esrosedotblog

We are going out for dinner tonight.

A date night.

Not that we have been complete stay at homes for ten doggy years but we have certainly curtailed our time to do the walks, the time together and not to leave them alone. I was just hell on leaving them alone even though they probably enjoyed it. "No humans fucking around with me tonight."

Be it as it may, it will be nice to dress up a little, not cook, be out in the swim of stuff. Thursday night is open house night on the main drag. But we are going at 530 and we have reservations at a place way out to the north end.

Jakes. A nice quiet place where we sort of know the people and we were always happy before. We actually did take a dog or two night there. Jake is their dog.

Anyway, out we go. Time to have a little air time. No walks, gotta get our air.

Labels: society

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

I am always interested in the other people in the lives of killers, psychopaths, the "innocent bystanders".

What does it feel like to be a parent of a killer? A bomber? How does that play out?

In his book Far From the Tree, Andrew Solomon reserves an entire section for these people.

Unlike a family visited by a child's disability or even prodigy, the parent of a kid who "goes bad" is as estranged from having a normal parent relationship and is also blamed, somehow, for the situation.

Social disapproval is intense.

In the case of the Marathon Bombers (easier than spelling their names and, in a way, I don't want to name them) we have heard from the parents and aunts and uncles.

The range of reaction is wide. Some think "the nice boys" were set up. Others are baffled. Not one has refused to be interviewed. In a way they seem to have wallowed in it.

I was surprised to see that there is a wife. And a child.

Talented Artist Now Bombing Suspect's Wife

And, a young woman who is a child of other parents, a doctor. Not that doctors get any exemption.

Keerist.

I know. Others have suffered mightily. Why be concerned with this young woman. This child?

I don't know. It is collateral damage.

This is going to be awful for them. For the kid.

Tragedy doesn't stop at some doorsteps. It enters almost every door.

I knew a woman whose daughter was recruited into a cult. It seems similar to me.

Powerless.

On the other hand, it could be the beginning of a challenging life. Like any other situation it depends on us to marshal our resources and overcome or transcend or work through shit like this.

Labels: crime, society

REAX

I am at the last stage, of course, headed toward zero in which I will have no opinion about society at all.

Complex or not.

At some point, they will cancel my vote to say anything about it. I am almost there.

Labels: fun, society

STOP IT

There weren't many people at the gym this morning.

Franklin couldn't walk until an hour later because it was too dark.

There were half the usual number of people at my Meeting.

Everyone is tired today.

I printed this before. Time to try again.

The Case Against Daylight Savings Time

And look at this headline!.

I so got corrected by a friend who heard me say Daylight SavingS Time this morning. "No s".

Shit, I have always said the "s".

I have a fucking savings account right?

Isn't it saving the daylight? I have some here in a bottle!

Idiots.

Labels: nature, society

HOW MANY FRIENDS?

I thought this was interesting.

Primates on Facebook--The Size of Social Networks

I am not on Facebook nor do I expect to be any time soon but I was caught by this:

Several years ago, therefore, Robin Dunbar, an anthropologist who now works at Oxford University, concluded that the cognitive power of the brain limits the size of the social network that an individual of any given species can develop. Extrapolating from the brain sizes and social networks of apes, Dr Dunbar suggested that the size of the human brain allows stable networks of about 148. Rounded to 150, this has become famous as “the Dunbar number”.

Now this idea of social networks surprises me as it turns out that I have, at any given time, about 150 friends. Easy. That is how many people came to my birthday party and that was just the locals. that is the number we invited to the wedding and we cut the fringes off.

Now, there is an additional piece of info buried in this article and that is that, normally, we would really only be in close touch with about four or five of these friends through email, phone calls and face to face contact.

That jibes with me too.

For example, there are a few people that I see when Franklin and I walk who engage immediately. Time flows. We enjoy one another. Friends.

I have a close email relationship with a friend in England (who I will see in three weeks on a visit) that has lasted thirty years. Not on e-mail all that time obviously. We used to phone.

