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Dec. 6th, 2005
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2005 06:26 pmItem 1. Did not reach Jeremy's Mom today. Will try tomorrow before private Christmas party.
Item 2. My little cowbird Trinity is dying. I've had her for about two years and am going to miss her little presence in my house.
Item 3. I took in a little sparrow today that got chewed on by a cat. His name is Leonard.
Item 4. Last Friday, "Happy Christmas / War Is Over" was on the radio. I was in the back with Casse and I said, "Hold on a sec, this is John Lennon. I have to take a break and listen." Casse then said, "Uhh, hey, what actually happened to John Lennon, anyway? What's that whole story?" I told her--probably somewhat more vehemently than she's used to, because it still gets me riled up--all the while feeling, well, old, but something else I couldn't put my finger on till just a few minutes ago.
I was was eight and two whole months old when John Lennon was shot in the back by a coward, but at eight, I loved John Lennon. I always somehow knew his songs, even as a child, and they were always my favorites. (The radio was always on in my house while my Dad was at work. My Mom played the radio all day while doing her housework, and she was and is a big Beatles fan, so I did hear a lot of their music.) In high school I took perverse pleasure in quoting John Lennon's snarky movie lines to everyone, mostly during class. "You're another failure, aren't you, teacher?" And when my friends acted up at my house, "Get me the home office! He's wrecking my home!" When I was fourteen or fifteen, I wrote a story--total Mary Sue--about a girl who had to fight the, uhh, evil in the world and hatred in its every form, which would manifest in the thing that she hated the most, and she ended up fighting the spirit form or Mark David Chapman. Most of my Mary Sues had the middle name of "Lennon", (the one I remember best was Tierney Lennon Trilby, god help me,) and I thought for a few months in high school there about changing my own middle name to Lennon. O_o Why, yes, I have always been this obsessive. (And have always been a hack, too, apparently.)
Anyway, I realized just a minute ago that the other thing I felt while I was telling Casse about John Lennon (for I'd gotten into his life by this time, rather than his death,) aside from really freaking old, was lucky. I felt lucky that I had admired John Lennon for so long, and that he had been alive at the same time that I was alive. Even though it's easy enough to look read about his life pretty much anywhere, I felt sort of gratified that I already knew these things and could tell someone else.
Anyway, I'm peeved now because Mark David Chapman is talking lately and people are listening and quoting him and I'm thinking, why the hell is anyone listening to this complete non-entity? That's what he wants, so why is he getting it? I've never admired Yoko Ono (and goodness knows, I want to slap her 'round the mush when she starts caterwauling in my favorite holiday song, because she ruins the whole damn thing,) but I feel badly for her, knowing what she went through, and I respect the fact that she's trying to keep that non-entity in jail. Why the hell should he get out? Why should he ever see the light of day? And why should anyone ever speak to him or listen to him? He shouldn't even be breathing if you ask me, but whatever.
That's my mana'o for today.
Item 2. My little cowbird Trinity is dying. I've had her for about two years and am going to miss her little presence in my house.
Item 3. I took in a little sparrow today that got chewed on by a cat. His name is Leonard.
Item 4. Last Friday, "Happy Christmas / War Is Over" was on the radio. I was in the back with Casse and I said, "Hold on a sec, this is John Lennon. I have to take a break and listen." Casse then said, "Uhh, hey, what actually happened to John Lennon, anyway? What's that whole story?" I told her--probably somewhat more vehemently than she's used to, because it still gets me riled up--all the while feeling, well, old, but something else I couldn't put my finger on till just a few minutes ago.
I was was eight and two whole months old when John Lennon was shot in the back by a coward, but at eight, I loved John Lennon. I always somehow knew his songs, even as a child, and they were always my favorites. (The radio was always on in my house while my Dad was at work. My Mom played the radio all day while doing her housework, and she was and is a big Beatles fan, so I did hear a lot of their music.) In high school I took perverse pleasure in quoting John Lennon's snarky movie lines to everyone, mostly during class. "You're another failure, aren't you, teacher?" And when my friends acted up at my house, "Get me the home office! He's wrecking my home!" When I was fourteen or fifteen, I wrote a story--total Mary Sue--about a girl who had to fight the, uhh, evil in the world and hatred in its every form, which would manifest in the thing that she hated the most, and she ended up fighting the spirit form or Mark David Chapman. Most of my Mary Sues had the middle name of "Lennon", (the one I remember best was Tierney Lennon Trilby, god help me,) and I thought for a few months in high school there about changing my own middle name to Lennon. O_o Why, yes, I have always been this obsessive. (And have always been a hack, too, apparently.)
Anyway, I realized just a minute ago that the other thing I felt while I was telling Casse about John Lennon (for I'd gotten into his life by this time, rather than his death,) aside from really freaking old, was lucky. I felt lucky that I had admired John Lennon for so long, and that he had been alive at the same time that I was alive. Even though it's easy enough to look read about his life pretty much anywhere, I felt sort of gratified that I already knew these things and could tell someone else.
Anyway, I'm peeved now because Mark David Chapman is talking lately and people are listening and quoting him and I'm thinking, why the hell is anyone listening to this complete non-entity? That's what he wants, so why is he getting it? I've never admired Yoko Ono (and goodness knows, I want to slap her 'round the mush when she starts caterwauling in my favorite holiday song, because she ruins the whole damn thing,) but I feel badly for her, knowing what she went through, and I respect the fact that she's trying to keep that non-entity in jail. Why the hell should he get out? Why should he ever see the light of day? And why should anyone ever speak to him or listen to him? He shouldn't even be breathing if you ask me, but whatever.
