Daily Entries for the week of
Sunday, December 1
through
Saturday, December 8
_____________________________
It’s Saturday, December 7, 2019
Welcome to the 610th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
_______________________
1.0 Lead Picture
Robert De Niro, in character, points a pistol to his head. It is a black-and-white image with red highlighting his bandanna and the film credits below.
This is a poster for The Deer Hunter. The poster art copyright is believed to belong to Universal Pictures.
______________________
2.0 Commentary
My cousin Lauren year-long occupation of daughter Kat’s room comes to an end in two weeks.
It’s been great.
For both of us.
As roommates, we each gained honors grades.
During the year we watched two television series together: Downton Abby and The Closer.
They’re past now and with so little time left we are going to watched whatever Christopher Walken movies we can easily find.
So far we’ve watched three: Dead Zone, the Prophecy, and Man on Fire.
I ordered two more from the library: The Deer Hunter and Sarah, Plain and Tall.
Walken (born March 31, 1943) is an American actor, singer, and dancer who has appeared in more than 100 films and television programs, including Annie Hall (1977), The Deer Hunter (1978), The Dogs of War (1980), The Dead Zone (1983), A View to a Kill (1985), Batman Returns (1992), True Romance (1993), Pulp Fiction (1994), Antz (1998), Vendetta (1999), Sleepy Hollow (1999), Joe Dirt (2001), Catch Me If You Can (2002), Hairspray (2007), Seven Psychopaths (2012), the first three Prophecy films, The Jungle Book (2016), and Irreplaceable You (2018).
He has received a number of awards and nominations, including the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for The Deer Hunter. He was nominated for the same award and won BAFTA and Screen Actors Guild Awards for Catch Me If You Can.
His films have grossed more than $1 billion in the United States.
Described as "diverse and eccentric" and "one of the most respected actors of his generation", Walken has long established a cult following among film fans.
He's known for his versatility and named as one of Empire magazine's "Top 100 Movie Stars of All Time".
Once dubbed as a "cultural phenomenon", he has portrayed several iconic movie characters including Johnny Smith in The Dead Zone, Max Shreck in Batman Returns and Max Zorin in A View to a Kill and was also considered for the role of Han Solo in Star Wars films.
His Oscar-winning performance in The Deer Hunter was ranked as the 88th greatest movie performance of all time by Premiere magazine and his performance in Pennies from Heaven made it into Entertainment Weekly's list of the "100 Greatest Performances that should have won Oscars but didn't."
Sometimes regarded as "one of the kings of cameos", Walken has made several notable cameo appearances or appeared in a single but popular scene of films including as Captain Koons in Pulp Fiction, Duane in Annie Hall, Hessian Horseman in Sleepy Hollow, and Don Vincenzo in True Romance.
Writer and director Quentin Tarantino declared that Walken's involvement in True Romance's popular "Sicilian scene" as one of the proudest moments in his career.
Prominent movie critic Roger Ebert was particularly impressed by his villain and anti-hero portrayals, once stated "when he is given the right role, there is nobody to touch him for his chilling ability to move between easy charm and pure evil" and called him "one of the few undeniably charismatic male villains."
Lauren and I will enjoy a tasting of his works.
______________________
4.0 Chuckles
In Italy, for 30 years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, they had 500 years of democracy and peace - and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
Graham Green
The Third Man
_____________________
19.0 Accessing Content
The best ways for followers to access content on the various Social Media is to drop our RSS feeds into their respective address bars.
For our Conflicted Podcasts:
https://soundcloud.com/user-449713331/sets/conflicted-dom-capossela
For our "Hello, my friends" and other Videos:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOCcrbbzsbguN0k4zs-OEyurcVd-kl56b
For our existentialAutotrip Blog:
existentialAutotrip.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s Friday, December 6 2019
Welcome to the 609th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
1.0 Lead Picture
Illustration credit: Henry Holiday; restored by Adam Cuerden
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
2.0 Commentary
I’m daily amazed at the organic compartmentalizing of my time.
