Monday. March 31. 1980.

I dug out one of my old journals from 1979/80 this Sunday afternoon, just to see what I was doing on this date 39 years ago. Here’s my journal entry for Monday, March 31, 1980, word for word (with a few interpolations):

“Wrote a story at work about an Italian immigrant in the Wild West who is made sheriff and defeats all the bad guys by daring them to eat his spicy cooking.”

(I was working at the time at KGCX Radio in Williston, North Dakota -- my first broadcasting job out of Brown Institute of Broadcasting back in Minneapolis. I did the news, walking to the station at 4 in the morning to turn on the transmitter and starting with the pork belly futures promptly at 6 -- the station was called a day-timer; it was only .

on the air from sunrise to sunset. I was always very busy during the mornings, but after the noon newscast I had to stay in the office to take phone calls that might be news tips and there wasn’t much for me to do -- so I did a lot of my own writing -- Bill Anderson, the station manager, and Oscar Halvorson, the station owner, were impressed with my diligence as I sat for hours at the typewriter banging out page after page of stuff on thin and grainy yellow paper. I have no idea whatever happened to this particular story -- doesn’t sound like one of my best, does it?)

“At home I found a package from Holst (Tim Holst, my good old pal from the circus who baptized me and was at that time the assistant performance director at Ringling) containing a pair of baby underwear and a note telling me I’d need them soon enough. (Amy and I became engaged during that winter.) Also received a note from BYU saying I had been accepted for the fall semester. (I had applied for a theater scholarship, and got one for the fall semester only.) And Mom sent me an Easter card. I called Amy and told her about BYU -- she told me her phone bill for this month is $113.00. She asked for $20.00 to help her meet all her bills and I said I’d be glad to help her out.”

(Each morning at the station I called several towns around Williams County to get the temp and local weather conditions -- and I wangled it so I called Amy every morning up in Tioga, where she was living with her parents while she taught school. We spent fifteen minutes talking lovey-dovey on Oscar Halvorson’s dime -- the old Norsky must have seen the phone bill and wondered about it, but he never said anything to me about the expense. Then when I’d get home in the afternoon I’d call Amy again on my landline rotary phone and we’d talk the hours away -- so my phone bills were gigantic, too. Back then AT&T really socked it to you for any and all long distance calls. Sometimes Amy called me, and then her mom and dad got charged for the call -- which didn’t sit very well with them at all.)

“Typed up some more of the novel & hit the sack.”

(The novel was called “The Vita-Goodie Lady.” It was a satire of LDS beliefs in health supplements sold by mid-level marketers like Amway and Shaklee. I worked on it off and on for the next eleven years, and when I finished it Amy’s rich brother Benny bought the rights to it from me for 17-thousand dollars -- with the understanding that I would give him back all the money under the table so he could claim it as a tax write-off.)

I shall buy a manbag

While ready-to-wear clothes showcased on the runway dominate fashion headlines, accessories generate a third of all revenue from personal luxury goods. Handbags in particular boast some of the industry’s biggest profit margins since they are expensive but take up little space in boutiques. And unlike shoes, they don’t need to come in different sizes.

WSJ

I'm done with pockets

with holes that drop coins

with keys that poke my thighs

with chapstick stains

*

I shall buy

a manbag

and stuff my life

into it

*

then I will always have

Ricola cough drops

a roll of quarters

and a ham sandwich

*

hand tooled leather

brass zippers and snaps

a sturdy shoulder strap

with a built in herbarium

*

inevitably

I will leave it at

Carl's Jr one fine day

when the french fries call

*

but my dream bag

will by then 

have legs to walk home

like in Terry Pratchett's Discworld

*

an Italian manbag

is all I ask

out of a diminishing life

and a Hostess Twinkie

*

Daughters to wife

. . . the Lord spake unto him again, saying that it was not meet for him, Lehi, that he should take his family into the wilderness alone; but that his sons should take daughters to wife . . .
First Nephi. Chapter Seven. Verse 1.

I married once;

it didn't take.

But it was not

the Lord's mistake.

The bitter fact

is that I ought

to have worked more

to tie the knot.

But if the Lord

says "Try again"

what can I do

but say "Amen?"

Why Do Garfield Phones Keep Washing Up on This Beach in France? (NYT Headline)

because Snoopy phones

stick to beaches in

Thailand

*

and Barbie dolls

like Rio

this time of year

*

Legos congregate

in the Baltic

to spawn

*

bobbleheads

are restricted to

 the Great Lakes

*

did you know

the Fisher-Price Chatter Telephone

is on Amazon?

Are Delivery Drones Fly-by-Night?

