caudelac: (Amuse me.)
This weekend, my Grandmother passed away. It was her choice to do it the way she did (nice and quiet in her sleep, having said, "no, done with hospitals," and she had family with her. B and I said goodbye a month and a half ago, which is good, since we cannot make the memorial this Friday. Still.

I had other things, and I probably still do. General Lemarque is also dead. Barricades up.

And the rest is all Girl, you better work.
caudelac: (wistful)
On the way home from work yesterday, I heard on NPR that Harry Morgan, Colonel Potter from M*A*S*H, had passed away. He was 96.

I bawled all the rest of the way home.

So long, Sherm.
caudelac: (wistful)
My father found out yesterday, and promptly told me, that my godfather passed away a bit ago. We found out today that it was the day after Thanksgiving. He was very sick, and had been for years-- living in a home. The last time I saw him was Thanksgiving of 2002, at which point he was nearly completely blind. I was still living with Shannon for chrissakes. I had spoken to him once or twice on the phone since, but... well.

All that aside, I didn't expect it. I knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later, but I still didn't think it'd actually happen. Hurts like a son of a bitch. Hard to explain what he was to us... an uncle, certainly, he and my dad were the ones who taught me about having a good debate, philosophical, historical, or religious conversation, and still like the people you were arguing with. We never got to go to Germany-- he never actually got to go back to Germany, actually, a place he loved and missed the rest of his life. There's still so many conversations and things he and I never got to have. And we... we were his entire family, pretty much, apart from his sister... I met his parents, we hung out with them in the desert one year, but they'd been gone a long time. And we were (me and my folks anyway) on the other side of the country. I'd missed him a lot already, and now-- well.

From what I understand, there wasn't a funeral or anything. B took me out to Irish Food last night, and let me cry and tell stories and remember and drink a car bomb in Warren's memory. So I'll tell you my toast to the man, based on his favorite old Scottish Joke, that he'd told me when I was far too young to be hearing such things:

To Warren "Bjorn-o" Amy, a man who would indeed appreciate it if ye emptied a bottle of good Scotch Whiskey on 'is grave-- and wouldn't even mind if ye filtered it through yer kidneys first.

Prost.
caudelac: (*facedive*)
So the little bastards finally managed it. After nearly a year of reasonable safety, my cats managed to knock down tthe birdcage and, by all appearances, kill and eat Oscar-the-parakeet while I was away at the King's Gate Event.

Well, fuck.

Cleaning and Laundry were already the order of the evening, but now it seems that they are a bare necessity, due to all the frigging feathers.

And so it goes.
caudelac: (wistful)
[livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna posted today about the death of Milorad Pavic.

He was one of my favorite authors, one of the primary shapers of my voice alongside Eco and Borges, when I was sixteen or so. The Dictionary of the Khazars entered my brain and changed it structurally, as I realised dimly that an adult book did not have to be chapter, chapter, chapter, close-- but could be lexical, could be a crossword, a riddle, a cyphre, a pack of cards, could come in differing editions that fit together, could tell different versions of the same story that seem impossible and yet, are all true.

I feel as though I should say more, and I feel as though I must not. I will mention, however, that his most recent novel Second Body, is available to be read in English direct on his website.

And well... Goddammit, Death. Just... damn.
caudelac: (wistful)
My father used to sing me Peter, Paul and Mary songs when I was little. Some of my earliest memories involve him practising guitar with the melody to 'A'Soalin', and playing 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' and...

Well, yes. Mary Travers's death has changed my media mode to 'leaving on a jet plane' (best. version. ever.) and "Stewball".

Though 'She's like the Wind' will remain on my ipod too.

And for the sake of the styx I'd like something cheerier to post about. Anytime.
caudelac: (wistful)
Death has just ripped a red cyclone through this year, boy howdy.

Media flavours for the day: To Wong Foo and Dirty Dancing.

Don't judge me.
caudelac: (wistful)
I am also sad about the death of John Hughes. Hopefully all the copies of the Breakfast Club will not be gone by the time I get my netflix sent back. I have only seen that movie once-- [livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna made me watch it years ago upon learning that I had never seen it. It was marvy.

Ferris Beuller, of course, I grew up with. And I had already been in love with Mia Sara from being obsessed with Legend.

