a sense of belonging; I am he but there is no me/ part 2
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
David Hume says that there is no me, it's just a collection of properties. Eye brows, toe nails and memories of the time I got robbed at gunpoint. Some Buddhists agree with Hume for other reasons; there is no self.
We discussed the ship of Theseus, the Ancient Greek idea that if a ship is totally reconstructed with new materials is it the same ship?
Ego, famous people have 1000 pictures of themselves over a life time on Google images but they are not them.
Go to the art museum and look at the Greek vase with the painted soldiers on the side. The vase is 2500 years old. Is the picture of the soldier- himself?
Let go your ego and sense of self and you are on the path to enlightenment say the Buddhists.
Can you forgo your sense of self? If there is no self how can there be souls?
If there is no self and no soul what is there?
Metaphysical speculation. Is a person and an apple both just a collection of properties that came together and are gone?
The ancient Egyptians thought a person was made up of five properties. Two physical, the name and shadow and three invisible properties, the Ka- the life force, the ba, the personality, and akh, the spirit. The Egyptians believed in an after life and spent considerable effort to prepare for it.
Atheism and metaphysical speculation; is a person and an apple both just a collection of properties that came together and are soon gone?
I don't know but I suspect there is more.
Monday, March 31, 2014
a sense of belonging
a sense of belonging
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Many of us are alone and being alone and in a solitary environment can cause a certain misery depending on one's expectations and beliefs concerning affiliations and friendships.
One affiliation that I renew each April that connects me to the place I live in and with others I don't know but who become a part of me for a few months is my willingness to become a hopeful fan of the Cleveland Indians baseball team.
Each Spring since I was seven I over estimate the strength of our local baseball team. By end July they usually have let me down and some years they have actually broken my heart.
Still hope grows anew this time each year. The first game will be played soon.
My brothers and I and a friend or two are arguing over the Cleveland Indians record this year. Predictions are from 95 to the low of 85. The 85 is my guess, the lowball fans choice for wins for our local team the Cleveland Indians.
Hitting is promising barring injuries but our pitching is so/so. Speed is fair but already injuries have hurt us. We don't have much major league type power. Our coach is a players guy, we are not sure if that is good or bad. The record will settle later if we had a successful year.
Or does the record matter at all?
For a few months each Spring I am one of thousands of local hopeful fans of the Cleveland Indians. I argue passionately with fellow fans concerning my expectations and beliefs about the success of our team. I can talk to people I don't know in line at Wal Mart about how our team is doing and the woes they are causing us with weak pitching and no power. Will this August's lament of the day locally be about all the pitchers we have brought up or salvaged from around the league with sore arms, losing records and unfamiliar names?
First game this week.
I, me, we, and us are on the edge of our seats around the TV and radios hoping for a winning year by our team the Cleveland Indians.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Many of us are alone and being alone and in a solitary environment can cause a certain misery depending on one's expectations and beliefs concerning affiliations and friendships.
One affiliation that I renew each April that connects me to the place I live in and with others I don't know but who become a part of me for a few months is my willingness to become a hopeful fan of the Cleveland Indians baseball team.
Each Spring since I was seven I over estimate the strength of our local baseball team. By end July they usually have let me down and some years they have actually broken my heart.
Still hope grows anew this time each year. The first game will be played soon.
My brothers and I and a friend or two are arguing over the Cleveland Indians record this year. Predictions are from 95 to the low of 85. The 85 is my guess, the lowball fans choice for wins for our local team the Cleveland Indians.
Hitting is promising barring injuries but our pitching is so/so. Speed is fair but already injuries have hurt us. We don't have much major league type power. Our coach is a players guy, we are not sure if that is good or bad. The record will settle later if we had a successful year.
Or does the record matter at all?
For a few months each Spring I am one of thousands of local hopeful fans of the Cleveland Indians. I argue passionately with fellow fans concerning my expectations and beliefs about the success of our team. I can talk to people I don't know in line at Wal Mart about how our team is doing and the woes they are causing us with weak pitching and no power. Will this August's lament of the day locally be about all the pitchers we have brought up or salvaged from around the league with sore arms, losing records and unfamiliar names?
First game this week.
