tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7111512212810607252012-02-24T19:22:35.571-05:00Around hereJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comBlogger4441100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-85962662316172014622012-02-24T14:32:00.000-05:002012-02-24T14:32:27.183-05:00slice / 161Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-14161291055793277352012-02-22T08:03:00.002-05:002012-02-22T11:54:34.600-05:00shard / 16Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-51897404721354386282012-02-19T07:30:00.000-05:002012-02-19T09:39:42.587-05:00slice / 160Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-80973023124263200902012-02-16T07:30:00.000-05:002012-02-16T09:20:01.753-05:00Haste
While stopped at a red light on the way to the beach I took a photo, through the open window, of something that caught my attention, a shaded yard at the side of a house with a pretty tree framed by an open gate. No sooner had the light changed (I saw it out of the corner of my eye) than the chick behind me hit her horn. I had held her up for no more than a second or two.
I suspect she was Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-52035497046982661182012-02-13T07:30:00.000-05:002012-02-13T09:20:45.633-05:00slice / 159Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-34596285360295363762012-02-10T09:01:00.002-05:002012-02-10T09:50:40.410-05:00slice / 158Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-29109999172376210302012-02-08T09:00:00.000-05:002012-02-08T09:00:03.354-05:00slice / 157Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-41503915776726111812012-02-06T07:54:00.000-05:002012-02-06T08:08:00.243-05:00shard / 15Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-52382489002520712312012-02-03T08:56:00.003-05:002012-02-03T14:56:58.243-05:00slice / 156Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-43240649111065607902012-01-30T16:50:00.001-05:002012-01-30T16:57:27.047-05:00slice / 155Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-45953076882361584052012-01-30T13:25:00.000-05:002012-01-30T16:20:58.840-05:00slice / 154Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-25028788326659810092012-01-29T21:22:00.000-05:002012-01-30T12:42:11.791-05:00shard / 14Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-81421028167682216762012-01-25T20:23:00.000-05:002012-01-25T20:23:06.414-05:00When you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed
From his raggy stylings to his wide-open Coplandian harmonies, Randy Newman’s music is saturated with Americana. That you’re instantly at home with his tunes only heightens the impact of his biting satires or ironic and devastating laments. I love the hitched rhythms and drolly piled-on lyrics that don’t quite scan. His themes are as deep-reaching as Melville’s, his wit as sharp as Twain’s.
ButJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-30412118082441685362012-01-23T21:23:00.000-05:002012-02-11T18:35:09.614-05:00self portrait / 1976Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-7859196553607892782012-01-18T17:12:00.000-05:002012-02-03T11:31:02.163-05:00correspondence / 3
First loves are heartbreakers, aren’t they. Has anybody gotten past one unscathed? But then I sometimes
look back at love I’ve taken for granted, or worse, discarded, and think “what was I thinking?” I
suspect that if I could go back to the same circumstances and frame of mind I’d remember “oh yeah...
that’s what I was thinking.”
