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The above platitudinous-yet-true page was, in a way, more than forty years in the making. In June of 1971 I and many other high school students from various Arizona towns spent a week in the high country near Prescott at a “human relations camp” called Anytown. The camp’s reason for being was to mix kids of a spectrum of ethnicities and creeds and have them examine social dynamics, particularly bigotry.

We sang a lot of songs, too. One set of lyrics started like this: “Who am I and where did I come from?/Who am I and where did I come from?/I’m a man and I come from every land./The Earth, the Seven Seas I span./Every language I understand/I’m a man of the Whole Wide World.” And another, the “root” of this journal page, started like this: “Let there be peace on Earth/And let it begin with me./Let there be peace on Earth/The peace that was meant to be…”

I recalled those lyrics yesterday, and realized that many people yearn for Peace On Earth, but far fewer let Peace On Earth begin with them. Yet Peace On Earth has a growing golden opportunity that must begin on the individual level. You who read this–and in only forty-nine entries (this is nice round Number Fifty) and less than two months, my readership includes Swiss, Romanian, Zimbabwean, Swede, and citizens of at least eight other countries–have taken the step of tapping into the Earth’s citizenry via your blogging. You wage Peace on the micro level via connectivity. Keep it up, please!

My illustration is of a Lion and a Lamb coexisting harmoniously. I mention that the Lion is “sufficiently evolved.” So must we be.

Two recent journal pages of mine refer to the two unpleasant subjects Rage and Spit. When I woke up this morning, “Shave and a Haircut/Two Bits” was looped in my head, I think to clue me in that I ought to base today’s blog post on the two pages.

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RAGE is known to all except (perhaps) the freakishly evolved. I wonder if the Dalai Lama has ever experienced rage. Rage usually makes us do regrettable things. This to me is exemplified not only by mass shootings but by the Lynch Mob. About forty years ago I read The Ox-Bow Incident by Walter Van Tilberg Clark, and the author managed to imagine the dynamics of a Lynch Mob utterly convincingly. I commend this fine book to your attention.

Is Rage ever a good thing? Does it ever drive positive behavior? Ought we to genetically engineer Rage out of our genome, if we could? I wish we knew.

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The Spit-Take is an unignorable part of American physical comedy. Actor A is drinking something; Actor B says something unexpected and/or outrageous; Actor A diffuses the contents of Actor A’s mouth into the local atmosphere. In cinema, the Spit-Take has been around since 1906. That’s more than a hundred and six years ago! In television, the Spit-Take has been around for at least fifty years, having been popularized by Danny Thomas of “Make Room for Daddy” fame. On YouTube, there is a video by my friends, Phoenix-area poets Kevin Patterson and Bill Campana, containing no fewer than half a dozen Spit-Takes of what purports to be Champagne. The interested reader may use the phrase “Bill Campana 1957” to find the video (I could provide a link, but you have to REALLY WANT to see it, so I’m not making it easy). If you drink coffee while watching the video, point your mouth away from your computer screen, for you may well end up doing a Spit-Take yourself.

Cheers!

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The 16th-Century apothecary and prognosticator Michel de Nostredame, popularly known as Nostradamus, is most likely better-known than the 20th-century biochemist, raconteur, limericist, Futurian, essayist, humorist, correspondent, toastmaster, and, yes, prognosticator, Isaac Asimov. Dr. Asimov is perhaps best known for his Foundation series, which covered more than a thousand years of Galactic history. But he also wrote Asimov’s Guide to Science, Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare, Asimov’s Guide to the Bible, and about four hundred other books that made him the only author to have original writing in every single major Dewey Decimal System classification in the library. His daily writing streak extended from his teens till close to the end of his death at 72. In addition to his books, he corresponded with EVERYONE who wrote him–over one hundred THOUSAND letters.

Indeed, one of the biggest regrets of my life is that I never wrote him. I wanted to–I had found what was perhaps a fatal flaw in the logic of his science-fiction short story “Billiard Ball.” But I had not the wherewithal to do so. Alas! His letter to me would have been one of my most prized possessions.