Drones might never make it in the big city: too many concrete canyons, errant pedestrians and unpredictable truck drivers, not to mention too few backyards to serve as drop points. That’s why drone developers have their sights on the suburbs, where other forms of delivery are still generally unprofitable. Whether drones can be a saving grace depends on whether they can make a half-dozen backyard deliveries an hour in a five-mile radius without hitting any houses, cars, people, trees or power lines.

WSJ

remember all those white shirts

going door to door?

now they can send out 

drones

*

hovering around the backyard

playing hymns

dropping pamphlets

dodging rocks

*

and

they'll keep an eye

on you

and your sins

*

or maybe

they'll see such

goodness and mercy

they'll become superfluous

*

DRONES DISCOVER DECENCY

that's the headline I wanna see

the next time 

I swipe my neighbor's

Wall Street Journal

There is only one story

But the bonding benefits of storytelling only work if you’re good at it. Many of us, even those who tell stories for a living, are not. We repeat stories we’ve told before. We tell tales that don’t have a point. We fail to pay attention to our audience, choosing stories that are inappropriate or ignoring clues that our listener is bored, annoyed or confused. And we don’t know how to edit ourselves, throwing in every detail we find fascinating, no matter how irrelevant.

WSJ

there's only one story

to tell

and I've been telling it

for years

*

there's only one person

who can tell it

right

and that's me

*

not you 

nor your therapist

nor your boss

and not your parents

*

the one story

is so good

it can be repeated

endlessly

*

but only by me

and only when 

I feel like it

and you buy me a drink

*

otherwise there are no stories

not in the true sense

there are only 

words strung together

*

meaninglessly

marginally

mundanely

mordantly

*

but I'll give you

a break

here is the One True Story

in a single word:

scrambled eggs

Not of the world

Wherefore, the things which are pleasing unto the world I do not write, but the things which are pleasing unto God and unto those who are not of the world.
First Nephi. Chapter Six. Verse 5.

Write but one word

and if that one word

be pleasing unto God

it will last forever.

Say but one word

in kindness and charity

and that spoken word

lasts beyond mountains.

Do but one thing

to help another

and that one thing

will sprout wings

to carry you over

the world and its woes

Cherishing Blockbuster

The Bend store, three hours from Portland, was already attracting tourists last summer, when it became the last Blockbuster in America. As it prepares to become the last true Blockbuster in the world on Sunday — when the only other one, in Australia, closes — even more selfie-snapping pilgrims have arrived.

One of them, Steven Mercadante, drove his 2013 Kia Soul nearly 1,000 miles from Southern California through pelting rain to get to Bend.

“I just wanted to relive my childhood, said Mr. Mercadante, 32, a Walmart cashier who grew up in a military family that moved frequently. Blockbuster, like strawberry milk and Kraft macaroni and cheese, was a constant and a comfort for him.

NYT

don't condemn this man

for his driven folly

*

he wants his past back

which is never a silly

thing

*

behind all of us

far back in the summer

smiles of a moment

wrapped in amber

 resides Blockbuster

*

one last chance

one final view

to feel

quickened

*

then back to the

brexiting

and trumpeting

and netpicking

*

the comfort is gone

gone from me

taken away by

tinhorn maturity

and barcodes

*

Watermelon pickles cured me of teenage angst

Dr. Ramsey argues that a poor diet is a major factor contributing to the epidemic of depression, which is the top driver of disability for Americans aged 15 to 44, according to a report by the World Health Organization. Together with Samantha Elkrief, a chef and food coach who sits in on many of his patient sessions, he often counsels patients on how better eating may lead to better mental health.

NYT

historians note that Caesar

conquered Gall on nothing

but anchovy pizza

and sweet red wine

*

while his men

a sad moping lot

subsisted on salt

vinegar and radishes

*

you can't comfort 

anybody with apples

but give them a swig

of apple brandy

*

for best results

*

America needs more

White Castle

and less

kale

*

you ever see a sad person

in White Castle?

if you start to cry

they kick you out

*

a Sunday bowl of menudo

covers a lot of turmoil

and watermelon pickles

cured me of teenage angst

*

there are more old chefs

than there are old doctors

and ketchup will be

making a comeback

*

any day now

SCOTUS Halts Execution, Ruling Inmate Entitled to Buddhist Cleric

WASHINGTON—The Supreme Court blocked Texas from executing a Buddhist inmate Thursday, saying that the condemned man, Patrick Murphy, was entitled to a spiritual adviser in the death chamber just as Christian prisoners may request a chaplain’s presence as they draw their final breath.

WSJ

when I go

and I think I'll go in a prison

because a poet's life

always ends badly

if they wait too long

to publish*

I want

a

French pastry chef

to attend me in the death chamber

in traditional white toque

to comfort me with

puits d'amour

bichon au citron

vol-au-vent

and a

tarte des Alpes*

plus

I'll need a sommelier

cuz I ain't going

into that good night

sober

And it came to pass that they did rejoice exceedingly

And it came to pass that they did rejoice exceedingly . . .