I was going to say that Justin and NYU were long before we metJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-76872518735477525202012-01-13T16:59:00.000-05:002012-01-19T12:45:32.343-05:00Night Park
I wrote this piece about ten years ago, when I was immersed in one of my random spells of music. Well, nothing was actually written; it was improvised on keyboard and recorded using a digital music application. I used the EMU Proteus and Yamaha TG100 synthesizers. Yeah, I have too much talent for my own good. That's what my high school English teacher told me forty years ago. Fortunately I have Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-44491420793986650902012-01-11T10:26:00.000-05:002012-01-11T10:26:07.703-05:00slice / 153Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-9903773778805791352012-01-08T09:12:00.000-05:002012-01-08T09:12:59.016-05:00slice / 152Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-70750785880667445352012-01-06T08:00:00.000-05:002012-01-06T11:11:09.566-05:00slice / 151Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-20920003425085063362012-01-03T20:27:00.000-05:002012-01-04T14:39:51.897-05:00On the road
A blogger I admire recently described his soul, in his customarily vivid style, as a square meter of tarmac with a dead squirrel on it. I thought he was describing mine. The popular idea that while our bodies may be feral, moth-eaten, and doomed, they nevertheless house souls that are competent, gorgeous, and intact, strikes me as wishful thinking. I think I’d prefer that eternal life, (in whichJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-22652582806720651332011-12-31T11:20:00.000-05:002011-12-31T11:20:57.521-05:00slice / 150Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-32323722625689577402011-12-28T08:13:00.000-05:002011-12-28T08:56:45.069-05:00Impromptu 3 / SlipstreamJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-15394830746269202152011-12-26T03:20:00.000-05:002011-12-26T03:20:00.760-05:00slice / 149Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-69499998473192341532011-12-21T10:23:00.000-05:002012-02-24T19:22:35.576-05:00O Christmas Tree
The first Christmas tree that lives on vividly in my memory is the one I almost set on
fire, and had my angel not intruded, probably the house along with it. My brother had
received his first .22 rifle that year, so I deduce that he was thirteen years old, and I
was seven. We had opened our presents on Christmas eve. I have no idea how many
seven year olds can sleep all night on Christmas eve. IJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-41182582171755413172011-12-16T11:42:00.000-05:002011-12-16T17:13:37.090-05:00correspondence / 2
I love dumplings! Their moist exterior, and dry inside, is such a delectable reversal of nature. They're anapaleolithic, so I don't get to indulge them much of late. Now I'm hungry for some. I always wanted a second burger too. Birthday cake was overrated.
Oh no... Not the dreaded skinny-fat! You're young. There's plenty of toning left in your life. And never underestimate the appeal of a Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-86706354116462198502011-12-14T07:30:00.000-05:002012-02-24T13:53:35.184-05:00Slice / 148Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-46171336330097445492011-12-10T09:37:00.000-05:002011-12-10T11:32:57.880-05:00slice / 147Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-69709145980215026422011-12-07T07:30:00.000-05:002011-12-07T08:30:02.947-05:00slice / 146Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-41864701968054224242011-12-03T08:18:00.000-05:002012-01-11T09:27:39.578-05:00Justin
I worked at the New York University publications bureau for a couple of years when I
was in school there. That’s where I developed a lasting fondness for the Optima typeface,
an elegant sans-serif font that was used for all of the university’s publications. The
bureau was a hotbed of gay copywriters and layout artists. There were summer lunch
breaks at Washington Square park and winter weekend Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-5857284502939602262011-12-01T06:12:00.000-05:002011-12-01T06:12:00.441-05:00slice / 145Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-37855816826498143702011-11-26T10:31:00.000-05:002011-12-03T09:27:14.873-05:00shard / 13Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-76942920803517044242011-11-23T10:01:00.001-05:002011-11-23T10:02:17.355-05:00slice / 144Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-53680996839258346472011-11-20T08:58:00.001-05:002011-11-23T10:24:00.384-05:00slice / 143Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-60294176729362896862011-11-17T20:31:00.000-05:002011-11-17T20:31:06.169-05:00slice / 142Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-18981316295408639642011-11-15T12:54:00.001-05:002011-11-20T07:58:48.241-05:00The pound cake version
I came across the name of an author I had jotted down, an author that was mentioned in a
blog I sometimes read. I had finally gotten around to picking up one of her books at the
library. I love my library. A book can be reserved online if it exists anywhere in the county
system; a few days later, a phone call informed me that the book was ready for pick-up.
