Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Juice Newton - Sunshine
Find more songs like Sunshine at Myspace Music
Sunshine go away today, I don't feel much like dancing
Some man's gone he's tried to run my life, he don't know what he's asking
When he tells me I better get in line, I can't hear what he's saying
When I grow up, I'm gonna make it mine, these ain't dues I been payin'
How much does it cost?
I'll buy it!
The time is all we've lost
I'll try it!
He can't even run his own life,
I'll be damned if he'll run mine--sunshine...
Sunshine, go away today, I don't feel much like dancin'
Some man's gone he's tried to run my life, he don't know what he's asking
Working starts to make me wonder where fruits of what I do are going
When he says in love and war all is fair, but he's got cards he ain't showing
How much does it cost?
I'll buy it!
The time is all we've lost--I'll try it!
He can't even run his own life,
I'll be damned if he'll run mine--sunshine...
Sunshine, come on back another day,
I promise you I'll be singing
This old world, she's gonna turn around,
brand new bells 'il be ringing
Some man's gone he's tried to run my life, he don't know what he's asking
When he tells me I better get in line, I can't hear what he's saying
When I grow up, I'm gonna make it mine, these ain't dues I been payin'
How much does it cost?
I'll buy it!
The time is all we've lost
I'll try it!
He can't even run his own life,
I'll be damned if he'll run mine--sunshine...
Sunshine, go away today, I don't feel much like dancin'
Some man's gone he's tried to run my life, he don't know what he's asking
Working starts to make me wonder where fruits of what I do are going
When he says in love and war all is fair, but he's got cards he ain't showing
How much does it cost?
I'll buy it!
The time is all we've lost--I'll try it!
He can't even run his own life,
I'll be damned if he'll run mine--sunshine...
Sunshine, come on back another day,
I promise you I'll be singing
This old world, she's gonna turn around,
brand new bells 'il be ringing
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Name Your ( John Wiley) Price
Tim,
Driving around today...almost ran off the road when I saw this statue of Dallas' most famous County Commissioner in HAWAII !
Don A.
Sent from my iPhone
Driving around today...almost ran off the road when I saw this statue of Dallas' most famous County Commissioner in HAWAII !
Don A.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Fight Club
Fight Club
Fight club is not football on television. You aren’t watching a bunch of men you don’t know halfway around the world beating on each other live by satellite with a two-minute delay, commercials pitching beer every ten minutes, and a pause now for station identification. After you’ve been to fight club, watching football on television is watching pornography when you could be having great sex.
According to my boss, there are fewer and fewer gentlemen in business and more thugs.
I tell Tyler, Marla Singer doesn’t need a lover, she needs a case worker.
Until today, it really pissed me off that I’d become this totally centered Zen Master and nobody had noticed.
The blood, is it mine?
Yeah, I say. Some of it.
This is a wrong answer.
She doesn’t say a thing about her collagen trust fund.
I said to the medical student, you must not see a lot of birthmarks around here.
Even a week after fight club, you’ve got no problem driving inside the speed limit. Maybe you’ve been passing black shit, internal injuries, for two days, but you are so cool. Other cars drive around you. Cars tailgate. You get the finger from other drivers. Total strangers hate you. It’s absolutely nothing personal. After fight club, you’re so relaxed, you just cannot care. You don’t even turn the radio on.
“What you have to consider,” he says, “is the possibility that God doesn’t like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen.”
How Tyler saw it was that getting God’s attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God’s hate is better than His indifference.
My wish right now is for me to die. I am nothing in the world compared to Tyler.
I am helpless.
I am stupid, and all I do is want and need things.
My tiny life. My little shit job. My Swedish furniture. I never, no, never told anyone this, but before I met Tyler, I was planning to buy a dog and name it “Entourage.”
The tears were really coming now, and one fat stripe rolled along the barrel of the gun and down the loop around the trigger to burst flat against my index finger. Raymond Hessel closed both eyes so I pressed the gun hard against his temple so he would always feel it pressing right there and I was beside him and this was his life and he could be dead at any moment.
This wasn’t a cheap gun, and I wondered if salt might fuck it up.
I call Marla from my Seattle motel room to ask if we’ve ever done it.
You know.
Long distance, Marla says, “What?”
Slept together.
“What!”
Have I ever, you know, had sex with her?
“Christ!”
Well?
“Well?” she says.
Have we ever had sex?
“You are such a piece of shit.”
Have we had sex?
“I could kill you!”
Is that a yes or a no?
“I knew this would happen,” Marla says. “You’re such a flake. You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.”
You sit on the shag carpet at opposite sides of the meditation circle and try to summon up your power animal while Marla glares at you with her black eye. You close your eyes and meditate to the palace of the seven doors, and you can still feel Marla’s glare. You cradle your inner child.
Marla glares.
Then it’s time to hug.
Open your eyes.
We should all choose a partner.
Marla crosses the room in three quick steps and slaps me hard across the face.
Share yourself completely.
Marla Singer: My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
=
from the book:
Fight club is not football on television. You aren’t watching a bunch of men you don’t know halfway around the world beating on each other live by satellite with a two-minute delay, commercials pitching beer every ten minutes, and a pause now for station identification. After you’ve been to fight club, watching football on television is watching pornography when you could be having great sex.
