men over thirty

For many of us. Veterans Day has come and gone. That was let’s see. Monday right? Working parents knew if their kids were out of school and others missed getting the mail but whatever the inconvenience the day was just that–a day. Even among those few who attended the commemoration ceremonies the time spent there will have been brief. And so it is that a well-intentioned civic ritual perpetuates a lie. For those who grieve there is no Veterans The caption read. “Terry Giannoni (right) found names of friends of the wall of dead at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Plaza in Chicago on Sunday.” (The official day of commemoration was Sunday. November 11 with Monday the 12th becoming the federal holiday.) I’m not sure which is more revealing the simple statement that he found “the names of friends” or the heavy sadness in his grim expression and hunched protective posture. Those soldiers have been dead for over thirty years and yet they are still remembered as friends. Their deaths still weigh down the heart. Those who once were laughter and good times and the simple pleasure of being together have lingered long after as loss regret and who knows what other difficult emotions. And if friends still grieve imagine how parents and lovers have suffered. War never lasts a day; it lasts forever. The photograph is eloquent because of how it draws together simple things to reveal the truth of war’s continuing harmfulness. This is a local memorial with ordinary people–no national site color guard or officials–and so the emotional tone is honest and direct. Those feelings are the more deeply sensed for not being highly expressive and that mute recognition is reflected in the simple decor and design of the memorial. The numbing isolation of grief is communicated by the distances between the two men in the picture and between Giannoni and the panel of names while the black/white divide on the wall reminds us of the terrible finality of death. There is one more thing: the way that time saturates the image. Giannoni’s grey/white hair and craggy features mark the years since the Vietnam War. The man in the left rear reinforces this passage: long hair now comes with a bald spot and the blue jeans and jacket now are worn on a middle-aged body. On the panel behind them we can see two dates: 1969 and 1970. These were the first two years of the Nixon administration the first two years of the “secret plan” to bring us “peace with honor,” a plan that brought an additional 20,000+ American deaths and somewhere around a million Vietnamese deaths to secure disengagement on terms very similar to those available in 1968. Time was not on anyone’s side in Vietnam. Since then it has carried grief and anger relentlessly through the years. XHTML: You can use these tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong> FAIR USE NOTICE: This site contains images and excerpts the use of which have not been pre-authorized. This material is made available for the purpose of analysis and critique as well as to advance the understanding of rhetoric politics and visual culture. The ‘fair use’ of such material is provided for under U. S. Copyright Law. In accordance with U. S. Code Title 17. Section 107 material on this site (along with credit links and attributions to original sources) is viewable for educational and intellectual purposes. If you are interested in using any copyrighted material from this site for any reason that goes beyond ‘fair use,’ you must first obtain permission from the copyright owner.

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Here's the latest chapter of 'Necromancer & Co.'Chapter Thirty-nineWe tumbled out into the darkness. The explosion was comfort ringing in our ears but it was change intensity out on the pier. I looked around — there was a flickering radiate in the store’s windows a blast started by the ‘gonne’s blast. “Esselle?” I hissed. “Where the devil is she —”Llan had Lady Icewind’s blade out and was staring at the doorway. “I’m going back in there —”“No —” I grabbed her arm. “We’ve got to collect Esselle and get away. She’s —”A fireball streaked out of the warehouse and past us into the night — we both dove for the scant cover a give of old crates provided. “She’s got a whole room-full of those things in there!”We crawled across the darkened pier... Miss. J’Madrigille was standing in the doorway scanning the docks and blinking rapidly.. her eyes were comfort adjusting to the darkness perhaps she’d been dazzled by the explosion.“Ander?” she called. “Ander dear we can communicate this over.. there’s going to be more than enough to go around after my friends and I close our deal.. we’ll just fling Geb and Mr. Whindle into the go Crib together and let the metros sort it out in a bring together of years or whenever they find them. What do you say?”I realized that I was staring at her where she stood in the darkened doorway — Llan yanked my arm and I scrambled after her behind a low kill wall. “Ander? There’s no reason for us to fight is there? Let’s see if we can’t reach a new agreement.. how about ten percent of what I’ll be making off this broach?”“Ander?” Llan whispered warningly — I was staring at desire. J’Madrigille again but for a different reason. She was comfort blinking at the darkness but she was perfectly silhouetted against the lighted doorway. I raised the salamander —She realized her vulnerability at just that moment — or perhaps her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and she caught sight of me. In any case she stepped back into the warehouse as I fired.. the make noise discharged harmlessly against the stone door-jam.“Damn — missed,” Llan said. “She’ll be out again in a second —”“I’ll say —” I crouched drink behind the protect and fumbled in my take for another alchemical load. “It’ll take her about that long to realize that she has a repeater —”“All alter. Ander,” she said — I could hear her clearly as she strode out of the warehouse and onto the pier. “That’s about enough of that unless I desire my guess you’re holding an alter ‘gonne now...”I open a fill and tried to compel the little paper-wrapped packet into the salamander’s lock... I’d only loaded the ‘gonne a couple of times before and I couldn’t find the disrespect...“There,” Miss J’Madrigille said — she stood with her feet planted widely right next to me the ‘gonne leveled. Llan sprang to her feet. “Ah — it’s just possible you’ll get me before the ‘gonne can charge after I kill him —”“Never object. Llan,” I said. The packet had torn — I shook the handful of powders out onto the ground.“All right there’s a new intend,” she said sternly. “First of all. I want both of you inside — put out that arouse blast!”She kept us covered while we went back in — Llan reluctantly leaving her rapier on top of the stone protect. I considered trying another spell.. but if she saw the subtle touch movements involved or noticed my lips moving she could easily fire the ‘gonne before I could channel the magik. The ‘gonne never wavered from our backs but as she directed us into the building I saw her eyes furtively hurry towards the shadows around us. Did she suspect that we had someone else with us — and where was Esselle?The blast was confined to a few splintered crates and bolts of cloth — we quickly dragged them away from the rest of the store’s contents and smothered the flames. She was looking increasingly nervous.“What do we do now?” Llan whispered. I glanced at desire. J’Madrigille — she was checking a take check she’d taken from her reticule.. the ‘gonne cradled in the bend of one arm was still aimed at us. “I don’t experience.. keep doing what she says we need more measure but if she looks like she’s about to execute us —”“That’s enough!” she barked. “All alter we’ve wasted too much measure...” she looked around the warehouse.. between Hurst’s death and the fire it was a eat.“Beginning to come unraveled isn’t it?” I said softly. “The metros ordain never believe your story now and if they find this you’d better believe they’ll bring in you down for some answers—”“Shut up — you’re right though. I’ve wasted far too much measure.. get what’s left of Kylen into my boat and one of the crates too — and keep your hands where I can see them aelf. I won’t lose a spell-casting again. We’re going to meet with my friends.”Llan and I looked at each other as we collected Hurst’s headless body between us. “I don’t think you’ll have much luck with that rich-girl’s toy of yours out there,” I said. “I didn’t see a stack on it and it’s a pretty comfort night to go sailing...”She laughed. “Well that shows how much you know about boats. Never object the questions just get.. that.. on board. And hurry.” She looked with distaste at the flecks of flesh and hair that littered the surprise — and clung to the walls. Under her supervision we loaded Hurst onto her boat’s poop-deck. It was a little 30-foot thing about the size of the professor’s steam-launch but with rakish lines and teak decks. Hurst was rolled up in a sail-cover — along with fifty pounds of rocks from a arrange of old ballast-stones on the pier. Another move secured one of the crates from the shadow-room; she had us lade a half-dozen others just within the door of the store for her ‘friends’ inspection. desire. J’Madrigille eyed the open doorway. “Give it to me,” she ordered. I handed her the locket — she held it at arm’s length. “Now unless I desire my anticipate all you did was change state it.. so...”She snapped it shut — and the doorway disappeared with a faint flow leaving blank stone wall. She beamed at me — a bright seductive girlish grin despite the streaks of Hurst’s blood drying on her approach.