Kindle me that. The author writes Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-90968435883740414582011-11-13T21:55:00.000-05:002011-11-15T09:13:40.846-05:00Why meJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-75428014300524637832011-11-10T08:37:00.000-05:002011-11-10T08:37:00.255-05:00slice / 141Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-75343548525554689862011-11-07T00:15:00.000-05:002011-11-07T00:16:05.328-05:00slice / 140Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-52083757030345837062011-11-04T08:40:00.001-04:002011-11-04T08:40:17.118-04:00slice / 139Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-37111056516557659362011-11-01T08:58:00.000-04:002011-11-04T19:30:28.478-04:00shard / 12Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-38268733837199283472011-10-30T23:27:00.003-04:002011-10-31T16:08:49.632-04:00slice / 138Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-21543392633598835842011-10-28T09:30:00.000-04:002011-10-28T21:28:28.507-04:00Candle, tower, flame
I found these candlesticks at a flea market in lower Manhattan in my college days long
ago. I was always on the lookout for bargains back then, not having a lot to spend on
home accessories, but determined to acquire what I could to groovy up my pad on east
25th street, my first apartment in New York, a walk-up studio on the third floor.
They’re silver plated, Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-36401526028664404172011-10-25T00:55:00.002-04:002011-10-25T00:55:23.211-04:00slice / 137Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-34486036540281765652011-10-23T17:02:00.002-04:002011-10-25T09:47:44.530-04:00slice / 136Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-6691443685111711302011-10-21T09:40:00.000-04:002011-11-11T21:43:52.529-05:00Jackets and jeans
After four days of unrelenting rain, the skies are clear at last. I’m a homebody but enough is enough. A cool front has arrived... jackets and jeans are in play. I think jackets are my favorite threads. They give designers a lot to play with, and variations are endless. And they have pockets, in the right places.
I’ve amassed a small collection over the years. My denim Pepe birthday present Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-89702816254186829202011-10-18T23:13:00.003-04:002011-10-18T23:13:56.317-04:00slice / 135Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-37382079648555007842011-10-15T10:11:00.000-04:002011-10-18T15:17:49.996-04:00What's that smell?
There is no scent in cyberspace. But then isn’t its sterility its appeal? Its retreat
from the loam and volatility of real life? Scent is stubbornly non-negotiable.
There are few if any aromas that repel an animal. Everything incites curiosity.
Analysis. Evaluation. Dogs prefer their food a tad rank. Wild horses roll around
in wildflowers to pick up their fragrance. Jungle cats mark their Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-13146451621781282462011-10-12T19:02:00.000-04:002011-11-16T12:44:59.607-05:00Regular
I get my cappuccino at the local coffee shop, owned by a lovely old lesbian, the stout and motherly kind, and her partner, a more ethereal Alice B. Toklas type, who likes my cologne. "You smell nice!" When the shop changed hands and I first started going there, I was on the cusp of my paleo regime. I said that I didn't see soup and salad on the menu... was it available? “We can make whatever Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-54761176836841069152011-10-10T09:56:00.000-04:002011-10-10T10:06:28.511-04:00slice / 134Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-69727089400285125482011-10-07T12:49:00.000-04:002011-10-07T12:50:02.589-04:00slice / 133Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-30582286455096399722011-10-04T22:20:00.000-04:002011-10-04T22:24:41.421-04:00slice / 132Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-65548127284176405532011-10-02T18:34:00.000-04:002011-10-04T12:41:16.942-04:00The owl this timeJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-62471741343183713442011-09-28T18:08:00.001-04:002011-10-13T15:54:42.631-04:00Change of course
A banyan tree has grown to fairy-tale size at The Golf Club, an abandoned golf course not far from around here. Fifty years old this year the golf course, and its popular club house, were the social hub in the scotch and samba sixties. The city now has golf courses galore - an Irish word that means, literally, enough. Surely. The Golf Club was purchased by a consortium four years ago, and was Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-77863043374647714482011-09-27T08:04:00.000-04:002011-11-04T19:33:37.372-04:00Picking sides
When I’m out riding my scooter and wearing certain shirts, the wind will invariably catch the collar and flap it, flicking the collar point against my jaw. It’s annoying, and after a while it hurts. I can defeat this by opening my shirt a couple of buttons and letting the collar slip back behind my neck. Oddly, only my left collar hooks up with the wind to party at my expense.
