TODAY FROM THAILAND AMERICA:
A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN THAILAND CALIFORNIA:
Nikki decided to try Hayden’s scooter. Unfortunately it was not a scooter but a skateboard with handlebars; the kind that requires the physical dexterity of someone between the ages of seven and fifteen to manage properly. He took off plunging out of control down the hill, and promptly fell leaving bits of skin behind in the roadway. He injured himself enough so as to require me to attempt first aid. I am embarrassed to say that I was laughing so hard that I had difficulty applying the bandages correctly. The next day, in a less than ebullient mood, he left to return to Italy.
I dropped Hayden off at school for his first day in second grade.I met his new teacher. She appeared to be someone who did not so much look at the children as through them. It troubled me a lot.
Later that morning, I caught the train to San Francisco. I met up with Peter Grenell. We decided to have lunch at Pino’s restaurant, Tiramasu, located in Belden Alley where Pino plied us with enough Grappa for us to make fools of ourselves with some Swiss tourists; ultimately requiring Pino, for our own safety, to drive us to Peter’s house.
The next day we, very much less than 100%, picked up Peter’s car where we had left it and drove the almost 4 hours to my sister’s house in Mendocino where after dinner we promptly fell asleep.
The following morning, reasonably refreshed, we left for my friend Sally’s Pacific Star Winery about 30 miles north of the town of Mendocino on the coast near the tiny hamlet of Westport.
We had originally intended to spend the day with my sister and brother-in-law at a lavish BBQ Sally had planned. Unfortunately, Sally’s mother had been taken sick and had been hospitalized so she had to cancel the event. To make matters worse, my sister’s son was stricken with an acute attack of intestinal distress caused by Crone’s disease and had to be hospitalized to undergo an operation to remove a portion of his blocked colon. My sister and her husband remained at the hospital to be close to their son.
Peter and I arrived at the winery and after a brief discussion with Sally took a bottle of Charbono wine and two large Po’ boy sandwiches we had purchased along the way and sat on a bench above the surf crashing upon the rocks, drank the wine, devoured the sandwiches and discussed the significance of apotheosis. We concluded that one of the things that distinguishes women from men is that no woman would be so deficient in common sense and self-confidence as to attempt to use the word apotheosis while conversing with another human being.
Peter and Sally
The next day in an attempt to cleanse out bodies from the effects of a second hangover in as many days, we spent the afternoon in a hot tub at a local spa and tried to avoid an apotheosis of any kind only to find ourselves helplessly contemplating the existence of God and the foundations of morality and concluding that no self-respecting woman, lounging in a hot tub would do that either. As a result of that insight we agreed that it is only fair and just that woman take over the running of everything that we males have so royally screwed up. So with that decided, we returned to my sister’s house where I took a nap and Peter read back issues of the New Yorker.
On Monday, morning my sister called to let me know that her son Brendan’s operation was successful. We later returned to Pacific Star Winery for another lunch of Po’boys and wine. We toured Sally’s home and then drove to Noyo harbor where we had a fish dinner and watched the sun set through the fog (See below)..
On Tuesday we returned to San Francisco. That evening I went to the International Cafe in the revitalized lower Height Street to listen to Peter’s Jug Band composed of musicians well over the age of 60 play such timeless classics as “The old Hippy” and “Good Night Irene” to their appreciative septuagenarian fans.
The next morning, I took the train back to Sacramento.
The Apotheosis of Sex is Tantric Union.
Women refused to invent the concept of honor. They knew better.
A. Pookie’s puerile epigrams:
We think we know, but we do not – we rationalize. That is what makes us dangerous.
Spirituality comes from the frightful realization, not that we do not know everything, but that perhaps we know nothing at all. Spirituality is what we believe keeps us from jumping off a cliff. A strong guard rail would do better.
B. What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:
A. Aldous Huxley’s Point Counter Point. In one of the many elongated soliloquies dotted throughout the novel, one of the characters, Philip Quarles, delivers his take on what he saw as the false intellectual pursuit for perfection:
“Till quite recently, I must confess, I took learning and philosophy and science – all the activities that are magniloquently lumped under the title of ‘The Search for Truth’ – very seriously. I regarded the Search for Truth as the highest of human tasks and the Searchers as the noblest of men. But in the last year or so I have begun to see that this famous Search for Truth is just an amusement, a distraction like any other, a rather refined and elaborate substitute for genuine living; and that Truth-Searchers become just as silly, infantile and corrupt in their way as the boozers, the pure aesthetes, the business men, the Good-Timers in theirs. I also perceived that the pursuit of truth is just a polite name for the intellectual’s favourite pastime of substituting simple and therefore false abstractions for the living complexities of reality. But seeking Truth is much easier than learning the art of integral living.”