Tuesday, June 26, 2001

I walked this afternoon through a graveyard which was founded in 1851. It takes up almost a square half-mile in the heart of Southeast Portland. It's fenced with rusting chain-link and has many beautiful trees. The headstones range from the nearly-dissolved, crumbling older marble to nearly-new Russian markers with laser-etched portraits of the deceased (or diseased, as Mark Twain would say. Towering above all are huge trees, linden and oak and redwood.

Ironically, I find this graveyard to be almost ghost-free. There is a calm of nothingness and eternity which has settled over it like a robe. There is a war memorial erected in 1903 to the brave and fallen of the four recent wars: Mexican, Civil, Indian and Spanish-American. Modern war had not yet begun. It is always odd for me to consider those who died in 1899. They had far more in common in heir daily lived with Homer than with me. No car, electric light, telephone conversation, world war, airplane, laundromat. No Hemingway, Marilyn Monroe, FDR, Superman, Hitler.

Weird. I walk on their graves and think of how short my life actually is.

Nothing new, I suppose. I've been contemplating my mortality since I was about five.

On a different note, the comments section is now jury-rigged using reblogger. I haven't the time to actually configure a php comment book on my own server as so many of my friends have done so well. Now if you could build them in flash! Ah!

Monday, June 25, 2001

Perhaps it's just my system, but the Net is painfully slow this morning. It's odd thinking of the anoymous millions skittering about from work or home. And the Internet is usually a private thing; television was a family activity, at least. Even the hallmark of American individuality, the almighty car, is something that can be enjoyed by several people at once. But the Internet evolved from work and is usually viewed on workstations. Maybe someday there will be a multi-user computer that becomes popular? I hardly think that the current paradigm of tower/keyboard/monitor/mouse will be anything anyone would put in their living room. But who knows? It certainly wouldn't be any uglier than a big television, would it?

Haley's leaving for three weeks. I am really upset, more than I imagined. Three weeks is a long, long time. At least it seems so now.

Sunday, June 24, 2001

Oh my!... a spell check for blogger! Where's my custom dictionary when I need it?

It's cold here... windy,rainy and cold. We just finished watching 42 Up, the latest of a series of documentaries begun in 1964 about fourteen then-seven-year-old British kids. Every seven years they are rvisited by director and film crew to see what has become of them. I tell you this now: if you do not wish to see some truly scary shit which will make you inspect your own life with the cold, practised eye of an audience member then avoid this fine film. Otherwise, have at it and don't be shy. We immensely enjoyed it and have been talking about it steadily.

Oh, I'm feelin better. These inadequate hard-on-myself feelings tend to come and go. Sopmetimes I document them only to look at what I've said in horror and dismay. 'Tis the human condition, I suppose.

Funny, I get the blues when it's sunny all the time. I was raised in Arizona, so maybe I just have had my fill of "beautiful" weather.