Seeds

I am the flower

Picked fresh on a summer’s morn

Drops of dew glisten

You are the ripe fruit

Harvested ‘neath autumn’s moon

Full-bodied and crisp

We are the slim seeds

Laid to rest with promises

Of life beyond soil

I was listening to tales of Woodstock on the radio this morning while running errands around Tallahassee. This summer marks the 50th anniversary of the famed music festival. I’d tell you I was there, but that would be a lie. I was only 12, and my taste in music was pretty bland.

At any rate my poem was inspired by Joni Mitchell (who wasn’t at Woodstock either) and her song, “We Are Stardust.”

https://youtu.be/cRjQCvfcXn0

Peace, people.

Sunday, Lazy Sunday

Studly Doright played in a two-day golf tournament this past weekend, so I was pretty much on my own both Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t do much other than running errands and doing laundry.

On Sunday I took myself to lunch at my favorite little vegan spot, the Sweet Pea Cafe, where I enjoyed French toast with slices of bananas and strawberries, home fries, and grits. Normally I don’t care for grits, but these were primo.

Someone in the cafe was enjoying a mimosa, so after I finished my meal I decided to stay and sip on one while reading a book. Mmmm. So good. I took my time with the drink then drove home to Doright Manor where I promptly planted my butt on the sofa and proceeded to nap for the rest of the afternoon. I’m blaming the mimosa. I’m also thanking it.

Peace, people.

Thoughts on “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood”

Just between you and me, I’m the last person you want writing a review. My head is easily turned by attractive faces, and this film has plenty of those. But, with the exception of Margot Robbie’s portrayal of Sharon Tate, most of the pretty people are viewed through a layer of grit.

Undoubtedly, though, Brad Pitt, as rough and tumble stunt double, Cliff Booth, is still so handsome that he makes me stutter when asking Studly Doright for some, “p-p-popc-c-corn.” And Leonardo DiCaprio manages to retain his boyish good looks underneath the seedy B actor character, Rick Dalton.

So, as you can see, these three make it impossible for me to provide an unbiased review of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. I can provide you with some vaguely coherent thoughts, though.

  • Brad Pitt’s performance is perfection. As pretty as he is, heaven knows he could’ve “phoned in” a few performances in his career, but he always seems to bring his A+ game. Okay, maybe his prettiness got to me, but if you’ve seen the movie, let me know what you think.
  • Typical Quentin Tarantino film–could’ve been thirty minutes shorter with no problem. Having said that, he’s a storyteller, and I appreciate that.
  • Parts of the film are graphically violent. Again, Typical Tarantino.
  • I knew Dakota Fanning was in the film, but could never figure out who she was. After I googled the cast this morning and discovered which role she played, I was blown away. She was chillingly low key.
  • I didn’t want to see this film, but have to admit to liking it anyway. Studly Doright is now crowing, “I told you so!”
  • Having read everything I could get my hands on about the Manson family and the Tate-LaBianca murders as a teenager, I was curious to see how the reality of the actual events would play out in this work of fiction.
  • In reference to my last comment–Liberties were taken. I approve. Yes, I’m sure Mr. Tarantino was waiting with bated breath for my thumbs up on the film.
  • The soundtrack is groovy. I dig the Mamas and the Papas….
  • Luke Perry was in this film. I cried a bit when I realized it had to have been his final role before he suffered a stroke earlier this year.
  • Lots of stars playing bit parts. That always makes me smile.
  • I wouldn’t mind seeing this movie again, especially since I had to take a bathroom break during one scene that turned out to have some impact on the ending.
  • The actress, Rachel Redleaf, who played Mama Cass Elliott never uttered a line, but sure channeled the essence of perhaps the greatest rock voice of my youth.

I have more thoughts, but they’re becoming less coherent as I go. One suggestion, though. Don’t see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and then go to bed without letting it drift away a bit. My dreams were full of weird 60’s type imagery, and no, I don’t do acid.

Peace, people.