That's my mana'o for today.
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2005 06:26 pmItem 1. Did not reach Jeremy's Mom today. Will try tomorrow before private Christmas party.
Item 2. My little cowbird Trinity is dying. I've had her for about two years and am going to miss her little presence in my house.
Item 3. I took in a little sparrow today that got chewed on by a cat. His name is Leonard.
Item 4. Last Friday, "Happy Christmas / War Is Over" was on the radio. I was in the back with Casse and I said, "Hold on a sec, this is John Lennon. I have to take a break and listen." Casse then said, "Uhh, hey, what actually happened to John Lennon, anyway? What's that whole story?" I told her--probably somewhat more vehemently than she's used to, because it still gets me riled up--all the while feeling, well, old, but something else I couldn't put my finger on till just a few minutes ago.
I was was eight and two whole months old when John Lennon was shot in the back by a coward, but at eight, I loved John Lennon. I always somehow knew his songs, even as a child, and they were always my favorites. (The radio was always on in my house while my Dad was at work. My Mom played the radio all day while doing her housework, and she was and is a big Beatles fan, so I did hear a lot of their music.) In high school I took perverse pleasure in quoting John Lennon's snarky movie lines to everyone, mostly during class. "You're another failure, aren't you, teacher?" And when my friends acted up at my house, "Get me the home office! He's wrecking my home!" When I was fourteen or fifteen, I wrote a story--total Mary Sue--about a girl who had to fight the, uhh, evil in the world and hatred in its every form, which would manifest in the thing that she hated the most, and she ended up fighting the spirit form or Mark David Chapman. Most of my Mary Sues had the middle name of "Lennon", (the one I remember best was Tierney Lennon Trilby, god help me,) and I thought for a few months in high school there about changing my own middle name to Lennon. O_o Why, yes, I have always been this obsessive. (And have always been a hack, too, apparently.)
Anyway, I realized just a minute ago that the other thing I felt while I was telling Casse about John Lennon (for I'd gotten into his life by this time, rather than his death,) aside from really freaking old, was lucky. I felt lucky that I had admired John Lennon for so long, and that he had been alive at the same time that I was alive. Even though it's easy enough to look read about his life pretty much anywhere, I felt sort of gratified that I already knew these things and could tell someone else.
Anyway, I'm peeved now because Mark David Chapman is talking lately and people are listening and quoting him and I'm thinking, why the hell is anyone listening to this complete non-entity? That's what he wants, so why is he getting it? I've never admired Yoko Ono (and goodness knows, I want to slap her 'round the mush when she starts caterwauling in my favorite holiday song, because she ruins the whole damn thing,) but I feel badly for her, knowing what she went through, and I respect the fact that she's trying to keep that non-entity in jail. Why the hell should he get out? Why should he ever see the light of day? And why should anyone ever speak to him or listen to him? He shouldn't even be breathing if you ask me, but whatever.
That's my mana'o for today.
Item 2. My little cowbird Trinity is dying. I've had her for about two years and am going to miss her little presence in my house.
Item 3. I took in a little sparrow today that got chewed on by a cat. His name is Leonard.
Item 4. Last Friday, "Happy Christmas / War Is Over" was on the radio. I was in the back with Casse and I said, "Hold on a sec, this is John Lennon. I have to take a break and listen." Casse then said, "Uhh, hey, what actually happened to John Lennon, anyway? What's that whole story?" I told her--probably somewhat more vehemently than she's used to, because it still gets me riled up--all the while feeling, well, old, but something else I couldn't put my finger on till just a few minutes ago.
I was was eight and two whole months old when John Lennon was shot in the back by a coward, but at eight, I loved John Lennon. I always somehow knew his songs, even as a child, and they were always my favorites. (The radio was always on in my house while my Dad was at work. My Mom played the radio all day while doing her housework, and she was and is a big Beatles fan, so I did hear a lot of their music.) In high school I took perverse pleasure in quoting John Lennon's snarky movie lines to everyone, mostly during class. "You're another failure, aren't you, teacher?" And when my friends acted up at my house, "Get me the home office! He's wrecking my home!" When I was fourteen or fifteen, I wrote a story--total Mary Sue--about a girl who had to fight the, uhh, evil in the world and hatred in its every form, which would manifest in the thing that she hated the most, and she ended up fighting the spirit form or Mark David Chapman. Most of my Mary Sues had the middle name of "Lennon", (the one I remember best was Tierney Lennon Trilby, god help me,) and I thought for a few months in high school there about changing my own middle name to Lennon. O_o Why, yes, I have always been this obsessive. (And have always been a hack, too, apparently.)
Anyway, I realized just a minute ago that the other thing I felt while I was telling Casse about John Lennon (for I'd gotten into his life by this time, rather than his death,) aside from really freaking old, was lucky. I felt lucky that I had admired John Lennon for so long, and that he had been alive at the same time that I was alive. Even though it's easy enough to look read about his life pretty much anywhere, I felt sort of gratified that I already knew these things and could tell someone else.
Anyway, I'm peeved now because Mark David Chapman is talking lately and people are listening and quoting him and I'm thinking, why the hell is anyone listening to this complete non-entity? That's what he wants, so why is he getting it? I've never admired Yoko Ono (and goodness knows, I want to slap her 'round the mush when she starts caterwauling in my favorite holiday song, because she ruins the whole damn thing,) but I feel badly for her, knowing what she went through, and I respect the fact that she's trying to keep that non-entity in jail. Why the hell should he get out? Why should he ever see the light of day? And why should anyone ever speak to him or listen to him? He shouldn't even be breathing if you ask me, but whatever.
That's my mana'o for today.