Seems the human Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-63927014271847687042011-09-24T10:54:00.000-04:002011-09-29T13:35:09.664-04:00Across the universeJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-39014101239406230532011-09-21T00:08:00.000-04:002011-09-21T00:08:04.834-04:00slice / 131Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-39867737300561552012011-09-19T12:28:00.000-04:002011-10-22T19:25:36.614-04:00slice / 130Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-15065017540999281642011-09-17T00:27:00.000-04:002011-09-17T09:50:55.731-04:00slice / 129Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-20061577379279339232011-09-10T18:13:00.018-04:002011-09-20T11:53:43.607-04:00Terror and dust
I heard about 911 (“a wake-up call from hell” as Benjamin Netanyahu
put it) like a billion other souls, when the news bulletin hit on television
that morning, and appropriated the television screen, and global
attention, for many days and weeks to come. I got on the phone with
Stu, a fellow ex-New Yorker, and we both watched the disaster
unfolding, phones to our ears, saying little, until Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-31274748388253616392011-09-07T10:23:00.001-04:002011-09-07T10:27:49.659-04:00slice / 128Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-57696802777402579212011-09-04T13:03:00.000-04:002011-09-04T13:03:38.649-04:00slice / 127Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-47873918602765979212011-08-31T16:26:00.001-04:002011-08-31T16:26:00.094-04:00slice / 126Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-12025134091239819622011-08-26T22:34:00.000-04:002011-08-26T22:34:27.399-04:00slice / 125Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-979366617630803742011-08-23T19:15:00.001-04:002011-08-23T19:19:34.081-04:00SoundingsI read somewhere that the electronic signal of the original
I Love Lucy broadcast is just now reaching some distant star
in our galaxy. Perhaps the conversation I had this morning
with Rick is somewhere in the vicinity of the moon.
The apostle Paul said somewhere that we will have to give an
account for every idle word we speak. Is Paul on to something?
Are the things we say out there? TheyJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-68361234403089821182011-08-18T13:40:00.003-04:002011-08-18T13:59:36.649-04:00slice / 124Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-21089704798818003862011-08-15T12:12:00.002-04:002011-12-28T09:29:13.687-05:00Impromptu 2 / ThursdayJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-32282150378286054852011-08-12T13:38:00.002-04:002011-08-12T13:38:01.643-04:00slice / 123Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-9679420731581851732011-08-06T11:53:00.000-04:002011-12-19T00:31:25.915-05:00correspondence / 1
Long time, W. You're such a crazy mix of affection and thorns...
While I disagree that eating, drinking, reading, are not "life", the deeper
governing aesthetic of the way I deal with people is that the photographs are
essentially portraits and therefore often, though not always, solos. Beyond that,
I often see people as elements of composition. I talk about this in my post "Along the
Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-36523518759850841062011-08-04T09:31:00.000-04:002011-08-04T09:31:02.903-04:00slice / 122Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-43471458943288045882011-07-31T19:25:00.000-04:002011-09-21T20:08:20.306-04:00shard / 11Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-18762238639573202172011-07-26T22:59:00.001-04:002011-07-26T22:59:55.557-04:00slice / 121Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-27175134067352725892011-07-23T10:06:00.001-04:002011-07-23T10:07:25.314-04:00slice / 120Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-44781626178375210832011-07-20T14:32:00.000-04:002011-12-27T16:08:04.716-05:00slice / 119Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-91047140044737663242011-07-16T16:59:00.000-04:002011-07-16T16:59:19.609-04:00slice / 118Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-9634808017290775062011-07-13T20:11:00.001-04:002011-09-28T00:07:04.618-04:00slice / 117Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-16681310200408636532011-07-09T08:50:00.008-04:002011-11-02T09:29:07.660-04:00Blades
I’ve seldom been without a pocket knife, attached as a fob to my keyring. My last one, adorned with a Dallas Cowboys team logo, was given to me as a gift. It had only one blade, with a nicely serrated edge, sharp. But something had gone wrong. It appeared to have lost the pin on which it pivoted, and would not open.
