wicked

On the dark, in the wind. I ventured forth, and lost my dog, immediately since the tide is coming with the dark. I'm walking on the sand at pochet, pronounced poshay, by those in the know, though I've been here longer. Means land of all, or everyone's land, in the vernacular of the time, way longer than any of us. It was the one place they did not claim, so to me, it is sacred. And I see the ocean wanting this, and coming now,and now stronger. So we may have to walk, or swim, or sail. This was,and this will be. I welcome the world, that takes away our big thinking. There was once, in reality, an opening to the ocean. Our heavy thoughts about ourselves will change thus. So it is the same with conservative, or liberal, or any stagnant thought. Tell me the right thing to do is kill those that will invade a wildlife refuge. That is what we are doing now, and will do grossly, on Monomoy. We think we are in control. That is what I am outraged by. I am grateful to God for creating what we think is explained by us. We will not let it alone, whether it's manifest destiny or environmental political correctness. I count Cape Wind in the latter

Urinetown

I don't think I'll get to see this gem, but I've heard enough about it to say it must be worth seeing. I can't wait for other bodily functions to be boldly advertised on Route 6A. Come on, use your imagination. Many oars stuck in the mud were shocked and in awe of the filth we've embraced. Actually piss is clean compared to some of the stuff coming.
The premise is corporate control. Pay to pee, or die. Hey not so far fetched. I'm a proud leaver of poop on the beach and of course should be killed for it. I wonder at you folks smiling as you carry your hot doggie shit to the trash can, for some other poor sap to transport to a waiting incinerator. Politically correct, yes, but is it the right thing to do? And now comes our environmental 'parents' telling us urine has more nitrogen (the great enemy) than feces. So it's only a matter of time before you are chasing fido with some kind of glorified specimen cup. Don't pause for my laughter, arrest me.
So duh, enough other wags wag 'Urinetown', at the Cape Repertory Theatre- www.caperep.org . I guess they dropped the ertory from their name. Go see, and pee in peace.
dy

the thin red line

still fresh, since night last, is 'the thin red line'. A film treatment of the James Jones novel. It was long, and lacking the camraderie of 'saving private ryan'. The one problem with life imitating art is that art passes, much quicker. Everyone dies in reality, in reflection, we wish to possess character. This is not possible, so the best stories, the truth, rarely becomes the tale. This film is less popular because it stays true to the story. One more reason for me to like it. Of course, it's not perfect, many are miscast. It would have been better with entirely unknown actors. Woody Harrelson stands out, because he doesn't 'act' like himself. Also, Nick Nolte, he gets it, though, we know he's Nick. Sean Penn, ahh, I expect better from him. The snear, the flicking of the cigarette, oh please. And the main character, his suicide by cop scene, (the cops are japs) pretty much summed up the plot of love's illusion. My girlfriend met a few officer's too. Or is that my few girlfriends met an officer. Heroism is an illusion also. No one really sees what you do. Perhaps save God. So be a hero. Just don't expect any stories.
dy

july 4th,2005

I am the lucky dog. I was asked by my friend from Peru, to take her somewhere special for this most independent of our days. For me, it's a time to say and do whatever I want. So I was surprised when my father said he would be on a certain boat, directly under the fireworks in Provincetown. Let me tell you, unless he had spoken, I would have not even considered the venue. All those ravers, and all that noise. But this includes family, so I felt like it was hitting a home run. Myself, and brother and sister, finally left this town at later than six pm. So this means six people, because of spouses, andmy buddy. So nice to spend any time with those I love. I clued up brother John on where to park, and also that I was carrying fireworks. I wanted, just in case, that this would be memorable.The tale has become much more than the telling, since then. We all reveled in the show, the town did it right, and always does. We also left the boat, a bit pre emptorally, but the glow was still on. My brother was effulgent, so at what I thought was an appropiate moment, I lit the rocket. Big mistake. And the response was right on. People were shocked, in shock, and the mix of police in retrospect was exactly correct. I was lucky.Looked around, and knew it was a powderkeg. I corrected, head down,walked down, and back, thankful. We left, henceforth. Any idiot left in the line of fire, well, I can't speak for them.My clue was obvious, and then I could see the trigger fingers. Next year, the only excuse will not have anything to do with the date; july the 4th. Provincetown made a small mistake, in not co-ordinating the police. I have served, I could see the fear in their faces. We are all culpable, youth and connections not withstanding. I do not excuse anyone, but to me it was obvious. I got out. The tension was palpable. All anyone had to do was walk away. I have never seen the street so angry. I am reminded of''rhinoceros'http://www.culturevulture.net/Theater2/Rhinoceros.htm, that vehicle epitomizing the angry mob. Sorry guys, if you bled. You should pick your battles. This was not the venue. I can't believe you missed the thunder of the hooves.....dy