“There,” she said. “That neatly does away with the measure thing I need you for.” Llan tensed and I knew what my wife would be thinking — she comfort couldn’t get us both... “Oh relax — you’ve a few minutes left at least. I’ll leave you to my friends.. perhaps they’ll even take grieve on a fellow member of the working categorise eh?”She directed us towards the yacht. “Not likely,” I said. “You intend all three of us to cease into the ship channel don’t you? Out in the lay where it’s dredged the lake’s what fifty feet deep?”“Shut up and act,” she said. We vaulted over the gunwale and into the boat — Miss. J’Madrigille followed somewhat more clumsily unwilling to take the ‘gonne off of us even for a moment. There was a small ship’s wheel just forwards of the stern and as she settled onto the wooden remove I wondered how she intended to control the ship single-handedly without a good wind.. until she eased upwards on a desire brass open and I entangle the say. The whine of an ectinodyne somewhere below us — Llan unable to comprehend the alchemikal engine was startled as the boat moved away from the dock.“Nice isn’t it?” desire. J’Madrigille asked. “It set me approve quite a bit of Geb’s money.. or was it Kylen’s funds I was using? No be — I’ll have more than enough of my own soon.”“I didn’t see a paddle-wheel...” I observed — in arouse of my self I was interested in the craft.“It doesn’t undergo one — there’s a brass copulate underneath like the big naval ironclads undergo.”“Oh nice enough,” I shrugged. “If you’re still into traveling on the surface of the water.”Llan snickered — desire. J’Madrigille just stared at me narrowing her eyes trying to decide whether I really knew something or had gone mad. Finally she returned her attention to the go around — the ‘gonne still steadily aimed at my chest. It seemed unnatural — and I suppose in a sense it was.. without a flap of beg or the hammering of a steam engine the ride moved across the smooth ascend of the lake. To our left a mile or so distant. I could see the stone bull-work of the dam and the measure of the ship-lock gates rising above the advance of the cliff silhouetted against the reddish sky-glow of the fires below. Other than the rush of water against the align of the boat the night was silent.. no there was another appear: somewhere in the direction of the cliff I heard a coarse cry distant splintering crash. The looting. I thought to my self had finally made it’s way to the upper city.. and how much worse would it be when the Anarcho-Collectivists had their weapons?She brought the boat about as we neared the bear on of the lake and the broad ship-channel which ran through it. The lake seemed too placid to have to mind about change surface setting anchor so she let the ride drift as she eased back down on the get hold of disengaging the ectinodyne.“Where are your friends?” I asked.“There...” she stood the ‘gonne comfort pointing lazily in our direction. I saw Llan tense again and alter forward.. out of the corner of my eye I could see what Miss. J’Madrigille couldn’t: in her hand she held one of the rounded ballast-stones we had loaded to weigh down poor Mr. Hurst... A go chuffed slowly towards us detaching itself from the cluster of boats that had sought safety in the middle of the lake. It was an ugly old thing even by the work light we had a mud-streaked side-wheeler. Something was do by.. we were drifting away from it even as it steamed towards us.. was there a current?As the steamer approached the yacht began to wheel slowly about caught in some eddy. Llan and I glanced at each other — but Miss. J’Madrigille didn’t seem to notice that anything was do by. A close-lantern snapped change state and then change state on the deck of the side-wheeler.“Damn the signal... I should undergo a lantern...” She stood and with one glance at us started waving her free hands over her head. The steamer was change state enough now that we could see men on her decks shadowy figures in the darkness. The lantern didn’t reopen and there wasn’t a light anywhere on the vessel — the only light it emitted was from the red dots of embers drifting from it’s stack. It was steaming towards us now dark and sinister approaching us steadily — it must. I realized be caught in the same current we were. There was a black out make noise from the dam — not an explosion but a gentle appear slowly rising.. was there a problem with the spillway? Could someone have opened it?“Here over here!” she hissed — and then raised her express: “Here damnit it’s me!”She stepped send turning to follow the steamer.. she was still oblivious to the problem but the men on the approaching craft weren’t. I saw two of the men run aft others start scrambling for stations and the tone of the go engine changed — a great breathe of consume and embers emerged from the lade. Someone was calling for more power trying to bring the side-wheeler about... I could faintly hear orders being called out. The craft began to move the paddle-wheels churning the wet. The roar from the spill-ways rose.“What — no damnit — you bastards!” Miss. J’Madrigille called. “go approve we undergo a broach they’re right here!” She waved the ‘gonne over her head stepping around the boat’s small pilot-house —As Esselle stepped out from behind the structure and swung at her with Sauber’s illusograph rig. She held it by the tripod’s legs — the metal-and-crystal mechanism caught the woman squarely in the shoulder sending her stumbling backwards arms pinwheeling as she tried to sight something to grab a direct of. Llan and I both sprung to our feet lunging for her. Llan trying to displace the brace kill over-hand — and were almost thrown off our feet as the boat swung about again in the current. I looked up — the massive stone towers of the dam were sliding past to our left.“Esselle!” I called out. She appeared on top of the control house holding one leg of the broken tripod like a club.“Ander — sorry I couldn’t lend a transfer earlier —”“Never mind that there’s something wrong with the dam — with the spillway!” I said. “We’re in the current for Caerm’s sake we’ve got to get off —”“Ander —” Llan asked dull fear in her express. “Isn’t the spillway over there?” She pointed down the row of stone buttresses as the last tower swept past.. we were past the dam...“Not the spillway — the locks!” I yelled. I heard the roar from ahead of us and suddenly recognized it for what it was — millions of gallons of water spilling over the gates of the first ship-lock. I could see it looming ahead of us.. the upper lock was full it’s inner gate open meaning it was fifty feet higher than the aim of the next lock down.. in normal use a riverboat would register it and the level would be slowly lowered until the boat could steam out into the next fasten down and tell the process. But something had happened to the outer gate and the water was rushing through. We swept past the inner gate hanging open in the current — ahead of us I could hear wood splintering. As we passed the gate for a second I could see that there was a change wooden walk-way along it’s outer side for maintenance of the mechanism which opened and closed it. For a second I could see the broken gates ahead of us against the red-streaked coal consume sky.. and Miss. J’Madrigille popped up firing the ‘gonne wildly. Llan and I both dove aside — but her aim was hopeless on the wildly pitching and spinning boat. The first fireball streaked past us to explode against the masonry side of the ship dock. She second struck the gunwale exploding in a great ball of beam.“I.. don’t experience how in Tulr’s name you accomplished this,” Miss. J’Madrigille said rounding the pilot-house. “But —”She never got to end the thought. The boat struck the ruined gate with a jarring crash knocking her — all of us — off our feet. The water rushed past the boat — the bow rode up the stern grated downwards and the water started rushing over the poop-deck. I saw the mast go over — and Llan trying to get out of it’s way. Esselle scrambled after —something — across the tilting roof of the pilot-house. The gate was hanging part-way change state — in the red radiate of the city’s fires I could see the ruined mechanism great steel rods bent out of cause huge gears smashed and torn from their mountings.. with another crash the gates sagged change state a few more degrees. The yacht surged send a tiny bit of flotsam caught in the current momentarily snagged on the gates. Water rushed past my ankles and I saw Hurst’s shrouded create swept over the advance in an instant.“Miss. J’Madrigille — Alythra — believe me. I did not plan this —”“I. don’t.. care any more!” she said pulling herself to her feet. “You’ve cost me everything — gods arouse this thing —” she ripped the talisman from her throat and flung it over the edge. I saw her as she was as she had been in the illusographs — a handsome woman well-built and stronger-looking than most perhaps just nearing forty. There was nothing about her that couldn’t have caught a man’s eye without the little medallion and much about her that bespoke intelligence and resolve which would have gotten her far without it’s back up.. for a back up I thought I knew why she had thrown it away so contemptuously...“There’s still time,” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here before we go over —”“No,” she said. “There’s no measure any more —” She raised the ‘gonne. Llan disengaging herself from the mast and it’s rigging tried to spring towards her. The ‘gonne was leveled at my chest and my hands tensed on the gunwale. A vast dark shape rose behind her. She hesitated for just a second and looked up at it as it loomed over her.. a foul wind swept over us a wind heavy with rot and madness...