Monday, December 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Sometime in the dark of the late night or early morning of October 23rd or 24th, my little brother ended his life. No one heard the single gunshot, or if they did, they didn't know what it meant. Dismissed it as a car back fire maybe, or wrote it off as a warning to a bear. Gunshots aren't uncommon in rural Alaska, sometimes if you hear a succession, you might wonder what the hell is going on, but people rarely call the police.
He lay in the grass by the edge of the canyon for twelve or fourteen hours before Olga found him. I think of the stillness of the night, the dew settling, I can't remember if it frosted or not, not that it's really important. I feel bad for her, finding him that way, it must have been terrible and shocking. She knew him all his life, he played with her kids, she must have wondered, like all of us, how could I not have known? why didn't I see?
He shot himself in the head with a gun taken from an unlocked safe in a office. There was a note, a passed-in-class note, in which he and an unidentified friend wrote. One of the things he wrote was about shooting himself at the edge of the canyon and rolling down the steep slope, how peaceful it might be. The friend never said anything, obviously thought he was just talking, wasn't serious. So much guilt, so many unanswered questions.
There were signs, of course there were signs!, but no one was really paying attention, including me. I spoke with him on the phone a couple of weeks before, and he didn't want to talk to me. Had to be pestered to tell me he loved me, so unlike him. I should have known then that there was something wrong, I just thought he was being a moody teenager.
Fifteen years ago, that's quite a while in human terms. Time passes, life goes on, as they say. And I hope he's a part of something larger now; the wind and the grass, the earth and the rain, the dark sky and the shimmering stars that were his only witnesses that lost, lonely night.
Monday, October 4, 2010
- A female writer searches for herself around the world while Aussie students led by Francis O'Connor discuss life, love and films, and attempt to finish college.
- A spaceship piloted by Rahda Mitchell crash lands on a freaky planet only to discover an angry black man trying to reform a wild young thing by chaining her to a radiator.
- In a Star Trek parody, Tim Allen and his crew of T.V. has-beens help real live aliens and Neanderthal man fight their intergalactic enemies and search for a source of light and heat.
- Three blonde sisters deal with their curmudgeonly father, while a crew of Navy misfits has to prove that they aren't losers by beating other submariners at their own game, with riotous results.
- In this French film, Johnny Depp's baby-mama unexpectedly takes up with a knife thrower, and Japanese POW's resist and resist, but end up having to build the damn thing anyway.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
- Johnny Depp befriends a boy who's mother is dying, writes a children's classic and helps a group of little lost dinosaurs reunite with their families.
- A little girl discovers a belief in Santa Claus thanks to a large department store and Keanu Reeves, the only good cop in all of Los Angeles.
- Four friends go for a bachelor party in Vegas, only to lose the their memories and the groom, and discover Sylvester Stallone arm-wrestling.
- Brittany Murphy follows her boyfriend to Japan, where he dumps her. She learns to cook while Angelina Jolie spends time with Winona Ryder in the loony bin.
- Queen Latifah changes Steve Martin's life forever as an unwelcome guest, as unwelcome as the dead bodies in Rob Zombie's timeless masterpiece.
- George Clooney flies around the country firing people while Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi and Adam Sandler hold a radio station hostage until their demo tape is played.
That's all for now. Leave me comments if you can't figure out the answers, although IMDb is wonderfully helpful.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
I've got a bit of a case of the fall dreads, which I think are made exponentially worse by the prospect of an Alaskan winter. Thinking about things like splitting wood, winterizing the truck, and how much plowing will cost aren't particularly fun and leave me with a chill in the pit of my stomach. Dealing with real-life issues isn't my forte, and they all cost money. Last winter was pretty mild, too much to hope that this winter will be the same.
NSA is in Colorado, and I could go down there too, and stay the winter. But the idea of living around his family is daunting, to put it mildly, and horrifying, to put it realistically.
The sun is never really high over head in Alaska, not like it is in say, Nevada, or New York, or even Wisconsin. But this time of year, the angle of the light becomes even steeper, the slant sharper, the sunshine is pale and washed out, and the threat of cold and dark and death is heavy around you.
Monday, September 13, 2010
I have nine, NINE!, blog postings in draft, but I can't seem to finish any of them. I'm having a hard time focusing and seeing anything through to completion.
I want to redesign my blog, there are some cool new templates out there, but (see above.)
September and October are bad months for me, and as as result, I think I'm especially edgy and fretful. Maybe medication is a good idea. But then there's that stupid Newsweek article about the inefficacy of antidepressants, and so I think, why bother?
Sometimes I stumble across music that I really like, but isn't very helpful, mood-wise. Blue October's "Into the Ocean" is just such a song.
I feel like I've been walking in a fog bank for the past couple of years. Sometimes it's very slow going and I have to feel my way along, and sometimes the sun shines through and I think everything will be okay, but what I really need is for the fog to lift.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Taking a cue from Sass, a Things I Want Thursday:
- A dump truck; the bigger, the better.
- Six well-trained cleaners with rubber gloves, masks, and strong stomachs.
- 250 gallons of Febreze.
- 1500 heavy-duty plastic trash bags. I hope that would be enough.
- Four tons of gravel, delivered.
- A pair of Skechers Shape-Ups, size 7 1/2, since my current job is pretty active and I might as well work on my ass while I work.
All of these (except the last) relate to my mother's house and the difficulty I'm having cleaning it out. The sorting through shit, sometimes literallly, gets to me and I just feel like torching the whole place. Except that I still haven't found my grandmother's ring, which Mom assured me was in there, somewhere. *sigh*
Friday, February 19, 2010
- Most of the time, I feel like a wide-eyed innocent. Except when I feel like a cynical bitch.
- New music gives me a tremendous boost. Lately, it's been young female singer-songwriters, namely Regina Spektor, Feist, and Yael Naim. NSA likes to listen to ALOT of the same old shit, which gets b-o-r-i-n-g.
- I enjoy splitting wood. No, that's not some clever sexual innuendo, I've found I like hefting an axe over my head and slamming the blade into a solid piece of spruce. Very cathartic, and empowering, and other words that get waaaay overused.
- While NSA finds having three bodies buried close by somewhat disturbing, I feel comforted having most of my family members right there.
That's about it for now. I do plan on posting on a more regular basis, but the best laid plans, as they say.