LD - Johnny Depp in The Libertine. In the carriage with his wife talking about how they first met.
Me - Smith, in Sex and the City, when he shaves his head for Samantha.
LD - Nicholas Cage, Moonstruck, when he carries Cher to the bed.
Carrie - Judd Nelson, Breakfast Club. When he's in the closet with Molly Ringwald.
Me - Seriously?
Carrie - Hell yeah. Why do you look surprised?
Me - Umm, because you're a lesbian.
Carrie - Oh come on. I defy you to find anyone who hasn't had a John Bender fantasy.
Me - I can't argue with that.
LD (giggling) - Hehehee, I feel enlightened and horny at the same time. Wanna get a pizza?
Brian: I'm a fucking idiot because I can't make a lamp?
Bender: No. You're a genius because you can't make a lamp.
Brian: What do you know about trigonometry?
Bender: I could care less about trigonometry.
Brian: Without trigonometry there would be no engineering!
Bender: Without lamps, there'd be no light!
- Breakfast Club
January 31, 2008
January 28, 2008
Effigy
In prison, you’re dealing with the least common denominator. Not always, but often, it's the simplest minds, with no ability to reason or practice self control. There’s where the theory can be proved. An intelligent thinking thing would gravitate to the strongest, the smartest. The one with the best connections. The one who seems to know a good lawyer. But no. You won’t find that there. You’ll find the sames with the sames. The alikes with the alikes. It's that innate gravitation to the familiar, in spite of all of its ineptness, shallowness. Ineffectualness.
Take the dog, for example. There will never be a purebred as healthy as a mutt. Any thinking thing knows this. Its only logical. A pure breed trapped in its own genepool can not overcome its weaknesses. All genetic health problems, not to mention an inbred’s intellectual limitations, are contained. No matter how good the blood line, it can’t compare to the natural ability of a mutt’s bloodline to be healthier. Smarter. Better. And any thinking thing knows this. Any thinking thing has to know this. Its basic biology 1A. And still, people will pay $2500 for a pure bred must-be-stupider, must-be-genetically-crippled, while the shelters are filled with stronger, smarter, better mutts.
It goes back to familiarity. A simple creature can’t think. It can’t make the smartest decision. It has to make the guttural decision. And that will be to retreat back into the simpleton delusion of home.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, people are not intelligent. They are not thinkers, they are not wise. They do not do the smart thing, or the best thing. They do not look for the most responsible solution, or the karmically correct move.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, people are pure bred. Not in actuality, but in action. They stick with familiarity. They live where they were born. They die where they lived. Not because they pick it, or they like it. They do it just because it is. It’s there. It’s what they know. It’s easy. It involves little thought.
They don’t travel and see the world before they pick a place to live. They don’t date many kinds of people, and try different things before they get married. They don’t take different classes, read different books and work different jobs before they choose a career path. They don't listen for their whales calling. They don't.
In general, people find a place to live right where they are. They date what’s available, and marry when they have to. They get a job because it was offered, or because its 5 minutes from their house. If they went to college, they take communications, or business. Something general and vague, so they can go back home and slip into the above, and tell themselves they’re successful. They drown in that purebred genepool, with no desire to be anything but familiar.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, change and betterment never even cross their minds. They walk the same road that isn't their own, through the-cloak.com. I don't even think it crosses their minds that some of us walk our own road, a better path. And that we are smarter than some stupid hackable ISP mask in Saskatchewan.
I am not the least common denominator.
I am not familiar.
I am not small.
I am not always, or mostly.
I am Veronica.
Take the dog, for example. There will never be a purebred as healthy as a mutt. Any thinking thing knows this. Its only logical. A pure breed trapped in its own genepool can not overcome its weaknesses. All genetic health problems, not to mention an inbred’s intellectual limitations, are contained. No matter how good the blood line, it can’t compare to the natural ability of a mutt’s bloodline to be healthier. Smarter. Better. And any thinking thing knows this. Any thinking thing has to know this. Its basic biology 1A. And still, people will pay $2500 for a pure bred must-be-stupider, must-be-genetically-crippled, while the shelters are filled with stronger, smarter, better mutts.
It goes back to familiarity. A simple creature can’t think. It can’t make the smartest decision. It has to make the guttural decision. And that will be to retreat back into the simpleton delusion of home.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, people are not intelligent. They are not thinkers, they are not wise. They do not do the smart thing, or the best thing. They do not look for the most responsible solution, or the karmically correct move.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, people are pure bred. Not in actuality, but in action. They stick with familiarity. They live where they were born. They die where they lived. Not because they pick it, or they like it. They do it just because it is. It’s there. It’s what they know. It’s easy. It involves little thought.