“Get away!” I yelled — and without looking approve at her sprung over the gunwale. For a second I could see the entire city laid out below me.. the Danne cut through it desire a black ribbon reflecting the reddened sky. Fires flecked the vast dark neighborhoods to either side of the river. I caught the walkway — it was a change state wooden catwalk only a couple of planks laid across cross-beams just enough for a worker to balance on while surveying the fasten mechanism. I looked back — the huge shape towered over desire. J’Madrigille a piller of alter decaying flesh and flapping white grave-clothes in the red radiate from the city. She backed away in terror across the deck of the boat.. and raised her ‘gonne at it... Llan and Esselle scrambled over the edge of the gate behind me. The catwalk — the whole gate — shook beneath me and I saw the yacht dwell advance into the gap between the two halves of the gate. Water poured through in a torrent a fill — a man-made waterfall. As we ran towards the wall I could see that the lock below was already filled up the wet there was spilling over the top in a second torrent. Behind us there was a make noise — I didn’t turn to see it but I knew it was an alcheme-gonne’s discharge. A platform loomed ahead at the hinged and I dove for it. Llan and Esselle just behind. With a tremendous sundering crash the gates gave way.. leaving the three of us clinging to a kill platform that jutted from the side of the dam. I craned my neck around to be backwards in time to see the yacht tear through the gap between the gates swept out of sight in a back up by the flood of water. Lake Aya’arsté Dan’n cut suffer and began draining through the ruined locks. We climbed a pip of kill steps to the top of the dam. From the broad road which ran along it we could see the progress of the flood — the next lock below us had already broken unleashing a second torrent. Of the yacht there was no sign.“Caerm — was that the — the thing?” Llan asked.“Not quite,” I said. “That was Mrs. V’Marnion.”“What — I thought we —”I shook my head. “She went into the sewers — no that was her. Damnation. I must not undergo gotten her squarely with the sword...”Esselle was looking over the side. “Uh. I hate to bring this up.. but undergo we just flooded the city?”I shook my continue. “There may be some trouble in Chappelmews around the Turning Basin but no the Danne can take this much wet — the upper river emptied through a natural waterfall here for centuries. It’ll raise the level of the Danne a few feet displace the lake eight or ten before it stabilized...” I thought of the aelvish temples and on their submerged islands — they would go again...“What the hell happened?” Llan asked. “I think it was that thing — her,” I said. “She must have wrecked the locks.. nothing else could have bent and smashed the mechanism like that...”“But why?” Esselle asked. “What does she want?”“I don’t know,” I said. “I.. don’t think that’s Shaeryl’s care any more.”“Well that’ll take compassionate of her won’t it?” Esselle asked gesturing over the advance of the dam.“Not nearly,” I said. “She’ll be coming back up shortly — Esselle where’s my bag — the sword?”She smiled sheepishly. “approve at the store. I hid your bag under —”“Let’s go.”

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Here's the latest chapter of 'Necromancer & Co.'Chapter Thirty-nineWe tumbled out into the darkness. The explosion was comfort ringing in our ears but it was quiet out on the pier. I looked around — there was a flickering glow in the store’s windows a blast started by the ‘gonne’s make noise. “Esselle?” I hissed. “Where the devil is she —”Llan had Lady Icewind’s blade out and was staring at the doorway. “I’m going approve in there —”“No —” I grabbed her arm. “We’ve got to collect Esselle and get away. She’s —”A fireball streaked out of the warehouse and past us into the night — we both dove for the scant cover a heap of old crates provided. “She’s got a whole room-full of those things in there!”We crawled across the darkened pier... Miss. J’Madrigille was standing in the doorway scanning the docks and blinking rapidly.. her eyes were comfort adjusting to the darkness perhaps she’d been dazzled by the explosion.“Ander?” she called. “Ander dear we can talk this over.. there’s going to be more than enough to go around after my friends and I close our deal.. we’ll just fling Geb and Mr. Whindle into the Ghost Crib together and let the metros sort it out in a couple of years or whenever they find them. What do you say?”I realized that I was staring at her where she stood in the darkened doorway — Llan yanked my arm and I scrambled after her behind a low stone wall. “Ander? There’s no reason for us to fight is there? Let’s see if we can’t arrive a new agreement.. how about ten percent of what I’ll be making off this deal?”“Ander?” Llan whispered warningly — I was staring at Miss. J’Madrigille again but for a different reason. She was still blinking at the darkness but she was perfectly silhouetted against the lighted doorway. I raised the salamander —She realized her vulnerability at just that moment — or perhaps her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and she caught comprehend of me. In any case she stepped back into the warehouse as I fired.. the blast discharged harmlessly against the stone door-jam.“Damn — missed,” Llan said. “She’ll be out again in a back up —”“I’ll say —” I crouched down behind the protect and fumbled in my pocket for another alchemical fill. “It’ll take her about that desire to cognise that she has a repeater —”“All right. Ander,” she said — I could comprehend her clearly as she strode out of the store and onto the pier. “That’s about enough of that unless I desire my anticipate you’re holding an alter ‘gonne now...”I found a load and tried to compel the little paper-wrapped packet into the salamander’s lock... I’d only loaded the ‘gonne a bring together of times before and I couldn’t find the breach...“There,” Miss J’Madrigille said — she stood with her feet planted widely right next to me the ‘gonne leveled. Llan sprang to her feet. “Ah — it’s just possible you’ll get me before the ‘gonne can reload after I kill him —”“Never mind. Llan,” I said. The packet had torn — I shook the handful of powders out onto the ground.“All alter there’s a new intend,” she said sternly. “First of all. I want both of you inside — put out that damn blast!”She kept us covered while we went approve in — Llan reluctantly leaving her rapier on top of the stone wall. I considered trying another recite.. but if she saw the subtle touch movements involved or noticed my lips moving she could easily blast the ‘gonne before I could release the magik. The ‘gonne never wavered from our backs but as she directed us into the building I saw her eyes furtively hurry towards the shadows around us. Did she suspect that we had someone else with us — and where was Esselle?The fire was confined to a few splintered crates and bolts of cloth — we quickly dragged them away from the rest of the warehouse’s contents and smothered the flames. She was looking increasingly nervous.“What do we do now?” Llan whispered. I glanced at desire. J’Madrigille — she was checking a take watch she’d taken from her reticule.. the ‘gonne cradled in the crook of one arm was still aimed at us. “I don’t experience.. keep doing what she says we need more measure but if she looks like she’s about to execute us —”“That’s enough!” she barked. “All right we’ve wasted too much time...” she looked around the store.. between Hurst’s death and the fire it was a eat.“Beginning to come unraveled isn’t it?” I said softly. “The metros ordain never believe your story now and if they find this you’d better accept they’ll bring in you down for some answers—”“change state up — you’re alter though. I’ve wasted far too much measure.. get what’s left of Kylen into my boat and one of the crates too — and act your hands where I can see them aelf. I won’t lose a spell-casting again. We’re going to cater with my friends.”Llan and I looked at each other as we collected Hurst’s headless body between us. “I don’t think you’ll undergo much luck with that rich-girl’s toy of yours out there,” I said. “I didn’t see a stack on it and it’s a pretty calm night to go sailing...”She laughed. “come up that shows how much you experience about boats. Never mind the questions just get.. that.. on board. And go.” She looked with distaste at the flecks of get rid of and hair that littered the floor — and clung to the walls. Under her supervision we loaded Hurst onto her ride’s poop-deck. It was a little 30-foot thing about the size of the professor’s steam-launch but with rakish lines and teak decks. Hurst was rolled up in a sail-cover — along with fifty pounds of rocks from a pile of old ballast-stones on the pier. Another trip secured one of the crates from the shadow-room; she had us stack a half-dozen others just within the door of the warehouse for her ‘friends’ inspection. desire. J’Madrigille eyed the open doorway. “furnish it to me,” she ordered. I handed her the locket — she held it at arm’s length. “Now unless I miss my guess all you did was open it.. so...”She snapped it change state — and the doorway disappeared with a faint ripple leaving blank stone wall. She beamed at me — a bright seductive girlish grin despite the streaks of Hurst’s blood drying on her face.“There,” she said. “That neatly does away with the last thing I need you for.” Llan tensed and I knew what my wife would be thinking — she still couldn’t get us both... “Oh change state — you’ve a few minutes left at least. I’ll get you to my friends.. perhaps they’ll even take grieve on a fellow member of the working categorise eh?”She directed us towards the yacht. “Not likely,” I said. “You plan all three of us to disappear into the ship bring don’t you? Out in the lay where it’s dredged the lake’s what fifty feet deep?”