WHAT CHILD IS ____?

I peered closer at my phone screen, and the new freshly-installed page of apps:

Hebrew Bible
Bilingual Bible (Hebrew, 2nd version)
Bible - Hebrew (3rd version)
Mango language - Hebrew
Hebrew Dictionary
Hebrew Bible (4th version)
Hebrew KJV Bible (5th version)
Holy Bible (just...English?)
Nemo - Hebrew
Nemo - Greek
Nemo - Arabic
Lonely Planet - Asia
Messianic Jewish Music
Shabbat Alert

Does not include the reams of Google Docs filled with carefully-typed Hebrew and Greek translations and interpretations of the Book of Daniel.

I cannot be completely certain which child is behind the appearance of these on my phone, but I have a notion which child I will commence conversations with concerning the matter. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!

____

And you must simply take a listen to Loretta Lynn’s cheery, unapologetically twangy, and beautiful White Christmas Blue album from last year. Fantastic.

I AM I AM I AM A GERTRUDE STEIN.

oh summer is dead.

now is the bleak grey night, plus

hot cocoa with straws.

___

a time to focus.

a time to be aimless.

that is the dance.

ANALOG (USE TODAY WELL).

Today is a day. Use it. Use it well. ___ #pnw #44analog #long2017 #dorothyparker

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Jun 24, 2017 at 8:05am PDT

DANGERFIELD (SHAKESPEARE DID NOT DO CROSSFIT, AND DWAYNE JOHNSON IS NO PLAYWRIGHT).

If somebody, unprovoked, honked at you today, that's maddening.

If somebody gave you a dirty look today, you have my sympathy.

If somebody called you a mean name today, that is frustrating.

But unless you have spent an afternoon being taunted by your children, being told over and over - 

"William Shakespeare is a better writer than you! He's a way better writer than you are, Daddy!"

- then your day of being emotionally assaulted pales in comparison to mine, as the children sank the hooks in deep.

"Of course he's a better writer,"

I say.

"I'm just getting going; he has a 500-year head start and a British accents! But I'll tell you what, Mr. Shakespeare didn't have a Facebook account and I do. Plus, he's dead and I'm not. So who's the one gaining ground in this scenario?!"

My deft oratory silences them for three bars and a half note. Then, the little Salieris find another wound to gouge:

"Daddy, The Rock has way bigger muscles than you, and he's way stronger, ha ha ha ha!"

"Well...I'm taller than both of you!"

I crack back, unable to think any swifter on my feet.

It's tough being a Dad these days. I protesteth for increased respect. In solidarity with William, who is dead, I will not exercise today. 

And as for you, Rock...you may have bigger muscles, but I have, umm...I have...let's see...I have an unbelievable skill for building LEGO sculptures that defy all laws of physics, engineering, and common sense. So there. Gotcha on that one, sucka. Thou are pigeon-liver’d and lack gall. Made that one up myself.*

Happy Friday, all.

*i did not

Bypassing Kickstarter

I have been re-reading a bit of Mark Twain lately, and suddenly realised that the only thing preventing me from completing the short story collection I've been working on is a suitable venue to write. 

With that in mind, I would be greatly obliged if someone would mind booking me and my family a small suite for the month of March 2014 on the French Riviera. 

The only other things I would need are plane tickets, a new hat, and small retainer for food and entertainment. My grateful appreciation will be included in the preface. Merci. You can contact me here, or by post.

Mundanities

This afternoon, Magdelana and I made some stilts. Cut up some scrap 2x4s, sanded, and teamwork-drilled a couple holes through the sides. Stuck some rope through, tied it off, and voila! She had a great time stomping around. Now I need a pair.

Johannes, a little less adventurous, hung out in the playpen and caught up on some reading. Later, while Magdelana napped, I read aloud to him The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. We sat on the front deck in our white rocking chair in the breeze. He expressed his satisfaction several times by throwing up in my lap. Apparently he is a Michael Chabon fan also.

I was much too busy to play this evening, so I unbusied myself and we headed down to the sunny piers on the Columbia River. Grabbed some cold drinks and strolled along, watching old gentlemen, and a young couple loll in their lawn chairs with dangling fish rods. In spite of being firmly vegetarian, I am drawn to the romantic allure of fishing. What a great escape from honking horns and trying to beat yellow lights.

Although I happen to enjoy those sounds as well.

If you are near Portland or Vancouver, and looking for some nice spots to relax on the river, there are some great spots off the 15th and 32nd St. exits from Highway 14 East. The City of Washougal recently finished a pedestrian underpass that goes directly from downtown to paved walkways on the dike beside the river. People complain about daytime construction, but we just never want to be inconvenienced by things getting fixed while we wait. We want them fixed while somebody else has to wait. And then finally, construction is over and it's great and everyone loves it. And the crew packs it up and moves on to the next project where people will hate them for interrupting their commutes. Incidentally, it was in this construction zone (between 15th and 32nd) that a very unfortunate incident occurred with Jeremy last year, involving a siren and flashing lights and exceeding construction zone speeds, which I will not go into...

I wish there was an easy way to video-track who was reading this blog. My dad called today and wanted help in finding it on the Internet. He was having difficulty, because the browser kept fouling things up when he was trying to correctly enter the address for this blog. He is very good at a lot of things, like dentistry and construction and baking cookies. He is learning the Internet now. Good night Chief, hope you successfully make it here again someday.

CARAVAN PALACE. caravan palace (2010).

Back Home

PHILIP GLASS / METAMORPHOSIS TWO

Sat in the parking lot this afternoon, waiting for Becca to pick up a prescription. First time with two occupanted carseats, neither enormously happy as we waited. Trying to mentally arrange and prioritize everything I must do over the next few months - changes with The Company, with The Family, with house renovations and lesson plans and planning for the unexpected...