I have regular close contact with one of my former business partners. The friendship part continues.

I keep up several very close relationships with friends in recovery. And I don't count my sponsorship of some others.

So, in this regard, I am normal!

I think that it is in regard to the rest of the world that I differ.

John is active in our neighborhood association and working with a guy who I have seen while walking the dog. He asked what was up with me. Was I shy?

John is used to such questions.

What this guy means is that I make no effort to socialize with him. For one thing his dog is a nasty little thing that barks at Franklin so we don't get close and hurry on. I say "Hello". "Goodbye".

But the fact is that I don't much care about this guy or his viewpoint on life. What few little social overtures he has made to me seem superficial and not worth picking up on. I don't make small talk. And so on.

I see what this guy and a lot of other people want is "grooming". See the article on this.

I don't do grooming.

How do these other people get to be my friends? Because we function together somehow. And, to a great extent, we share the aversion to small talk. It is big talk and working on stuff that is mutually engaging or not at all. And you don't need to make small overtures to do that. You can hook up with someone's happiness. You can help out someone who obviously needs it. You can let them know you appreciated some help they gave you. You can be open to help from others! You can go comfort someone who is in pain.

That is how I operate. I don't have time for trivia. Grooming. Either way. You to me or me to you.

I know. How do I know that the small talk is small and the trivia is trivial? Years of experience and a 6th sense. I can spot an energy sink from 100 paces. The social black holes.

Well, enough. I don't feel like a social outcast anymore just because I cannot stand the idea of joining fucking Facebook.

I have a social network and it works very well, thank you.

Labels: internet, life, society

PREMEDITATED

I know we aren't supposed to feel this way but I do believe that OJ got away with murder.

Somehow, ever since then, he has also had this smug attitude including the writing of the famous book about how he would do it if he did it.

He is one of those public figures who skates near or on the thin ice and somehow gets away with it and even taunts us with his success.

Today, the ice fell in and so did OJ. I read his "apology" to the judge and it is the usual wheedling and trading in of old chips. But she didn't buy it.

There will be an appeal and maybe he will squeak through once again but he will be squeaking in the penitentiary while he waits for it.

I am not sympathetic.

The Goldman family is happy because they think their relentless pursuit of the demon OJ finally pushed him onto the ice.

I don't know.

Sometimes revenge is sweet. I have never been in either position but I can't imagine a life devoted to pay-back can be a very happy one.

It is a sad story. All of it.

It is hard not to equate the cult of celebrity with a fucked up life. An old sad story.

OJ is finally post-dated on the shelf.

Labels: society

CELL JUNK

I have just gotten my third marketing call on the mobile in as many days.

Two of these are companies that have my cell number because I am a customer—Wells Fargo and Time Warner Cable.

The third, who knows?

I am on the national 'do not call list'.

But the new thing is that 'this is not a sales call'. 'We just wanted you to know about this new service'.

I am not convinced.

In all cases, I quietly ask that they put me on the 'do not call' list at their headquarters and at the national phone center (which would be redundant but I want them to do it just to take the step).

I predict that, with the economy like it is, we are going to bet bombarded soon.

Another intrusion.

Labels: culture, society

LAST SNORT

Today we watched Ionesco's

Rhinoceros (1976)

This was a production of The American Film Theater (AFT) which was a failed attempt to film famous contemporary plays and then play them in a theatrical kind of way; reserved seats and all that.

It was a failed venture with many bad casting decisions.

Of course, for many of these plays, this is the only record we have and so we must do the best we can.

Zero Mostel who starred in a Broadway production of the play is in this film along with Gene Wilder.

It is directed by Tom O'Horgan, a brief bright flame of talent in the 70s.

He takes the play outside and ruins it. It is a theatrical piece meant for the imagination of the viewer.

Another example of an AFT bust.

But I was there to see Zero Mostel. It is his Film Festival after all.

And amid the wreckage of the production, his performance does come alive and we get a glimpse of the stage work.

