The Other Caretaker
That other caretaker over there is already working, burning a pile of something which sends a white plume up into the sunrise.
I took the brace off of Betty's gravestone yesterday. None of her people came to see her on All Souls Day so maybe there are no more people as far as Betty is concerned.
The white plume is now a miasma obscuring my forward vision.
Jimmy the pool guy came and closed the pool Sunday. We had a few laughs. The pool now looks like a trampoline. He asked me if I wanted him to disconnect the diving board. I said, "well, I was thinking about the kids..." He said, "kids, say no more." So the diving board is disconnected.
Now I can smell my fellow caretaker's burning work. Smells like the Wall Street Journal, burnt possum, walnut, chestnut, and hickory.
Last night I watched on DVD Camille Claudel. She was one of Rodin's lovers and possibly a superior artist in the sense that she was portrayed to be more purely tied to her work and not at all to the conventions of her time. Her reward was the DVD, the shattered heart, the madness, and the eventual incarceration. She spent the last thirty years of her life locked up in a mental institution.
Since I don't remember so well after the fact I would like to inform Dave that three of his Netflix suggestions are either in my P.O. Box today or will be there tomorrow. They are, or will be, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, High and Low, and The Lady Eve.
I got an email from my brother yesterday. It included a picture of his very tanned son, Micah, in a flak jacket with bayonet in pocket over heart, or solar plexus, in front of a Chinook helicopter with crude Dallas Cowboys helmet emblem, standing next to Bruce Willis, in Iraq. He looked really great my nephew did. It was so good to see him.
...chinese bookie is a cassavettes film which is a steve d. recommendation.
Any more word on the "Jordon" mystery.
Only the inconclusive hearsay of another person with that last name, at that video store/art gallery, saying, if it was a Jordan around here a hundred years ago she was black. That being an interesting comment, neither here nor there, but seeing as how locally, on Fodderstack Rd, between Little Washington and Flint Hill there is not a single scrap of evidence of an entire town of "free people of color" dating to the 1850s, it seems unlikely that black woman from the late 1800s would be buried up here at this, uh, manor. I mean, even Sally Hemmings wasn't buried at Monticello, right. So, really, to answer your question, no.
Is that Steve Di or Do?
Do you have the inscriptions posted anywhere? It's like a game of clue ... Colonel Mustard illegitimately fathered Hezikiah in the study.
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That other caretaker over there is already working, burning a pile of something which sends a white plume up into the sunrise.
I took the brace off of Betty's gravestone yesterday. None of her people came to see her on All Souls Day so maybe there are no more people as far as Betty is concerned.
The white plume is now a miasma obscuring my forward vision.
Jimmy the pool guy came and closed the pool Sunday. We had a few laughs. The pool now looks like a trampoline. He asked me if I wanted him to disconnect the diving board. I said, "well, I was thinking about the kids..." He said, "kids, say no more." So the diving board is disconnected.
Now I can smell my fellow caretaker's burning work. Smells like the Wall Street Journal, burnt possum, walnut, chestnut, and hickory.
Last night I watched on DVD Camille Claudel. She was one of Rodin's lovers and possibly a superior artist in the sense that she was portrayed to be more purely tied to her work and not at all to the conventions of her time. Her reward was the DVD, the shattered heart, the madness, and the eventual incarceration. She spent the last thirty years of her life locked up in a mental institution.
Since I don't remember so well after the fact I would like to inform Dave that three of his Netflix suggestions are either in my P.O. Box today or will be there tomorrow. They are, or will be, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, High and Low, and The Lady Eve.
I got an email from my brother yesterday. It included a picture of his very tanned son, Micah, in a flak jacket with bayonet in pocket over heart, or solar plexus, in front of a Chinook helicopter with crude Dallas Cowboys helmet emblem, standing next to Bruce Willis, in Iraq. He looked really great my nephew did. It was so good to see him.
- jimlouis 11-05-2003 4:20 pm
...chinese bookie is a cassavettes film which is a steve d. recommendation.
- dave 11-05-2003 5:30 pm [1 comment]
Any more word on the "Jordon" mystery.
- mark 11-05-2003 6:07 pm [add a comment]
Only the inconclusive hearsay of another person with that last name, at that video store/art gallery, saying, if it was a Jordan around here a hundred years ago she was black. That being an interesting comment, neither here nor there, but seeing as how locally, on Fodderstack Rd, between Little Washington and Flint Hill there is not a single scrap of evidence of an entire town of "free people of color" dating to the 1850s, it seems unlikely that black woman from the late 1800s would be buried up here at this, uh, manor. I mean, even Sally Hemmings wasn't buried at Monticello, right. So, really, to answer your question, no.
Is that Steve Di or Do?
- jimlouis 11-05-2003 8:30 pm [1 comment]
Do you have the inscriptions posted anywhere? It's like a game of clue ... Colonel Mustard illegitimately fathered Hezikiah in the study.
- mark 11-05-2003 10:53 pm [add a comment]