They don’t travel and see the world before they pick a place to live. They don’t date many kinds of people, and try different things before they get married. They don’t take different classes, read different books and work different jobs before they choose a career path. They don't listen for their whales calling. They don't.
In general, people find a place to live right where they are. They date what’s available, and marry when they have to. They get a job because it was offered, or because its 5 minutes from their house. If they went to college, they take communications, or business. Something general and vague, so they can go back home and slip into the above, and tell themselves they’re successful. They drown in that purebred genepool, with no desire to be anything but familiar.
Not always, but perhaps mostly, change and betterment never even cross their minds. They walk the same road that isn't their own, through the-cloak.com. I don't even think it crosses their minds that some of us walk our own road, a better path. And that we are smarter than some stupid hackable ISP mask in Saskatchewan.
I am not the least common denominator.
I am not familiar.
I am not small.
I am not always, or mostly.
I am Veronica.
January 23, 2008
My First Car
In high school I drove a cherry red 1976 Charger with white leather interior and a huge silver bulldog hood ornament. It was a boat of a car, a real heavy metal gas guzzler. She wouldn't always turn over during those cold northeastern winters - I'd have to stick a screw driver into the butterfly on the carburetor to hold it open to start her up.
I got her just before my 16th birthday, the legal driving age. She was $1500 bucks. I can not even tell you how fucking cool I looked in that car.
I named her the Starship Second Prize. I had a cassette deck put in, summer of '83 with 6 Kenwood speakers. I'd play the theme song to Peter Gunn by Duane Eddy over and over. That was her theme music. If you heard it blasting, it meant I'd arrived.
Nina lost her virginity in the backseat with Jack. 8 of us packed into that boat and took her to DC for a Clash concert. I still have no idea how we managed to fit. That car went everywhere: concerts, oceans, parties, mountains, camping, lakes, there and back, journey after journey.
I moved to California in that car after graduation. Drove her cross country, took her to Cal State U with me. First time I ever kissed another woman was on the hood of that car. The woman was a psych professor. I was 18.
Man, that car was one sweet ride.
I got her just before my 16th birthday, the legal driving age. She was $1500 bucks. I can not even tell you how fucking cool I looked in that car.
I named her the Starship Second Prize. I had a cassette deck put in, summer of '83 with 6 Kenwood speakers. I'd play the theme song to Peter Gunn by Duane Eddy over and over. That was her theme music. If you heard it blasting, it meant I'd arrived.
Nina lost her virginity in the backseat with Jack. 8 of us packed into that boat and took her to DC for a Clash concert. I still have no idea how we managed to fit. That car went everywhere: concerts, oceans, parties, mountains, camping, lakes, there and back, journey after journey.
I moved to California in that car after graduation. Drove her cross country, took her to Cal State U with me. First time I ever kissed another woman was on the hood of that car. The woman was a psych professor. I was 18.
Man, that car was one sweet ride.
January 19, 2008
Will Forever
I did this awful thing.
I couldn’t be clear
All I wanted was out
Although you got what you really wanted
It was not my true intention
Don't think I forgot to mention
That this black spot on my soul
Will forever
And forever
And don't think I don't know
That I handled this as wrong as wrong can miserable and ever keeping crushing regret with no Spine and no sense.
Regret.
That kind of regret.
I'm glad you found your way out
Through my mistake.
Ten years later,
There's been change but no real healing.
Glass houses and pointed fingers
I’m not perfect, no one is.
Only the Words are.
and that’s where we differ.
I forgave someone who asked me
Because we all fuck up.
No one is without blame or shame.
But I'm the fool.
Because I believed in regret and seconded chances.
I believed in Words said.
I believed that reaching out would find
A roadmap to redemption and I
Have been lost and left abandoned on that
Dark highway before.
I couldn't leave another soul out there.
I couldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
My terms have been redefined through punishment.
And as it turns out,
There can not be honor amongst thieves.
"But where were you that night?
When I was
When I was calling for the answer
That you probably shouldn't know.
Well, it feels like flames surrounding me here.
When you were calling with your question
When all I needed was to know."
-William Beckett
.
