funny how this blog has to be 'selected' and then 'deleted' in order to post on it...well, I have this picture of my mother-in-law from my second marriage, her name was Priscilla Moyer Wilson..I doubt her middle name was Moyer but it might have been. She came from a well to do family in Connecticut and she met her husband probably in New York city where he was from, a real blowhard that one, and she was a librarian by trade. We have one just like her running our little local library only this one is Adele and she's got her marbles in a bag which Priscilla really didn't. This picture I have of Priscilla is very much representative of Carolyn whom I worked in the mailroom with. This Mailroom Carolyn is a real tigeress, devious, cruel, manipulative, dishonest, you name it, that's her to a t and I should know because I had to work with her until she got me more or less fired for substandard performance on the job. How could I not with her there to supervise my doings and set me up and make me look bad, I want to know... that's how it went and with her little Lackey Diane at her side backing her up in everything she did to me, well, that's the way it went...these are real times buddy, real times indeed
anyways, after the fact I was sitting down at our little local cafe/restaurant/pool hall and I'm talking to t he Chiasson bunch about how 'you'd have to be able to speak Russian to get along with Nesbitt' I still think that the photograph of Priscilla looks eggzackly like Carolyn, same dark eyebrows, patrician slightly hawkish beak, determined jaw...too bad Carolyn didn't go the way of Priscilla and need to be on lithium...that really is too bad but there it was and this year I should have retired from that employment, been gainfuilly employed for the last ten years but instead I've been struggling to get by thanks to her and a lot of other influences that combinated in my being where I am at this moment...Carolyn was no friend of mine...funny too how I should have an automobile now that was previously owned by a woman named Karolyn..hehe...my little buggy...
meanwhile, the sun is out today and what a blaze of glory that is, desk so white with the sunshine it's too bright to look at...haven't had sun like that since late last summer...incredibly invigorating
I've been bunked up reading the Angle of Repose book for book club and I am realizing in this story I'm one of this generations similar individuals pioneering a way of life that becomes popular in generations to come...this guy Oliver Ward is all over the place engineering and tinkering and making stuff go but he's really a Native American at heart, working the land in the face of population on it in time to come so that the land is not trampled down as it might be if the engineers don't plan it out for there to be a suitable demographic input ...he's got the Native American ethic working for him, doesn't take patents on his inventions because they are the sum of the land's production before the fact of residence by mankind...(I would say)...he's never making it big so far in the west, has a firstborn son with his wife Sue that comes down periodically with a kind of New England malaria (never heard of it but there it is in Connecticut so far hehe...from a pond in Milton probably not far from our mother-in-law's family estate..she had her own maid
never in my life have I had a maid in residence, a cook, a housekeeper, a chauffeur...any of that and yet...it's seems as though the sum of the microsoft gang is to file up my computer proceedings and there goes my Java and nethood and netmeeting and so forth as I wrote them ...I see quite similar proceedings in the Oliver Ward story about guaging the West, probably I would be said to be gauging the way into space where we would become colonists of the new worlds we find...we can't go there, I believe until we understand one another, because we'll have to use Nuclear Energy to get there, and really what is the quality of life of my daughter in Mesa? surrounded by cement, one uses one's car to get from point A to point B most of the time..one does not become aware of catfish in the storm drains unless one has a relative such as myself that points it out as she steadfastly attempts to find a bit of wilderness in all the urban sprawl...(there is none but the catfish and its offspring)...
Stegner has made me speak about all of these t hings and yet I grouse about the Carolyns a bit because I wouldn't have had time to t hink this way if I were on the job doing what I did sorting inmate mail, reading about relatives living in cars, being thrown off motorcycles and gaining excellent road rash...finding ten dollar bills that explode in the faces of those handling the tender (evidently myself..hmmmm)...so said T HAT Carolyn...well, meanwhile back at the Stegner place in Idaho where they're waiting to build a grand canal to water t he dry southwest and make it arable...well anyway, it is a dry place and having flown over it I don't know as there ever was a canal built but it was a grand project andl there you have the Native American ethic at work in full force...only a dream and a penniless dreamer with an artistic wife that supports the family with books and drawings of where they are, sold to the aesthete back East who head the journals of the day...does any of the aesthetic of the Native American come t hrough? the Leadville town where the great refinery belches out taverns and frozen winters with the aplomb of a diplomat from Hades..no success there for Oliver eit her because one of his men is beaten into the kind of Priscilla headon that disables him to nonfunctioning other than to quote a bit of pure Latin out of the blue months later after the assault...such greed, we're to think this is refinement of the clan wars of t he early days of the Plains Indians?? nah..this is European tripe gone totally foul...I doubt the ancient clans were that bad, their mores so different...they understood their brother the bear..they ate him, wore his pelt and left his children to other mothers...they were not that cruel but educated to how nature must thrive for us to exist...so we have this transcendental among us, me being this generation's version of it, Oliver Ward, the previous...we have great plans for our world, to make it l iveable and ecologically sound...but who hears us??? my writing is nothing for an audience to hear, doesn't happen, I think, I am aware, and so was he and more talented to fixing up what needed fixing but for what purpose? to be disappointed, both of us, for I talk in relative terms...as did Oliver Ward...it wasn't his wife that was the talent...it was him...such a good guy in all of that, really, such a good guy...