Gentle on My Mind

I think I’ve written about ear worms before. Those pesky tunes that get stuck in your head and play over and over on a loop until you think perhaps you’ll go crazy. Welcome to my world in which the song replaying in my head is Glen Campbell’s version of “Gentle on My Mind.”

https://www.facebook.com/countrymusicamerica/videos/1510129159048531?sfns=mo

Odd choice, right? It has no discernible chorus, and beyond the title phrase there’s no repetition. I haven’t exactly memorized the lyrics, yet still they run through my head like puppies at play.

I guess I’d better study the lyrics. There might be a Gentle on My Mind emergency one of these days. One never knows.

“Gentle on My Mind” Songwriter: John Hartford

It’s knowin’ that your door is always open

And your path is free to walk

That makes me tend to leave my sleepin’ bag

Rolled up and stashed behind your couch

And it’s knowin’ I’m not shackled

By forgotten words and bonds

And the ink stains that have dried upon some line

That keeps you in the back roads

By the rivers of my memory

That keeps you ever gentle on my mind

It’s not clingin’ to the rocks and ivy

Planted on their columns now that bind me

Or something that somebody said because

They thought we fit together walkin’

It’s just knowing that the world

Will not be cursing or forgiving

When I walk along some railroad track and find

That you’re movin’ on the back roads

By the rivers of my memory

And for hours you’re just gentle on my mind

Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines

And the junkyards and the highways come between us

And some other woman’s cryin’ to her mother

‘Cause she turned and I was gone

I still might run in silence

Tears of joy might stain my face

And the summer sun might burn me till I’m blind

But not to where I cannot see

You walkin’ on the back roads

By the rivers flowin’ gentle on my mind

I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin’ cracklin’ cauldron

In some train yard

My beard a rustlin’ coal pile

And a dirty hat pulled low across my face

Through cupped hands ’round a tin can

I pretend to hold you to my breast and find

That you’re waitin’ from the back roads

By the rivers of my memory

Ever smilin’, ever gentle on my mind

Peace, people.

Revisiting My First Post on WordPress

I remember being scared to push the publish button, perhaps with good reason. At any rate, for better or worse, here’s the first piece I ever published on WordPress. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way, baby, but honestly, I’m still a mess.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2014/07/10/praying-for-eyebrowz-begin-the-beguine/

Snapshot #263

I’m calling this one, featuring my handsome son, on the left, and two of his handsome cousins Russ (middle), and Brad (right), Tres Hombres Muy Guapos.

That either translates to Three Very Handsome Men or My Taco Needs More Guacamole. Either way, it works.

I took the photo at the Noyes Family Reunion in Hereford, Texas, last weekend.

Peace, people.

What? Me Worry?

This morning I read a post from IM Fletcher on his blog The Jane Doe Byline, that started my mind down the Worry Path.

https://thejanedoebyline.wordpress.com/2019/08/07/pivotal-date-aug-12th/

I pretty much live just off of the Worry Path on the corner of Anxiety Avenue and Worst Case Scenario Lane in a two-story house made of faux adobe. The house itself is a cause for concern.

Last week I worried about my adult children and their children traveling by car and/or plane to our family reunion in Texas. I worried about Studly Doright riding the backroads on his motorcycle across multiple states to join us at the reunion. I worried about my cats who’d stayed behind under the care of a competent pet sitter.

Oddly enough, I never worried about my own safety as I hurtled across the skies inside machines that seem to defy gravity and logic. That kind of worry would just be stupid.

Thanks to my diligent worrying, every one of us made it safely to and from the reunion. Once again, my efforts paid off. I’m exhausted. Now, what should I worry about this week? Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless.

Here’s a poem I posted a while back, in case you think I’m a novice worrier:

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/10/31/the-queen-of-worry/

Peace, people!

Physician, Heal Thyself

I was on vacation in the Texas panhandle when our nation experienced two mass shootings in two very different parts of the country.

From CNN:

  • Two shootings: At least 31 people were killed over the weekend in mass shootings in Texas and Ohio.
  • El Paso: 22 people were killed in El Paso after a mass shooting on Saturday. Police said they found an anti-immigrant document espousing white nationalist and racist views, which they believe was written by the suspect. He may face hate crime charges in addition to capital murder charges.
  • Dayton: Another nine people were killed in a shooting in the Oregon District of Dayton, Ohio. The suspect in that shooting is dead.