I couldn’t be clear
All I wanted was out
Although you got what you really wanted
It was not my true intention
Don't think I forgot to mention
That this black spot on my soul
Will forever
And forever
And don't think I don't know
That I handled this as wrong as wrong can miserable and ever keeping crushing regret with no Spine and no sense.
Regret.
That kind of regret.
I'm glad you found your way out
Through my mistake.
Ten years later,
There's been change but no real healing.
Glass houses and pointed fingers
I’m not perfect, no one is.
Only the Words are.
and that’s where we differ.
I forgave someone who asked me
Because we all fuck up.
No one is without blame or shame.
But I'm the fool.
Because I believed in regret and seconded chances.
I believed in Words said.
I believed that reaching out would find
A roadmap to redemption and I
Have been lost and left abandoned on that
Dark highway before.
I couldn't leave another soul out there.
I couldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
My terms have been redefined through punishment.
And as it turns out,
There can not be honor amongst thieves.
"But where were you that night?
When I was
When I was calling for the answer
That you probably shouldn't know.
Well, it feels like flames surrounding me here.
When you were calling with your question
When all I needed was to know."
-William Beckett
.
January 18, 2008
This is More Than Appropriate
PROPHECY
"Consider this a sign.
This is a train in the night
And now it's time for you to go
You know you had a healthy life, boy.
You walk this world like you're a ghost
Your hands are coming through the needles
Sick of your tragic and your evils
I am the keeper of the songs of everyone
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
Ooh, how you feel
Seems a little sick to me now
This is a coming of the times
You are a witness to the movement
If all you're seeing is your lies
You had your chance but now you've blown it.
You want this world so you can own him
I am the keeper of the songs of everyone
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
Ooh, how you feelin'?
You seem a little sick to me-
From the light on high
A chance to change your fate
Forgiveness falling down
On those who chose to wait
Remember the time
Find yourself home again
Deep within your life
Find yourself home again / find yourself home again
It's a choice
You have chosen your lie.
It's like I told you
I could turn this into light.
If you raise the mask it could lead us home tonight.
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
How you feel.
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith, but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
How you're feelin'
Seems a little sick
It seems a little sick
It seems a little sick to me now"
-REMY ZERO
"Consider this a sign.
This is a train in the night
And now it's time for you to go
You know you had a healthy life, boy.
You walk this world like you're a ghost
Your hands are coming through the needles
Sick of your tragic and your evils
I am the keeper of the songs of everyone
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
Ooh, how you feel
Seems a little sick to me now
This is a coming of the times
You are a witness to the movement
If all you're seeing is your lies
You had your chance but now you've blown it.
You want this world so you can own him
I am the keeper of the songs of everyone
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
Ooh, how you feelin'?
You seem a little sick to me-
From the light on high
A chance to change your fate
Forgiveness falling down
On those who chose to wait
Remember the time
Find yourself home again
Deep within your life
Find yourself home again / find yourself home again
It's a choice
You have chosen your lie.
It's like I told you
I could turn this into light.
If you raise the mask it could lead us home tonight.
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
How you feel.
Look into the sun and see your soul is dying
Used to feel the faith, but now you're tired of trying
Shoulda left alone what you have stolen from everyone
How you're feelin'
Seems a little sick
It seems a little sick
It seems a little sick to me now"
-REMY ZERO
January 13, 2008
Say Never
You can never say that you were not loved here.
You can never say that you never knew that kind of love. You can never say no one loved you head over heels with everything they had.
You can never look into the mirror and think, I'm alone in this world, no one reached out to me, no one took the time and truly got to know me for the soul I am, and accepted every inch of me without hesitation or reason.
You can never say, no one understood you. You can never say, no one tried.
You can never think that your efforts were for nothing. You can never think even for a single moment that you didn't make a difference here, that your life didn't touch anyone's, that your presence on this planet didn't matter. You can never think any of those things.
You can never say that you were never loved like that. In that big way. That you were never someone's world. The love of someone's life.
You can never, ever say that.
"I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"
- Snow Patrol
.
You can never say that you never knew that kind of love. You can never say no one loved you head over heels with everything they had.
You can never look into the mirror and think, I'm alone in this world, no one reached out to me, no one took the time and truly got to know me for the soul I am, and accepted every inch of me without hesitation or reason.
You can never say, no one understood you. You can never say, no one tried.
You can never think that your efforts were for nothing. You can never think even for a single moment that you didn't make a difference here, that your life didn't touch anyone's, that your presence on this planet didn't matter. You can never think any of those things.
