No need for perfect

Her ear wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter.  It seemed to me, her beauty came from within.  Beauty in the twinkle of her eye, beauty in her giggle, beauty in the tassels of her hair.  Very little hair indeed.

Even her tearful cries were beautiful-like that of a lamb separated from its mother.  And once quieted, rocked to sleep-resting as a content angel-my most beautiful creation.

~~~To my beautiful daughter Tesla.  We had three minutes to write about what we believe to be “the most beautiful thing.”

~P.

O’Connor on James Joyce~Araby

O’Connor describes Joyce’s short story writing style as pictorial comparing his stories to “a beautifully illustrated book.”  I agree with O’Connor’s description of Joyce’s style because Araby paints a picture in the reader’s mind without the need of illustration.

Araby is a short story compared to others we have read for this class, but it does not leave one questioning the characters or setting.  The first paragraph opens with the description of the street the characters live on.  It is a dead-end street but Joyce makes the street much more with his description, “…being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free.”  His writing brings the houses to life giving them abilities not usually attributed to inanimate objects.  The houses “…gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces” painting a somber picture of brownstones lining a quiet street.

O’Connor also comments that Joyce creates a “hypnotic effect” in his writing.  I also found such an effect in Araby.  “The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and falling, lit up the hand upon the railing.”  This sentence has a rhythm to it that is distinguishable and could be lyrics to a song.  He repeats words or uses a different form of a word such as light and lit to create a pattern unique to his style of work.

Joyce also writes multiple adjectives without the use of punctuation.  This was noticeable to me prior to reading O’Connor’s review of Joyce’s writing style.  I particularly appreciated his description of the gardens and horse stables.  A garden and horse stable have little in common but one word-dark-pulls them together in the sentence.  “…the dark dripping gardens…to the dark odorous stables…”  Joyce uses no punctuation and repeats words describing two unlike places.  And it works beautifully.

Joyce’s use of simile also presents an image a reader “can accept or reject but can’t modify to suit one’s own mood or environment” as O’Connor points out.  Two sentences that did indeed illustrate the boy’s embarrassment with having a crush on the neighbor can be visualized in “…yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood” and carries an impact that a simple statement such as, “her name makes me blush” cannot do.  The same is true with “But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.”  The mental image these sentences create give understanding to his deep feelings for this young lady.

It is this unique, hypnotic effect throughout Araby that confirms O’Connor’s pictorial description of Joyce’s style of writing.  The sentence rhythm, form and word choices create a beautiful picture in the mind of a reader just as Joyce had intended.

Ying woke

Ying woke early Saturday morning, stretching his long furry legs on the luxurious king size memory foam mattress fitted with six hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, a silky comforter embellished with beautiful geometric shapes in various sizes, sixteen pillows matching the comforter’s pattern and colors all situated on an expensive handmade dark mahogany four poster bed passed down through eight generations of his owner’s family-German in descent-and shoved his cold nose into her hand, eager to get their morning routine started.

“It’s Saturday mutt!  Get away!” she yelled.

(Assignment was to write one sentence of at least 75 words followed by a short sentence)

Deer Here

York County is country.  Farms and fields, acre after acre.  Woods and animals, mile after mile…

Practice went well and the whole team was pumped for the game the following afternoon.  I loaded up the van with our gear: bats, balls, gloves, helmets.  Half the team depended on me for a ride to the games.  Anything smaller than a van wasn’t going to get us to the ball field.

It was getting dark after dropping off my team mates.  I was exhausted after a long day of classes, followed by practice, followed by delivering my girls to their homes.  Calculus was on my brain, calculating how long it would take to do my homework after a hot, relaxing shower.  The showering thoughts made me sigh.

He came out of nowhere.  My mind was still lingering on the shower when the white of his chest caught my eye, just not quickly enough.  I slammed on the brakes.  They squealed loud, the rear of the van began to fish-tail.  The impact slowed my momentum but sped up my heart rate.

I put the van in park to see how much damage he did.  The front passenger side was crushed.  Headlight obliterated, turn signal broken and hanging from various wires.  Damn it!  I walked around to the side and realized the door was also crushed.  Fucking deer.  Must have swung around to do double damage, just my luck.

It was completely dark now and I only had one headlight.  I glanced over at the fucking buck, my guts twisting when I realized he wasn’t dead.  All that damage to my van and the son of a bitch is still kicking two of his four legs.  One was missing completely and the other bent at an unnatural angle.  This didn’t stop him from attempting to get up.  His struggling, snorting and blood coming from various injuries should have evoked sympathy for the white-tail.  It didn’t.

I walked to the back of my van and opened one of the double doors.  I pulled out the team’s equipment bag and dragged it around to the front.  Two solid swings and his escape attempts ceased.

“You’re outta here!” I yelled, to no one in particular.

Meeting Evil~Movie Review

“Meeting Evil”  2012

Luke Wilson and Samuel L. Jackson star in this direct-to-video, mystery drama by Chris Fisher.  The setting is in an upscale neighborhood with most of the homes up for sale, including Wilson’s character’s home.  John Fleton (Wilson) is a beaten down man.  He is fired from his realtor job, is unable to sell his house he has not been able to afford and the backyard is a giant hole, waiting to become a swimming pool.

Richie, played by Jackson, knocks on John’s front door asking for a hand at getting his car started.  John, being that helpful type of guy, stops sulking long enough to give Richie’s car a running start.  Richie’s car backfires, injuring John and beginning an adventure of brutal murder and senseless crime with John as a kidnapped victim.