I, me, we, and us are on the edge of our seats around the TV and radios hoping for a winning year by our team the Cleveland Indians.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
crying baby in a sports bar
crying baby in a sports bar
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Over looking a series of lakes, with long low floor to ceiling windows, the tan hardwood floors of the darkening sports bar echoed the wailing of the crying baby. The waitress was a teenage girl, the bar maid had never had children and no women were to be found on the premises. For some unknown reason the baby girl's Father had chosen to bring the crying child to the sports bar on a Saturday night to watch tournament basketball and play euchre. We found out later the baby's Father and the wife were separating and divorcing. Baby girl looked well cared for with an expensive blanket wrapping her warmly bundled all in pink.
The euchre players had exhausted themselves trying to quiet the crying girl. The waitress had disappeared and the bar maid had become sullen at the noise as only a pretty bar maid can properly do on a cold Saturday night at a hot sports bar overlooking a series of frozen Lakes.
My old man was standing very tall as he picked up the sobbing child I remember. He had those huge hands and they reminded me of a boxer with the gnarled knuckles as he cradled the pink blanket and baby to his chest.
My Father walked about carefully carrying the limp girl talking quietly to her while avoiding protruding chairs while always facing the water keeping as far away from the customers as he could be and still always be by the windows. Except when he asked the bar girl who was washing glasses at the bar in the center of the room to turn down the sound on the basketball game he stayed by the windows.
My Dad handed the sleeping girl to the Mother carefully when she rushed into the bar, I remember she put her hand to my father's face when she left with her daughter. After my Father talked to the baby's Father for a long time over in the far corner while I played Euchre with the other three guys at their table.
The baby's Father shook hands with my Dad when we left; me, I was a little wobbly from drinking free beers the euchre guys bought me. Even the bar maid gave us a free drink after Dad calmed the baby girl.
Walking out to the car I noticed the old man still walked a little straighter than usual. Try as I might as I told the story after I never could remember my old man carrying me about back when I was the child.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Over looking a series of lakes, with long low floor to ceiling windows, the tan hardwood floors of the darkening sports bar echoed the wailing of the crying baby. The waitress was a teenage girl, the bar maid had never had children and no women were to be found on the premises. For some unknown reason the baby girl's Father had chosen to bring the crying child to the sports bar on a Saturday night to watch tournament basketball and play euchre. We found out later the baby's Father and the wife were separating and divorcing. Baby girl looked well cared for with an expensive blanket wrapping her warmly bundled all in pink.
The euchre players had exhausted themselves trying to quiet the crying girl. The waitress had disappeared and the bar maid had become sullen at the noise as only a pretty bar maid can properly do on a cold Saturday night at a hot sports bar overlooking a series of frozen Lakes.
My old man was standing very tall as he picked up the sobbing child I remember. He had those huge hands and they reminded me of a boxer with the gnarled knuckles as he cradled the pink blanket and baby to his chest.
My Father walked about carefully carrying the limp girl talking quietly to her while avoiding protruding chairs while always facing the water keeping as far away from the customers as he could be and still always be by the windows. Except when he asked the bar girl who was washing glasses at the bar in the center of the room to turn down the sound on the basketball game he stayed by the windows.
My Dad handed the sleeping girl to the Mother carefully when she rushed into the bar, I remember she put her hand to my father's face when she left with her daughter. After my Father talked to the baby's Father for a long time over in the far corner while I played Euchre with the other three guys at their table.
The baby's Father shook hands with my Dad when we left; me, I was a little wobbly from drinking free beers the euchre guys bought me. Even the bar maid gave us a free drink after Dad calmed the baby girl.
Walking out to the car I noticed the old man still walked a little straighter than usual. Try as I might as I told the story after I never could remember my old man carrying me about back when I was the child.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
God given talent; Macyn Taylor
God given talent; Macyn Taylor
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
You tube is an ideal place to display God given talent before it moves on to another area of life. Case in point Macyn Taylor playing "I Get the Blues When It Rains" on you tube.
I was fortunate enough once to hear " I get the blues when it rains" preformed on a long rainy afternoon in the Quarter in New Orleans. I haven't heard the song since, but as I remember things it was Kuumba Williams I heard singing at a club in New Orleans.
Skipping about you tube the other day I came across a cover by Macyn Taylor of "I get the blues when it rains". I enjoyed Macyn Taylor's performance and guitar playing immensely.