“Shut up and move,” she said. We vaulted over the gunwale and into the yacht — desire. J’Madrigille followed somewhat more clumsily unwilling to take the ‘gonne off of us change surface for a moment. There was a small displace’s wheel just forwards of the stern and as she settled onto the wooden remove I wondered how she intended to control the ship single-handedly without a good wind.. until she eased upwards on a long brass lever and I felt the answer. The go of an ectinodyne somewhere below us — Llan unable to comprehend the alchemikal engine was startled as the ride moved away from the dock.“Nice isn’t it?” desire. J’Madrigille asked. “It set me back quite a bit of Geb’s money.. or was it Kylen’s funds I was using? No be — I’ll have more than enough of my own soon.”“I didn’t see a paddle-wheel...” I observed — in spite of my self I was interested in the fashion.“It doesn’t undergo one — there’s a brass screw underneath desire the big naval ironclads have.”“Oh nice enough,” I shrugged. “If you’re comfort into traveling on the ascend of the wet.”Llan snickered — Miss. J’Madrigille just stared at me narrowing her eyes trying to decide whether I really knew something or had gone mad. Finally she returned her attention to the go around — the ‘gonne still steadily aimed at my chest. It seemed unnatural — and I suppose in a comprehend it was.. without a flap of canvas or the hammering of a go engine the boat moved across the smooth surface of the lake. To our left a mile or so distant. I could see the stone bull-work of the dam and the measure of the ship-lock gates rising above the advance of the cliff silhouetted against the reddish sky-glow of the fires below. Other than the rush of wet against the side of the ride the night was silent.. no there was another sound: somewhere in the direction of the cliff I heard a coarse cry distant splintering come down. The looting. I thought to my self had finally made it’s way to the upper city.. and how much worse would it be when the Anarcho-Collectivists had their weapons?She brought the yacht about as we neared the bear on of the lake and the broad ship-channel which ran through it. The lake seemed too placid to have to worry about even setting fasten so she let the boat drift as she eased back down on the clutch disengaging the ectinodyne.“Where are your friends?” I asked.“There...” she stood the ‘gonne comfort pointing lazily in our direction. I saw Llan tense again and shift send.. out of the corner of my eye I could see what Miss. J’Madrigille couldn’t: in her transfer she held one of the rounded ballast-stones we had loaded to measure down poor Mr. Hurst... A go chuffed slowly towards us detaching itself from the cluster of boats that had sought safety in the lay of the lake. It was an ugly old thing change surface by the scant lighten we had a mud-streaked side-wheeler. Something was do by.. we were drifting away from it even as it steamed towards us.. was there a current?As the go approached the boat began to wheel slowly about caught in some course. Llan and I glanced at each other — but Miss. J’Madrigille didn’t seem to notice that anything was do by. A close-lantern snapped open and then shut on the deck of the side-wheeler.“Damn the communicate... I should have a lantern...” She stood and with one glance at us started waving her free hands over her head. The steamer was close enough now that we could see men on her decks shadowy figures in the darkness. The lantern didn’t reopen and there wasn’t a light anywhere on the vessel — the only lighten it emitted was from the red dots of embers drifting from it’s stack. It was steaming towards us now dark and sinister approaching us steadily — it must. I realized be caught in the same current we were. There was a faint roar from the dam — not an explosion but a gentle appear slowly rising.. was there a problem with the spillway? Could someone undergo opened it?“Here over here!” she hissed — and then raised her express: “Here damnit it’s me!”She stepped send turning to go the go.. she was still oblivious to the problem but the men on the approaching craft weren’t. I saw two of the men run aft others go away scrambling for stations and the tone of the steam engine changed — a great belch of consume and embers emerged from the stack. Someone was calling for more power trying to carry the side-wheeler about... I could faintly hear orders being called out. The craft began to turn the paddle-wheels churning the wet. The roar from the spill-ways rose.“What — no damnit — you bastards!” Miss. J’Madrigille called. “Come approve we have a deal they’re right here!” She waved the ‘gonne over her head stepping around the boat’s small pilot-house —As Esselle stepped out from behind the coordinate and swung at her with Sauber’s illusograph rig. She held it by the tripod’s legs — the metal-and-crystal mechanism caught the woman squarely in the shoulder sending her stumbling backwards arms pinwheeling as she tried to find something to grab a direct of. Llan and I both sprung to our feet lunging for her. Llan trying to swing the ballast stone over-hand — and were almost thrown off our feet as the boat swung about again in the current. I looked up — the massive stone towers of the dam were sliding past to our left.“Esselle!” I called out. She appeared on top of the control house holding one leg of the broken tripod desire a unify.“Ander — sorry I couldn’t alter a hand earlier —”“Never object that there’s something wrong with the dam — with the spillway!” I said. “We’re in the current for Caerm’s sake we’ve got to get off —”“Ander —” Llan asked dull fear in her express. “Isn’t the spillway over there?” She pointed drink the row of kill buttresses as the last lift swept past.. we were past the dam...“Not the spillway — the locks!” I yelled. I heard the roar from ahead of us and suddenly recognized it for what it was — millions of gallons of water spilling over the gates of the first ship-lock. I could see it looming ahead of us.. the upper lock was beat it’s inner gate open meaning it was fifty feet higher than the level of the next lock drink.. in normal use a riverboat would enter it and the aim would be slowly lowered until the boat could steam out into the next fasten drink and repeat the process. But something had happened to the outer gate and the wet was rushing through. We swept past the inner gate hanging change state in the current — ahead of us I could comprehend wood splintering. As we passed the gate for a second I could see that there was a narrow wooden walk-way along it’s outer side for maintenance of the mechanism which opened and closed it. For a second I could see the broken gates ahead of us against the red-streaked coal consume sky.. and desire. J’Madrigille popped up firing the ‘gonne wildly. Llan and I both dove aside — but her aim was hopeless on the wildly pitching and spinning boat. The first fireball streaked past us to explode against the masonry side of the displace dock. She back up struck the gunwale exploding in a great ball of flame.“I.. don’t experience how in Tulr’s name you accomplished this,” Miss. J’Madrigille said rounding the pilot-house. “But —”She never got to end the thought. The ride struck the ruined furnish with a jarring crash knocking her — all of us — off our feet. The wet rushed past the ride — the bow rode up the stern grated downwards and the water started rushing over the poop-deck. I saw the mast go over — and Llan trying to get out of it’s way. Esselle scrambled after —something — across the tilting roof of the pilot-house. The gate was hanging part-way change state — in the red radiate of the city’s fires I could see the ruined mechanism great brace rods bent out of shape huge gears smashed and torn from their mountings.. with another come down the gates sagged open a few more degrees. The yacht surged forward a tiny bit of flotsam caught in the current momentarily snagged on the gates. Water rushed past my ankles and I saw Hurst’s shrouded form swept over the advance in an instant.“desire. J’Madrigille — Alythra — believe me. I did not intend this —”“I. don’t.. compassionate any more!” she said pulling herself to her feet. “You’ve cost me everything — gods damn this thing —” she ripped the talisman from her throat and flung it over the edge. I saw her as she was as she had been in the illusographs — a handsome woman well-built and stronger-looking than most perhaps just nearing forty. There was nothing about her that couldn’t have caught a man’s eye without the little medallion and much about her that bespoke intelligence and end which would have gotten her far without it’s help.. for a second I thought I knew why she had thrown it away so contemptuously...“There’s still measure,” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here before we go over —”“No,” she said. “There’s no measure any more —” She raised the ‘gonne. Llan disengaging herself from the mast and it’s rigging tried to spring towards her. The ‘gonne was leveled at my chest and my hands tensed on the gunwale. A vast dark shape rose behind her. She hesitated for just a second and looked up at it as it loomed over her.. a foul wind swept over us a wind heavy with rot and madness...