You can never say that you were never loved like that. In that big way. That you were never someone's world. The love of someone's life.
You can never, ever say that.
"I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"
- Snow Patrol
.
January 12, 2008
The King
Mr K. was my high school social studies teacher. Marriage and Family. He was one of those teachers that some people loved and some people didn't. I was one of the former. I was finding my voice. And he never made me regret that.
He would give us these essay assignments almost every night for homework. They were based on chapters, or lessons, or discussions. They were based on a particular story we were working through in Marriage and Family. Sometimes I answered the questions. Sometimes I would just write whatever the fuck I felt like writing. I felt like writing. And I did. I would. And usually, it connected. I learned that I was connected. I learned.
Question - "Explain your thoughts on the institution of marriage."
My Answer - "My father left us for 2 years when I was little to run away to Oklahoma with one of his girlfriends. YOU can explain to ME what marriage is. Because, obviously, I'm lacking a frame of reference."
Question - "In this chapter, how could Steven have handled this argument with his wife in a more productive way?"
My Answer - "Can you even believe Carl asked Laura to the prom? God damn. I've been sleeping with him for 4 months, and he asks HER to the prom? Are you kidding me? There's a big lesson in this, Mr. K. Love isn't always both-ways, huh. I feel like I messed something up, but I'm not sure what. How long does the sadness stay?"
Question - "Name and explain two solutions to the financial troubles the couple in the story now face."
My Answer - "Nah, the couple is stupid. I'm not going to think up ways for them to get out of their financial trouble. Listen, I am 16 years old, dammit. I go to school every day, and I wait tables at the diner from 3pm to 11pm every night. I pay my own car insurance. I pay my own way. I can't really trust that anybody else will. Last week I actually had to pay the electric bill. My father hasn't had a paycheck in weeks. Let's fucking talk about that instead."
He always gave me great grades. In his ever sarcastic way, he let it be known that my expressions were acceptable and appreciated. Encouraged. Enjoyed. He'd write comments on the essays:
"You scare me. A-"
"You can do so much better than that idiot Carl. A."
"You've learned the value of a dollar. And you can take all the credit for that lesson. A+, Kiddo."
He said the class was about life skills and relationships. The complexities. The challenges.
He said it was clear from my essays that I understood that.
He said my Words were brave. He said I was brave.
I'm reclaiming that feeling tonight.
I heard after I graduated that he talked about me to his students. The little sister of one of my friends had him a few years after we had graduated.
The history department had an annual speech contest. She said he told her class how I had written the first place speech every year I was there. Then he added, "And I'm sure she wrote the second and third place speeches, too."
I smiled. I had. And I realized he knew me. He listened to me. He got me. He really did.
I had heard a few years ago that he had become very ill.
I will never forget the last thing he said to me. It was at graduation, more than two decades ago. "Veronica," he said, "You're gonna be alright out there."
Thanks, Mr. K.
He would give us these essay assignments almost every night for homework. They were based on chapters, or lessons, or discussions. They were based on a particular story we were working through in Marriage and Family. Sometimes I answered the questions. Sometimes I would just write whatever the fuck I felt like writing. I felt like writing. And I did. I would. And usually, it connected. I learned that I was connected. I learned.
Question - "Explain your thoughts on the institution of marriage."
My Answer - "My father left us for 2 years when I was little to run away to Oklahoma with one of his girlfriends. YOU can explain to ME what marriage is. Because, obviously, I'm lacking a frame of reference."
Question - "In this chapter, how could Steven have handled this argument with his wife in a more productive way?"
My Answer - "Can you even believe Carl asked Laura to the prom? God damn. I've been sleeping with him for 4 months, and he asks HER to the prom? Are you kidding me? There's a big lesson in this, Mr. K. Love isn't always both-ways, huh. I feel like I messed something up, but I'm not sure what. How long does the sadness stay?"
Question - "Name and explain two solutions to the financial troubles the couple in the story now face."
My Answer - "Nah, the couple is stupid. I'm not going to think up ways for them to get out of their financial trouble. Listen, I am 16 years old, dammit. I go to school every day, and I wait tables at the diner from 3pm to 11pm every night. I pay my own car insurance. I pay my own way. I can't really trust that anybody else will. Last week I actually had to pay the electric bill. My father hasn't had a paycheck in weeks. Let's fucking talk about that instead."
He always gave me great grades. In his ever sarcastic way, he let it be known that my expressions were acceptable and appreciated. Encouraged. Enjoyed. He'd write comments on the essays:
"You scare me. A-"
"You can do so much better than that idiot Carl. A."