An unplanned, slow-motion movement of activities guided by osmosis.
Early in the morning I’m drinking coffee with my latest television serial.
Then one form of writing or another: the blog, the video, the podcast.
Then postings of podcasts and videos.
I eat a brunch after this that serves as my main meal.
Then a nap and out of the apartment by 10.30.
Sometimes an errand or two before I arrive at the Prudential Center.
There I have a short session of Personal Training offered at the Microsoft store and then walk the dozen steps to the Blue Bottle Café for my long cortado that accompanies the writing and publishing of the blog.
Then home. On the way, stopping at Planet Fitness downtown; or Whole Foods or Roche Brothers; at least once a week, a walking trip to the North End for haircut, dry cleaning, coffee and herbs from Polcari’s, the Boston Public Market for doughnut and vegetables.
At home, late afternoon now, I organize my notes of the day and have a light meal.
At this moment, to keep control of my weight, I have forsworn the white foods: bread/pizza, pasta/rice, potatoes. We’ll see.
In the evening I organize files, cook so tomorrow’s brunch will be easy to put together, or take the car to shop, or take a walk, or, or.
Midnight is bedtime.
comes fast.
The day flies by.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
4.0 Chuckles
“Just cause you got the monkey off your back doesn’t mean the circus has left town.”
~ George Carlin
6.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Sally C:
Dear Dom,
With regards to the scourge of conventioneers commandeering one's native habitat: As a native of the state of Maine, I can sympathize.
Maine's coast gets similarly overrun by tourists between the Fourth of July and Labor Day.
They are called "summer complaints." Because they do support the local economy, they are tolerated with varying degrees of courtesy, but it is nice to reclaim the state once they go home.
At least Maine's invasion is limited to two or three months of the year, as opposed to the year-round descent upon Boston.
What irks me (and a lot of other natives, no matter their locale) is when tourists decide to turn a popular locale (usually described as "quaint" or "romantic" or "rustic") into their new home because it is different from their own place , but they foist upon their new environment the very things - culture, attitude, politics, lifestyle, etc. - that they thought they were leaving behind, instead of accepting the status quo of their new home, which did very well without their influence for centuries, thank you very much.
They end up altering the place beyond recognition, recreating the disaster they left behind, never realizing or acknowledging that they are the culprits responsible for destroying the qualities that made the place unique.
Some of us don't adapt well to homogenization.
Well, so much for this little grouse.
😒
Sally
Web Meister responds: Right on! my dear.
12.0 Thumbnails
The Hunting of the Snark is a nonsense poem written by English writer Lewis Carroll between 1874 and 1876.
The poem describes a ship with a crew of ten trying to find the Snark, an animal which may turn out to be a highly dangerous Boojum.
Among the hunters is a lace-making beaver, and a butcher, whose only skill is in butchering beavers.
This picture, the third of Henry Holiday's original illustrations for the poem, accompanies the following stanza:
Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
And appeared unaccountably shy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
_____________________________
It’s Thursday, December 5 2019
Welcome to the 608th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
1.0 Lead Picture
Metro Toronto Convention Centre, late 2004
_________________________________________________________________________________________
2.0 Commentary
Conventions, gatherings of individuals who meet at an arranged place and time in order to discuss or engage in some common interest.
Sounds creative.
Fun.
Professionally important, add attendance to your resume, meet people.
Tangentially, see a new city, maybe.
But for clients who regularly take their coffee at the nearby café, a bane.
Not only is it difficult to find a seat, conventioneers are eager to impress.
What better way to impress than by teaching one or two or more others something about which you are knowledgeable, hence establishing yourself as a de facto leader.
And what better way to keep everyone’s attention than by speaking loudly.
Noise pollution?
Not on the agenda.
Regulars who find themselves overrun by the visitors are powerless.
They must adjust to the reality, however evanescent, or forever lose that day’s special coffee moment.
While I must sometimes make that sometimes painful adjustment, I do.
I realize that a certain percentage of my days will present challenges to my equanimity and I must gird myself against the often annoying distractions.
