Bring up the weather.

Jupiter continues shining and the humidity has disintegrated.
Though I normally don't want to know the temp, it's cooled off.
Would have gone for a hike or something but have toothache.
Have to see a dentist tomorrow. Will it stay "cool?" Nope.

On account of discomfort, sleep schedule disrupted.
Haven't been watching the DBacks. Just as well.
After a pretty good streak, they lose three straight.
Mets coming in tomorrow. Pain-free, I'll be up for that.

Yeow... just hit me... could have asked that woman to go to game.

More Horsemen

Ran into a beautiful woman with whom I've minimal acquaintance.

Very bright as well, and very busy. You don't want to "impose."
You'd like to converse, but they're on the phone or texting... busy.
So, after a couple of brief encounters, do you ask her to dinner?

I don't think so; she just took off from the coffeeplace we frequent.
When will I see her again? Do I have to haunt the place? Are you nuts?
From Lithuania. I tried to "relate" insofar as whatever I've gleaned...

that only from reading. And such as Alexander Nevsky. She's seen it!

Suppose it might have been conducive if I'd've remembered her name.
Needed to be reminded. As she was leaving. I'd better not forget.
Told her about reading about all the fights on the plains.
The Steppe through the Ukraine, up Poland to Lithuania.

And one book (the search is on) about a questioned provenance.

Read it a while ago. Gave some history of old Greater Lithuania.

Now much diminished; after the Mongols, the Turks, the Teutons.
Mentioned it to her, before I could find book. Then she was gone.

There's some controversy as to whether Rembrandt painted it -
the alternative being that one of the apprentices in his shop did.
Anyway, of a horsey theme. Something I was thinking of otherwise.
The Paint previously presented reminds me of my Uncle Jack.



He was NYPD Mounted. The stables were in Central Park.
I could always go to Manhattan and count on seeing him.
Posted Midtown mostly... "Where's Times Square?" "You're in it."
He always led the St. Patrick's Day Parade down Fifth Avenue.

Neighborhood Piece

Up the block and around the corner a fellow has a unique yard.


It's along the walk to the park with my dog and always delightful.

Clarification

After making this post, it behooves me to state a rationale.
Obama is somebody who takes everything politically and personally.
That's le raison d'être of the Marxist.

In his particular case, the untimely and unfortunate deaths of his Marxist parents, whose demise he blames "us" for, are to be avenged. That's how the absurdity reduces as far as I'm concerned.

The craven "Democrats" have hitched their wagon to a disaster.

God save the Republic.

The Other West

This just on point.

Once called in with neuralgia...
how non-specific can one get?

"One pain in the arse, he is."


Stopped into Finnegan's. TBA was playing. Strong voice, simple tunes.
Have seen him around and meant to ask his name, but put it off.
Gone hoping there'd be a band; they must all be playing Whiskey Row.
"I would if I could." said Himself. TBA did play a crowd favorite.

Dinna wanna stray far from home.
Dinna wanna make a spectacle of meself.
Dinna wanna drink. Took another shot.
Do these look like the genuine articles?

Demagogue in Chief

Ah yes, the Kingdom of Illusions.
Well, really... what an arsehole.

Good to see people catching on to the fraud.

(Persons who should have known better but flaked.)
Completely and utterly treacherous.

The Ninth Circle wouldn't do for the "Democrats."

I suppose I should register as a Republican, standing for the Republic in the face of the fascists, and get over the impetuosity of being "Independent." The Nation is in great need of revival laying, as it does, besieged by parasites. Not much else one can do.

What border?

The last two nights breezed through No Country for Old Men.
I'd seen the film, which was visually verbatim, hence a quick study.
I found myself much simpatico with the narrator, the Sheriff.
So too, as I survey my near environs, am feeling my age.

The "settled" West is of its essence controversial.
The matters concerning the suppression of the tribes...
the contrived consciousness that it's "really" all Mexico.
We old men have to reach for something reassuring.

When we break the laws, we lose our hold on the central reality. Like sick men in hospitals, we change only from bed to bed, from one folly to another; and it cannot signify much what becomes of such castaways, - wailing, stupid, comatose creatures, - lifted from bed to bed, from the nothing of life to the nothing of death.

In this kingdom of illusions we grope eagerly for stays and foundations. There is none but a strict and faithful dealing at home, and a severe barring out of all duplicity or illusion there. Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth. I look upon the simple and childish virtues of veracity and honesty as the root of all that is sublime in character.