checked in and was given a very nice room (AND SHOWER!!!)… after a refreshing dinner/breakfast at Denny’s I slept the sleep of the just-too-tired.
I checked out at noon and resumed my journey. Pennie was doing as well as could be expected; at my very first stop I’d let her out of her carrier and she’d scooted under the seat and stayed there pretty much the whole time. Once she did get up on the seat to look around but at the first sign of instability on the road she retreated to her Safe Place. She’s a curious kitty but not all THAT curious! Believe me, she and I both were more than happy to finally get onto California’s straight and level highway!
I made it to my destination around 8PM. I would’ve kissed the ground but (a) couldn’t bend, and (b) it’s dirty, y’know.
So: here I am in my new Location, a total oppositeof where I’d come from; from the cool, moist, and friendly San Juan Islands into the fiery heart of California’s troubled Central Valley. Where it’s HOT. As an example: After my brother and my new room mate finished helping me unload what we could keep and fit here (which took two days), I had to take the truck back to the Budget place, where I would need to store the rest, probably around 1/4 of the full load. Left alone, I toiled in 98-degree heat and in about 3-4 hours finally got it inside te storage unit, the truck returned (two days late), and then unbound from my obligation, finally on my way home. 98 frickin’ degrees :-O
Oh well… once beyond 88 it’s all the same, pretty much. But what do I know? I just got here
Aside from a funeral trip in 2003, I hadn’t been in Cali since September 2001. Things have changed, but a lot has not. I kind of feel happy to be back, and definitely happy to see my family and friends whom I haven’t seen in so long. But I’m still sorting things out, setting up new accounts etc etc etc and am essentially still in a major daze. Moving. UGH. You know how it goes, right?
That’s enough for now; that made me tired again LOL Shortly I’ll make a new Post regarding first impressions and all that, which are still forthcoming. Hey, what IS Life anyway without a few earth-shaking experiences to deal with (and get through)?
Well, it’s come to this: time to vacate the premises. Dunno if I’m happy or sad about it; definitely annoyed! Pretty damn tired of the whole “selling the house to avoid foreclosure” thing, which has lasted for over a year, expecting it to sell at any moment and also expecting to have to uproot myself in the next. Bloody wearying it is. But I think I won’t go there in this post; if the short-sale doesn’t get approved and my debt forgiven though, you can bet that I will. And call for bloody revolution, lining the bastards first up against the wall, calling for the heads of those “in charge” of the financial industry, raising the rabble and the torches and pitchforks and etc etc etc…
Bitter much? Nah, just cranky. But now I’ll play the game MY way, because theirs is loaded to the gills. Can’t play games with cheaters, liars and scoundrels…
Man. Moving is just about my least favorite thing. Especially moving myself. Actually, I hate that more. $5,000 to have a mover do it vs $500 to do it myself. An especially easy decision when I don’t even have close to five grand. Or TWO for that matter. So yeah: Driving a 24-foot truck myself over 900 miles along with Lily, Pennie and all of my belongings in it, not to mention having to pack up enough stuff to fill a three bedroom house (minus two beds) accumulated over fifty years. I tried downsizing with decidedly mixed results. One minus to living in a small town: an equally-small number of businesses with which to do trade
A few months ago some door-to-door Mormons came by and after their furtive attempt at conversion failed miserably, offered to “help pack” pursuant to my remark that I was probably going to have to move. “Oh, sure, I will definitely take you up on that,” I thought. Well. After finding no-one to assist me with loading the large pieces of furniture onto the rental truck, I thought (yes, again; when will I learn?): “What have I got to lose?”
So I called the number on the little booklet they left and asked to speak to the Elder (which is ironic indeed because none of them look older than 20), and was overjoyed to discover that not only would they be happy to help load, but that they didn’t expect the meager payment I offered them. Which is good because I’m near broke and will need the funds I do have for fourteen hours of traveling expenses (i.e. truck, gasoline, food, and water for Pennie). I said, “But I’d really like to compensate you; how about a little donation to your church?” (God, I hope it’s called a church!) He replied, “No, it’s really okay; this is what we do: we help people.”
Wow! So they really exist!
Anyway, I’m going to leave them my television set, DVD player, VCR, and all the furniture that I won’t need anymore; perhaps they can find a family in need. I’m quite sure that they know some in these awful times. If they want to help people then I’ll be only too glad to help them be of help. Help is good
So let this be a lesson to you (and/or me). Be nice to those fellas (and ladies, if there are any who go door-to-door)! Or at least be tolerant. It’s good practice anyway, because what this world definitely needs is more tolerance. Not for fools though. Can’t stand them
So this’ll be my last post for a little bit. I’ll be moving not only to a new location but a new ISP as well (bye-bye high-speed Internet *sob*). Alastor will remain in place though, patiently awaiting my return (and your hoped-for and kind comments as well), and we should all be back together my midweek next. That is, if I don’t roll my truck into a shoulder, plunge over a cliff, plummet into a ravine and crash and burn and burst into flames. Or something.