The most unpleasant part of these encounters is the lack of standing to say, “Hey, keep it down.”
Those holding court just don’t realize how annoying they are.
I’m sure that if the café were to be inundated with conventioneers attending a conference on noise pollution, those attendees would behave just as annoyingly as everyone else.
________________________________________________________________________________________
4.0 Chuckles
“I have a lot of growing up to do. I realized that the other day inside my fort.” ~ Zach Galifianakis
________________________________________________________________________________________
6.0 Mail
Holidays sometimes remind us how difficult it is to be with people, any people, including those we most love, for extended periods.
Several letters of a personal variety attest to this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~__________________________________________________________________________________________
It’s Wednesday, December 4
Welcome to the 607th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
_________________________________________________________________________________________
1.0 Lead Picture
“Ireland's Holocaust" mural on Whiterock road, Belfast. An Gorta Mor.
Miossec assumed (based on copyright claims).
No machine-readable source provided.
Own work assumed (based on copyright claims).
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
2.0 Commentary
Another bad weather day.
Affects us in so many ways it’s impossible to chronicle.
Today it made me feel very lucky to live where I do, to have the daily rhythm I do.
I walk four minutes to the train, the only outside in this part of my day.
The train takes me into the Prudential Center.
There, in the climate-controlled space, I spend the next three hours at work on my technology and this blog.
Then to retrace my morning route, ending the train ride with the four-minute walk back to my cozy apartment.
That doesn’t mean I totally escape the weather.
Later this afternoon I must walk outdoors for twelve minutes to get to the North End, walk around some retail stores, and end with a haircut.
Then the twelve minute back.
Tonight, when the roads are navigable, I will head to Costco for some ‘big-store’ shopping.
Not a dramatic story.
Not comparable to the thousands of dramatic encounters reported throughout the country today.
Just my little story.
Little.
Universal.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
4.0 Chuckles
“I wish to thank my parents for making it all possible. And my children for making it necessary.”
-- Victor Borge
________________________________________________________________________________________
5.0 Blog News
After a major redo, the new blog format seems to be working for me.
I’ve gained many hours each week to spend on the marketing.
The combined readership of the videos and podcasts will soon surpass the blog.
And it’s conceivable that, soon enough, the podcasts and the videos will each individually pass the blog in readership.
Recognizing that, I’ve been spending time learning the requirements of the various social media and experimenting with increasing their exposure.
Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Reddit and others are now in my daily conversations.
Quite an adventure for me.
So happy to have you along for the ride.
__________________________________________________________________________________________12.0 Thumbnails
Unhappy the Land: The Most Oppressed People Ever, the Irish? is a 2016 book by Liam Kennedy, professor emeritus at Queen's University, Belfast.
Kennedy cites the "Ireland's Holocaust" mural in Belfast as a nationalist distortion of the Great Famine.
Kennedy introduces, as well as criticizes, the concept of "most oppressed people ever," a straw man argument which apologists for British colonialism in Ireland attribute to those who consider Britain's role in Ireland to have been oppressive and detrimental to the native Irish.
MOPE and MOPERY are terms used to caricature and ridicule the Irish nationalist view of history rather than provide a serious description of it.
Throughout the book he plays devil's advocate while questioning many truisms he perceives as being commonly accepted about Irish history.
The book received generally favorable reviews.
Keep scrolling.
You’ll be rewarded with movie reviews, podcasts, videos, poetry, and much else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This separates the daily entries
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s Tuesday, December 3
Welcome to the 606th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
1.0 Lead Picture
This is a poster for the 2019 epic crime film The Irishman.
The poster art copyright is believed to belong to the distributor of the film, the publisher of the film or the graphic artist.
For the movie review, see #11.0 in this date..
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
2.0 Commentary
Indeed, my recording session was cancelled but to weather
but we found an alternative day and time so I will meet my commitments after all.
If the weather cooperates.
Now I had three hours to fill, but a plethora of jobs to do.
