AN EDUCATION (FINNISH WHAT YOU START).

Happy schooling, students young and elder and middle-lish, in the many varied venues and methods in which you choose to learn yourself an edukation.

INGRID BERGMAN.

Kvinnen hvem har ynde meg hjertet alltid.

(loosely translates as:
Les jeune fille qui a séduire mon coeur à jamais.)

ON THE NOSE.

Countess with Crew Walking on City Sidewalk with Automobile Wheel on Left Side and Traffic Control Signs in Background and Unnamed Figure One Block to the South.

"You can invent things like automatic popcorn poppers. You can invent things like steam-powered window washers. But you can’t invent more time."

- Lemony Snicket

Use your time up well.

Aikido (Full-Contact Spring Training).

MATES OF STATE DATE.

We are the nerdliest of nerds. Waiting for our beloved Mates of State to appear after 30 months away...which was also about the last time we were on a date proper. A little coffee and a lot of giddiness will keep us going. Rock and roll. ___ #long2015 #matesofstate #44portland

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Jan 22, 2015 at 8:41pm PST

A lovely evening with @matesofstate and @josephivanlong :)

A photo posted by @countessbecca on Jan 23, 2015 at 12:10am PST

GIANTS BE COOL, MAN.

We frequently watch films in installments,

to stretch out the cinematic bliss. This weekend:

1993's Cool Runnings. The ebullient underdog sports tale falling into the sub-genre of "Jamaican Bobsled Teams Trying to Get Into the Olympics." Also, John Candy's last appearance. Loved that guy. On a jet, on a train, in a car, I will always enjoy his arena-size affability and humor.

One of my money moves as a remote control autocrat is to hit pause right at the height of a scene, such as right before we learn something super important, like if they're going to make the finals or not. My family loathes it, so it's also a good reminder that sometimes it's necessary to be the villain. Darth Vader is so much more interesting than Luke.

We'll watch ONE more scene!
I thundered.
Get it? Got it? Good! After that, it is BEDTIME. STRAIGHT TO BED. Clear? We clear?

Yes General Daddy Sir.
they said, straightfaced little angels in disguise.

The scene finished.

Fie, off to bed!
I shrieked.

But Daddy!
one said.
We didn't have a dance party like you said we would earlier this morning!

I shook my head. But, as Horton said, say what you mean and mean what you say, which is what I had said, and I try to obey my favourite Doctor. So I reluctantly headed over to put on They Might Be Giants' ode to slumber entitled "Bed Bed Bed," which is unbelievably catchy and is the sonic equivalent of a quadruple shot espresso before bed.

"The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed"

A lovely song, particularly if you can imagine cows playing trumpets while loudly eating milkshakes with little bells on their hooves.

The song finished, sweat dripped; I ordered them to follow the lyrics and obey the song.

But Daddy!
one said.
Can we just listen to Bob Dylan?

No.
I said.
Go to bed.

Okay.
they said.
And tromped off, finally.

Daddy!
one said.
Can you turn the lamp on?

Okay.
I said.

Daddy!
from far off.
Can I have some water?

Sure.
I said.
And got it.

Daddy!
one yelled.
I have to go to the bathroom, can you meet me there?

Fine.
I said.
And waited until I realised he was pretending to sleep.

No!
I said.
You are not sleeping on the toilet tonight.

And headed to the living room to sit on the couch and relax for the first time in fourteen months.

Daddy!
I heard far off as my sitting down was paralyzed, then reversed.
Can I read one book?

No.
I said.
Go to bed.

Daddy?
I heard.
Can I read a stack of books in the morning?

Probably.
I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Daddy?
The faux-angelic voice floated down the hallway.
Can I draw for a little bit?

Maybe I'll put on some Deftones for goodnight lullabyes.

Good night, universe. Hope your weekend has been splendid.

SOME THINGS NEVER GET OLD.

photo: a nice stranger (from Countess Becca's FB timeline)

Post Oregon Children's Theatre's Ivy + Bean The Musical.

Hilarious and especially fun to experience with jolly good friends.

photo: Julie Natiuk

BIRTHDAY #35 : COUNTESS BECCA

BECCA, PT. I.
One way that I easily remember my wife's birthday every year is that it is exactly one week before Linda Hamillton's (a.k.a. Sarah Connor from The Terminator). Also, her birthday is seven days before mine. Other cinematic heroines that remind me, in specific ways, of her: Amelie from Amelie, Ripley from Aliens, Jamie Lee Curtis from True Lies, Grace Kelly from everything, MacGyver, Frank from Old School, The Bride from Kill Bill, that one French girl from that other Tarantino film, George Michael from Arrested Development, Tina Fey in general, Elastigirl from the Incredibles...a little bit of all the best things in the universe.


Polyphonic Spree's Soldier Girl reminds me of her too.

She makes my head spin around.


Happy birthday, Girl.

____

The Polyphonic Spree
Soldier Girl
The Beginning Stages of...

2002

BECCA, PT. II.