Meanwhile, Studly Doright and I were involved in family fun at a reunion–grandkid watching, overeating, swimming, laughing, hugging, playing, storytelling. As news of the shootings came through we absorbed the generalities and continued with our event. My heart was heavy, but there was nothing any of us could do at that time except love our own families and watch over each other. Now that I’m home, I have time to process the information, and I’m furious.

As with every mass shooting in this country, politicians offer thoughts and prayers, yet nothing meaningful gets done to prevent the next shooting, or the one after that. In many ways it seems that some members of our current administration have encouraged such violence.

In May of this year, at a political rally, the current POTUS asked the Florida audience how to stop migrants from entering the country.

“How do you stop these people? You can’t, there’s,”–Trump paused as an attendee shouted, “Shoot them!”

Trump smirked and said, “That’s only in the panhandle you can get away with that statement.” The crowd cheered wildly for 10 seconds before Trump continued his speech.

I live in the Florida panhandle. That kind of talk is not acceptable even here, but our Divider-in-Chief encourages it and applauds it. He has set the tone, and it is one of violence and hatred of those who are not white “Christians”.

Now, in the wake of the shootings, many Republicans are scrambling to cover all of their familiar talking points.

1) Blame the video games! As if kids in the U.S. are the only ones who play violent video games.

2) Blame mental illness! So only the U.S. has a population suffering from some form of mental illness? And while mental illness might play a role in these heinous acts, in 2017 trump rolled back an Obama-era regulation that made it more difficult for people with mental illness to purchase guns. Yes, trump green lighted gun ownership for those who might be prone to violence.

3) Blame gays! A few crazy people believe that homosexuality is to blame for our gun violence problem. Of course these people also believe homosexuality causes earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and tornadoes.

4) It’s not the gun’s fault! Well, maybe guns don’t kill people, people kill people, but easy access to guns sure makes it easier for them to do so.

5) It’s because we can’t pray in school! Seriously? God, as I understand it, is omnipresent. I’m not sure any of us can keep such a deity out of any location. And, as the old saying goes, as long as there are tests, there’ll be prayer in school.

5) If someone wants to kill, they’ll find some other way if guns aren’t available. Again, guns are way too easy to attain in this country. Bombs? Not so much. Knives? Easy to come by, but it’s difficult to achieve the body count that guns provide. And let’s face it, it’s a huge body count these killers (overwhelmingly white and male) are aiming for. Plus, killing with a knife is up close work. These mass shooters don’t want to dirty their hands, and a gun allows them to kill indiscriminately from a distance. It’s an impersonal act that reaps huge results.

The GOP is now urging us to come together, but most Republican congressmen and women aren’t willing to jeopardize their good standing with the National Rifle Association by enacting meaningful gun control legislation. It’s difficult to “come together” with people who are okay with gun violence as long as the NRA is lining their pockets.

I am a gun owner. I enjoy occasionally taking target practice. No one is coming for all of our guns, but there must be change. We are the only first world country that has mass shootings on an almost weekly basis.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #262

Today I’m heading home to Doright Manor after an extended weekend in Hereford, Texas. As I write this I’m at gate A14 in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport, and Studly Doright is on his motorcycle on a backroad somewhere in the middle of nowhere also heading towards Doright Manor.

We were in Texas for a Noyes family reunion, and we had quite a good time visiting with family members from near and far. I might share more photos from the event at a later date, but for now I wanted to post this one because it features two of my favorite nephews, who I seldom get to see, and me.

Let’s call this one, “Happy!”

Snapshot #261

This little guy made an appearance at our family reunion near Hereford, Texas. I played with horned toads, or as we called them, horny toads, as a child in the Texas panhandle, but they’d become an endangered species, and I’d despaired of ever holding one again.

The species seems to be making a comeback, though, since many of the folks in attendance reported having seen them recently.

Several of us petted him before we let him go to hopefully live a long and happy life on the dry, dusty plains of Texas.

Let’s call this one, The Comeback Kid.

Peace, people.