Be good to each other
***
(EDIT:) Oh… what the hell. Since I dislike Posts that are simply all text, something inspiring to tide you over (and me LOL)! And a little “sneak preview” of sorts for my novel Unbound: The “bookend” songs I wanted for the opening and the closing of the story: “Sky Blue” and “Cloudless” by Peter Gabriel. Peter’s the only male artist whom I can equate with Kate Bush’s talent and creativity; they’ve also worked wonderfully together in the past. They both have reached so far into my heart and soul, and to be a completist about it, my mind as well. The Yin and Yang; the real deal; the fullest plate.
Since I’d always imagined the novel as a film while writing it, I also made a soundtrack for it to inspire me while working on it. These songs weren’t heard by me until after I’d finished my first draft, but when I remake the first “OST” I’ll definitely include them, as they capture perfectly the overall ”feel” of the story, at its beginning (which you can read here) and at its End (which you can’t, just yet)…
And because one (version) just isn’t enough, the exquisite “Cloudless” from the film Rabbit-Proof Fence. No video to speak of, but it’s not necessary if you just close your eyes and just Listen to it. And, as Kate says, “Please, feel it.” Do so
Oh, like a serpentine coil of coincidence: a song that really kept my spirit and fortitude together over the past year up to and and including these dark and dreary, yet strangely sunny days: Peter and Kate’s “Don’t Give Up”. You know this one, I’m sure
And for auld lang syne, Kate and Peter perform Roy Harper’s beautiful, poignant, and moving “Another Day”, taken from Kate’s Christmas Special of many seasons past. This is a real rarity, so enjoy it while it lasts -)
Ah, I do feel so much better now, and ready to take on The Road…
A pause for refreshment (if it can be called that)…
Last week I had a run-in with our industrial-sized trash compactor. Literally. After being tasked with clearing the surplus of spilled and/or discarded garbage around this truck-sized metal machine, an empty bag got whisked out of my hands by a gust of wind. I chased after it at full tilt around the corner of the compactor and the building and ran head-on into the connecting chute. Again, literally. Head met metal and the impact crushed my skull into my neck and propelled me backwards onto my hands and tailbone. Immediately my arms went completely numb (except for the set-on-fire sensation) accompanied by the quickly-fading thought “oohhhh…THAT’S how the two are connected…”
Fearing concussion, paralysis or impending death, I got to my feet and immediately went in to report it. My manager called the medical line and was told to keep me immobile and await the paramedics. Moments later their ambulance arrived and after inspecting me they fastened a plastic “collar” around my neck, placed me on a stretcher and wheeled me out of her office and through the front door. Can you say “embarrassing”? I knew you could.
Anyway, after tests and all that (the details of which I’ll spare you) they released me and I walked back to work to get my truck. Turns out I could have called someone from work to pick me up, but who knew? It’s not like I actually wanted to go back in there after all THAT commotion, let me tell you! So… I guess it’s lucky I was wearing my cap, because all that showed was a slight abrasion on my forehead. Thought my head came off, I did! My neck still ached though, but the numbness only lasted as long as the trip to the hospital.
The worst didn’t show up until a couple of days later. Apparently, landing on my tailbone threw my back out of whack, and it’s been hellish dealing with it. I can’t even put my socks on in the morning let alone sleep through the night. Tossing and turning is done in slo-mo, and agonizing to boot. Which kind of disturbs the sleep-pattern. Can’t bend or stoop for anything either. Obviously, work is not something I can handle right now, as is typing at the computer. But, dutiful as I am, here I sit, typing at you
But there’s a limit, ya know? So this post just to report in that Blogging is delayed a bit until I seek medical followup attention tomorrow (AND MEDS DAMMIT). It couldn’t have come at a worse time, as I gave my notice and have to pack to move soon. So things over the next couple of weeks will be scattery and skittery, whatever those mean if you know what I mean and I think you do! So. Until next time which I hope will be soon, and Part Three of the AMV thread will continue as promised and planned
Welcome to Alastor's Reflection, the re-imagining of Fingal's Cave; a much more suitable environment than that poor soul's indwelling. Fingal resumes his journey in the pages of UNBOUND, while another solitary Spirit remains in this Place to muse with his Muse on the pursuit of "Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory," and the beauties therein...
So I called my insurance company, who tried to find a tow service to bring me the 50 miles back home to no avail. A local company agreed to tow me off the freeway, and fortunately to a nearby tire company, where I left my truck with the promise to return the next day with the funds with which to pay them for the replacement tire. Tires, as I would need two of them, at the cost of $250. Ouch. So much for a decent profit…
Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to go, given my shaky financial state. THEN I would have been really depressed! Funny how some things come along at JUST the right time, huh? Now I’m broke again, but (a) I would’ve been anyway sooner or later, and (b) a wish that I’d wished for for years was granted, so the money was totally a secondary concern because it enabled everything 
