How Often Do You Come To JWD During A Day, Week or Month??? Hours or Mins?

by minimus 559 Replies latest jw friends

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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Soup was great, but it thickened up a bit and more resembles a vegetable stew. That's all right, as the saveur is there no matter the lentil/rice density per cubic yard. Made quite alot.
  Get out so seldom, DD, but during my recent and brief foray into PBS, I saw ticket sales advertised for "Twelve Angry Men," playing soon in Sacramento. It stars Richard Thomas ["The Waltons"] and George Wendt ["Cheers"]. A courtroom case. MUSICALS: A stage performance I attended was many years ago in Hartford, CT. - "Chicago" - MARVY!, FAB!, BRAVISSIMO! Then there was "The Phantom of the Opera" at the Curran Theater in San Francisco.
  At our local theatre we have first-rate productions, such as one about an alien who comes to live among us - drat! Can't remember the name. We have wonderful school productions: "Bye, Bye Birdie" in the works now. And ballet and modern dance are big here and well-supported at our many fine art centers.
  When I was at Conservatory, I attended Modest Moussorgsky's "Boris Godunov" at the Opera House. It was essentially rewritten and re-orchestrated, a well-intended meddling by Rimsky-Korsakov, in order to render the harsh tonalities more accessible to then-current sophisticated musical taste. Despite RK's prettification of that still more popular version, the original marks Moussorgsky as an innovator, perhaps one taking the musical road less traveled.
  I simply must get at more often, DD!

  Coco
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Does this ring a bell for you, DD? --- "Brother From Another Planet." That popped into my head after we last spoke. I have no idea from what nook or cranny in the brain that slipped out. Certainly not four words forming a part of daily speech. Is that the title of the play whose title was lost to me? I know brothers from other planets, and I'm seeking diligently to book their passage home. Either that or put a hit on them.
  Rain continues to fall. Hope to learn soon how much snow has fallen in the Sierras.
  Helping S. today with his "urgent need." I'm glad others will be on board to help deflect the shrapnel. As I said before, DD, shrapnel is best where it doesn't hit. Some individuals, by their very nature, simply cannot go with the flow. They find calamity and subsequent distress in any situation that forms a part of daily life, even where none seem to exist. Some people are accidents waiting to happen; others are the accident. I do pray for peace and calm today. Jesus allayed an explosive situation in Legion's case. I am not Jesus.

  Coco
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  I imagine the most romantic place in the world can get cold and dreary in the middle of winter. Camille Saint-Saens sailed off to North Africa in search of the warmer climes, inspiring works such as "Africa" and "Piano Concerto # 5 - the Egyptian." The latter, now playing, on NPR's "Music Through the Night." Exotic tonalities drifting upward and about the 9 foot Black Dragon.
  Still raining here. Had I the wings of a dove, might I likewise wish to be spirited away to l'Afrique du Nord!

  Coco
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Still raining, DD. Not the best weather to be working out of doors, but there's no choice. I'm not used to bolting out the door so early. Hope the coffee works. Check back asap and let you know how we got the move on.
  Good morning and a cheery new day to all!

  Coco
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  misanthropic

  Good morning CoCo (although now it's midday here). I'm jealous your getting so much rain, wish you could send some my way. ((((((CoCo)))))) Hope your having a great day.
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Wishing there were more rain for the TROPICS, but with today's weather patterns [who truly is to blame, Mr. Gore?], adequate precipitation is fairly MISS AN' hit anymore. To think, those all too willing to walk their puppy-pooch-chocco-labs [am I close?] in the misty out-of-doors, have to deal with unseasonal-type conditions. We had an entire month - January - with no demonstrable precip. It can cause some sort of seasonal mood disorder, am I correct? Like a friend who moved to sunny central California from New England. He didn't know at first why he was sorta outta sorts, ah - think that was it. Anyway, he told me long after coming to understand the origin of the problem, that it related to his missing the discernible and palpable seasonal changes of the eastern seaboard. Northern California more closely resembles the East than SoCal. Fer sure.
  Morning ordeal was tolerable and friendly repartee ruled rather than rancorous 'ranglings regarding repressed rights. The move has been successfully completed. I announced to all present that I need to attend Al-Anon meetings to better understand and deal with S. I got incredulous stares. How else can I deal with this? I do not drink, but I can be sympathetic - to a point. Said point has been reached. I cannot discard a friend, yet he refuses help. I need help to detach and cease being an enabler. Escaped the Borg, but a friend? Mixed emotions are most unsettling.
  Just one more challenge........

  C...
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Am settling in for the eve, kinda warm and cozily after the strenuous to-do of furniture removal this a.m. A gusher of hot water, pouncing upon a squeeze of shampoo, creates a flurry of disorganized, ecstatically popping bubbles, that beckon one to slip into this sheer delight of a bathe. A stretchy, then curly-up nap lays to rest the earlier concern over what is now the non-existent bother of interpersonal relationships gone amok. What? me worry? No way!
  Marketed and picked up a pullet @ $.99 the pound. A deal for ROCKY Sustainably Farmed birds; they are treated humanely and not stressed out. Makes them more tender, perhaps. Certainly a good price. Into the Pullet Pot.

  C...
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  misanthropic

  :: To think, those all too willing to walk their puppy-pooch-chocco-labs [am I close?]
  
  You're dead on :)
  I wish I could come and take you away from your insane friend CoCo I don't think you shoould have to have so much stress- We could become pirates at sea, you could make us soup and play music. Just let me know ;)
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  Oh, grassy glades! oh, ever vernal endless landscapes in the soul; in ye,---though long parched by the dead drought of the earthy life,---in ye, men yet may roll, like young horses in new morning clover; and for some fleeting moments, feel the cool dew of the life immortal on them. Would to God these blessed calms would last. But the mingled, mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woof: calms crossed by storms, a storm for every calm. There is no steady unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed gradations, and at the last one pause:---through infancy's unconscious spell, boyhood's thoughtless faith, adolescence' doubt (the common doom), then scepticism, then disbelief, resting at last in manhood's pondering repose of If. But once gone through, we trace the round again; and are infants, boys, and men, and Ifs eternally. Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling's father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.

  )))))))))))))))THE WHITE WHALE(((((((((((((((((
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  compound complex

  Dear Diary,

  I lost you again - for an entire day. I am beyond anxiety over what cannot be otherwise. Of course, I'm not quite that mellowed-out. I do remain, and always shall, a sentient creature. I simply find it easier, and to my occasional advantage, to be deprived of physical instrumentalities. The pen, the paintbrush, the keyboard. Since my earliest remembrance, I have been driven by this urgent need to create. Without your pages to write upon today, DD, I found myself staring at the sky - yet again. The creation took place in my mind, as I watched clouds of every imaginable description scudding across the palest blue. My mind's interpretation satisfied; it did not compel a commitment of vision to page, nor to canvas, nor to that which Beethoven himself, in his genius, did not require: the keyboard (I have only a glimmer, however. Not even Brahms could outdistance the looming shadow of the Great One).
  I am content and at peace. It is enough that I tried. Posterity will decide. And does it truly matter? Dear Diary - I have reached a level I never thought attainable - is it so for all who have escaped the TOWER?

  Coco