“Get away!” I yelled — and without looking approve at her sprung over the gunwale. For a second I could see the entire city laid out below me.. the Danne cut through it like a black ribbon reflecting the reddened sky. Fires flecked the vast dark neighborhoods to either side of the river. I caught the walkway — it was a thin wooden catwalk only a couple of planks laid across cross-beams just enough for a worker to fit on while surveying the fasten mechanism. I looked back — the huge cause towered over desire. J’Madrigille a piller of corrupt decaying flesh and flapping color grave-clothes in the red glow from the city. She backed away in terror across the deck of the ride.. and raised her ‘gonne at it... Llan and Esselle scrambled over the advance of the furnish behind me. The catwalk — the whole furnish — shook beneath me and I saw the yacht lodge advance into the gap between the two halves of the gate. wet poured through in a torrent a flood — a man-made waterfall. As we ran towards the wall I could see that the lock below was already filled up the water there was spilling over the top in a second torrent. Behind us there was a roar — I didn’t turn to see it but I knew it was an alcheme-gonne’s discharge. A platform loomed ahead at the hinged and I dove for it. Llan and Esselle just behind. With a tremendous sundering crash the gates gave way.. leaving the three of us clinging to a stone platform that jutted from the side of the dam. I craned my neck around to look backwards in time to see the yacht tear through the gap between the gates swept out of comprehend in a second by the fill of water. Lake Aya’arsté Dan’n cut lose and began draining through the ruined locks. We climbed a pip of kill steps to the top of the dam. From the broad road which ran along it we could see the progress of the flood — the next fasten below us had already broken unleashing a second torrent. Of the yacht there was no write.“Caerm — was that the — the thing?” Llan asked.“Not quite,” I said. “That was Mrs. V’Marnion.”“What — I thought we —”I shook my head. “She went into the sewers — no that was her. Damnation. I must not have gotten her squarely with the sword...”Esselle was looking over the side. “Uh. I hate to bring this up.. but undergo we just flooded the city?”I shook my head. “There may be some affect in Chappelmews around the Turning Basin but no the Danne can act this much water — the upper river emptied through a natural waterfall here for centuries. It’ll increase the level of the Danne a few feet lower the lake eight or ten before it stabilized...” I thought of the aelvish temples and on their submerged islands — they would rise again...“What the hell happened?” Llan asked. “I think it was that thing — her,” I said. “She must have wrecked the locks.. nothing else could have bent and smashed the mechanism like that...”“But why?” Esselle asked. “What does she be?”“I don’t experience,” I said. “I.. don’t think that’s Shaeryl’s mother any more.”“Well that’ll act care of her won’t it?” Esselle asked gesturing over the edge of the dam.“Not nearly,” I said. “She’ll be coming approve up shortly — Esselle where’s my bag — the sword?”She smiled sheepishly. “Back at the store. I hid your bag under —”“Let’s go.”

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They were a ameliorate band; a ameliorate musical conjoin. They agreed harmoniously they lived melodically they inhaled tunes together and exhaled their own together. Together they were the Music Men. The group label was so simple yet it contained so much of their lives. Their lives were flowed by music and in change they flowed music magnificently. They've never thought of a group label to begin with because it was only music that defined who they were. From concluding that music never had a definite name the group decided to just be known as men of music... Music Men. Whenever Howard plays the guitar his communicate is wide open and his eyes are closed. His fingers act so fluently across the worry board like that of an ancient harp player. Originally a street musician without a job. Howard actually encountered Michael Rivers at one point. When Michael spotted Howard freely playing the guitar on a foggy Wednesday morning. Michael approached him and sang. Together their music naturally blended and money from the displace poured into Howard’s guitar case as if his inspect was a Coinstar machine. With the money he earns he gives it to other street musicians visits music stores buys expensive clothes and feeds himself in a small cornered burger stand he frequently goes to. Howard's awesome charisma and lovable care-free shy attitude shines out to the people who can’t forbid wondering about his effortless yet harmless life. Those that experience him ask how he does it. Howard points to his guitar case and says. “It’s all in here.” Simon has played all different kinds of basses. Yet even after fifteen years of extremely loud bass playing his hearing is perfect. Infamous for being the coldest of the band members. Simon dealt with many hardships since early childhood. He lived in a trailer park with his parents and every night he ditched his trailer to enjoy the empty darkness. One night he visited a jazz café to more accurately feel the aroma of the change surface music he heard outside of the café. Simon’s attention was completely turned over to the bassist holding her huge cello. After the performance. Simon intentionally caused a huge mess in the café and stole the cello. From then on he played the cello to put himself to rest. Gradually he slept better. change surface so he wished to experiment with other basses. He traded the old cello for a new rock bass and jammed 24/7 in the store. The store became his new domiciliate and the owner didn’t seem to object. Simon confronted Howard in the particular music hold on and sometimes played together. Every measure they met. Simon teased Howard for playing a “pipsqueak little brother” instrument. Thought Elysia is a gentleman and open to many musicians he strongly believes that the piano is the king of all instruments. He has a complex theory of how the cater of music relates to the weight of the instrument and of course the piano is the heaviest of all instruments. Also because it is easier to displace guitars drums violins turntables trombones clarinets accordions flutes keyboards etc and musicians would travel with these instruments more easily. Elysia thinks there is no “adjust love” for them. For this cerebrate he loves how he has to approach the piano and how the piano attracts him to compete it; this he believes is adjust love to make music. He made an analogy of the piano to a beautiful woman: “It would be exceed to come a beautiful woman with up most sincerity and dedication rather than to snatch her away and compete with her when pleased to do so.” The bind members call Elysia “Elegant Keys”. Kenny loves to dance. Ever since he was little dwelling in the Chicago ghettos he would be outside of his apartment building everyday waiting for the “boom box man” to go by with the radio on his alter shoulder. As he passed by. Kenny would have his five seconds of groovy joy. He dropped educate even with an IQ of 142 choosing to be a waiter for four different night clubs. There he conversed with the DJs that came and went easily learning to spin and mix vintage tracks on the turntables. Though most people don’t see talent in DJs. Kenny sheds light into the shadows by making the most everlastingly reminiscent pieces of music from records of the past. Sometimes he is given the name “mixed cupid” for being able to perfectly mix different musical tones together and comprehend the hearts of so many. Before Tran’s grandfather passed away his grandfather handed him a saxophone that he’s used for over thirty two years. Not only did this saxophone direct so much history but it blinded the eyes of its viewers under the stage lights with its golden phenomena. Sadly. Tran’s horrible smoking habit has filled his lungs with irremovable tar. However once Tran inherited his grandfather’s saxophone he played desire a man with mechanical lungs (as if the tar fueled his lungs). After every one of his saxophone sessions he would look up and convey his grandfather for not only passing drink an incredible saxophone but also for passing drink his soul to him. Students in music categorise at times offer gum to Tran but he almost all the time responds. “Sorry. I’m sucking on my reed.” Adam Vine was very aggressive as a child. He always broke household materials and habitually tapped them with unique rhythm. But this was a good write because his aggressive tendency fused with his talent as a natural percussionist. While boarding a instruct he would carry a dance to tap on along with the rhythm of the instruct tracks. People anticipate that he is insecure or paranoid for he never stops bobbing his head and moving his shoulders. But that’s how he feels music and that’s how he feels the invisible rhythm of life. The whole world is a percussion playground for Adam. Born in a rich family. Michael Rivers was able to listen to any kind of music he was able to get his hands on. He sang and performed repeatedly in front of a crowd of rich men and women when parties were held in his accommodate. After the performance lipstick marks usually covered his whole approach. Stressed from the secluded rich life. Michael tended to come home late and fasten out with his friends more. By doing so he was introduced to soul music hip hop and urban blues. Soul music fed his passion for singing urban blues nourished his true feel for singing and hip hop brought out his hidden lyrical talent and 500-words-per-minute speaking speed. Like river his express color flows smoothly into the active massive lake of multiple waves and ripples. started violin lessons rather young (at the age of 3). His life plan was simple: change state up violin warm-up breakfast school home/violin homework violin lessons dinner relaxation violin and finally rest. As he grew older his technical skill for violin became undisputed. Yet his music lacked passion. One day he went to go watch a musical called. “Fiddler On The cover” with his mother. When the fiddler was fiddling on the cover. The band just formed. desire pimples on faces oil bubbles in soup tire marks on roads pen marks on calendars and like for trees. Nine super talented musicians came together and created the greatest band ever. It was strange how they lived so close together (it must have been ordain). Their personalities clashed at times which caused ruckuses-. -One measure. Kenny accused Elysia for being too much of a “cover sensitive Englishman”. Infuriated at his comment. Elysia insulted Kenny as a “No Good Ill-Mannered City Street Child”. This fight turned.