...and I was overwhelmed.

So I put on some David Byrne. Life is Long.

And remembered everything I love, including music and the two rascals in the back seat.

MYSTERIES OF LOVE / ANGELO BADELEMENTI

I was reminded of those things that I do well - namely, taking little things that I love, and mashing them into a communal, bonding experience that is just part of our lives. Taking the things I love and sharing them with others, and making that act of sharing a ritualistic bond. The songs and artists we have listened to with Magdelana the last three years is uncountable - music has been such an embedded part of our lives that it is unconscious act.

Wake up. Brew some joseph. Push play. Dance. There. It's a good day already.

ROYKSOPP'S NIGHT OUT / ROYKSOPP

Yesterday, as Magdelana cuddled with new baby brother Johannes X, she informed him,

Baby Brother, we're listening to Tom Waits...I'm just teasing you. It's not Tom Waits! It's...uhh, I don't remember who this is!

me: It's Devotchka.

her, giggling. Oh yeah...it's Devotchka, Baby Brother.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST / ENNIO MORRICONE

I've been reading a terrific book by Michael Chabon, which I will probably refer to frequently in the future. Manhood for Amateurs. One of the best memoirs/non-fiction work I have read, ever. An extraordinarily unique and vivid, but simple and honest perspective about tiny aspects of family life, and what it all means in the context of larger ontological issues and pop culture. He turns that spotlight into a highbeam that is honest, sometimes hilarious, and most of all, authentic.

Authentic in the sense of someone who is truly writing about his life experience, and writing his family into it as characters, but as unscripted narrative; in a way that comes across as creatively reflective of his skittering roles over time as Father-Son-Child-Spouse; an honest, deliberately focused mirror on his family's life...but a mirror that reflects the lives of people he still loves and lives with, not characters in the distant past...

DJ KRUSH / DAY'S END

...maybe all along, part of my desire to have so many children was the longing for a fan club to belong to, for imaginative fellowship, for the society of passionate amateurs like me. In my children, I have found a band of companions...

- Manhood for Amateurs, pp. 296-97

WICHITA VORTEX SUTRA / PHILIP GLASS

So as we chugged up the hill this afternoon and Johnny Cash's The First Time I Saw Your Face gently blasted through the rain, I choked up a little and thought of my fan club. Our little fan club, with four now. And our big fan clubs surrounding us, with the swirling relationships they involve.

I like fan clubs. I like mine.

Also, if anybody ever reads this blog, I need you to buy me a copy of Mr. Chabon's book so I can return mine to the library...

Now, I am going to dance with my new son. Who just pooped, if my ears are hearing correctly.

Chekhov, Blazers, People

Just got back from the Blazers game. Went at the last minute, thanks to Becca. Parked at Lloyd Center, hopped the Max to the Rose Garden. Missed the first quarter.

Got Blazer tickets for Christmas a while back. Thirteen-ish. February matchup with Dallas. My experience with professional basketball was mostly radio legend Bill Schonely calling games on KTIL 104.1. Going to an actual game was a big deal. Difficult to emphasize the sense of importance I felt my physical presence would be to the team. Me, Josh, and Chief. Won by 30 or so. Clyde the Glide Drexler made a lotta buckets. They were all amazing, and I knew them all, and their heights and favourite music...

If I Could Be with You (One Ho...

Anton Chekhov wrote a short story. The Bet. A young lawyer and rich banker make a bet over what is a worse form of punishment: capital punishment or life imprisonment. Deal is that if the lawyer lasts fifteen years in solitary confinement, he will get two million dollars. Can have all the books, music, wine, and pleasures he desires. But no human contact.

Read the story. It's a good one. Won't give away the ending. But it's a marvelous piece, for both personal reflection and conversational entertainment. I love books, film, music, learning, art...used to think I'd be fine in a little snowlocked cabin with a bottomless generator, grizzly skin rug, and library of reading material. Surround myself with stuff that brings me pleasure.

So the game tonight was fun, and being in an arena with billions of screaming fans does make you feel part of something bigger than yourself, though I can't shake the nagging feeling that the fates of my professional sports teams are not quite as big a deal as they were a few decades ago. There is certainly something liberating about screaming at sweating gladiators, with bouncing balls and angry countenances, and feeling good about doing it as a community. Nothing quite bonds people like a common target for vitriol. Which is a little sad, looking at the hairless faces of those boy-warriors. Then, I look at their tattoos (Seriously Mom, each of these means something super important to me, and it's really important that they be in Chinese or Sanskrit...). And then I remember that they make a lot of money to play a game. Which is cool. Just not quite as important to me these days to define my identity by the fortunes of my team.

So the Max ride. Nine minutes, each way. Crammed in, jammed up, sweat and smell and perfume. And noise. Jostling and snippets of conversation, and banging elbows, and Becca holding my hand. And I'm smiling. Because I like being around people. And I couldn't give that up.

Spent the day with Magdelana. In all of her inimitable and mischievous glory. Read stacks of books. Completed multiple art projects. Did some spying. Loads of laundry and dishes. Danced to Benny Goodman and The Rapture. Glorious and exhausting. Didn't necessarily feel like heading into Portland at the end of the day for a raucous feast of sweaty men throwing balls around (yes, driving that into the ground).

The Coming Of Spring - The Rap...

Can be isolating, and draining up on the mountain sometimes. Dad: long days. Work: late nights. I love my time with Magdelana. But tired though I was, it was invigorating to get out and be part of people en masse, to soak up the personalities and clashings of a crowd. Some people lose energy from being around people, others gain it. I'm not in the middle: I just erratically bounce back and forth between two extremes.

I like people.

Oh, they won. Now my week's not ruined.