"You've learned the value of a dollar. And you can take all the credit for that lesson. A+, Kiddo."
He said the class was about life skills and relationships. The complexities. The challenges.
He said it was clear from my essays that I understood that.
He said my Words were brave. He said I was brave.
I'm reclaiming that feeling tonight.
I heard after I graduated that he talked about me to his students. The little sister of one of my friends had him a few years after we had graduated.
The history department had an annual speech contest. She said he told her class how I had written the first place speech every year I was there. Then he added, "And I'm sure she wrote the second and third place speeches, too."
I smiled. I had. And I realized he knew me. He listened to me. He got me. He really did.
I had heard a few years ago that he had become very ill.
I will never forget the last thing he said to me. It was at graduation, more than two decades ago. "Veronica," he said, "You're gonna be alright out there."
Thanks, Mr. K.
January 09, 2008
ifiwerebrave is a plagiarist
(UPDATE - follow the links, many of these formerly defunct blogs are back, but set to private/invite only by their owners. I appreciate everyone who checks them and keeps me posted.)
You might remember not too long ago, I was plagiarized and it made me soul sick. My postsecret entry was stolen here:
http://ifiwerebrave.blogspot.com/2007/10/postsecret.html
by ifiwerebrave.blogspot.com
The thief took the blog down, I’m not sure if it was before or after blogspot contacted her. She also stole verbiage from my sidebar and copied a few other things from my blog as well.
Before she deleted the evidence, I gathered some info on her. For example, she had another blog called “be my knife” or “if I were brave” at wordpress, which was located here.
http://bemyknife.wordpress.com/
If it's ever back and you want to read any of the entries, the password for most of them is the name of the entry. For example, the post named “possession” has the password “possession.”
And if you had gotten to read any of them, you would have found them familiar. That’s because most of them are stolen from Alcoholic Poet’s sites.
Come to find out after speaking with Alcoholic Poet, that this plagiarist even copied her writings as comments on other people’s blogs.
Here's one of those webpages
http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-all-about-me.html
(Hey Sassy Brown, was that you in the comments there, too?)
The thief sent me an email saying how sorry she was for having stolen from me. And I was kind of enough to accept her apology. Meanwhile, she had never stopped stealing. She was plagiarizing from other writers the whole time, and for months after.
The email address she wrote to me from is ifiwerebrave1@yahoo.ca
This is her ifiwerebrave myspace page.
which says she is a 31 year old female from Canada. She deleted her two friends yesterday. I still have their pages marked though.
This is her ISP and her info that I’ve tracked from my statcounter:
** Additionally, she uses ISP 64.110.245.173, and has signed me up for spam through different sites.
I have one other isp she hits me from too. But if you see the ones above in your hits, be aware.
This is an alternative email address for her:
nizzie101@yahoo.ca
And, lastly, these are some of the blogs she linked on her now defunct blog, or that linked her, or that she commented on. Assume that these are more victims. People she lied to. People she fooled, or made fools out of:
Go For The Gold JLM
http://goforthegold-jlm.blogspot.com/
Words…
noccifloccinihiliphilificator
http://noccifloccinihiliphilificator.blogspot.com/2007/07/words.html#comments
Once a liar, always a liar. We know she'll be back, like a plague.
Meanwhile, here’s what you can do to help.
Please link &/or copy/publish this post onto your blogs, articles, and anywhere else it could get exposure. And please keep your eyes open so we can watch out for each other. If you see Words from my blog somewhere else uncredited, please let me know immediately. If you see anybody's Words stolen, please let the author know.
If my blog, or Alcoholic Poet’s blog, has ever brought you any pleasure, please help us spread the Word about this.
When she stole my Words, she stole a part of my soul that I will never regain. I know Alcoholic Poet is going through this now, too. And god only knows how many other writers she has stolen from.
Please add links in the comments to any posts you do regarding plagiarism, and join this campaign. I'll add them here as well if you email them to me. This parasite has caused more pain than you know, and there are more like her out there.... Ticks. Leeches. Predators. Thieves. This has to be stopped.
You might remember not too long ago, I was plagiarized and it made me soul sick. My postsecret entry was stolen here:
http://ifiwerebrave.blogspot.com/2007/10/postsecret.html
by ifiwerebrave.blogspot.com
The thief took the blog down, I’m not sure if it was before or after blogspot contacted her. She also stole verbiage from my sidebar and copied a few other things from my blog as well.