So, my backpack laden, I set out in the not-so-heavy rain on a long walking/public transportation event that took me to:
My local health clinic to fill a prescription, and then
to the bank to get folding money in suitable denominations. And then to
City Hall to buy my monthly allotment of taxi coupons at half the face value. And then to
Whole Foods to buy tomorrow’s dinner, an overlarge porterhouse and a bunch of broccoli rabe for Lauren and I to share; and to
return some food items bought for my daughter for her just-ended visit here (dairy-free cheesecake and almond milk,)neither of which she used. From Whole Foods to
Nordstrom rack to buy a pair of jeans. And from there to
Tatte to buy a baguette. And then, finally, really tired, to the
Prudential Center for a much-needed jolt of Italian coffee at
Blue Bottle where I typed this piece. And then to
Microsoft for some personal training.
I got home exhausted and cold.
Jumped in the shower and closed the blog for the day.
God bless.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
5.0 Mail
We love getting mail: domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Kali L:
Iceland & the splintered heart
We traveled there together in 2016 and rented
a car. We were so tired, miles passed without
head lights in the dark of an Icelandic morning.
I did yoga poses in hotel windows and passed
out in the passenger seat of the car. I missed
black sand beaches; you were happy to let me.
I posed you in the middle of roads-
longing for a future that was as untamed as that landscape.
I traveled through Iceland alone in 2019.
I was put on a bus, weary. By then, we were over.
My heart shattered from things I will never
express. The tears shook my body and rain erupted from the sky.
I walked along the slick roads trying to find the church we went to.
I wanted answers; I wanted to believe in God in another land.
I stopped myself underneath trees and set a timer for a self-portrait.
I wanted to know how my pain looked in portrait mode.
I went back to Hallgrimskirkja and climbed up to the
clock tower. I thought you were there too.
I lit a candle for all those I’d lost, for the parts of me
that I could never have back and for a profound
future love.
Web Meister responds: Lovely.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
11.0 Movie Review
The Irishman: A History of the United States in a few dozen killings.
One of the all-time moments in the work of Martin Scorsese — and, probably, in all American cinema is the two-and-a-half-minute sequence in Goodfellas sometimes known as “the Copa shot.”
In a single, unbroken take, the camera, gliding and swiveling to absorb every detail along the way, follows Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) and his sweetheart, Karen (Lorraine Bracco), from Henry’s car, through the kitchen and into the hustle and bustle of the nightclub, accompanied by the sound of the Crystals singing “Then He Kissed Me.”
For Henry and for the viewer the arrival at the Copa is a pure and potent dose of gangster glamour.
The opening shot of The Irishman, Scorsese’s latest mob story on the silver screen, evokes that earlier scene and flips it on its ear.
Once again, the camera floats down corridors and around corners accompanied by a radio hit from the past.
This time it’s the tune “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins, and we’re in a nursing home.
We make our way past doctors and orderlies, our attention finally coming to rest in a quiet, nearly empty room.
An old man is waiting for us.
Like Henry Hill in Goodfellas, he’s going to tell the tale of his unsavory associates and criminal doings.
But the mood is different this time around.
The stories this film tells go from hysterical to horrifying but no matter their tone they are all tinged with the bleak sense of futility.
No matter what we manage in life death surely awaits us all.
Much of this feeling comes from the fact that Martin Scorsese is an aging man.
He turns seventy-seven this year and the thoughts and ideas about life that a septuagenarian faces are woven into the fabric of this three-and-a-half-hour epic.
Don’t be led astray by his age though.
Scorsese directs this goliath of a film with the enthusiasm and craftsmanship usually associated with the youngest and hungriest filmmakers.
There are plenty of sequences in The Irishman, like a tête-à-tête montage of car-bombings, that prove yet again that there really is no substitute for his oft-imitated style.
The film isn’t drawn out or plagued by the creakiness of old age.
Instead every bit of its composition is wrought with an elegiac mood.
Reuniting with a murderers’ row of similarly wizened crime-movie veterans, Scorsese hasn’t just returned to reclaim the genre he nearly perfected.
