Language itself is a barrier.
I just got back from Tahoe where I attended a MoveOn.org house party. We made calls encouraging people to vote in the upcoming election, ate and then watched the video Iraq for Sale , a really irritating documentary. It exposes the brazen greed of our "conservative" government. It is staggering. STAGGERING .... mercenary corporations like Dick Cheney's Halliburton partnered with their stooges in Washington, Bush and Company, have bilked American tax payers of billions of dollars in "Cost Plus" overruns not to mention the insufferable tragedy of so many lives lost, and so many more hopelessly ruined in their jagged swath. It's criminal and the whores in Congress rubber stamp every bit of it ... for a cut. These guys have got to go!
Long day in Reno. I thought I had an appointment with the knee doctor but there was a scheduling mix up and I have to go back tomorrow. I'll make a day of it if the weather's nice. We had a pretty good snow here last night, not in the valley but right down to the bottom of the Sierras. It's the first one worth counting this year. It rained here ... Oregon style. The 7am magpie was even late for breakfast but when we got home this afternoon I see someone scooped up the goodies.
I had a friend in Oregon named Joey, an old Sicilian fellow who grew up in New York City. Hard life. Killed a man in prison in a fight over a loaf of bread. Nice though. Joey wouldn't hurt a fly willingly. He paid me to clean his apartment just before he died. It was filled with clocks, mostly pendulum clocks, small ones, wall models, desk models, and a couple of grandfather clocks, all in a very tiny place. Joey was a dealer at an antique mall and found them on his rounds through flea markets, yard sales and second hand stores, but they we nice. He had an eye. The clocks were unsettling though because they all ticked very loudly and no two were set exactly the same. This was especially puzzling because Joey was a fastidious fellow, not one to miss the fact that each clock marked a different hour with its chimes or coo-coo. What made it even more strange was that during his last year I kept sensing that Joey was getting ready, wanted to die, nothing specific, just something about him and the clocks reinforced that impression. It seemed they were busy measuring, from their different perspectives, how much time he had left in an effort to synthesize a universal hour from all his overlaps and contradictions.
In that last year Joey had reconnected with an old lover from Paris, Queenie. He met her during the war when he was a deserter instead of going to Normandy. He went back to France determined to finally face the beach and the ghosts that had haunted him all his life but, although they hadn't talked for 50 years, hooked up with Queenie instead. She still loved him. They made plans for her to come to America and live with him. And the clocks. Instead he died. Pneumonia. Dead in a week. It didn't surprise me. Tomorrow I'm going to put that clock back out in the garage.