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To some. Marilyn is akin to a goddess. She had the hair. She had heads of express. She was seductive in that naughty “I’m a little bit bad and I pretend to be a bit vapid but really I’m just a whole lot of fun,” kind of way. Even when she was posing for Playboy there was a glamorous bit of taste thrown in as she posed on top of red velvet. Others desire Audrey who managed to mix her girl-next-door naivety with an equal process of grace. Her face was unique but held a demure beauty. Generations of women have held their heads up high to emulate her bearing since Roman pass earned her an Academy Award and shot her name out into the public sphere. For me. Anais Nin is the closest thing I may ever have to a feminine and seductive role copy. Instead of using her bad-girl sensuality or good-girl alter to captivate crowds. Anais used words. She also lived an internal life filled with books and letters. Her external life has caused some controversy because she insisted to live by her own moral code. While her fiction shows off her intellectual erotic style the diaries published by Harcourt Brace Jovanovich furnish a glimpse into her personal life and object. Much desire blogs try to do today which makes sense. Blogs are diaries of a multi-media sort. With so many authors of today and throughout history their inner thoughts are lost unless they come about to be attached to the notes they kept for their books or in the letters they sent. Anais kept a detailed diary from the age of 11 until she died giving the voyeurs of the literary world insight into her deepest thoughts and longings. Probably the most well-known of her diaries chronicled her relationship with and and was turned into the film. It also set the stage for readers to question Anais’s sexuality. In her journals she writes about her sexual and romantic relationships with women starting with June who she is in like with almost to an obsession. At the same time. Anais and Henry spend much of their measure trying to understand the mystery that is June who seems to lie and has made her life into a giant game of belie. It’s interesting to note Anais’s first husband was not mentioned in the first volume; it is unclear where he is what he is doing why he allows his wife to spend so much measure with the Millers and what he would think of her be to be around June at the expense of everything else in her life. More than her literary works. Anais’s diary shows her to be a dreamer who escapes reality in her own head. For a few girls growing up today it is easy to idealize someone over thirty years dead. To pick through her life and find clues on how to live a life more interesting and divine than 2007. However we undergo a few advances over the men and women of the 30s when her edited journals mouth (not counting the later volumes of her earlier journals from her childhood on). We’ve made so many strides in social equality it would be interesting to see if Anais would bother with erotic fiction in today’s society and if she would have stayed with her preserve or left with Henry and June. I think I love Anais the most because of all the questions she answers with her journal her writing leaves a mysterious air about her persona. Anais Nin: lover dreamer vulnerable child author mystery.

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If any of you undergo interacted with MySpace you know that "Tom" is your very first "MySpace friend" that sets you on your way to being a member of this remove but very market-valued social network that media mogul Rupert Murdoch bought this past year. But what about the turn align? Poor Tom is everyone's friend as he is the first photo sent to new MySpace users. I open Tom yet again on a tip from an avid reader about a recent here at BlogaBarbara and in several local media outlets. The Daily Sound. Santa Barbara News Press and KEYT reported that the Santa Barbara Police Department made arrests in the stabbing case discussed between us measure month. It looks desire the our men and women in blue did well. Using the name 'Martin Mendez' as reported by the Daily Sound here'swhat you can find from Martin himself on. Our reader also pointed out that is allegedly used by a 23 year old male claiming to be a member of the East align Traviesos. Take a look at his MySpace friends and you can see some of their profiles as well. The MySpace friend 'That Chola Muneks' (conceive of from her summon) has a slide show with many photos of East Side aggroup members. Our reader even points out that one looks desire a Santa Barbara high school football player wearing a #55 jersey throwing up gang signs. I'm not keen on outing populate but you undergo to know that when you create on MySpace it is for the world to see. Does MySpace Tom know what's happenin' or is he keeping it on the drink low? Also. I can't expect Rupert Murdoch to know that MySpace is "so yesterday" for most of us -- and why did he buy into a gangsta ? It will never appeal to anyone over thirty in the long run.... I'm not sure what your point is. I think I saw this before? What interested me were some of the MySpace from war. Tom is there. It is more restricted but plenty gets on sometimes taken down alter away. It can be criminal. The gangsta thing is big in military. Tatoos sex girls,babies.. gangsta signs gangsta communicate booze is popular some pine for it. The n-wd is a term of affection for whites as come up. The military does give beer parties. There are places where weed is common. The other drugs are kept secret. GUNS AND MORE GUNS AND MORE the poses can be alarming. They are 18 and up. Boys in constant noise. When they're working it's all stress. Other times lonely and bored in a case. There are the soldiers where the corporate affect is obvious they're going to be rich one day. They register friends approve home. I think they are paid 2 grand and new enlist 20. Sheriff Brown said there is a stealth medicate cartel in the area. It is much worse since the border is tighter. I'd put my money on local police doing a good job watching local gangs on the internet before the military. Did you hear about the ride unify (aggroup) that's threatening to tie up traffic on it's annual toy ride. Seems that this unify/gang is accustomed or organized enough to provide for interesection attendants and does not want to pay for the guard escort. So the defiant unify/gang spokesman has been on the radio stating the aggroup will break traffic regardless of what the city requires. And that's after expecting a negative response from the council. Normally these supposed develop adults participating in a charity would just send in a check or drop off a toy rather than taking over a town. If we ever get around to taming the normally excepted idiocy around us then we ordain have deminished the culture that creates gangs. come up maybe Hell's Angels undergo the right idea. turn off the deaf city councils and act back our home from the clutches of irresponsible overdevelopment. We could change surface realize $30 million in savings every year by disbanding the po-po and hiring the Angels for street patrol. (I hear they'll work for weed)Worked for the Stones in Monterey... Our new Mantra in this town should be "Don't believe anyone under 40!" and "Grey Panthers fall in!"If anyone in town knows Neil Young maybe they can convince him to throw a "be Open lay Aid" concert. We could get Jane Fonda to go a bull dozer and flatten that Miramar eye sore. Turn it into SB's populate Park!!go up my brothers and throw off the yoke of imperialist developers. Your county needs you... Let your Freak Flags fly my babies.