My late, great father was fond of saying “Less prediction, more production.” This is the latest of my several salutes to him. And I’d also acknowledge Thomas Carlyle for his immortal quotation: “Produce! Produce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it, in God’s name! ‘Tis the utmost thou hast in thee: out with it, then. Up, up! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called Today; for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work.” And–what the hell, grateful acknowledgment also to Harlan Ellison, writer of more than one thousand short stories, without whom I might never have read Carlyle’s quotation.

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Here is a page based on what a brief quotation from James Joyce’s FINNEGANS WAKE was based on. For the Thought, I include one of Maxwell’s equations (with a boost from Gauss’s Law); the Word is from my hero Groucho Marx; and the Deed is a crude re-enactment of a portion of the journey that culminated in humanity’s first (hu)manned trip to the Moon. The seemingly-random-but-not juxtaposition is an odd tip of the hat to Joyce, who juxtaposed like crazy, and crazily, in FW. For another hat-tip to him, here’s this:

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Lastly, here’s a tip of the hat to Johann Carl Friedrich Gauss mentioned above, possibly the ablest mathematician who ever lived.

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Consider: ballad, folk rock, ska, calypso
And if your voice sucks Buttermilk–O.K
Ridiculousness serves to fix&flip woe
You need a playlist laced w/FUN today
One hopes one’s thirst 4 ☆dom may B slak’d
Konsumed on Kaiser rolls w/extra mayo
Enjoy the Sturm und Drang w/out a break
Yet–get ME to perform? no freakin way

Such are the “lyrics” to this “music”:

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And the last line is a bit of a fib. Karaoke-like, when I was a featured poet at Caffeine Corridor in June of 2012, my girlfriend and I performed “Suddenly Seymour” from the play/film LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS. My vocal talents are meager, and I warned the audience that I would not hit the high note. Miraculously, though, I did hit the high note; ironically, it occurred with the word “can” in the line “Yes, you caaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” And the moral of the story is Try, though you think you may fail, for some happy time you Can..

The acrostic pokes fun at the American pronunciation of the Japanese word “karaoke.” Instead of “car are oh keh” we say “cary okey.” As Robert Frost says, “Thus Eden came to grief.”

Today’s journal page is based on a photo of two of my ceramic birds, which in turn were based on vessels I threw on the potter’s wheel. There is something meta-ish about doing a drawing of a sculpture, but I also found it exciting to be intimately familiar with the forms I was drawing, having sculpted them: I could ignore the visual and enhance the tactile, and it would not ring false. I KNEW these birds.

Here is the page:

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And here is the photo it derives from, of my two bird sculptures:

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It’s plain to see I took great liberties with the image. I might have felt less free to do so were the sculptures someone else’s creation.

My latest journal page is topped with “NOTE: If you can figure out what the letters stand for, this page may make sense.” Below that is a series of panels, each with a set of letters and something the letters are illustrating; and below that, in acrostic array, are these words:

Bees sting; scars form — it’s sad
Be strong they say — too bad
Right wrong/go stop/cop plea
Ruled out/on task/at sea
It’s tough to mend w/cheer
In times of melting fear
Gethsemane was stark
Gardena leaves a mark
How we best cope is known
Here ’tis: DON’T roll your own
Take givens in their stride
Toss acorns Far & Wide
Empathic ENTITIES
Need need’s array — it frees

One other word in square brackets, [also], is there.

Below the acrostic is my signature and date.

I so hope someone in the Blogoverse figures out what the letters stand for!

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Ten minutes ago it was Yesterday, when I did a journal page on the Bar-Tailed Godwit, a bird with an incredible non-stop migratory range. Here is the page:

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Earlier, my lovely and lively Girlfriend, Denise, and I stopped by the Village Gallery, where my work is on display. I dusted, rearranged, and added a bowl and an odd tiny relief sculpture of a warped clothespin. Here I am standing beside my humble rack of wares, dustcloth in hand:Image

It was a good, restful day. Hope yours is the same!