(click on the images for larger view)
Written with a Royal Safari and chamomile tea. ~TH~
If you have an interest in language you really do need to be aware of the Rosetta Project.
If you go to the main web page there is an interactive graphic map of the Rosetta Disk. It’s amazing, take some time to zoom in and see the voluminous amount of information on this palm sized disk. ~TH~
In a day and age when we communicate instantaneously across the globe, when we glimpse into the very nature of our being, when we predict with stunning accuracy how events flow into the future, I begin to wonder if mankind really does have a sincere interest in proceeding. Like good story telling we all need a mighty and formidable opponent. It’s the fight that calls to us in these stories, raised hands that say “This is the last; no more!” We look toward a victory where we can all celebrate. But those are really just stories now.
Now we have the capacity to celebrate our victory without the fight. We own enough knowledge to tell the world in no uncertain terms that the win has been achieved. It didn’t arrive over a battlefield. It didn’t arrive through politics. It arrived when we all took part in seeing the world through the lens of empathy and tolerance.
The internet has opened every window in the glass house we all share. Closing our eyes serves no purpose, and destroying the glass from within serves no purpose. A claim of disbelief in the truth may serve a shortsighted goal, but that goal only serves a generation that may as well be dust. Rain-shouters and self serving partisans are now the endangered species so cornered, they fight more fiercely than ever.
We called upon the sciences of man to shed light inwardly and outwardly, that we might know ourselves. That goal has been achieved. It is now on our doorstep, handy as the morning paper. A bold step on the part of every individual is now called for. Ignorance is no longer a viable excuse for intolerance, hatred or violence. It is time to lower our hands and recognize that past mistakes are passed. The earth is our home. Stop tracking shit through it. ~TH~
When I went off to college to learn how to be a music teacher I attended many classes. Most of the classes focused on making me a better musician within my own field (percussion), or focused on making me an appallingly poor player on instruments I have no business ever blowing into. I took classes that showed me classical ways to analyze and interpret music with both my eyes and my ears. I even learned a little bit of music history, although my prof would disagree. I want to be mad at him to this day but the reality is, I really didn’t apply myself. Nothing is so hard as pointing the finger at yourself and saying “This one’s on YOU dumbass.”
So I boldly go into the classroom and the kids eat me alive. I never saw it coming. Looking back I realized, I had attended exactly one class that dealt with classroom preparedness. Student teaching really didn’t help much. I only learned to teach by hanging in there and teaching.
Now I’m studying to be a writer. I’m also cheating, because I’m writing while I learn. Don’t worry, I know that’s not cheating. But yeah, it’s difficult to write crappy crap when you know it’s crappy crap, but you have to write it because, well, that’s what writers do. Until they start writing not-quite-as-crappy crap. Yep, Same with playing the guitar. Same with teaching. Same with everything.
My most recent skill that I now enjoy is re-reading my previous stuff, then crumpling it into a ball and throwing it toward the trash can. It has taken me six months to be able to do it. Should I have done that with this essay? Feel free to let me know. I can take it now. I’m a writer. ~TH~
OK Sheldon, hold up the sarcasm sign until I tell you to put it down.
This should be a beautiful event, a true homage to love. No one could ever think that the 26 year old bride-to-be might have ulterior motives in wanting to marry convicted nut job Charles Manson. He’s just so dog-gone charming! I told my wife before we were married that I would scrape a swastika between my eyes with a rusty, broken spoon handle if it would please her, but she said she didn’t need extravagant things.
Elaine “Star” Burton says — “Y’all can know that it’s true,” she said. “It’s going to happen. I love him,” she added. “I’m with him. There’s all kinds of things.”
Yes, there certainly are all kinds of things. Things I scratch my head about and ponder. The platypus leaps to mind. The octomom elbows her way in.
(Sheldon drops the sarcasm sign and walks away…)
Just when I think I’ve read, heard and seen the craziest, most bizarre stuff – BOOM! – Something comes along to top it. We’ll never run out of “crazy” I guess, it appears to be a renewable resource.
My first CD release ‘Glimpses‘ explored some of these off the wall absurdities. One was the nationally covered pizza bomber case that happened right here in good ol’ Erie PA (Collar Bomb). Another was an amazing tale of SUPER-crazy lady Joyce McKinney, who left Utah and became a stalker, rapist, piss-poor burglar (so she could raise money to provide her three legged horse with a prosthetic leg) – and finally ending up in South Korea where she successfully had guys in white lab coats clone her favorite pet pit bull “Booger”. I call that song Animal Cracker Jackpot. Click the link and give it a listen, lyrics provided below.
I urge you to read these linked stories, I guarantee you’ll come away from the experience feeling ever so much better about yourself – and your loony-tunes aunt! ~TH~
ANIMAL CRACKER JACKPOT – lyrics
Well there’s a new land down North Carolina where a circus show was set to begin- She was a pin-up, became a Wyoming beauty, hit the road and started travelin’
Moved on to Utah, steppin’ out with a boy, they were makin’ some plans, makin’ some noise- He started runnin’ like a sensible man when he saw her mind unravelin’- It was an animal cracker jackpot on parade
A sweet obsession, a dose of animal lust put this foxy lady hot on his tail- Flew off to England in pursuit of her lover, grabbed him up and hit the dusty trail
A country cottage all made up for her man, a silky suit for his legs, a velvet cuff for his hands- Just like a rabbit slippin’ outa the snare he told a story that would land her in jail – It was an animal cracker jackpot on parade- Including all the ones you never knew they made
Forget your lions and your tigers and your elephants too, she’ll make you scratch your head and wonder “what’s the next thing she’ll do?” – Picture a dodo with a pitbull on a three legged horse – She’ll tell you she’s not crazy but consider the source
She’s an animal cracker jackpot on parade- Including all the ones you never knew they made
A Black Maria and three months in the slammer, jumped her bail and disappeared in the night- A slow migration put her back into Utah lookin’ for the light of her life
She’s gettin’ tired from being wired to a long travelogue, she’s gone to the dogs in South Korea where they clone ’em by numbers- Barnum never saw such a sight
As an animal cracker jackpot on parade- Including all the ones you never knew they made
music and lyrics by Tom Hitt copyright 2014
OBSERVER WITH NO STORY
She watches and knows all the mundane things on the street below. There are no stories, not for her. She “sees and she thinks”, she thinks from her two-story perch. “Thinks as she sees”, with nothing to say about it all. An artful surveillance. Yes! A story just might start.
She sees him now, staring down at his phone, standing on the corner as the drizzle begins. He shrugs his coat closer and glances up briefly, across to the bus that has finished it’s stop. He waits – and she waits.
Across the street a small commotion arises as people disembark, but the crowd does not carry his cargo, then dissipates. He stares down again at the phone in his hand.
The mantle clock ticks and chimes lightly as the gray drifts down on her shoulders. His face is glowing and she captures his age – “so young, so young”. He pockets the phone and crosses away with the light. She lets the gray fade to darkness. She lets him all go and she watches.