tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post3753893924528158991..comments2023-04-01T16:25:50.899-07:00Comments on BLOGORRHEA: Memento moriUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-32302903436979138762008-09-03T21:10:00.000-07:002008-09-03T21:10:00.000-07:00Thanks, MTC, and all of you who expressed concern ...Thanks, MTC, and all of you who expressed concern for Mac. You'll be glad to hear he's doing splendidly now. And so am I.<BR/><BR/>And Portland's perfect, golden autumn continues apace.<BR/><BR/>Cheers.Meadhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02157076523366054503noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-60039787132764054592008-09-03T16:45:00.000-07:002008-09-03T16:45:00.000-07:00Thanks for sharing your fall reveries and the link...Thanks for sharing your fall reveries and the link to Rickie Lee Jones. My autumnal thoughts turn to the John Prine song, "Killing the Blues," which opens with the lines:<BR/> <BR/>Leaves were falling<BR/>Just like embers<BR/>In colors red and gold,<BR/>They set us on fire<BR/>Just like moonbeams in our eyes.<BR/> <BR/>When I first heard the tune in a cover verson recorded by Shawn Colvin, I heard the first lines as:<BR/> <BR/>Leaves were falling<BR/>Just like Elvis ...<BR/> <BR/>It made perfect sense to me at the time, and seemed so much more poetic. <BR/> <BR/>While Monday's weather displayed all the signs of fall, I'm looking forward to Portland's glorious Indian Summer. (Is that term still allowed?)<BR/> <BR/>As a dog person, I wish you and your companion, Mac, all the best.MightyToyCannonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14523823158706838012noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-66651722609500502642008-09-03T08:19:00.000-07:002008-09-03T08:19:00.000-07:00So the typical "yellow" part of me immediately wan...So the typical "yellow" part of me immediately wanted to write something encouraging and uplifting, as well as point out the sunny, nearly hot weather predicted for this week...but pointing that out as a "positive" is a clear misread of the beautifully articulated pleasure you draw from the damper, cooler NW weather. So I resist; and feel like a more grown up person for doing so. I love fall, too. Although I have to admit that I'm drawn most to the intensity of the colors, so saturated after the washed out colors of summer, and the promise of those still very warm days that make it possible to leave Oregon in early October, visit friends in Massachusetts, and have them comment on the fact that I still have summer color in my face, and be able to respond, "well, it is the West Coast."cynseattlehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03546172133271149911noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-84024430174067523402008-09-01T20:37:00.000-07:002008-09-01T20:37:00.000-07:00hi Mead and MattyZ,MattyZ, your excerpt from "Autu...hi Mead and MattyZ,<BR/><BR/>MattyZ, your excerpt from "Autumn Tale" reminds me of Robin Williamson's "October Song."Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-23801553452318225952008-09-01T10:27:00.000-07:002008-09-01T10:27:00.000-07:00It always seems to me a marvelous grace period, be...It always seems to me a marvelous grace period, between the still, dusty afternoons of August and November's big rains, when it's warm by day, cool by night. The light seems so crisp; it's a wonderful time to wander with the camera. And the smell of the fireplaces clearing the chimneys and those surreal violet dusks and the reddening trees turn ordinary cityscapes into peaking acid trips. It's time to get back to work. (And, too, well wishes to Mac.)Steve Pattersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14588201067230147903noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-17240974200303365672008-09-01T08:41:00.000-07:002008-09-01T08:41:00.000-07:00Oh, how I love fall too. The first musical I trie...Oh, how I love fall too. The first musical I tried to write was called Autumn Tale. The lyric in the opening of this horror opera was:<BR/><BR/>"Watch the sky burn fire,<BR/>the blood of the dead<BR/>will rise again<BR/>as the leaves begin to fall..."<BR/><BR/>Appropriate for horror, yes - but in retrospect, I think it was also about me. For whatever reason, fall is my rejuvination period - a coming to life. I'm glad we've been teased with a few cool days...I can breathe again.MattyZhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02227187383176184366noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-20480774434424097292008-09-01T02:18:00.000-07:002008-09-01T02:18:00.000-07:00I appreciate your post and what your friend Patric...I appreciate your post and what your friend Patrick wrote, that Carol Ann says to him <I>Come back to us.</I><BR/><BR/>If you'll allow me to change the topic briefly: again (as you did at <BR/>http://portlanddramaturgs.blogspot.com/2008/08/so-this-dramaturg-walks-into-bar.html ) you've found a fourth declension noun in <I>hiatus</I>. Oh they're tricky, those fourth declension nouns. I had to look this one up and I found it here:<BR/>http://diesgaudii.genvid.com/latin/plural/index.html . Along the way I found out that <I>hiatus</I> contains one -- a hiatus: <BR/>http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiatus_(linguistics)<BR/><BR/>So back to the 4th declension, not to be confused with the Fifth Dimension, the plural's also hiatus (with a long u). But if you wrote that, few or none of us who follow your posts would know you meant the plural, so hiatuses probably works. . . or, um, intermissions.<BR/><BR/>We now go back to your actual posted topic, which is a topic that matters.<BR/><BR/>I'm wishing you a splendid, golden day of soft light on Monday, when I think you'll read this.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-42938591909011083862008-09-01T01:50:00.000-07:002008-09-01T01:50:00.000-07:00hi Mead,here is a tune to go with your mood, if I ...hi Mead,<BR/><BR/>here is a tune to go with your mood, if I understand your mood right...<BR/><BR/>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhwwcVkLPkk&feature=relatedAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-71615229665225641922008-08-31T20:17:00.000-07:002008-08-31T20:17:00.000-07:00Fall is my favorite time of year, too. Perhaps bec...Fall is my favorite time of year, too. Perhaps because I have a fall birthday, I see it as a time of regeneration. <BR/><BR/>And I've spent hours upon hours in the neighborhood picking bungalow after bungalow in which I might spend my twilight years. But I can't help wondering if this wistfulness isn't a bit premature. Maybe it's more important to enjoy the music as I'm hearing it instead of dwelling in the expectation of what is to follow.<BR/><BR/>I hope Mac is alright. Please give him some extra scratches between the ears.k. crowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03178564817603564062noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6166420489614987889.post-881441473199479452008-08-31T18:56:00.000-07:002008-08-31T18:56:00.000-07:00Hey Mead,Fall is my mom's favorite time of year, t...Hey Mead,<BR/><BR/>Fall is my mom's favorite time of year, too; and one of mine. I love the way you describe the colors, sounds, and textures of autumn here. When I read it, I thought: "home." Thank you.<BR/><BR/>I always wonder what it would be like to live somewhere by myself, and I wonder, too, if it isn't a sort of mental rehearsal - preparing for the inevitable. Then again, in my case, it might be a case of "grass is greener" syndrome. I'm always wondering what life would be like if it wasn't what it's like now. Not that I lead an unhappy life, far from it (with the exception of a few minor details); but I'm always placing myself elsewhere when I should be right here. I've always done it. It's what I'm actually doing when people accuse me of talking to myself. If I were talking to myself, I'd still be here. I'm not there. Carol Ann gets it. She always catches me and says, "Come back to us."<BR/><BR/>Not sure why I do that, though.Patrick Wohlmuthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09002870999743366437noreply@blogger.com