First Nephi. Chapter Five. Verse 9.

The joy of God

is not concealed;

but by the Spirit

is revealed.

In desert, on the open sea,

wherever faith has cause to flee,

you will not hear a tale of woe

but happy thanks from lips will flow.

When setbacks in the world I meet,

help me like Lehi to be sweet;

and help my faith a courage be 

to bring about festivity.

Pennsylvania Legislator Stepanie Borowicz Prays for God’s Forgiveness Before First Muslim Woman Sworn In as Representative (Slate)

Pennsylvania Lawmaker Prays for God’s Forgiveness Before First Muslim Woman Sworn In as Representative

Dear God

forgive my ignorance

in promoting suspicion

and fear

instead of hope and trust

*

may my hands

lose their cunning

when it comes to

writing any more trash

to speak

*

give me the grace and wit

to wait for more

inspiration

and less

damnation

*

forgive my agendas, O Lord,

and lead me not into

self righteous bigotry

forever and ever

oy vey

China Floats Cloud Concession to Foreign Tech Firms in U.S. Trade Talks (WSJ)

I want to be a Chinese cloud,

so open and so free.

To float above the landscape

in pure love and harmony.

*

And ev'ryone can use me

for their data storage needs;

with all the best security

at such bodacious speeds.

*

Come unto me, ye data files

so weary from the wiles

of other cloud pretenders

who cajole you with their smiles.

*

For I will keep your info

locked up tightly, there's no doubt.

In fact, when you do need it

I will never let it out . . . 

What are subway bathrooms for?

But subway bathrooms have long occupied an inner ring of the city’s underworld, each grim, battered door a portal to a multisensory nightmare.

NYT

what are subway bathrooms for?

I'll tell you what they're for

they're detriments to crime

on a scale as yet

unimagined by our 

staid court system

just think of it

a thug who beats up

little old ladies

is sentenced to

five years of

cleaning subway bathrooms

and those places never stay clean

for more than ten minutes

it beats anything 

in Dante's Inferno

or how about

some white collar criminal

who converted

 pension plans

into a beach front mansion

in Saint Kitts and Nevis?

he doesn't just get zonked

with cleaning subway bathrooms

but

is forced to be an ATTENDANT

in subway bathrooms

wearing a white coat

and carrying a whisk broom

with that kind of

retribution

hanging over their heads

you can bet dollars

to Duncan Yo-Yos

 that crooks will not only

turn over a new leaf

but uproot 

the whole darn 

tree

And after this manner of language had my mother complained against my father.

And after this manner of language had my mother complained against my father.

First Nephi. Chapter Five. Verse 3.

Complaining

shows a lack of faith

yet

also shows I'm human

Circumscribed

by mortal fears

while

stretching into the dark

Lashing

out at loved ones

when

the light grows dim within

Pleading

for new batteries

from

He who has no sin

Resolving

to think better

and

stay quiet when in doubt

Rejoicing

when my dread departs

replaced

by confidence reborn

03/27/2019

Wednesday

Up at 4, thinking of lasagne. So I made a small one, using Barilla Alfredo sauce instead of red tomato sauce. Naturally, I put anchovies in it along with the hamburger.

My fungus/yeast rash is gone from my belly, but the rest of my torso is still tortured by some kind of rash -- so I play nudist at night, and I made the lasagne this morning al fresco -- except for an apron. I have a sign on my door reading:  Warning: An active Nudist lives here!”  It seems to stop most inconsequential visits. Although the old lady Bernie keeps coming by to give me sacks of jigsaw puzzles -- she saw Sarah and the kids one day a few weeks ago and ever since has to bring by all her hand-me-downs for them. Well-meant, of course -- but the puzzles are in plastic bags, and who knows if all the pieces are there or not. So I just stuff ‘em in my garbage sack when I go out to the dumpster.

Madel offered to let me use her Netflix account, so I can cancel mine to save a few dollars each month. What a sweetheart! I just called Netflix customer service to cancel and by golly they didn’t give me any run-around at all -- it was all done in less than a minute. My account will close on April 17th.

Password Passions

Streaming music and video services that permit multiple users, plus the proliferation of family cellphone plans in recent years that are cheaper than individual accounts, have created ties that bind long after a breakup or even divorce.

WSJ

hey this is Tim

from the vasty beyond

remember when I died

last year?

you were supposed to cancel

our phone plan

and our Netflix

and that cheese of the month

thingy

but I'm still getting billed for them

oh yeah -- they have bill collectors

here

which gives you some idea

where I'm at

nobody wears pants here

nobody has any plastic

and my bitcoin account

is hacked

so do me a favor

for the sake of past ardor

call customer service

and put everything in your name

K?

cuz I can come back to haunt you

in the body of Jussie Smollett