"Twin Tower(s)" Converted to a Verb

As in, last night, there was a discussion at the bar (a new spot for me - I knew no one and was not involved in the conversation) regarding the missing Malaysian aircraft.  The bartender (who was quite lovely overall and gave me tips on where to get tasty oysters for Danielle) said her husband worked designing airplanes.  And, so, a patron asked, "Well, does he have a theory on the missing plane?" In fact, the husband did, as the bartender related: "Yes, he thinks that somebody hijacked it, they're going to gas it up again, and then twin-tower it."

Ah, the evolution of language...

IBL:mm

"Where It Ended, Badly"

An original IBL photograph taken January, 2014, entry way to the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

"Complement II, #2"

An original IBL photograph taken January, 2014, entry way to the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

"Complement II, #1"

An original IBL photograph taken January, 2014, entry way to the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

Unintentional Art By My Friend, Paul Valenti

He couldn't see what I saw in it.  Beauty is the eye, etc...

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"Howell Street and Minor Avenue (NW Corner of Angled Intersection)"

March 12th, 2014, Seattle.

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"Complement I, #2"

An original IBL photograph taken January, 2014, entry way to the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

"Complement I, #1"

An original IBL photograph taken January, 2014, entry way to the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

From Danielle's Birthday at 13 Coins

We were sitting in the Captains' chairs with our friends Denise Watson and Erik Seth, January 4th, 2014.  Danielle took this snap.  I have to admit - I love it...

IBL:mm

Me and a Friend

In the snow, outside the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.  2/8/14.  Danielle took the snap.

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Where the Condom Machine Used To Be

Men's room, Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle.

(Because, in truth, how could you have lived without this, either?)

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Because It Wouldn't Have Felt Right Not To Share This

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I Won't Pretend to Completely Understand This...

But it's a "project" Danielle was working on at the Little Red Hen about a month ago and I felt like it should be shared with the world.  Or, you know, the three people who actually follow this blog.  (Three is likely charitable...)

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"Would You Lay With Me in a Field, With Oliver Stone?"

Is my absolute favorite David Allan Coe song...

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My Father Died 27 Years Ago Today

This was not written to commemorate his death, but it popped into my head this morning...

From the Permanent Collection

Jesus and my father ride the streetcar home from work

in the belly of the 1930s, Los Angeles, California.

Stepping aboard, a woman trips; my father catches her elbow.

Jesus compares this moment in the City of Angels with

the time angels lifted him above Satan in the desert.

Los Angeles is a desert town, Jesus remarks.  Like Phoenix.

It seems Jesus’ wife is in Phoenix for a couple of days;

he invites my father out for a drink.

William Paul Murray, a young wife at home, declines.

Another time, Jesus says.  Say, I heard a joke this afternoon.

He leans into my father, lips to his ear;

this one is not for general audiences.

After a moment my father smiles; he’s heard a lot of jokes,

but the joke Jesus tells him on that streetcar is not one of them.

Ah, but who’s to say he wouldn’t have smiled anyway,

out of politeness, even if it was a joke he already knew.

My father tells Jesus his stop is approaching. 

Jesus pats him on the back and wishes him a pleasant evening.

William Paul Murray, true to his word, goes home to his wife.

Jesus stops off for a pint of rye and some Chinese food.

He lights a small cigar and sits on his front steps,

reflecting on the day.  He misses his wife;

he is a good husband, Jesus.  Later, he puts on the radio

and listens to the fights from the Olympic Auditorium.

He closes his eyes.  He falls asleep in his chair.

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"NE Corner of N 80th Street and Greenwood Avenue N"

An original IBL photograph taken March 7th, 2014, in Seattle.

Maybe God Really Is Love

The signboard at the church across from our new place in Greenwood, Seattle.  Here at IBL we echo the congratulations, and hope the two brides have a beautiful day they can look back on with much happiness...

Everybody in...

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In Which I Drive My Dead Father's Pick-up Truck

It was a 1976 Toyota long bed that I'd originally thought was white, but in fact turned out to be the faintest shade of some kind of odd green.  (I got colour blindness issues - what are you gonna do?) Anyway, the week before my father died, my brother and I came down from northern California to Orange County to see it through, and we were staying at my mother's house (his mother, my father's first wife, died in childbirth).  After my father died, on March 9th, 1987 - just around the corner; I wonder if that's what's put all this in my mind - there were things to attend to, and one afternoon I was out with the pick-up running errands.  When I was done, I parked the truck in front of the house and came through the living room and into the kitchen, and they were both there, both of them staring at me with utter and complete disappointment.  I will never forget the looks on their faces.  They'd seen the Toyota pull up in front of the house, but then it had gone out of sight, and they were wondering if maybe.  And, when it wasn't him...

How can you blame them.  I'd seen that truck pull up in front of 721 N. El Rey Drive, La Habra, CA  hundreds of times myself - I mean I can see it right now, 27 years later - and each and every time there he was, with a sack of groceries under one arm or with the mail in his hands or with a story about something he had seen when he was out.  Each and every time, there he was...

Ah, here he is now...



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My Dead Father Received Quite a Bit of Mail

I mean it happens, of course.  It might have happened to you with a loved one of your very own.  It's nobody's fault, but I'd come home to visit my mother months later, more than a year later one time; I'd run out to the mailbox and there it would be - "Mr. Murray - DON'T MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY!"  Or it was time to renew his Driver's License.  (I still have it, his last Driver's License, in his last wallet, with a variety of other cards and six one dollar bills.)  Or AARP wanted to share some important news.

Danielle and I moved into our new condo in Seattle this past Saturday, and I was reminded of my dead father's mail just yesterday when I received something addressed to Mei Tso Sporman, who lived here before us, and from whose estate we bought our home.  I expect I will be seeing quite a bit of her name in the coming weeks and months.  Wherever it is that she may be, I sincerely send her my very best.


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And So Then RIGHT This OTHER Guy I Knew

got invited to dinner at the house of a blind man who owned a vacuum repair shop and when the blind man opened the door this guy stuck out his hand for a shake and didn't HE look the fool.  Though the blind man couldn't see that, either...

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Then I Knew This Other Guy One Time

who somehow mixed up Jethro Tull with the character portrayed by Max Baer, Jr. on The Beverly Hillbillies and, to be perfectly honest, this caused quite the kerfuffle as well...

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I Knew This Guy Once

who was talking about that one album by Rush and he called it "Two One One Two" instead of "Twenty-one Twelve" and OH! the abuse he took from everyone, so much abuse...

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And We're Back...