anyways, after the fact I was sitting down at our little local cafe/restaurant/pool hall and I'm talking to t he Chiasson bunch about how 'you'd have to be able to speak Russian to get along with Nesbitt' I still think that the photograph of Priscilla looks eggzackly like Carolyn, same dark eyebrows, patrician slightly hawkish beak, determined jaw...too bad Carolyn didn't go the way of Priscilla and need to be on lithium...that really is too bad but there it was and this year I should have retired from that employment, been gainfuilly employed for the last ten years but instead I've been struggling to get by thanks to her and a lot of other influences that combinated in my being where I am at this moment...Carolyn was no friend of mine...funny too how I should have an automobile now that was previously owned by a woman named Karolyn..hehe...my little buggy...
meanwhile, the sun is out today and what a blaze of glory that is, desk so white with the sunshine it's too bright to look at...haven't had sun like that since late last summer...incredibly invigorating
I've been bunked up reading the Angle of Repose book for book club and I am realizing in this story I'm one of this generations similar individuals pioneering a way of life that becomes popular in generations to come...this guy Oliver Ward is all over the place engineering and tinkering and making stuff go but he's really a Native American at heart, working the land in the face of population on it in time to come so that the land is not trampled down as it might be if the engineers don't plan it out for there to be a suitable demographic input ...he's got the Native American ethic working for him, doesn't take patents on his inventions because they are the sum of the land's production before the fact of residence by mankind...(I would say)...he's never making it big so far in the west, has a firstborn son with his wife Sue that comes down periodically with a kind of New England malaria (never heard of it but there it is in Connecticut so far hehe...from a pond in Milton probably not far from our mother-in-law's family estate..she had her own maid
never in my life have I had a maid in residence, a cook, a housekeeper, a chauffeur...any of that and yet...it's seems as though the sum of the microsoft gang is to file up my computer proceedings and there goes my Java and nethood and netmeeting and so forth as I wrote them ...I see quite similar proceedings in the Oliver Ward story about guaging the West, probably I would be said to be gauging the way into space where we would become colonists of the new worlds we find...we can't go there, I believe until we understand one another, because we'll have to use Nuclear Energy to get there, and really what is the quality of life of my daughter in Mesa? surrounded by cement, one uses one's car to get from point A to point B most of the time..one does not become aware of catfish in the storm drains unless one has a relative such as myself that points it out as she steadfastly attempts to find a bit of wilderness in all the urban sprawl...(there is none but the catfish and its offspring)...
Stegner has made me speak about all of these t hings and yet I grouse about the Carolyns a bit because I wouldn't have had time to t hink this way if I were on the job doing what I did sorting inmate mail, reading about relatives living in cars, being thrown off motorcycles and gaining excellent road rash...finding ten dollar bills that explode in the faces of those handling the tender (evidently myself..hmmmm)...so said T HAT Carolyn...well, meanwhile back at the Stegner place in Idaho where they're waiting to build a grand canal to water t he dry southwest and make it arable...well anyway, it is a dry place and having flown over it I don't know as there ever was a canal built but it was a grand project andl there you have the Native American ethic at work in full force...only a dream and a penniless dreamer with an artistic wife that supports the family with books and drawings of where they are, sold to the aesthete back East who head the journals of the day...does any of the aesthetic of the Native American come t hrough? the Leadville town where the great refinery belches out taverns and frozen winters with the aplomb of a diplomat from Hades..no success there for Oliver eit her because one of his men is beaten into the kind of Priscilla headon that disables him to nonfunctioning other than to quote a bit of pure Latin out of the blue months later after the assault...such greed, we're to think this is refinement of the clan wars of t he early days of the Plains Indians?? nah..this is European tripe gone totally foul...I doubt the ancient clans were that bad, their mores so different...they understood their brother the bear..they ate him, wore his pelt and left his children to other mothers...they were not that cruel but educated to how nature must thrive for us to exist...so we have this transcendental among us, me being this generation's version of it, Oliver Ward, the previous...we have great plans for our world, to make it l iveable and ecologically sound...but who hears us??? my writing is nothing for an audience to hear, doesn't happen, I think, I am aware, and so was he and more talented to fixing up what needed fixing but for what purpose? to be disappointed, both of us, for I talk in relative terms...as did Oliver Ward...it wasn't his wife that was the talent...it was him...such a good guy in all of that, really, such a good guy...
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