the dog thing

I could pretend that dog like fecund creature that just passed by the door, was not asking. I could pretend that scent has nothing to do with who we are. I will not. She was asking, only one question. Does anyone live here, who might impregnate me? There is no other question. Like, am I ready, is this the right man, or how can we possibly provide?.
You see, when the veil is drawn, the elemental. This bitch, in heat, only wishes to function towards the end we all seek. It may be more of a program than we wish to know, at least on this conscious level. I wished to let him go, but to what end? He is intact, the fact considers him in high esteem among our interlopers. You do not know of what I speak, so learn.
dy

missing dog

the picture here, is of a dog. Black, in some thought, by her expression. She was, I thought, the progenitor. I have still, her brother, by another litter. He all tuna smelly took her across the road one to many times. Of course, this is on my account. Do not think this is lost on me.
You may see the line, from one generation, to another. And it is quicker with dogs, and any animal we 'husband'. So this dog, she tugged my chin beard in the morning, her mother did something akin. I am finished with dogs. The last of the line misses his mother, as I miss mine.
I don't want to fight anymore, the town, the vet, the pure bullshit. So I am with this one, and I know he misses, as I miss, and may we go missing, in bliss.
dy

best war film

I've been watching war movies lately. After 'Saving private Ryan' I wanted to re-enlist or go shoot my own boy groupie shoot em up. It's patterned after Spielbergs' memory of war films, and it shows. Tom Hanks did a great job as John Wayne without the beefcake.
I think the problem is character. War truly is hell, and soldiers become devils. The human quality is survival, there is no way to portray reality in war. You survive or die, somtimes both.
The uncharacteristic mercy shown a german P.O.W. who comes back to haunt the platoon smacks disbelief, but is plausible. The cowardly behavior of 'the writer' who kills him goes a step further. He very likely would have been killed-by his own men.
'All quiet on the western front' is the barometer of all war film- there is NO glory to war!
'When it comes to dying for country, it's better not to die at all'. Is just one salient quote. And many folks might say my only regret is that I have but one life to give, etc. Send them that wish to die, and those that are left may try to get along. Most likely we'll end up fighting again. The difference between this film and 'Ryan' is slim. But for some reason, after watching this one, I am more vociferously anti-war.
This brings me to 'johnny got his gun'. I began thinking of this while watching the protagonist's teacher exhort his students in 'All quiet on the western front' to war. They all went of course, it is infectious. It's no wonder our good government made use of 9/11 to; once again into the breach. Like in Monty Python's 'the meaning of life', when the diner began vomiting the sympathetic nerves in the other patrons gullets responded in kind. So let's go to war! gets Joe Bonham's arms, legs, eyes, nose and mouth blown off. He communicates by morse code, using his head against the pillow. He wants to go on an anti war circuit, but is denied permission by his commanding officer.
I'm tired, I don't want to fight. You won, why am I still alive?

No No Nanette

There's a hell of a lot of pseudo scribes soon to put beak to keyboard and fall over each other's laptops about what a superb production 'NO NO Nanette' is now at the Cape Playhouse. I count myself entertained, and go, please. But make sure you have an angel like Joan Sparrow, who last minute asked me to go because her grandson was on call. My budget would have been busted for six months for this gem. And I would take the sound man out for a few beers and beg him to fix the annoying thing he calls sound. I felt like I was in the ocean, with good singing by Lucille (Rebecca Luker), and better by Nanette (Garrett Long) washing over my ears like breakers. That one is a deal breaker folks. Teach Billy (George Dvorsky) to look up while he's faking it and you have a winner. His singing more than makes up for it. The real story is the ensemble, it seemed the leads were jealous of the fun they were having. Our small theatre's down cape could take a lesson on how to use space. The excellent orchestra was on stage behind and sometimes part of the action. The simple set made perfect use of the large cast, all down front. The dancing was great, aside from the fact that these boys should do double tours, thank you. I don't know what Fred Willard was doing in this show, he had exactly one moment to show his stuff. Oh right, a pay check? Is he the draw? I don't want to call him weak, but his name should not be above anyone else's. The sound 'fx' should be invisible as well as seeming to come from the singers mouth, otherwise, trash it. Fred's microphone sideburn kills me now, and I had fun finding the others mics and black boxes, hmmm...reminded me of Dick Cheney. But these are small complaints. I have a smile on my face. Go, and keep smiling and toe tapping, forget your cares. This is the feel good show of the summer.

