We are Family

[curt]

We don't need another / a new discussion to prove it.

It is as it is.

Let this "fred" (discussion thread) live under the theme .......

long live this family

brothers, sisters, brethern, dogs, cats and birds, ants and flees, water and air and gas and Clare and Jim and him and the window Simm (??) and you and me and he and she and we and them and us and puss (???) and fish and the dish (it's on) and paper and pen.

Yip.

[Mouse]

One of this summer's little traumas: tried to sign on for an embroidery class at the adult education evening class spot in town, where 30 years ago I did the teaching adults course, and we were told how important that one student is. The one who talks and challenges and argues. The catalyst. The interested person.

Nice round woman at embroidery exhibition engages me in conversation, so I start to tell her what I want to make, how I'm trotting in the wake of a fine tradition, the subversive stitch, just looking for some bonhomie. She seems fine with that, one of the tutors, I toss her a few questions, does she know about this... "Yes", or this..."Yes"... so I'm relaxing with her and toss more into the mix. It is closing time (I knew that), she is showing me to the door with more of her yesses and nods.

She is standing at the top of the steps about to close the heavy old door. The worn stone of the old school steps stands between us. I am at the bottom, looking up. I say
"And then I become afraid."
"Yes." she says.
The door closes.

[waldopaper]

Just what exactly is it EM? When do you become "afraid" and what is it that "frightens" you? Is it the heavy closing door?
Hard for me to imagine YOU bein' a-skeered of anything.

[Mouse]

It's her. She frightens me. It's her yesses and nods, the agreement, the mmms and understanding noises that drew me out, encouraging me to spill the beans of my demented world view.

God, the rush that comes when you think someone understands what you're talking about.
Somehow or other it always seems to end with them showing me the door, and there I am on the street again. "You are not welcome here" a sort of undertone escorting me through life. Like my father not wanting me to phone.
The nice round lady has a crowd behind her in my mind. The masters and mistresses of small talk and agreeable behaviour who keep out the boorish and the yobs. They carry stilettoes for spontaneity, just in case it rises up singing in the stalls.

As for being afraid, Waldo. I am a mouse. I am locked in.

[BO]

Well, you can write like a lion as far as I'm concerned, mousie.

As for Waldo, he's just a Robin Williams from 'Dead Poets Society' wannabe.

!Just razzin' you, man! Actually, the best thing you could do is to teach them kids how to be anarchists. Ya needs to turn 'em into Bolsheviks.

[pan]

In Ms. Medusa's doctoral program in Communications she was required to take an undergraduate program taught by the Chair from his book with perforated worksheets. Among the things she "learned" in the class is that you should wear the clothes, eat the food and hold the opinions of those who are in charge - Really, those were lessons in the book.

Later, when discussing her proposed dissertation work in an exploration of the Post-Human as accepted practice he told her that she needed to be more vanilla because he thought she was like tutti-fruiti.

[Mouse]

One of those old friends I never hear from co-wrote this, and may be fetchingly seen embracing a huddled group with his invisible wings. What a lot of wings some people go through. He saved my life, thank you kindly sir. Much of the speech is his voice, far far away.

Wings of Daedalus

http://www.chantslibres.org/en/productions/wings/



http://readytogoebooks.com/classics/Ovid-icarus.htm

[Mouse]

Think I mixed up my dancers there, so difficult to see their faces with all that make-up.

Bo, what are you saying about our dear Waldo, out there at the coal face, keeping the homes fires burning. His ambit is somewhat alarming to me. as is Pan's. You know how little I frequent the seat of learning here, down the hill where it lies bloated, inviting detestable lies to be disseminated by enemy agents. You see. Oh dear. If only it weren't true. If only I hadn't noticed.

For goodness sake don't encourage her. Can't you see she's off her head. It's raining very nicely, listen.

[BO]

Thank goodness we're all insane here. There ain't nothing more accurate than an insane person's vision of reality. And I'm proud to come from a long line of lunatics meself.

See what Waldo's done to me? I now think like him. Wish I could write as well.

[waldopaper]

wahhhh... it's TRUE. I ain't nothin' but a John Keating (Robin Williams' character) wannabe. I ain't even got the nuts to make them rip up books.

But I AM trying to splice the John Keating front-of-the-room "personality" with George Carlin and Billy Conolly.... into my own "real personna" (which I've been told) resembles Tommy Chong. Let's be real: my OWN "persona" is just too fucking boring.

Khee-Rhist. Whatever "you" REALLY "are," there are a billion "personalities" out there that resemble it... and the Kids know ALL of 'em... and then "pattern recognition" kicks in, and you get shoved in a fucking envelope. So while I'm trying to do all this theater bullcrap... to write like a Lion... like Mouse does... seems to get further away. Shit- I spent over ten years "training" to do this fucking gig... and then have been "doing" it for another ten years... and all it's doing is making me even DUMBER and more of a knees-up whore than I already was... which is what made me want to do this gig in the first place.

One winter, the boy and I watched a desperate mouse come out of the wall and inspect what there was on top of the stove. "That's the best stealth I've ever seen," whispered the boy. And he was right. Noiseless... almost invisible... later on, I trapped and killed the fucker... felt bad about it, too. That little mouse taught us each a great lesson.

We aren't even AWARE of the "casting department."

[BO]

Hey, I made an impression on the supreme Waldo. It's not often I get quoted twice in a Waldo rant.

What the fuck is my persona? I dunno. Fat boring middle-class suburban guy who's been kicked to the street too many times. Better yet: I'm the guy the neighbors thought would never do such a thing. Yep. That's it.

[pan]

Teaching is theatre that involves the creation of a persona. It is my favorite form of performance.

My professorial personal is "larger than life, outrageous guy" - I try to raise the bar on embarrassing behavior so that the studes can, in no way, do anything as stupid as the teacher - and maybe they feel like it is OK to take a risk and do something that might not be what the majority is doing.

[Cal]

Sad story about the mouse, Waldo. I haven't been able to bring myself to 'deal with' the two little mice in my kitchen or the rats in my roof. I leave food out for the mice. The rats make a lot of noise in the roof and I almost went the Rattex route, but after an internet search I found a little ultra-sonic device that apparently discourages rats from hanging around because the noise bothers them. I've had it in the roof two days & it seems to be working. I am rooting for the rats to find another safe, happy place to live. We've taken up so much space on this planet there's almost no room for the other creatures ... bothers me a lot. One of our forestry ops managers cut down a giant avocado tree outside his office because he saw a snake slither into it ... What is it about our species that makes us so completely beserk? Nice thing about being on new medication is that I can ask a question like that without bursting into tears. I am relieved to find I sill ask the questions ...