“Meeting Evil” adequately describes Jackson’s character.  If you liked Jackson in “Pulp Fiction” you will appreciate his performance as Richie.  Beyond that, the characters are flat and the plot is stretched thin.  The situations the characters are placed in are less than believable.  This would work if the movie wasn’t meant to be taken seriously.  It has an “R” rating and could have taken the leap to “slasher thriller” with over-the-top, bloody scenes.  Instead, the movie falls somewhere in-between.  The actors are top-notch from the main characters to the supporting actors portraying police officers.  The problem is the stiff dialogue between them.  Jackson’s character is the exception as his dark, sarcastic and often vulgar language lifts Richie out of the flat character persona that keeps the remaining characters from rising.

While I had solved the mystery of this film prior to the end, I did not expect the last few frame’s twists.  Ultimately, it is that twist and Jackson as a psychopathic killer that saves this movie from complete failure.

The Martini Bros at Kipona 2012

The Martini Bros. performed at the Kipona River Fest in Harrisburg, PA on September 1, 2012.  This was their first appearance in many years at the River Fest.

This Harrisburg based trio was formed in 1994.  Deuce Gibb is the lead vocalist and plays lead guitar.  Mike Mead is the bassist and Rej Troup is the drummer.  Both sing back-up to Gibb.  Joining them onstage was their sons and they referred to them as their “roadies.”  This group was great for a family event and there was a wide range in age of the people attending.

Gibb and Mead worked the stage and the crowd encouraging dancing and singing.  Troup was stationary behind the drum kit but did twirl his sticks and toss them in the air delighting the crowd. The Martini Bros. style is a mix of punk, rock-a-billy and classic rock and roll.  They dressed the part in skinny jeans, collared shirts and cowboy boots complimented by multiple tattoos and piercings.

Deuce Gibb

Mike Mead

Rej Troup

The original song titled “Spinning on an Axis” had a pop/punk sound to it.  They sang in three part harmony with a driving rhythm.   This high energy piece was about life, love and traveling as a band.  Mead captured the audience’s attention using a can of pressurized air as a slide on his bass.  I found that very amusing.

Canned air slide

Another original song, “Get your wheels shined up” was a mixture of punk and rock-a-billy.  The tune was catchy and easy to sing along to with the band.  The title was the only lyrics and at a medium tempo.  It was an easy song to rock to and pump my fist in the air to the beat.  It was also short in length but memorable, popping into my head long after the concert came to an end.

The Martini Bros. did a cover of Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs song “Wooly Bully.”  The blues song was quickly recognized by the crowd and soon a large group of people were dancing in front of the stage.  The band liven it up even more with guitar riffs and a drum solo.

Over all, as a three man ensemble, The Martini Bros. had the entire crowd at River Fest in the palm of their hands.  From their original songs to classic 60’s rock they enjoyed playing for us as much as we enjoyed listening to them.

Hear them jam!  Great show Bros!!  ~P.

Barb Grady, beloved volleyball coach and teacher, died Sunday – The York Daily Record

Memorial service for Barbra Grady will be September 29th at 2 PM at Dover High School.

Grady was the coolest of cool teachers.  She told us students we could call her Grady but if administration was around, call her Ms. Grady.

She hung out with us in the mornings for breakfast and no one felt like she was “babysitting” until homeroom.

We were encouraged to make an attempt at all the sports in her gym class and never made to feel inferior if we sucked ass.

She laughed with us and lent a shoulder when we needed to cry.

Grady…..your enthusiasm for life, sports and lifting the spirits of high school students will be greatly missed.  You were more than just a teacher, you were our friend.

One morning she saved me from certain embarrassment.  My brother Joe had pinned a pig’s tail on the back of my jean jacket after the yearly pig slaughter on my grandparent’s farm.  Grady stopped me in the hall and asked what the heck was on my back.  Removing the tell tail, I explained and we laughed between the two of us as I thanked her from saving me from certain ridicule.

God Bless and rest in peace Grady.  You were a shining star in the halls of great Dover High!

~P.

Barb Grady, beloved volleyball coach and teacher, died Sunday – The York Daily Record.

Wooden books and plastic crayons

Fill those wrinkles with cream cheese,

Fart popsicles if you please.

Hold the yoke, let out the choke, more bad news: Bill Gates is broke.

Poke an elbow in the zebra’s eye, lift his tail for shoe-fly pie.

Crack the lizard to prepare for a blizzard.

Hide under the stump, give a good hump, more bad news: I’ve grown a bump.

Nothing is real, the world is fake.

Swallow the light bulb out of the Eazy Bake.

Dear Dawn~Thanks BFF

Dear Dawn,

I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you dashing out to save me from serious embarrassment at Gina and Tupac’s wedding.  I should have know better than to squeeze my fat ass into that silk dress I bought three years ago!

Why wedding have to be so damn formal is beyond me.  I was much more comfortable in your hubby’s Steelers sweatpants and t-shirt, and after a few rounds of shots, no one at the reception gave a shit what I was wearing.  On a good note, I kicked ass during the limbo while the rest of the women sat in their pretty get-ups, jealous as I danced with their dates.

You rock!

Pattie

(This was a three minute, spontaneous writing assignment where I was to write a thank you note to my best friend for bringing me a change of clothes after a zipper breaks on my outfit I was wearing at a wedding.)

Your crutch and spew

Save your breath I don’t want to hear you speak there is nothing you can say that will ever save the day.

You wanted your piece of pie then shouted out your mean goodbye now I don’t cry.

My world cannot crumble even when I fumble you’re so out of touch because I was your crutch.

Kiss my ass I don’t need you no one does or ever will don’t believe me I won’t care.

Raise your hand you can’t hurt me now I don’t miss you not then not now.

You didn’t complete me for I needed no one to make me whole.

I have God my children my family and my friends who will stick by me until the end.

One day you will find yourself alone sitting at the table spewing out your hate and blame in your clueless mind frame.