He’s come to bury it, too, with what feels an awful lot like a preemptive eulogy for everyone involved, himself included.
Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) — he’s the Irishman the roving camera has come to see, has some information to share about something everyone used to care about, a piece of information that at one time could have gotten him and a lot of other people killed.
Actually, a lot of people did get killed.
One of them might have been James Riddle Hoffa, better known as Jimmy, the former president of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.
Sheeran’s induction into a life of crime came courtesy of his eventual mentor, the mob boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci, coaxed out of retirement, maybe for the last time, by the director who secured him his Oscar).
The two first meet at a gas station in 1949, when both were closer to middle- than old age.
In order to allow these legends of the screen to play characters 30 to 40 years their junior, Scorsese employs state-of-the-art de-aging technology.
The effect isn’t seamless and sometimes the de aging makes the actors appear waxy.
That said, maybe the uncanny valley isn’t such an inappropriate setting for the story of an old man trying and failing to remember what he was like when he was young.
Adapted by Steven Zaillian from the nonfiction novel I Heard You Paint Houses—an alternate title that Scorsese cues up at the beginning and end as if it’s the title he truly wanted for his film—The Irishman
unfolds over half a century, Frank explaining in voice-over the no-questions-asked part he played in the criminal enterprises of Bufalino and fellow mafioso Angelo Bruno (Harvey Keitel).
It feels like a cousin to Scorsese’s past true-crime procedurals, Goodfellas and Casino—another backstage tour of illegal business, all shakedowns and betrayals and violent collisions of fragile masculine ego.
As always, the director relies on editor Thelma Schoonmaker to manage the nonstop flow of information, forging a coherent timeline out of a daisy chain of executions.
The internal logic of the structure is cause and effect: how one thing leads to another that leads to another until someone’s face down in a puddle of their own blood.
Scorsese is right at home directing sequences that derive more pleasure from pitting short tempered men against each other though this time around Pesci isn’t the one lighting the fuse.
Instead the director casts his right-hand agent of chaos as something like the voice of reason as if to help point out that this is a more contemplative gangland story than we’re used to.
That’s not to say he doesn’t replace Pesci with someone carrying just as much narrative dynamite.
In The Irishman, antagonism duties fall largely on Al Pacino, as the famous, disappeared union leader Jimmy Hoffa.
Zaillian builds the dense middle hour of the movie around this stubborn, charismatic public figure, the narrative plunging headlong into labor politics, the election and assassination of JFK, and the way the mob’s agenda intersected and eventually broke away from Hoffa’s, leading inevitably to only one possible outcome.
Pacino, another mob-movie heavyweight making his long overdue debut in a Scorsese film, plays Hoffa as a self-made Shakespearean tragedy: someone who willed himself into power through sheer force of conviction, then was undone by his pride and pigheaded overconfidence.
It’s the perfect part for Pacino, applying his late career eccentricities to a character, a real man, who was by all accounts a very big personality.
De Niro, too is perfect, in a role that weaponizes that squinty, sleepy detachment he’s been carrying for years as an older actor.
What’s most astounding is for all his star power De Niro nearly disappears into the background of this film despite being the narrator.
Though this might be the point.
Frank Sheeran is one of the gears of mob violence and more simply of consequence and he knows it. He’s a blunt instrument of a man but that isn’t to say he isn’t human.
Much of the drama hinges on the bond between him and Hoffa—a friendship that ultimately proved secondary to the demands of Sheeran’s main employers.
But the film plants an earlier, just-as-significant falling out in the scene of this cold-blooded killer committing an act of protective brutality in front of his daughter, eventually portrayed in adulthood by Anna Paquin.
She’s the purposefully silent and sidelined conscience of The Irishmen, a nearly mute spectator whose fear hardens into a deep moral revulsion over the years.
Scorsese is often accused of muscling female perspectives out though I think in The Irishman he shows us all what a world without them looks like.
The Irishman is the director’s longest drama, but it never drags.