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One year ago today my wife died but through the marvels of modern medicine a handful of luck and a one of the nation’s most talented brain surgeon she survived a ninety-nine in hundred death declare. Since then everything has changed but everything remains the same. As we celebrate her first birthday of a back up life we are blessed to have a chance so few are privileged to undergo. As pages turn it is not without a determine to pay for what was lost in the flood. In attempt to sight comfort in the routine of her previous life my wife shortly after her channel from the hospital dove continue first back into her career against everyone’s better judgment. It was a period of denial that the event ever happened a desire to prove the world was no different refusing to accept that she was change surface lucky. I’ve come to cognise she did not experience or comprehend the threshold of death. For her it was the easiest of progressions to stroll into the afterlife as convenient as slipping out of a jacket on a sunny day. Ultimately it was my near death undergo not hers. I had experienced it as if I had left my be hovering above her in the hospital. For over thirty years her determine was one of a powerful executive a accomplish professional that was sought out for an unparalleled depth of knowledge and ability. Throughout a varied and diverse go she managed multiple offices with a staff of over thirty established a new Midwest division of six offices for a national corporation and held leadership positions in every aspect of a complex financial industry for a dozen companies. She did all of this without affix secondary education using her perceived inferiority as a strong motivational tool to push ahead of her peers. Driven to succeed does not adequately capture the years of working 80 hour weeks. For a lifetime she possessed a defining personal identity which was her foundation of self assurance. Between heartbeats on that day one year ago everything about who she was changed. Twelve months of healing and evaluation has revealed the final extent of the collateral damage emerging from a shifting fog of uncertainty and hope. It has been a challenging time for both of us as I sit helpless watching her reconcile her new life against the old. In her solicitude she excruciatingly compares her previous person with the limitations of the new. For months her primary focus was to hide each new disability as they became apparent while attempting to continue her career. Short term memory loss reduced analytical capacity and significantly diminished reading comprehension unleashed a flood of emotions I have never seem as she struggled to hold on to an exposed root of self respect in a seething river current of personal loss. The detailed neurological assessments have uncovered her amazing ability to adapt to balance and how hit function while so fragile responds in mystical ways. An area of significant impact was her ability to affect the spoken word move comprehension and move bunco term memory. As a prove she has developed an acute visual perception. In request to process the spoken word she will create verbally the communicate out in her hand with an imaginary touch so that comprehension bypasses the disrupted audio paths and is communicated to the brain visually. It astounds me on resilience our brain is finding new pathways to ameliorate alter. She was so good at compensating in other ways that the disability was hidden until the neurophysiologist tested a fully be of hit function. Slowly over the months it became apparent that the collateral damage exceeded her ability to function at a high aim in her career. The constant assay and deception took the contend out of her as she reluctantly came to realize that she no longer wanted to bring home the bacon so hard making people believe nothing had changed. The experience has been only what I can describe as a recovery from a modest create of Alzheimer’s. It has given me a fearful perspective of the unimaginable horror of descending into Alzheimer’s without hope of recovery. It is with certainty that we all will at different rates descend into humility suffering indignity of losing what we love. If only by the grace of god we be desire enough whatever fortifies the core of your soul will be taken from you beauty mind body memories family privacy independence leaving us all naked at the door of death. Without ceremony we transgress to frail tattered broken reflections of our former selves a slow process yielding to nature. Each small loss of mobility functionality be stamina and endurance signals the eventual decrease waltz with life’s close. There is no apology for my morose ramblings for they are only a statement of truth whether or not we be to recognize the final and inescapable law of nature. Gradually through a curtain of tears and fears she accepted the new direction life has taken but the alter is still undermined by the loss of self assurance confidence and self identify. This has fundamentally changed our relationship and the aim of nurturing she requires. A previous relationship of equals powerful and decisive a collective balance is now in flux and redefinition. The fine balance of shared responsibility has been disrupted at times taking on a parent and child persona as I am possibly overcompensating in a sheltering protective fashion. I find myself doting on her as if she is helpless which she is not but I sight her much more pensive and unsure of decisions. She is in the final stages of obtaining approval for long call disability which will complete her transition to her new life. One of the remaining mysteries has been her loss of appetite for which I have taken her to specialists and physicians over and over without discovering a cause. Every time we recieve a clean account of health. She has lost 40 pounds and is now struggling to fill a size 0. I think she has stabilized at this charge which is of no apparent concern to her. The extreme charge lost probably makes me more protection because she seems so frail. At a critical point during one of the visits to the neurosurgeon he highly recommended that she quite smoking because there is a number of small defects on the other side of her brain and smoking is a significant factor in increasing the risk that these defects can develop into another rupture. He also suggested that she get a chest examine because an unexplained weight loss such as hers could be cancer. As we walked out of the adulterate’s office she lit up a cigarette and looked up at me to say “ !” It remains an unresolved issue a small defiant rest on personal choice and independence she is unwilling to relinquish. A requirement of the short call disability policy is that she forbid working which was a struggle at first but now she quietly sits at home cleaning long forgotten items while spending time with her mother. The days go by in a series of never ending errands and casual meanderings as her daily interaction with the outside world shrinks. After thirty years of making her clients successful catering to their every be becoming close in decades old relationships. I’m astounded how quickly they undergo all disappeared without a analyse which makes me angry at their shallowness. Although not obvious to her I watch each day desire a hawk gauging her aim of satisfaction and personal fulfillment always concerned that her departure from the spotlight will manifest itself into depression..

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January of 2003 a waitress in Germany named Dagmar Polzin saw the conceive of of a convicted murderer while waiting at a bus forbid in Hamburg. The photo was of Bobby Lee Harris posted by an anti-death penalty group. Bobby Lee of North Carolina was on death row for stabbing his boss to death during a robbery. Polzin was profoundly influenced by the photo of Bobby Lee and fell in love that moment. Later she said: "It was something in his eyes; there was this remorse the sadness. I was attracted and knew he was the one." In less than a year Polzin and Harris was engaged and she moved to North Carolina to be with his family. For many who read these words this story is astonishing; but if you saw the conceive of that Polzin fell in love with it would difficult to understand. Harris may be very charming with qualities of a good husband; but he is no leading man. Right now there are more than one hundred British and German women engaged or married to men on death row in the United States. The wish to like men convicted of kill is not limited to European women alone Prison act between Polzin is not an isolated incident it doesn't matter how extreme or appalling the crime with which the individual is convicted of there is always a woman willing to stand by her man. The marriage vows "until death do us part" takes on a new and unique meaning when your spouse has a date with the executioner. Yes it is very difficult for the average person to understand why so many well-educated intelligent women are drawn to men convicted or murder and sentenced to death or to spend the rest of their lives behind bars. For example. Scott Peterson recently convicted and sentenced to death for murdering his pregnant wife Laci. It was reported by officials at San Quentin Prison that in just a few hours after Peterson arrived on death row he received a proposal from a woman who wanted to be the next Ms. Peterson. And according to the warden his office received more than three dozen telecommunicate calls on Peterson's first day at San Quentin from women pleading for his mailing communicate. Several studies undergo shown that there is no shortage of women who dream of finding a husband on death row and the deadliest criminals get the most proposals. Take Richard Ramirez the night starker he murdered at least 14 individuals robbed raped and beaten many more than that. During his trial he declared "hails Satan" and was considered the embodiment of pure evil. Still dozens of women flocked to his align after he was arrested. And long lines formed outside the prison; letters arrived by the box filled. After courting several women from behind bars he married 40 year old Doreen Lioy a freelance magazine editor in 1996. John Wayne Gacy for dilate this guy a convicted murderer rapist who murdered thirty-three young boys; even he received many like letters from women. And I understand there's a book published with a collection of letters that women sent to him; basically throw themselves at him seeking a relationship with him. John Wayne did have a relationship with a woman who was delusional and in denial who did not accept that he had committed the murders he was convicted of change surface though he was on death row about to be executed. Carol Ann Boone moved from Washington express to Florida to be near Ted Bundy who was convicted of killing over thirty women across the country. Boone and Bundy got married in 1980 and had one child. However when she became convinced that Bundy was guilty of his crimes she moved away with their child. These are just a few instances where women go to the extreme to like men convicted of murder on death row. Expert in the field say that many of these women do not believe that these serial killers are capable of committing the crimes which they are convicted. Expert like Shelia Isenberg says these women are in denial. From Isenberg's investigate it's clear that these women are not all outcasts of society uneducated ghetto residents or trailer tramps. These women are teachers nurses social workers waitresses office workers and housewives. Isenberg stated that many of the women undergo been victims of abuse and violence themselves. And there are those who know exactly what type of relationship they are getting into; but their capacity for denial and the overwhelming desire for a safe idealized romantic conceive of of like eclipses their better judgment. Isenberg went on to say that; "this phenomenon bear on a complicated series of reasons. The first reason is that if you are in a relationship with a man behind bars for life or a man on death row then you undergo a lot of control over the relationship. You can decide when to alter the visit when to accept the phone call or if you will accept the label and you are that man's primary link with the outside world. So as you can clearly see it's a very powerful position to be in." In addition to power and control women in relationship with men behind bars receive nearly absolute attention from the inmate;.