fundamentalism

Yesterday morning on my doggie constitutional I encountered a summer breeze neighbor. He the retired Pagan minister (Pagan being non-Catholic, no matter the order), me the would be depositer of pee, but for him. We met over the carcass of a Sears motorized snow plow, circa 1945, the working end all of two foot wide. It weighs a ton, and could hide a bomb, if we were in say, San Francisco. My other neighbor weighed in, in his two ton toyota. The subject turned to fundamentalism, as embraced by the smile of a phat preacher I always enjoy steering the conversation to the ludicrossity of faith. http://religiousmovements.lib.virginia.edu/nrms/fund.html
I mean no disrespect, I count myself a fundamentalist, in that I believe in all faiths, in all paths. They all lead to the same place, we are all chosen, you are created in God's image, etc.
My cheery neighbor is dismembering our focal point, piecemeal. This day we share the gift someone elses trash brings. The minister takes umbrage at my use of the term; fundamentalist, as if it has been sullied by suicide bombers. Ok, count me in. I believe all words are useful, it is only how they are used that could be an issue. But you have a pension, and are paid to preach, yes father?, I altar boy smile ask. So the world is sunny and bright.
God I wish like my mother wanted I had been called to paycheck and marriage and such a beautiful simple world.
How long before we hear the words 'the only good muslim is a dead muslim' and why is this ringing thousands of bells, thousands of years long?
Truly, if we must get along, all religion is metaphor, all beliefs are relevant.
But we don't have to get along at all.
Self determination is easily relinquished to the nearest Mosque, Church, or Government, and yes, Science.
My Pagan neighbor will be gone in the fall, as will the memory of the precursor of the Gravely from our agnostic dirt road. I will again deposit my unwelcome nitrogen upon the sand, unseen save by God.

team america

I recently enjoyed Trey Parker's 'Team America' on a dvd I was slipped ala contraband.
I heartily recommend same to any and all, save the innocent or naive.
I really was falling on the floor and almost peeeeed my thong. The doll sex was a bit much, surely, it was as necessary as the message in the film. And just what is the message, dear choir?
Perhaps that freedom is not to be imposed on any soul, lest the message is lost upon delivery?

I remember space type marionette cartoons from the past, and settled back unawares, to watch a film I was sure to share with any child. About half an hour in, the voices became familiar, and the humor caustic. Oh no, I'm watching South Park! Thank God my own dear child was kidnapped by her towel headed mother! And I expect Team America to solve my problems in the same way I expect George Bush the shadow, to solve our country's.
Still, if you have an open mind, are ready to laugh until you cry, watch this film. It's derisive, derogatory, debauched and deceptively insightful.
My favorite part is where the hero gives the secret signal that something has gone wrong (waving his arms and head like a deranged puppet) and the rest of Team America keeps shooting at him.
Sound familiar?
dy

fuck you

My little friend has discovered this great sobriquet; 'fuck you'
I mean this of course as a chuck under the chin, rather than the popular 'nickname' definition.
She is from formerly the greatest country in the world, and acts thusly.
I say quit the ratfood emporium in which you are enslaved, and become the american you wish we all could be. Of course they hold the visa over her head, and she will go back hating us and the money she made here.
So my question to any of you geniuses, would be, why is it so hard for these good folks to become citizens of this 'great country?' Of course we want to winnow out the would be terrorists, but what of the ones who stay, pay, and hate the more? Whatever happened to give us your tired, your poor, your losers, etc? No one is welcome here, as no one is on the cape, unless you have the coin. Do we have to turn would be immigrants into the next towel heads, japs, nazi's, pick your derisive sobriquet?
I have been wondering at this word; freedom. I am free, not because I am american, but perhaps because I understand the concept, that erroneously is associated with these United States. I say erroneously because freedom is a lie of the mind. Some people in prison never felt so free. You are free, only as a concept, only in your mind.
If you want to espouse freedom, don't question just what you see and hear, and are compelled to do or think. Question your own mind, and why you think you have the slightest clue.
Why perhaps, if you are a single mother, that you have the right to take a child from her parent, who loves her more than sight?
dy

lie of the cape

In my little town, on my little spit, I await full tide.
Here is the place of my longing to be
Salt water courses through my veins,
and I fall asleep at moonrise.
I run with the wolves, and eat what I kill.
Only so many more moons will I see
only so many more children will be taken from me.

We of the land are becoming
sights to see, true natives if we qualify-
protected and coddled, displayed as prize.
Poisoned and reviled, if not,
For the sin of God's gift;
I wish to live.