The 200-plus minutes pass in a blur of dark humor and characteristically gripping incident, like the sequence where Frank helps push a fleet of cabs into the Chicago River.
But it’s in the final act, when Scorsese slows things down to a purposeful crawl, that the film accumulates its full power.
After a lifetime of bloodshed, of getting his hands dirty without a second thought, Frank finally pulls an assignment he doesn’t want.
The Irishman turns the lead-up to the hit into an excruciating slow-motion death march, forcing Frank—and, by extension, us—to experience the gravity of his actions in what almost feels like real time.
It’s one of the great passages of Scorsese’s whole career, as patient and methodical as anything in his last movie, Silence.
And it brings out a subtle agony in De Niro one might have assumed the actor was incapable of still summoning.
Death is a promise not a threat in The Irishman.
Often, Scorsese will freeze the frame during an introduction of some new player in the criminal empire, flashing a quick obituary in white text, as if to say, “He’ll be gone eventually, so don’t worry too much about him.”
You could call the film—which ends where it begins, in that drab elder-care facility—a kind of spiritual relative of Unforgiven: Just the sight of its aged stars, who look old even when they’re supposed to look young, bring to mind memories of a whole genre—a bygone era of crime fiction that Scorsese and De Niro and Pacino built, apart and sometimes together.
The key difference is that Clint Eastwood’s last gunslinger grappled with actual remorse.
Here, we’re left in the company of a man so emotionally divorced from his actions that he can’t even wrap his head around the idea of regret.
So perhaps it’s Scorsese, the conflicted Catholic, who’s atoning.
After Goodfellas and Casino and even The Wolf Of Wall Street, he’s finally made a gangster movie that couldn’t possibly be misunderstood as a glorification, given how far it pushes past even the smallest glimmers of glamour, to the kind of rock bottom you hit only when you’ve outlived and alienated everyone else.
In other words, it’s hard to imagine a sad bastard like Frank Sheeran becoming a dorm-room hero, even if The Irishman inspires yet another generation of hotshot filmmakers.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Welcome to the 605th consecutive post to the blog, existentialautotrip.com
December 2
Entries for this date
___________________________________________________________________________________________
1.0 Lead Picture
Juan Lavalle
Juan Manuel Estrada (1842-1894) - "Juan Manuel de Rosas y los bloqueos al Río de la Plata de Francia e Inglaterra"
See Thumbnail section of this date for more detail
___________________________________________________________________________________________
2.0 Commentary
The impending storm has cast my recording session scheduled for Monday morning into doubt.
I’m to await notice of closure of the Wakefield Public Schools.
That’s a bummer since I have an excellent script ready to go and
since, relative to production, I have promises made to my followers which I may have to break: no other time is available to me this week.
Also, my daughter is scheduled to fly back to school tomorrow and her flight might be delayed or even cancelled.
Am betting we are not the only ones inconvenienced nor will our combined disappointments in any way compare to tragic stories unfolding due to the natural violence.
________________________________________________________________________________________
4.0 Chuckles
“He was happily married - but his wife wasn't.”
-- Victor Borge
_________________________________________________________________________________________
12.0 Thumbnail
From top left: Battle of Arroyo Grande, execution of Manuel Dorrego, Battle of Pavón, death of Juan Lavalle, murder of Facundo Quiroga, Battle of Caseros, Battle of Famaillá, Battle of Vuelta de Obligado
21.0
Good Morning
The picture below (the Dec 1 entry) has been amended in place.
Scroll down to read the added caption.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This is our 604th consecutive post,
this, the entry for Sunday, December 1
1.0 Lead Picture
"The Great Sun, Paramount Chief of the Natchez People" in a 1758 drawing by Antoine-Simon Le Page du Pratz
Antoine-Simon Le Page du Pratz - Histoire de la Louisiane
See Thumbnail below for more details
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
2. Commentary:
For many of us the impending stormy weather will not affect our day too much.
For others, like the Patriots and college-age daughters flying back to school, the weather will definitely make our work more difficult.
But we’ll cope.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
3.0 Table of Contents and Contact Information
Today’s entries in bold.