Before she deleted the evidence, I gathered some info on her. For example, she had another blog called “be my knife” or “if I were brave” at wordpress, which was located here.
http://bemyknife.wordpress.com/
If it's ever back and you want to read any of the entries, the password for most of them is the name of the entry. For example, the post named “possession” has the password “possession.”
And if you had gotten to read any of them, you would have found them familiar. That’s because most of them are stolen from Alcoholic Poet’s sites.
Come to find out after speaking with Alcoholic Poet, that this plagiarist even copied her writings as comments on other people’s blogs.
Here's one of those webpages
http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-all-about-me.html
(Hey Sassy Brown, was that you in the comments there, too?)
The thief sent me an email saying how sorry she was for having stolen from me. And I was kind of enough to accept her apology. Meanwhile, she had never stopped stealing. She was plagiarizing from other writers the whole time, and for months after.
The email address she wrote to me from is ifiwerebrave1@yahoo.ca
This is her ifiwerebrave myspace page.
which says she is a 31 year old female from Canada. She deleted her two friends yesterday. I still have their pages marked though.
This is her ISP and her info that I’ve tracked from my statcounter:
** Additionally, she uses ISP 64.110.245.173, and has signed me up for spam through different sites.
ASN Name: SASKTEL
IP range connectivity: 2
Registrar (per ASN): ARIN
Country (per IP registrar): CA [Canada]
Country Currency: CAD [Canada Dollars]
Country IP Range: 64.110.192.0 to 64.110.255.255
Country fraud profile: Normal
City (per outside source): Regina, Saskatchewan
Fucking moron signed me up for a lottery site, which tracks everything,
and has been very cooperative with the authorities for me.
I have one other isp she hits me from too. But if you see the ones above in your hits, be aware.
This is an alternative email address for her:
nizzie101@yahoo.ca
And, lastly, these are some of the blogs she linked on her now defunct blog, or that linked her, or that she commented on. Assume that these are more victims. People she lied to. People she fooled, or made fools out of:
Go For The Gold JLM
http://goforthegold-jlm.blogspot.com/
Words…
noccifloccinihiliphilificator
http://noccifloccinihiliphilificator.blogspot.com/2007/07/words.html#comments
Once a liar, always a liar. We know she'll be back, like a plague.
Meanwhile, here’s what you can do to help.
Please link &/or copy/publish this post onto your blogs, articles, and anywhere else it could get exposure. And please keep your eyes open so we can watch out for each other. If you see Words from my blog somewhere else uncredited, please let me know immediately. If you see anybody's Words stolen, please let the author know.
If my blog, or Alcoholic Poet’s blog, has ever brought you any pleasure, please help us spread the Word about this.
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January 03, 2008
Mete
While in Paris, maybe 8 years ago, I walked into a café and asked for a coffee to go. After the language barrier was surpassed the older gentlemen behind the counter understood that I wanted to take my café alait with me, while I walked around the Latin Quarter that morning.
This request upset him.
He yelled at me, that his coffee was good, that this was an insult, that this was not acceptable.
I was wide eyed. He ordered me to sit down and have the coffee. He said, and I will never forget this, one thing at a time. If it's worth having, it's worth having correctly. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right.
He brought me the coffee. He said, if the coffee was good, then that should be enough. I shouldn't have to do anything but this. I should be able to just enjoy the coffee.
I sat still, and I drank the coffee slowly.
That was the best cup of coffee I have ever had in my life.
It spilled out to the rest of my world, and remains.
In all things.
In all places.
We have these little moments.
And we have an opportunity to make them into something deep and unseen.
This was one of my little moments.
May your life be filled with little moments
And things that matter.
This request upset him.
He yelled at me, that his coffee was good, that this was an insult, that this was not acceptable.
I was wide eyed. He ordered me to sit down and have the coffee. He said, and I will never forget this, one thing at a time. If it's worth having, it's worth having correctly. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right.
He brought me the coffee. He said, if the coffee was good, then that should be enough. I shouldn't have to do anything but this. I should be able to just enjoy the coffee.
I sat still, and I drank the coffee slowly.
That was the best cup of coffee I have ever had in my life.
It spilled out to the rest of my world, and remains.
In all things.
In all places.
We have these little moments.
And we have an opportunity to make them into something deep and unseen.
This was one of my little moments.
May your life be filled with little moments
And things that matter.
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