Technical production wasn't top notch in the you tube production I watched, it never is. A baby ran about the set and one suspects that Macyn Taylor has macaroni boiling on the stove in the kitchen but the music, but the music.
Where does such talent come from? Macyn Taylor looks like just another pretty girl one would see walking about the local University campus. However her guitar playing is so enjoyable to listen to. Her voice is just authentic, nothing more needed.
Check out Macyn Taylor on you tube, if she wants to she is going places as a singer although one suspects she will excel at whatever she chooses to do with her life.
Listen to Macyn Taylor sing on you tube; it's almost as good as sitting at a small table in a club in New Orleans on a long rainy afternoon hearing the song " I get the blues when it rains" for the first time.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
You tube is an ideal place to display God given talent before it moves on to another area of life. Case in point Macyn Taylor playing "I Get the Blues When It Rains" on you tube.
I was fortunate enough once to hear " I get the blues when it rains" preformed on a long rainy afternoon in the Quarter in New Orleans. I haven't heard the song since, but as I remember things it was Kuumba Williams I heard singing at a club in New Orleans.
Skipping about you tube the other day I came across a cover by Macyn Taylor of "I get the blues when it rains". I enjoyed Macyn Taylor's performance and guitar playing immensely.
Technical production wasn't top notch in the you tube production I watched, it never is. A baby ran about the set and one suspects that Macyn Taylor has macaroni boiling on the stove in the kitchen but the music, but the music.
Where does such talent come from? Macyn Taylor looks like just another pretty girl one would see walking about the local University campus. However her guitar playing is so enjoyable to listen to. Her voice is just authentic, nothing more needed.
Check out Macyn Taylor on you tube, if she wants to she is going places as a singer although one suspects she will excel at whatever she chooses to do with her life.
Listen to Macyn Taylor sing on you tube; it's almost as good as sitting at a small table in a club in New Orleans on a long rainy afternoon hearing the song " I get the blues when it rains" for the first time.
the mature woman
the mature woman
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
An intelligent woman more than likely plans their conversations. No more staccato bursts of oration.
Still distantly familiar despite a residual foreign weariness the voice of an intelligent mature woman flows along until all their points are connected and then abruptly discourse is terminated.
As a woman gets older they may get upset but are seldom surprised. But that throaty torch singer type voice can still be interesting to listen to.
Better to wait for her call. Like the CEO of a small company an intelligent mature woman dislikes surprises preferring a planned discourse until all their points are covered and connected but that throaty torch singer type voice can still be familiar to listen to.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
An intelligent woman more than likely plans their conversations. No more staccato bursts of oration.
Still distantly familiar despite a residual foreign weariness the voice of an intelligent mature woman flows along until all their points are connected and then abruptly discourse is terminated.
As a woman gets older they may get upset but are seldom surprised. But that throaty torch singer type voice can still be interesting to listen to.
Better to wait for her call. Like the CEO of a small company an intelligent mature woman dislikes surprises preferring a planned discourse until all their points are covered and connected but that throaty torch singer type voice can still be familiar to listen to.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
a farewell to arms; a muddy rain drenched stroll across Italy
a farewell to arms; a muddy rain drenched stroll across Italy
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Life is like a scene from Ernest Hemingway's retreat scene in Italy in World War One in his novel " A Farewell to Arms".
Every one in Italy is retreating in the face of the German advance. All is in Chaos.
The Lieutenant played in the movie version by Gary Cooper and in a later version by Rock Hudson is leading his friend the Italian surgeon who has gone half mad with battle fatigue. They must walk because the ambulance has broken down and hundreds of refugees crowd the roads. Refugees are strafed by planes as they march in the dark across rain drenched muddy roads cluttered with the cast off possessions of the dead and dying.
The surgeon who is an Italian major is accused of being a German agent or sympathizer and is tried and shot. The lieutenant moments before he is to be executed bolts away and dives in a raging river to escape.
After herculean struggles the lieutenant throws off his uniform and allegiances and seeks only his life back.
Struggle on. Chose life. Bad times do not last forever. Some good happens, some bad too, just keep marching forward.