For entries posted earlier this week, keep scrolling.
1.0 Lead Picture with single line comment
2.0 Commentary
3.0 Table of Contents and Contact Information
4.0 Chuckles
5.0 Mail
6.0 Dinner/Food
7.0 Podcast
8.0 Video
9.0 Poetry
10.0 Movie Reviews
11.0 Thumbnails
12.0 Recipes
13.0 Tweets
20.0 Acknowledgements
21.0 Good Morning
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
4.0 Chuckles
“Laughter is the closest distance between two people.”
-- Victor Borge
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
5.0
Mail
We love getting mail: domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Kali L:
Dom,
I love Ogunquit- so many happy memories there.
So glad you took time to enjoy the landscape there for Thanksgiving!
Love,
Kali
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
6.0:
No entry for Food/Dinner today.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
7. “Conflicted” podcast
Conflicted, by Dom Capossela, is a spiritual/fantasy story about a sixteen-year-old mystic-warrior conflicted internally by her self-imposed alienation from God, her spiritual wellspring, and, externally, by the forces of darkness seeking her death or ruination.
In Chapter Eight we saw Dee catch up with her parents, breaking the news that she will be setting up her own apartment.
In this, Chapter Nine, the girlfriends reunite.
We’ll watch them clash with the police and watch Dee easily deal with the evil spirits afflicting an unfortunate police officer.
The podcasts are also available on iTunes, Stitcher, Pinterest, Pocket Cast, and Facebook.
Search: dom capossela or conflicted or both
Dom’s website: existentialautotrip.com
__________________________________________________________________________________________
8. “Hello, my friends” Video
Number 2 in the series:
“Parrot Intro into Watching Movies with Children”
The video series “Hello, my friends” are also available on iTunes, Stitcher, Pinterest, Pocket Cast, and Facebook.
Search: dom capossela or "Hello, my friends" or both
Dom’s website: existentialautotrip.com
9.0
10.0
_________________________________________________________________________________________
11. Thumbnail
Antoine-Simon Le Page du Pratz (1695?–1775) was an ethnographer, historian, and naturalist who is best known for his Histoire de la Louisiane.
It was first published in twelve installments from 1751–1753 in the Journal Economique, then completely in three volumes in Paris in 1758.
After their victory in the Seven Years' War, the English published part of it in translation in 1763.
It has never been fully translated into English.
The memoir recounts Le Page's years in the Louisiana colony from 1718 to 1734, when he learned the Natchez language and befriended native leaders.
He gives lengthy descriptions of Natchez society and its culture, including the funeral rituals associated with the 1725 death of Tattooed Serpent, the second-highest ranking chief among the people.
It also includes his account of Moncacht-apé, a Yazoo explorer who told him of completing travel to the Pacific Coast and back, likely in the late 17th or early 18th century.
Through this traveler, Le Page learned of oral traditions held by indigenous people of the West Coast.
They told of the first Native Americans reaching North America by a land bridge from Asia.
Le Page's book was carried as a guide by the Lewis and Clark Expedition as it explored the Louisiana Purchase starting in 1804.
12.0
A tip o' the hat (U.S. President Calvin Coolidge, 1924) after signing an Indian treaty.
Sly devil that he was.
____________________________________________
20. Acknowledgements
Thanks to Kali L for sharing with us another lovely poem.
And to Tucker J for his great movie reivew.
And to Victor Borge for the chuckles.
Thanks for one of our stalwarts, Howard D for more helpful comments on the blog.
Thanks in general to the Microsoft team at the Prudential Center for their unflagging availability to help with a constant flow of technological problems.
Always thanks to Wikipedia, the Lead and the Thumbnail sections of the Blog very often shaped from stories taken from that amazing website. They are truly worthy of public support.
21.0 Good Morning
_______________________________________________________
Good Morning
The holiday season has arrived.
What does it have in store for us?
Sorrow? Joy?
Social? Isolation?
Lots to think about.
But now? Gotta go.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.
Your Taeyeon