"Why, then, the world's mine oyster!"

TCM went Shakespeare-wild last night on TV. They showed Macbeth, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and the 1935 A Midsummer Night's Dream. I watched a little bit of Macbeth, but don't really enjoy looking at Orson Wells. I watched all of Hamlet.

I take back most of the negative things I ever thought about Laurence Olivier. His Hamlet is one of the best movies I've ever seen in my life. I had never seen this one before. L.O. didn't go into his usual histrionics until late in the film. Shortly into Romeo and Juliet, I went to sleep in my chair, so I got up and went to bed.

Note: The characters Francisco and Horatio, and old Polonius, reminded me of Edward de Vere's two cousins Francis and Horace de Vere, and Lord Burghley of whom Polonius in the play is a word-for-word-for-word copy.

This Time, Mama Means It!

I often say that I'm going to ignore Facebook and spend my time practicing. But this time, I'm really leaving Facebook. My reasons:

10. Not enough pictures of puppies and kittens.

9. Bad grammar, such as people saying "convince" when they mean "persuade."

8. Politics (not enough pictures of honest politicians).

7. Ubiquitous atmosphere of ambiguity.

6. The prevailing assumption that if you're for something, you must hate its opposite.

5. Too frequent mention of words that begin with the capital letters D, T, O, and F. I cringe every time I see one of these.

4. Recipes for delicious fattening foods.

3. Reminders of stupid things that I posted three years ago.

2. Dreaming of my mother waking me up in the morning to do chores that I've ignored too long.

1. My number one objection to Facebook is that it begins with the letter F.

Fish Tales

Occasionally, my friend Miriam and I used to say one to the other one, "Wanna go eat grease?" And we would go to one of my favorite fast-seafood places for lunch. I wish I had some of that good old greasy stuff now. But in recent years, I don't eat much seafood, owing to the oil spills, nuclear meltdown scares, and plastic/garbage pollution. Just when Jed and I go to a nice restaurant, I may order the fish fry or a grilled tilapia, but mostly I don't. I really miss Miriam, and her girls, and Billy Sam.


Speaking of fish, the short story I'm mainly working on is about an adventure at "the" beach. I've got three or four pages done, and re-done over and over, and I like it pretty well. I'm also working on some of my unpublished poems to send to the American Journal of Poetry. They publish a lot of poems by famous poets and by amateurs. I guess I can't call myself an amateur, since I've earned a pittance of money from writing. And I can't call myself a "famous poet." So what am I, chopped liver?

"Pie, me oh my! I love pie!" *

I've been eating pie, 3 Musketeers bars, cheese and crackers, and a dollop of Daisy on anything suitable. So I weigh 120, and in photos I look fat and matronly. I guess I need to lose 10 pounds. It doesn't matter to anyone but me, and I won't deprive myself entirely of what I crave, but only once a week will I eat any sweets other than fresh fruit.


I've made a little bit of progress on the short stories--three of them at once. One is a ghost story, one a romance, and the third a fairy-tale fantasy called "B.Y.O.B.," as in bring your own bottle.


I find that I can't sew the prairie points directly to the edges of the leaf quilt. When I asked if it could sew through 7 layers of fabric and a layer of batting, my machine laughed until it had tears in its eyes, but said nothing at all.


*Dorothy's song, in the "Michael" movie

"All That Will Remain of Us Is What Was Written Down." *

As of this month, my blog is nine years old. I need to concentrate on my writing, and aim to do so from now on.

*Tiro, the secretary of M. Tullius Cicero, in Robert Harris's book Dictator

Major Crying Jag This Morning

It only happens once every year or so, but when it does, the dam breaks and it's hard to see how anyone can be cheerful. I try to joke about things, especially the damn-it-all agitations. But mass shootings, and a few other things, sometimes pile up and have to be dealt with. And what can you do but cry? You can stand up for what you believe.

As for sympathizing with the Muslim terrorists, Jesus said love your neighbor, he didn't say love those who kill your brothers and sisters. He said to love your enemies, not the enemies of God. He told the disciples that if people didn't accept their gospel, to shake the dust off their heels and get out of town. I can't sympathize with the Muslims. By their own "Kuran," they have pledged themselves to destroy human lives. By doing so, they have ruined at least as many lives as they have destroyed.

Muslims don't worship the same God we worship. They worship an invention of a man named Muhammad, and have twisted the Hebrew scripture to suit their own vicious ideas.

I love the whole human race in the abstract, and I cry for the whole world. But I will not try to justify violence and a whole people's commitment to a code of violence. Just because evil has been done in the past, even by "us," doesn't justify what they're doing now.

Another Fine Book by Robert Harris

I've started reading the third volume of Robert Harris's study of Marcus Tullius Cicero. Harris is an excellent writer. It's hard to put the book down, even at the end of a chapter. Cicero was well-loved by the Roman people, and thus a natural target for those who envied his power.

Dang!

Is Mercury retrograde? Is Pluto in my sign? Is it the end of computerese as I know it?


Probably just everyday experience piling up. I've counted at least 16 personal catastrophes that the month of June has made manifest. But I'll describe only one of them.

Cornbread Chicken Pot-Pie

I made it on the first day of June. Man, it had everything--sliced up chicken, many kinds of vegetables, lots of appropriate spices and plenty of salt--golden brown crispy crust from a package of yellow cornmeal mix topped with a whole stick of melted butter.


While it was baking, something kept tugging at my unconscious. It finally came through: I had taken the frozen chicken out of the freezer and put it in the refrigerator to thaw. But when? I couldn't remember when I had put it in the refrigerator. But I was pretty sure that it had been more than a week. I ran to the still functioning computer and studied up on salmonella.


When the pie came out of the oven, I looked at for about half an hour, trying to decide whether I should ignore the delicious aroma, or risk death by eating it. The compromise was to eat a small amount at the edge where there wasn't any chicken. Leaving out a frozen Hershey-bar pie, this was the best dish I had ever invented. I didn't cry, because other problems were demanding my tears and cussing. But I dumped it. A couple of days later I tried again, using fresh chicken, but it is so bad, I don't think the dogs would eat it.