The play is about the unaccountable spread of fascism in the 30's and 40's.

The hero, an anti-hero, is a weak, alcoholic man who does not go along with the crowd, all of whom have turned into rhinoceri.

There are a lot of metaphors and symbolism. Overloaded.

This was a nice trip back.

Remember, we were all waking up from the 50's.

Think of this, if and when you see this film, and be kind.

We were innocents trying to make sense of a world that had just gone from one mindless conformity to another one. Never mind what they say about pink shirts and charcoal flannel pants; white bucks.

They were the early signs that things were changing.

It would not be long until we had the flower child and public nudity to say nothing of faggots and all that stuff.

They say that the 60's are over but you know the culture wars continue. It is the same thing today.

Labels: avant garde, films, society, Zero Mostel

THE KID

Yesterday when I was shopping I noticed a boy about 12 years old walking the aisles.

He looked tough. Through the mill. Streetwise.

He had a limp and, close up, I could see that he was shivering.

Well, I was shivering too but not that way. It was cold in the store.

It looked like some kind of trauma to me.

What to do?

Then he disappeared.

An aisle or two later, he appeared again. I got the idea that he wanted to be inconspicuous but he was doing a poor job of it.

We were in the soda aisle and he went and took one of the most esoteric designer sodas (cream flavored-four glass bottles in a cute carrier) and went around the aisle corner again.

He was dressed sort of like other kids are. Big big 'satin' shorts and a thin jacket.

He wasn't clean.

I had the idea to ask him if everything was all right but then I could not do it.

I don't think that it was a matter of 'not getting involved'. After all, there wasn't much to get involved in.

I just wanted to ask him.

I told the checker, who I know pretty well, about it.

He said that they come in there all the time.

They.

Kids hiding out, Kids shoplifting. Kids on the loose. Kids.

The store people don't do anything unless there is trouble. In fact, they are told not to do anything as it could be construed as 'an approach'.

I thought about that awhile. Reluctance to act for fear of getting involved in some kind of 'molesting' charge or something.

The checker friend said to leave it alone. He would look out for the kid and see if he was one of the regulars.

I take it from his comments that he would not really do that unless there was 'trouble'.

When I left the store, the kid was just outside the doors and came in the exit door as I went out. Shit. Another opportunity to say something.

It bothered me most of the day.

Should I have said or done something?

Maybe I should have called a cop. In their store? Not likely.

How about social services? Oh man; come on.

What was going on with the kid?

He was the age of my oldest grandson. Like that.

I suppose that it is possible that he was in the store with his affluent mother who was just around the corner and paid for the cream soda and all.

I don't think so.

I was a country kid.

When I moved to the city for college, I remember being astonished to see so many loose kids all over. The veterans called them 'urchins'.

They were all over Cambridge. You ignored them. Dirty, unkempt and delinquent and all in need of attention, love, protection. But they were treated more or less like stray dogs. Keep outta my way!

When we lived in the South End of Boston, we didn't see kids that age. Teenagers on the loose, yes. Not the 12's.

I never see any of that here, I am so sheltered.

When I was a kid, we ran loose all the time. If you behaved and people knew your parents you were pretty much ignored.

If your family had a 'reputation', perhaps lower class, then it was different.

I would like to think that older people looked out for kids then but I am not sure that is the case.

Mr. Vernoy, down the street, made my friend David blow him for almost a year before anyone on the street knew it was on.

There are no 'good old days' in this department.

I thought more about this kid last night and I realized that it was not school time. Almost but not. That is really the time that loose kids get noticed.

I don't know. It has just freaked me out. All my parent stuff has risen to the top.

It bothers me that today older people are afraid to get involved with kids because there is the danger of being seen as messing with them. Or somehow be accused by the kid himself.

Teachers and priests tell me that it is a problem even in their line of work.

That sure is different than the old days.

I don't know.

I just thought I would write about it.

I can't do anything about my lack of action. Or even know if it was appropriate.

I am repeating myself.

Labels: kidtime, society