Brrrr!

    

Tucson Weather Today

 

____________________

It's cold this morning. I don't know if the temperature got down to the thirty degree mark that Erin, the Tucson Weather Girl said it was going to or not... Well, I just left the keyboard long enough to run in and check what Erin says this morning: the temperature at this time is only 34 degrees.

But, yes,that's cold enough to suit me. Eva is wanting to go out but I am going to try to convince her to wait a little longer, at least until the sunlight shines over the mountaintops. At least for another half hour or so.

"What? You have to go? Oh, O.K. then... Come on...."

Woo Hoo! I'm back inside. The pool deck thermometer reads 34 degrees. Bright Venus is high overhead, The brightest (and onliest)light in the sky at this time of morning -- at daybreak.

Note: The Traffic Lady reports that it's smooth sailing both East and West through Tucson on Interstate 10.

_____

Did You Know . . .?

A fysigunkus is a person devoid of curiosity.

_____

HISTORICAL EVENT

On this day in 1933, a federal judge ruled that Ulysses by James Joyce is not obscene. The book had been banned immediately in both the United States and England when it came out in 1922. Three years earlier, its serialization in an American review had been cut short by the U.S. Post Office for the same reason. Fortunately, one of James' supporters, Sylvia Beach, owner of the bookstore Shakespeare and Co. in Paris, published the novel herself in 1922.

Ulysses, with its radical stream-of-consciousness narrative, deeply influenced the development of the modern novel.

Joyce's final novel, Finnegans Wake, was published in 1939, and Joyce died in 1941.

_____

WORD FOR TODAY

censorship [senn'-suhr-ship]
noun
The act, process, or practice of censoring.

Censorship is the suppression of speech or other public communication which may be considered objectionable, harmful, sensitive, politically incorrect or inconvenient as determined by a government, media outlet or other controlling body.

_____

CELEBRITY BIRTHDAYS

Gina Hecht
(born December 6, 1953)

Gina Hecht is an American actress. Her big break came in 1979 when she was hired for a role on the successful TV series Mork & Mindy. Her first film role was in the 1982 Ron Howard movie Night Shift, alongside Henry Winkler and Michael Keaton.

Lindsay Jaylyn Price
(born December 6, 1976)

Lindsay Price is an American television actress and singer who was born to a father of German and Irish descent and a mother of Korean descent, best known for her roles as Janet Sosna on Beverly Hills, 90210 and as Victory Ford on Lipstick Jungle. She also is known for her work on soap operas such as All My Children and The Bold and the Beautiful.

Dulce María
(born December 6, 1985)

Dulce Maria is a Mexican actress, singer, and songwriter. In October 2009 she signed a contract with Universal Music and recorded a solo album Extranjera, with its first part released in November 2010, and the second part in the summer of 2011.

Margaret JoBeth Williams
(born December 6, 1948)

JoBeth Williams is an American film, television and stage actress and director. She rose to prominence appearing in such films as Stir Crazy (1980), Poltergeist (1982), The Big Chill (1983), The Day After (1983), Teachers (1984) and Poltergeist II: The Other Side (1986).

__________

Stopping leaks is a new form of censorship.
--Julian Assange

This Is Who I Am

    

I Am Not An Artist

_____

Tucson Weather Today

_____

From A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, I read:

White roses and red roses: those were beautiful colours to think of. And the cards for first place and second place and third place were beautiful colours too: pink and cream and lavender. Lavender and cream and pink roses were beautiful to think of. Perhaps a wild rose might be like those colours and he remembered the song about the wild rose blossoms on the little green place.

What is a reader to think immediately upon reading those lines? I am probably the only person alive who would think the inappropriate thoughts that crept into my mind after I read those words. I thought:

...of rods and cones and extremely short wavelengths and unimaginably high frequencies.

Neither the beauty of colors nor the artistry of the words and phrasing impinged for even an instant upon my literal analysis of what I was reading. Not until much later, that is, after the moment had fled -- had drifted off to (as always) disappear into whatever hidden depths such moments are fated to fall.

What the hell is the matter with me?

Why am I always the one who sees things differently than others see things?

Why is it always me who visualizes (while reading a novel) that a character described as "driving along the coast and looking out at the ocean" is a driver gazing over the waters of the 'Atlantic,' -- until I later read that this character is driving North along the coast, looking to his left, and only then do I come to realize that he is seeing, not the Atlantic, but instead, the Pacific Ocean.

Perhaps I am Joyce's solitary green rose growing in some alien place.

But I have now read the first two chapters of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and (surprisingly) enjoyed the reading of them.

#

Why is death a thing to be feared, or to evoke sadness? I can understand why one would fear the pain that might occur just preceding death, but not the state of being dead itself. And why should one be saddened by the passing from life to death of another: a treasured pet, a close friend, or even a much loved family member? It seems to me that the grief attending death is a sadness one feels at being deprived of another's companionship, a sense of loss at no longer being able to interact with the one who has just died.

I don't mean to appear callous by writing this. All I am trying to do is discover and honestly express in words how I truly feel about life, death, and bereavement.

I should keep those non-typical feelings to myself . . .
Words are sometimes inadequate for a full disclosure.

#

It has come to my attention that a 3.8 Earthquake occurred East of Kokomo, Indiana this morning. That is the vicinity of my old home town, which is less that a hundred miles from Kokomo. I am sending out questioning emails to friends and family still living there.

More here about the quake.

__________