March through a wet crowded chaotic landscape. Tomorrow will be better. Reclaim your life.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Life is like a scene from Ernest Hemingway's retreat scene in Italy in World War One in his novel " A Farewell to Arms".
Every one in Italy is retreating in the face of the German advance. All is in Chaos.
The Lieutenant played in the movie version by Gary Cooper and in a later version by Rock Hudson is leading his friend the Italian surgeon who has gone half mad with battle fatigue. They must walk because the ambulance has broken down and hundreds of refugees crowd the roads. Refugees are strafed by planes as they march in the dark across rain drenched muddy roads cluttered with the cast off possessions of the dead and dying.
The surgeon who is an Italian major is accused of being a German agent or sympathizer and is tried and shot. The lieutenant moments before he is to be executed bolts away and dives in a raging river to escape.
After herculean struggles the lieutenant throws off his uniform and allegiances and seeks only his life back.
Struggle on. Chose life. Bad times do not last forever. Some good happens, some bad too, just keep marching forward.
March through a wet crowded chaotic landscape. Tomorrow will be better. Reclaim your life.
dirty dealings, cronyism and malfeasance in office in Mayberry
dirty dealings, cronyism and malfeasance in office in Mayberry
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
A Big time City newspaper editor and Publisher seeking revenge on hick, too good to be true sheriff of Mayberry Andy Griffith, sends a foreign reporter [ she's Canadian], in disguise to Mayberry, North Carolina sometime in the near distant past, to ruin good guy Taylor. Sexy reporter posing as a " college kid" according to Deputy Fife accuses said Sheriff Taylor of Cronyism, dirty dealings and malfeasance in office.
Informal trial and hearing is held in the local courthouse.
At trial hick deputy Fife turns tables on big city lawyer with from the heart testimony and exposes school girl reporter for what she is " big City fast fun girl come to Mayberry to cause trouble with unsuspecting Men."
Episode ends happily, Emma Watson gets her medicine, delivered in fruit jars carried in trunk of squad car [ Emma Watson not to be confused with Harry Potter actress].
Barney and Andy still friends but seeds of discord are planted that leads Fife to move to " threes company" playing role of a strangely dressed comedian who has lost his mojo.
Interestingly town drunk Otis is credited in " Variety" as being in episode but never appears but is only mentioned in oral testimony between Fife and school girl reporter. In infamy Otis will now always be remembered as a drunk because of the internet.
Ruta Lee who plays reporter was also in "7 brides for 7 brothers" not to be confused with " 7" the horror story with Brad Pitt as a new detective whose wife loses her " pretty little head".
Later in Mayberry series the theme of Taylor's malfeasance is revisited when Barney accuses Andy of 76 counts of malfeasance when they run against each other for sheriff.
Politics can be a little confusing at times.
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
A Big time City newspaper editor and Publisher seeking revenge on hick, too good to be true sheriff of Mayberry Andy Griffith, sends a foreign reporter [ she's Canadian], in disguise to Mayberry, North Carolina sometime in the near distant past, to ruin good guy Taylor. Sexy reporter posing as a " college kid" according to Deputy Fife accuses said Sheriff Taylor of Cronyism, dirty dealings and malfeasance in office.
Informal trial and hearing is held in the local courthouse.
At trial hick deputy Fife turns tables on big city lawyer with from the heart testimony and exposes school girl reporter for what she is " big City fast fun girl come to Mayberry to cause trouble with unsuspecting Men."
Episode ends happily, Emma Watson gets her medicine, delivered in fruit jars carried in trunk of squad car [ Emma Watson not to be confused with Harry Potter actress].
Barney and Andy still friends but seeds of discord are planted that leads Fife to move to " threes company" playing role of a strangely dressed comedian who has lost his mojo.
Interestingly town drunk Otis is credited in " Variety" as being in episode but never appears but is only mentioned in oral testimony between Fife and school girl reporter. In infamy Otis will now always be remembered as a drunk because of the internet.
Ruta Lee who plays reporter was also in "7 brides for 7 brothers" not to be confused with " 7" the horror story with Brad Pitt as a new detective whose wife loses her " pretty little head".
Later in Mayberry series the theme of Taylor's malfeasance is revisited when Barney accuses Andy of 76 counts of malfeasance when they run against each other for sheriff.
Politics can be a little confusing at times.
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