Rocky, with a chance of statues

From our esteemed colleague of a correspondent in Santa Barbara, Ashleigh Brilliant:

July 13, 2013

Dear Friends,
It doesn’t happen often that something pleasantly new appears in my life, which has actually been there all the time. The stone bench shown below is here in Santa Barbara, facing a busy intersection at the corner of Mission and Garden Streets, not far from where I live. I don’t know how old it is, or anything of its history. (Santa Barbara is full of interesting old stone-work, including a surprising number of curb-side hitching-posts, many with their metal rings still attached, though they’ve been unused by horses, or by anyone else, for many years.)

What I do know is that, until recently, and all the time I have been living here, this charming and convenient structure was practically unusable, and virtually invisible, because it had become overgrown with thick shrubbery emanating from the garden behind it.

Not long ago, however, that property changed hands, and in the selling process some heavy pruning, trimming, and clearing was done — with the result that the Old Stone Bench, perhaps for the first time in living memory, became clearly revealed and accessible, as you see it now. I don’t know how many people in town have even noticed this change. But to me it’s a very dramatic and welcome one, because the bench happens to be directly on my walking route between home and office (a distance of almost exactly a mile) and a very good place to rest, especially when I am struggling home on foot with a load of groceries.

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And now that I can sit there, I have been noticing that this bench provides views in several directions, not only of palm-lined streets, and distant mountains, but also of two remarkable works of art, standing outside houses on different corners of that same intersection.

Across one street from the bench is this locally-famous statue of a large dog, about which many stories are told (most of them probably untrue.)

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And on the diagonally opposite corner to the dog is this boulder decorated by our eminent Santa Barbara mosaicist, Dan Chrynko, whose colorful and highly imaginative works can be seen all over town:

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And just for the sake of completeness, on the 4th corner (diagonally opposite to the Bench) stands a strange monolith whose story and purpose I can tell you nothing at all about. It appears to contain no holes, no inscription, and no identifying marks of any kind:

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I originally intended to write you only about the stone bench — but you can see how one thing leads to another.

All the best,
Ashleigh Brilliant

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ASHLEIGH BRILLIANT, 117 W. Valerio St. Santa Barbara CA 93101 USA. Phone (805) 682-0531 Orders:(800) 952-3879, Code #77. Creator of POT-SHOTS, syndicated author of I MAY NOT BE TOTALLY PERFECT, BUT PARTS OF ME ARE EXCELLENT. 10,000 copyrighted BRILLIANT THOUGHTS available as cards, books etc.World’s highest-paid writer (per word). Most-quoted author (per Reader’s Digest.) Free daily Pot-Shot cartoon: www.ashleighbrilliant.com CATALOGS:[h&m included]. Starter $2. Complete Printed Text version: $75. Electronic Text-Only (emailed $25, on CD $30). Electronic Illustrated Catalog/Database (CD only) $105 (includes shipping anywhere). Details: www.ashleighbrilliant.com/IllustratedCatalog.html

Is that my Epipen or Livescribe Pulse/Echo?

Every theory that I test always falls back to this position: is there anything that contradicts the fact this body is a set of states of energy in constant flux?

All the other details fade in comparison.

For instance, I found a 4GB flash drive on my desk this evening, completely unaware of its contents until I plugged it into this notebook PC.  On the flash drive are subfolders labeled GE184, IT104, IT250, IT302, TB133 and TB143 under the main folder labeled ITT, all of them from the year 2009.

There’s also a file labeled “Lesson Plan Outline – Twenty Minute Segments – Spring 2009.xls” for IT104 – Introduction to Computer Programming.

Is it coincidence that I read an online article about professors and students this afternoon which led me to think about my teaching days at ITT and then to discover the flash drive in the pile of junk on my desk later today?

We make our own coincidences, do we not?

Ever since I got married in 1986, I kept the promise to stay physically devoted to my wife, putting aside the thoughts that once led me to pursue women.

Sure, temptations are there everyday when I see people of all shapes and sizes, their sights and smells capturing my attention like Seirênes on strange shores.

I do not take lovers anymore.  Instead, I convert my amorous feelings into short stories and poems, inspiration for dreams of life on Mars and other celestial bodies.

I’m getting older, if I’ve ever been young, yet I’m always a kid at heart.

Falling in love over and over, day after day, takes its toll on this little old kid.

To spend one second holding the hand of another on the dance floor is an eternity of feelings — happiness, joy, trust — moments I barely remember from my younger days.

Next week I will compete in one dance with my wife, then my wife and I will compete separately with Abi and Stephane in a different dance.

How do I dance with someone as beautiful and graceful as Abi without falling in love with her?

How do I feel about competing against my wife, so to speak, in the PROAM OPEN NEWCOMER SWING MALE/FEMALE divisions?

How does this affect my belief in the theory that I am alone in the universe which is here solely for my entertainment?

Whenever I feel myself attracted to another person, I revert to generalising and stretching my practical self into expounding about universal theories in order to protect myself from becoming a blathering idiot and making a fool of myself.

It’s no coincidence that the Echo and Pulse pens on my desk are not Epipens because, unlike my father, I have no deathly allergic reactions to protect myself against.

I have been a solo artist for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to dance with another person as one.

What I have remembered is that the dance partner is the one toward whom I give my fullest attention, all barriers dropped temporarily, whilst we give ourselves over to the lord of the dance:

Lord Of The Dance
I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees
They wouldn’t dance, they wouldn’t follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me so the dance went on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame
They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high
Left me there on the cross to die

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body, they thought I was gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the life that will never, never die
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance, said he

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

Two Facts

  1. Found an old white jumpsuit in the closet where clothes of my youth feed moth larvae.  I painted black stripes on the outfit, put it on with an assist from a rusty shoehorn, snapped a set of fake handcuffs on my wrists and ran down the main street of my town.  For some strange reason, my marathon training attire attracted attention — several police officers pulled over and asked me for identification.  Had to explain to them the only way I can motivate myself to run 26.2 miles is if I’m either being chased by wild dogs or on the run from the law.
  2. Has it occurred to you yet, if you live in the United States, that the person who wins the next U.S. Presidential election will receive votes from about 20% to 25% of the U.S. population and claim it is a true mandate for change?  What will that say about the 75% to 80% who didn’t vote for the person (including those who didn’t/couldn’t vote at all)?

A nod to the success of Karen Hawkins, a secondary schoolmate.

Future rocketeers, are you practicing your orbital entry maneuvers?  Won’t be long now before we need a flock of rocketeers piloting the fleet! [Racketeers need not apply, of course]

As much as I find the storyline of the reluctant leader of the Committee trying, if not tiring, let’s see what the leader recommends after attending the latest Committee meeting…