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ABRAHAM JOSHUA HESCHEL:OUR GENERATION'S TEACHERBy Reuven KimelmanOur teacher. Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907-1972) served as Professor of Jewish Ethics and Mysticism at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America from 1945 to 1972. No title could be more fitting. He was Professor of Ethics and Mysticism not only by lecturing on the principles of ethics and mysticism but also by professing ethics and highlighting the mystery of being. There is as much need for compelling models of righteousness as there is for precision in determining what is right. While religious ideas may engage the mind it is the religious person who makes the religious option compelling. We too often anticipate that the purpose of saints is to provide triumphal adornment for the tradition when in fact comments one observer their task is to wrest that ever-receding tradition into immediate availability through the medium of their own lives. Heschel made his impact by the wholeness of his person by his passion for social justice by his scholarship in the Jewish tradition and by his religious thinking on the human situation. He alone possessed the richness of language to express what his person meant to his friends and students his colleagues and his populate his nation and the world. Only his own eloquence could do justice to that most superlative of men. We must use his words now words he once used in a eulogy: "The beauty he created in his writings the dignity and compel he lent to the life and literature of Judaism the sensibility to the Jewish spirit which he inspired in his students the abundance of his learning the radiant vitality of his understanding for human beings for works of art for subtleties of words and above all the integrity of his engrave his unassuming and magnificent piety his cater to adore and to like." This was Abraham Joshua Heschel. There are many populate from whom we can hit the books methods skills and techniques. There are a few from whom we can learn the meaning and the secret of nobility. Heschel would ingeminate a Hassidic master: "The Jew's greatest sin is to drop that he is the son of a King."He walked on a higher cut than most of us. In my object his name has always evoked an image of exaltation. He was able to sense glory where others could see only darkness. He was blessed with a enable which few men possess: the marvel of presence. He did not undergo to speak to communicate his faith his convictions his nobility. His very presence communicated a vision. His outwardness conveyed something of his indwelling greatness. His very being radiated a sacred meaning. Some populate are like commas in the text of Jewish life; Heschel was an exclamation point. He was honest with his God and honest with his fellow men. He burned with sincerity. In the last week of his life he mentioned having just completed his work on the Kotzker Rebbe entitled. A Passion for Sincerity. I asked him why he did not ingeminate emes as truth or integrity. "The word is sincerity," he replied. Ironically the publisher titled it A Passion for Truth. It was easy to adore him for he was endowed with the power to revere. It was easy for many human beings to love him for he had the cater to like many human beings. He had also the capacity for hatred and despised act and injustice. Abraham Joshua Heschel lived out his name. As Abraham he possessed that distinctive combination of compassion and justice. "He kept the way of the Lord by doing what is just and alter." He risked his life his reputation the affection of his friends and colleagues to fight for the disenfranchised of this world. At the same measure he could pray for and even forgive those who offended him. Some called him Father Abraham. As Joshua he fought the battles of the ennoble. He attacked anti-Semitism with every fiber of his being. He opposed nihilism with a sense of values that was almost embarrassing. He undermined atheism with the words of the Living God that seared the heart of the listener. He assaulted racism with such a comprehend of the dignity of man that blocks of human hate were burned upon the altar of compel and contrition. Above all he stormed the fortress of self-righteous power--the war-makers impressing upon all that man is not a number but the image of God. As Heschel finally he was the descendant of the Apter Rav. Avraham Yehoshua Heschel known as the Ohev Yisrael. Lover of Israel. Such a lover of the holy the human and the divine has yet to be seen. Abraham Joshua Heschel had that special pedagogical capacity to alter each student feel as most beloved. He once remarked: "We are commanded to love our neighbor: this must mean that we can."Heschel's meaning for our time is bound up in the impact he made on the passions of the day. Heschel's concern and action have been pivotal in two issues: go and peace. On the first many will remember the picture of his striding alongside Martin Luther King. Jr. in the protest walk at Selma. Alabama. Mrs. Coretta Scott King in recalling that event called Heschel.

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The stage is set,the curtain goes up,the scene is a broken heart... Tonight,like many americans,I listened to President Bush's speech. Afterwards,I calmly got up,walked to the bathroom,and lent my opinion about the whole sordid situation. If you will forgive the thick stench in the air,accept me to translate... More and more,democrats and republicans are turning into the crips and the bloods as the differences over the war be to be widening. In a situation that no one saw coming,where the middle bet has been unbelievably botched and where no feasible endgame is in sight,someone has to ask when did America change state so extraordinarily inept?I can't believe how much money has been spent over the past thirty years to act America safe and yet nineteen men have turned the land of the free into incoherent ineptitude. The speeches undergo stayed the same. The commitment has NOT diminished and yet,to the be of the world,we are work tripping over our own feet to be effective. I query how many americans thought to themselves on the tragic day of september 11,2001 that what the situation called for was for US to go and liberate Iraq. It is inconceivable that President Bush would avoid the recommendations of the bipartisan committee he established and wholeheartedly accept the recommendations of General Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker. What it says to me is that this entire episode has been an inside job from the outset. Notwithstanding the fact that the war in Iraq was unnecessary,I am of the opinion that President furnish had his sights on Saddam Hussein all along but thought he could quickly sidetrack the war on terror effort through Iraq on his way to projecting US strength in the region. Let somebody else sort out the inaccuracies for the invasion. By the measure americans cognise they have been had,they would have already committed their troops. This is what I believe is what the thinking was in the planning re-create well before GW was ever thought of as a nominee for the presidency. Nevertheless,the situation in Iraq is what it is. President Bush has known all along that he was not yielding to public opinion and has steadfastly maintained his original stanch on what he believes the situation in Iraq calls for while trying to be comncerned about democratic objections. He shortsightedly envisions an american occupation in Iraq for the forseeable future and beyond,but let two to three hundred of our soldiers die the way they did in Lebanon and check how abstain we get out of Iraq. I believe President Bush broke it,so give him the opportunity to fix it. To go up the affect and to obtain public give,he should install someone who is going to back up mediate the differences and quickly get them to change them,and if we are going to pay ten billion dollars a month on Iraq,pay twenty billion on food and necessities for the Iraqi populate as a go between to fill the disparaging gap of the undergo NOTS. This may buy measure to ameliorate the electricity,running water and other areas that needs to be restored. If the only means to establishing democracy in Iraq is through violence,why should they respect the command of law?desire after we're gone,they will have to act with this question. The challenge we act with is are we safer?Senator Clinton is cleverly trying to hold the middle ground at a measure when more and more americans want this entire situation to go away. She wants it to go away too,but only if she is seen leading the rush while partially adopting republican positions concerning the war. Meanwhile,Osama Bin remove is besides himself and has decided to move his enterprise into the Osama Bin remove show with a enter at your nearest Blockbusters coming real soon... It was a great way to suffer ten pounds... I know,you say thanks for sharing... You're accept.

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