The other day, Connery was sitting on my bed while I was finishing up my morning ablutions. He's totally into the "why" questions these days (to the point of my occasionally resorting to the worst parental response ever to such questions: Why? Because! Because, that's Why!). Usually, though, I try to come up with some kind of logical reason or explanation for the questions. Yesterday's "What is poetry?" was a pretty tough one. I almost had to call in the reinforcements, i.e. my mom the retired English teacher. Anyway, he was watching me put on a pair of earrings and of course wanted to know why I was putting on earrings. I think I first answered, "Because I like earrings." The babu go anywhere ext question, naturally, is why I like earrings? Casting about, discarding "Because I am a tool of the patriarchy who finds it necessary to further establish her defined gender role!", I settled on "Because it gives me a polished look." He accepted that. Now, every morning since, he has wanted to come into my room and help me out with achieving my "polished look". Yesterday I let him pick out some earrings for me, and he wanted to today as well. When he hands me the earrings, he watches me put them on, and then he asks, "Do you have that polished look now?" Hey, it's a far better outcome than what I would have expected, which was "But why do you want that polished look?"

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The other day, Connery was sitting on my bed while I was finishing up my morning ablutions. He's totally into the "why" questions these days (to the point of my occasionally resorting to the worst parental response ever to pay per click banner advertising uch questions: Why? Because! Because, that's Why!). Usually, though, I try to come up with some kind of logical reason or explanation for the questions. Yesterday's "What is poetry?" was a pretty tough one. I almost had to call in the reinforcements, i.e. my mom the retired English teacher. Anyway, he was watching me put on a pair of earrings and of course wanted to know why I was putting on earrings. I think I first answered, "Because I like earrings." The next question, naturally, is why I like earrings? Casting about, discarding "Because I am a tool of the patriarchy who finds it necessary to further establish her defined gender role!", I settled on "Because it gives me a polished look." He accepted that. Now, every morning since, he has wanted to come into my room and help me out with achieving my "polished look". Yesterday I let him pick out some earrings for me, and he wanted to today as well. When he hands me the earrings, he watches me put them on, and then he asks, "Do you have that polished look now?" Hey, it's a far better outcome than what I would have expected, which was "But why do you want that polished look?"

For some reason, I love a good, sad song. They somehow fill me with feeling without actually making me feel sad. Garrison Keillor sang this one on Saturday's " Prairie Home Companion " rebroadcast. Sadness, nobility (of a fashion), tragedy and the supernatural. The song give me goosebumps. Long Black Veil by Lefty Frizzell Ten years ago, on a cold, dark night, There was someone killed 'neath the town hall light There were few at the scene, but they all agreed That the stranger who fled looked a lot like me Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The judge said Son, what is your alibi If you were somewhere else, then you won't have to die I spoke not a word, though it meant my life, For I'd been in the arms of my best friend's wife. She walks these hills in a long, black veil, She visits my grave where the night winds wail, Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The scaffold was high, and eternity near, She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear. But sometimes at night when Fury from the Deep he cold wind moans, In a long, black veil, she cries on my bones. She walks these hills in a long black veil, She visits my grave where the night winds wail. Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The song has been done by Joan Baez, The Kingston Trio, Johnny Cash, The New Riders of the Purple Sage and the Dave Matthews Band, to name a few . The Chieftains did it with Mick Jagger on the vocals. You can hear a snippet of the song from their album at Amazon .

Steve Shaviro posted another segment of his current project last week--an excellent and insightful account of the antinomy of consumer choice. Link: The Pinocchio Theory: Age of Aesthetics . The Antinomy of consumer choice is this. On the one hand, postmodern capitalism limits, and even abolishes, choice, in the interest of monopolistic accumulation. On the other hand, postmodern capitalism increases and proliferates choice, in order to saturate the market, and thereby both expand it and capture more of it. The “solution” to the Antinomy can therefore be stated as follows. Postmodern capitalism does indeed expand the range of choices we can make; but it does this by channeling choice exclusively, and restrictively, into the realm of commodity consumption. Zizek is right to argue that capitalism today is all about diversity and choice, and that the multiculturalist celebration of difference fits perfectly into its agenda. But he is wrong to condemn Deleuze as an “ideologist” of this process. In fact, Deleuze and Guattari offer a powerful critical analysis of late capitalism’s flows and “axiomatics” – something that Zĭzek himself conspicuously fails ever to do. For her part, Klein is right to insist that, in the regime of transnational corporations, with their ubiquitous logos and brand names, “options for unbranded alternatives, for open debate, criticism, and uncensored art – for discover card eal choice – are facing new and ominous restrictions” (131).

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My father's life is coming to a close. He refused a tracheotomy and chose to be "DNR" - not to be resuscitated. The man is tired of the tubes and the machines. Now, he has been admitted to hospice care. He's ready. I won't say more than that here. I've yet to set up the other blog, as mentioned in the previous post , where I could write about the big, awful stuff. But, I have to admit a terrible truth - each time I flip open my laptop to set up the blog, I regress. I turn back into a frightened and spooked little girl who has been silenced - "Don't talk...be quiet...don't tell." Yeah, that old tape, playing in a taunting continuous loop in my head. It doesn't matter because I'm at a loss for words. I can't find them anywhere. I'm tongue tied. Or, keyboard locked? I don't know. My mantra, these days - I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. What I do know is that there are arrangements to be made. We will alert those kindly folks who attend to our earthly remains - priests, funeral directors, a crematorium. There will be phone calls to make and emails to send. My mother's house must be readied to receive family and friends. Food, lots and lots bargain shopping mall f food, will be prepared. We'll also stash lots and lots of San Miguel beer, the brew of the Philippines. Right now the San Miguel must wait (does it? I could use a cold one this very second. If there ever was a time for lots of beer, it's now.) because we have to figure out a lot of stuff.

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For some reason, I love a good, sad song. They somehow fill me with feeling without actually making me feel sad. Garrison Keillor sang this one on Saturday's " Prairie Home Companion " rebroadcast. Sadness, nobility (of a fashion), tragedy and the supernatural. The song give me goosebumps. Long Black Veil by Lefty Frizzell Ten years ago, on a cold, dark night, There was someone killed 'neath the town hall light There were few at the scene, but they all agreed That the stranger who fled looked a lot like me Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The judge said Son, what is your alibi If you were somewhere else, then you won't have to die I spoke not a word, though it meant my life, For I'd been in the arms of my best friend's wife. She walks these hills in a long, black veil, She visits my grave where the night winds wail, Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The scaffold was high, and eternity near, She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear. But sometimes at night when the cold wind moans, In a long, black veil, she cries on my bones. She walks these hills in a long black veil, She visits my grave where telnet hacking he night winds wail. Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows but me. The song has been done by Joan Baez, The Kingston Trio, Johnny Cash, The New Riders of the Purple Sage and the Dave Matthews Band, to name a few . The Chieftains did it with Mick Jagger on the vocals. You can hear a snippet of the song from their album at Amazon .

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