So those are my memories, take of them as ye will.
caudelac: (standing out in a crowd.)
I realise it is grossly unpopular to be rubbery over this thing, and the prevailing sentiment is one of cynicism and snark (and yes, LA shouldn't have to pay for the whole deal when the man's estate is more than enough to cover the memorial expense), but I am extremely sad that I missed watching Michael Jackson's memorial yesterday. Goddammit.

I did hear the snippets of it on NPR this morning, the Reverend Al Sharpton bellowing to MJ's children, "You daddy won't strange! What you daddy had to deal wit was strange!" And that little girl, voice meek and trembling, saying that hers was the best daddy in the whole world...

Yeah, I lost it. Weeping over the steering wheel on 147 towards 40 East.

This probably makes me completely lame, but I don't give a shit. I'd rather sniffle along with "Will you be there?" in my sentimental lameness, thanks much.

(Though Ke-rist, this whole business in China is pissing me off. When will the Chinese figure out that uber control of the media and of information is a poison? Much better to flood the people with so much information that they're overwhelmed and paralyzed as to what to do with or about it and...

...oh wait.)
caudelac: (ghetto)
Things left to do today:


  • wait for freecycler to drop by
  • Go to last hour of Michael Jackson memorial dance party downtown.
  • Pick up 30" blinds for the front room of the old house.
  • The windows.


2nd pass on kitchen floor is drying. Probably 1-2 more before it's done-ish. Spent about 3 hours scraping paint off of hardwood with goo-gone. Am wondering what of the many cleaning products I have used today has turned my fingers green. This is less than cheery.

I think an hour of regressing back to when I was in elementary school and bad meant good and a guy could be both a werewolf and a zombie and a legend all at the same time, and all of it was just hman nature, that'd be a good thing to have.
caudelac: (wistful)
So yeah, David Carradine was found dead today.

This kind of... well, hell. Y'see, among the things I write about, I've a Coyote, in the sense of Old Man Coyote, and damn if David Carradine wasn't just utterly Him. And it's odd that he's gone, not only because I enjoyed his acting, but for that as well.

Other than that, not sure what to say. But... yeah.
caudelac: (wistful)
RIP, Mama Africa.

Miriam Makeba was a part of my childhood in the way that Paul Simon's Graceland: The African Concert video was a huge part of my musical foundation. 'Under African Skies' with her and Paul in that concert is one of the most gorgeous things I have ever heard. Even now, My mom and godmother and I would dance to Pata Pata in the den of my parent's house and whoop and holler and oh my god yes.

She will be sorely missed.
caudelac: (wistful)
Obama's grandmother died today.

There's really not much to say by way of commentary... but that is unbelievably sad, especially, y'know, /today/.
caudelac: (royal rainbow!)
So for Pride, instead of going to the parade, me and my lesbian lover moved from our tiny apartment into a nice, large house.

Scandalous, isn't it!?

(Also... eep, Paul Newman! This makes me incredibly sad, and there /will/ be a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof viewing in his honour, as soon as we get the vcr set up. Interestingly, it was this movie that first made me learn how to cry again.

*sobs*)
caudelac: (*facedive*)
...wow. On Saturday, the guy who is responsible for the huge "We Want Oprah!!!" sign downtown and also the 'Urban Center', about half a block from my house, was shot and killed in the latter. The details as they stand are here.

For those of you who who are like, "huh wha...?" Here's a rather shamefully hotlinked pic of the fellow's greatest landmark:





It's one of those 'dunno what to say,' moments, so I'd best be gettin' my tail to-wards wukr.
caudelac: (wistful)
Do yourself a favour: enjoy a smooth, satisfying few full videos of old George Carlin standups today.

Crying is more fun when you're laughing too. He woulda wanted it that way.

He prolly also woulda wanted to have hookers snort coke off of his corpse, but what can you do?

He will be missed.
caudelac: (catharsis)
I think I am ever doomed to spend Beltane alone. Alors. It's kind of been a crappy one, even apart from that.

To begin with, upon getting home last night, I discovered that Thurloe, one of my two ratty-boys, had died. Poor fellow... he had been a bit off and sluggish for a couple of days, and was about two years, which is pretty old in rat years. He wasa lot bigger and thus, likely older than his brother, Cromwell, who still seems reasonably spry, though he spent much of today moping in the little rat-house in the cage. Poor fellow.

There's some irony there, I'm certain.

less sad things and truncated bile behind cut )

Nonetheless, I hope that the lot of you had a much more bliss-filled Beltane, and yes.

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