According to my boss, there are fewer and fewer gentlemen in business and more thugs.
I tell Tyler, Marla Singer doesn’t need a lover, she needs a case worker.
Until today, it really pissed me off that I’d become this totally centered Zen Master and nobody had noticed.
The blood, is it mine?
Yeah, I say. Some of it.
This is a wrong answer.
She doesn’t say a thing about her collagen trust fund.
I said to the medical student, you must not see a lot of birthmarks around here.
Even a week after fight club, you’ve got no problem driving inside the speed limit. Maybe you’ve been passing black shit, internal injuries, for two days, but you are so cool. Other cars drive around you. Cars tailgate. You get the finger from other drivers. Total strangers hate you. It’s absolutely nothing personal. After fight club, you’re so relaxed, you just cannot care. You don’t even turn the radio on.
“What you have to consider,” he says, “is the possibility that God doesn’t like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen.”
How Tyler saw it was that getting God’s attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God’s hate is better than His indifference.
My wish right now is for me to die. I am nothing in the world compared to Tyler.
I am helpless.
I am stupid, and all I do is want and need things.
My tiny life. My little shit job. My Swedish furniture. I never, no, never told anyone this, but before I met Tyler, I was planning to buy a dog and name it “Entourage.”
The tears were really coming now, and one fat stripe rolled along the barrel of the gun and down the loop around the trigger to burst flat against my index finger. Raymond Hessel closed both eyes so I pressed the gun hard against his temple so he would always feel it pressing right there and I was beside him and this was his life and he could be dead at any moment.
This wasn’t a cheap gun, and I wondered if salt might fuck it up.
I call Marla from my Seattle motel room to ask if we’ve ever done it.
You know.
Long distance, Marla says, “What?”
Slept together.
“What!”
Have I ever, you know, had sex with her?
“Christ!”
Well?
“Well?” she says.
Have we ever had sex?
“You are such a piece of shit.”
Have we had sex?
“I could kill you!”
Is that a yes or a no?
“I knew this would happen,” Marla says. “You’re such a flake. You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.”
You sit on the shag carpet at opposite sides of the meditation circle and try to summon up your power animal while Marla glares at you with her black eye. You close your eyes and meditate to the palace of the seven doors, and you can still feel Marla’s glare. You cradle your inner child.
Marla glares.
Then it’s time to hug.
Open your eyes.
We should all choose a partner.
Marla crosses the room in three quick steps and slaps me hard across the face.
Share yourself completely.
from the movie:
[after vigorous sex with Tyler Durden] Marla Singer: My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
=
the great pains I've always taken never to be too strict
The Word of the Day for July 14 is:
lenient \LEEN-yunt\ adjective
1 : exerting a soothing or easing influence : relieving pain or stress
2 : of mild and tolerant disposition; especially : indulgent
Examples:
The judge decided to be lenient because it was a first offense, but warned that the defendant would not be so lucky a second time.
"Portugal agreed yesterday to accept an international aid plan of $116 billion that the country's caretaker prime minister, Jose Socrates, suggested would involve more lenient conditions than those imposed on Greece and Ireland in return for similar bailouts." -- From an article by Raphael Minder in the Boston Globe, May 4, 2011
Did you know?
"Lenient" is a word with a soothing history. It derives from the Latin verb "lenire," meaning "to soothe" or "to soften" (itself from "lenis," meaning "soft or mild"). The first, now archaic, sense of "lenient" referred to something soothing that relieved pain and stress. That meaning was shared by "lenitive," an earlier derivative of "lenire" that was commonly used with "electuary" ("lenitive electuary" being a medicated paste prepared with honey or another sweet and used by veterinarians to alleviate pain in the mouth). Linguists also borrowed "lenis" to describe speech sounds that are softened -- for instance, the "t" sound in "gutter" is lenis. By way of comparison, the "t" sound in "toe" is fortis.
lenient \LEEN-yunt\ adjective
1 : exerting a soothing or easing influence : relieving pain or stress
2 : of mild and tolerant disposition; especially : indulgent
Examples:
The judge decided to be lenient because it was a first offense, but warned that the defendant would not be so lucky a second time.
"Portugal agreed yesterday to accept an international aid plan of $116 billion that the country's caretaker prime minister, Jose Socrates, suggested would involve more lenient conditions than those imposed on Greece and Ireland in return for similar bailouts." -- From an article by Raphael Minder in the Boston Globe, May 4, 2011
Did you know?
"Lenient" is a word with a soothing history. It derives from the Latin verb "lenire," meaning "to soothe" or "to soften" (itself from "lenis," meaning "soft or mild"). The first, now archaic, sense of "lenient" referred to something soothing that relieved pain and stress. That meaning was shared by "lenitive," an earlier derivative of "lenire" that was commonly used with "electuary" ("lenitive electuary" being a medicated paste prepared with honey or another sweet and used by veterinarians to alleviate pain in the mouth). Linguists also borrowed "lenis" to describe speech sounds that are softened -- for instance, the "t" sound in "gutter" is lenis. By way of comparison, the "t" sound in "toe" is fortis.
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