Before that I had a handsome and compact chrome one, with several Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-82905703204777903742011-07-04T12:32:00.000-04:002011-07-04T12:32:06.166-04:00slice / 116Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-47043469187619123112011-06-29T18:33:00.006-04:002011-06-29T18:38:04.455-04:00slice / 115Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-37606595712126542062011-06-25T15:30:00.003-04:002011-06-25T15:30:02.080-04:00slice / 114Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-20639096669382022472011-06-22T15:35:00.006-04:002011-06-22T15:35:00.221-04:00slice / 113Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-90151273700382145142011-06-19T15:30:00.000-04:002011-06-19T15:30:00.864-04:00slice / 112Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-90485627204632287452011-06-16T12:25:00.036-04:002011-09-29T12:25:27.968-04:00Lost and found
I looked out the window, and seeing no wind, decided it was a good day for
biking. The county library was my destination, some four miles away. I wanted
to return my two Thomas McGuanes and pick up a couple more. I had read a
story of his in an old New Yorker and was now reading his books. He writes of
the West, the Northwest, ranching and fishing, the Florida Keys, but he’s gritty
and Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-87173562420475022272011-06-13T10:37:00.000-04:002011-06-13T10:37:01.513-04:00slice / 111Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-18137092019676292182011-06-10T17:32:00.001-04:002011-06-10T17:33:38.960-04:00slice / 110Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-5027927380834898142011-06-09T18:42:00.000-04:002011-06-09T18:42:07.600-04:00slice / 109Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-60509671535670507982011-06-06T11:13:00.005-04:002011-10-23T23:22:59.734-04:00shard / 10Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-70052411159952640252011-06-01T16:38:00.021-04:002011-06-05T14:21:09.121-04:00A Single Man
Until it was confronted by the cruel realities of its time and place, the
relationship between Jack and Ennis in "Brokeback Mountain" existed in a kind of
utopian innocence, isolated and undefined. And being isolated, both
topographically and culturally, from the contamination of bigotry and gay culture
(which has oppressive features of its own) alike, their love was unnamed and
therefore Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-36414495608476546812011-05-21T11:05:00.000-04:002011-05-21T11:05:46.773-04:00Eden saw playJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-82658099768061111142011-05-18T11:00:00.002-04:002011-05-18T11:01:20.800-04:00slice / 108Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-24222003612569631052011-05-16T16:27:00.001-04:002011-05-16T16:33:32.290-04:00slice / 107Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-32174367605411850472011-05-14T14:02:00.001-04:002011-10-08T12:32:01.387-04:00slice / 106Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-66228236520891758732011-05-11T09:57:00.003-04:002011-05-13T13:35:06.667-04:00Chipotle speaksJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-47221576900727142292011-05-09T16:31:00.002-04:002011-05-13T13:35:29.701-04:00slice / 105Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-34659214273947212852011-05-07T17:14:00.004-04:002011-05-08T11:44:02.874-04:00slice / 104Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-81814667075117771312011-05-05T20:54:00.001-04:002011-05-05T20:54:36.005-04:00slice / 103Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-38554138234229846712011-05-03T12:44:00.003-04:002011-05-03T12:48:06.608-04:00slice / 102Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-72807199524022071802011-05-02T01:32:00.003-04:002011-05-03T12:57:02.102-04:00slice / 101Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-51813728327969418522011-04-28T08:41:00.023-04:002011-09-19T15:07:25.444-04:00Along the dotted line
I spend the odd weekend at Fort Myers Beach with Andy and Elle, who live in a
cottage on Estero Island now, a short walk from the Gulf. It’s a comfortable old
place, both leafy and sandy-sere, full of whitewashed wood and colorful throws.
Carpets and cane. After a slow start, coffee, coffee talk, we wander into town.
Spring Break and its annual influx of college students, along withJeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-79380641254183766222011-04-25T11:52:00.005-04:002011-11-04T19:34:29.441-04:00self portrait / 2Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-711151221281060725.post-45508512324216260302011-03-12T10:33:00.002-05:002011-04-25T11:52:27.317-04:00slice / 100Jeauxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09489419756833657839noreply@blogger.com