When I was a guest teacher* in Southern California years ago, I was ganged up on by a gang of trying-hard-to-be-gangsters and the room went dark and madness erupted -

- but that is another story. The point is that being a parent with my wife has given her the opportunity to join a gang too. The gang that is our children, and that frequently gangs up on me. She has the opportunity to join that gang frequently and sometimes she does. But sometimes she doesn't, and she is on my side as we battle a seven- and four-year old duo of gangsters, and when she's on my side, it's more even, so I am appreciative for those times when we can gang up on the gang together. We have gone through the fire together - not literally, though I have badly burned my finger before - but rather the fire of parenting (I prefer the other term I coined: childrening, which puts the responsibility and blame where it should be), and it is generally more enjoyable to be on a team with someone who is on your team. Or gang. One example would be how our children inexplicably loathe Leonard Cohen. She could take their side, and curry favor, but she has stood steadfast next to me and blasted Who By Fire next to me as they groaned and grumbled and we laughed as the flames burned around us (that 'through fire' thing, not real fire, otherwise I would have called the firefighting gang). Leonard is such a masterful old poetic gangster, and I'm glad to not be married to him, but rather, to someone who is not like him, but likes him. Respect.

Happy birthday, OG Becca.

____

Leonard Cohen
Who By Fire
New Skin for the Old Ceremony
1974

*a more elegant term the district insisted on calling its substitute teachers




BECCA, PT. III.

Technically, most people don't think of me as a scientist, per se. But ever since my wife gave me one of her old white lab coats, I tend to think of myself as almost one. And in a sense, I am, because I am wearing a lab coat that almost fits, and I truly am interested in quantum mechanics, time travel, reading quotes by Albert Einstein, and watching Fringe. But in my heart, I know that technically I will never be offered a teaching position at MIT. And I think that maybe my wife is resigned to the fact that I'll never be a prize-winning scientist, but - and this is what I love about her - she has never discouraged me from wearing the old lab coat that doesn't fit me very well, because she knows it makes me happy to wear it, and that in a way, it does possibly bring her happiness to feel that she's married to a successful scientist working on the fringes of science, but then we both know at the end of the day I'm not actually a technical scientist: I'm just a mid-sized guy with good posture and poor eyesight who believes that science is real and that space travel is truly possible. She sees that glimmer of possibility in me, that underneath the ill fitting lab coat, there beats the heart of a scientist, if not the brain. And I know that everything is possible.


BECCA, PT. IV.

There's a few regrets I have in life, probably the biggest being that I didn't invest in Apple stock in the early '80s. To be fair, I was five or six years old, but still, no excuses. And sometimes there's partial regrets, like experiencing something really cool, but not having someone with you who you know would really enjoy it, like when I went to see Mercury Rev in L.A. a decade ago and it turned out to be one of my favourite shows ever, or going to see Alt-j last year, and it turned out to be fantastic, and I know Becca would have loved both, but she didn't go because of reasons that are vague to history (Studying? Work? Children?). But she wanted me to go, and she wanted me to have a good time, and she was happy for how much I enjoyed both. So I think what I learned from that is this: try not to ever miss out on anything really cool, and maybe just bring the children too. And also, try to be genuinely happy for other people when good things happen to them. Like she was for me. A good lesson. No more ragrets.

Happy b-day weekend, Countess.

____

Still get goosebumps over Mercury Rev's The Dark Is Rising.

Mercury Rev
The Dark Is Rising
All Is Dream

2001






BECCA, PT. V.

We fell in love at a bakery, at least I did. She worked there; the early morning shift at the small town bakery. I studied at a table with an eyeline to the front counter. I thought I was going to study and get a free bagel once in a while, but then (like I said) I accidentally fell into love so sometimes things happen that you're unaware are happening until afterwards; at which point you have to go back and try to understand history and break things down, like economists do after market crashes retroactively to make themselves sound prescient. Unfortunately, this was pre-smartphone, pre-Instagram, pre-everyone flashing around cameras for no reason so I never usually thought in terms of capturing those early morning bakery rendezvouses. It just exists in our donut-foggy memories. I wish we had one picture of me with my head down studying in the corner, and her behind the counter surreptitiously checking me out. That's a moment I wish we had recorded. Also, I left her a $500* tip once. I've wondered what she did with that. She wore an apron and played good music: Ben Harper, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder. One day I finally said I Like You, but it took me 90 minutes to get through that three-word sentence; maybe it's a plus for me that I'll never have to wonder if that conversation is floating around in a digital cloud somewhere.

I love tracking history with technology and freezing moments for eternity**, but sometimes there's satisfaction in knowing that reality will never collide with our personal mythology & history and that I can keep all the great moments intact with my imagination, unencumbered by the brutality of frozen actuality.

Happy birthday, Barista Becca. I lost my 4.0***, but got some decent coffee and a bride. Wouldn't trade.

____

The Raveonettes
Remember
Chain Gang of Love
2003

*$10

**EMP issues aside

***technically, was already lost. Again though, I prefer the romanticized Faustian notion that I traded my GPA for love.