I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

I've noticed that since Tennant has kissed his Dr Who days more or less goodbye, that my stats on this blog--and Roasting DT, have dropped considerably. In fact, rather steadily since the man's departure announcment back in October.

In October, my daily visitor stats on Daleks were around 700 to 1000 per day...now, they've rather steadily been reduced, to the point where now, I'm getting only 250 to 350 per day. Wow. Quite a drop! On Roasting DT, at one point, I was getting between 200 and 300 visits a day. Now, that's down to between 90 and 125.

Not that I'm moaning about it! Heck no, that people visit my blog is always nice, but I don't live for blog stats, no way. It's fun to see what brought people to my blogs, but I am not one of these egotistical people that bite their fingernails and imagine all sorts of terrible things, worrying over visitors stats.

It's acutally a bit of a relief, really. I mean, the more visitors one gets, the more pressure you feel to produce something--at least, unconsciously, I think. Without that constant influx of visitors, there's no pressure.

I strongly suspect that, if David Tennant didn't exist at all, or I never heard of him (and consequntally, didn't ever write about him/Dr Who), that I'd very likely see daily stats of under 100 visitors a day....perhaps, if I only blogged personal stuff about me, less than 50 visitors a day.

Well, I filled out the forms, underwent interrogation by a bored and sarcastic social services nazi, only to be told that he'll "call me" after he checks with National Grid, but he doesn't think they can help...at least not until I get a shut-off notice. And, he wasn't much help with assisting me to get medical benefits...in one of life's nasty little ironies, I was informed that though I meet poverty-level income requirements for food stamps, and some energy assistantce, I don't meet the poverty-level requirements for more/better medical care assistance.

USA. And don't tell me Obama's going to make it better--unless ALL Americans get affordable or free access to helathcare, America will still be a piece of poo, when it comes to easing the suffering of its own people.

There's presently two kinds of Americans: those with proper health insurance, and those without any heath insurance, or inadequate insurance--that's far too expensive for them to afford things like co-pays and basic medicines.

And, to the prigs who CAN see a doctor when they are sick and in pain, and CAN buy the medicines they need--and have the gall to fight against socialized medicine---I hope you all rot in the special hell reserved for selfish shallow twats like you, if there's truly a thing called poetic justice.

And yes, you DO have to pay the doctor/hospital, because if you don't they can--and sometimes have done--, not only garnish your wages...they can (and in fact, have) take the roof over your head, if you own your own home. There are people in America--right now-- who are homeless, for no other reason than they got sick and couldn't pay the tens of thousands of dollars in health care charges.

How many countries in the world, cause people to become homeless, to suffering agony, to die too soon, because they are too greedy to help?

What would the people of America say, if this was a country in Europe, doing such things to its own people? Why are so many Americans silent?

Why are so many Ameicans persisting in being selfish, shallow, greedy pigs with their snouts in the healthcare trough, while literally millions of their fellow citizens weep every night with physical and/or mental pain. Why do the haves willingly allow the have-not's suffer, die...for no good reason other than they cannot afford treatment and medicine?

Is it because the "haves" see the have-nots as non-human? That would be the ultimate oxymoron, 'cos the have's are the one's acting inhuman, not those that are suffering.

I mentioned Mount Greylock in a previous post.

Mount Greylock is the state of Massachusetts highest mountain peak, at just a bit over 4,000 feet, if my recollection is correct. It's connected with the famous Appalachin Trail--a hiking trail that goes from Vermont to Tennessee.

In the 70's, dad used to drive us to the top of Mount Greylock for picnics--and the view. They had a stone lodge on the peak, for relaxing in inclement weather, and a war memorial, as well.

It was a long drive to the top, up a winding mountain road, and I often wondered if our old '69 Ford Fairlane Cobra would make it. It was a piece of shite, and I think dad only got talked into trading the 67 Chevy station wagon for it, as a mid-life crisis macho sort of thing.

(Unlike this tricked out version, ours was blue and not quite so spiffy. It was supposed to be a family car, afterall)...

The one thing I remember most, however, is the time we were picnicking on top of the mountain, and a plane flew by. Thing is, the plane--probably a Cesna or a Piper Cub-- was flying at 4,000 feet--the same height as the mountain, and fairly close to the mountain, as well, so I could actually see into the cockpit, and wave at the pilot! How cool was that? For a pre-teen who liked planes, it was very, very cool.

Mum always had a fascination with planes, and she was delighted as well, as I recall. I believe she had only three unfulfilled "daydreams" in her life: being a fashion designer, traveling across country in a caravan and flying a plane.

Mum for a while (until dad meanly nixed it), was a member of the local Civil Air Patrol, and got to go up flying. She used to read books about flying, too, and even bought me a young adult book about flying, which I had for many years. For my 18th birthday, she said I could have anything I wanted (within financial reason), so I opted to go for my first plane ride. Mum arranged for me to go down to the Columbia County airport--which is in the beautiful mid-Hudson Valley of New York state, and there I got a 15 minute plane ride, in the front seat of a 4-seater Cesna. It was totally cool, and a memory I'll always cherish.

But, the look in mum's eyes, as that little red and white plane flew level with Mount Greylock's war memorial, I will never forget.

Tosh

Every hour of every season in nature, is ever-changing.

Like the human race, nature

Never stands still, not for a single exhale of breath.

All around us, the world teams with life;

Leaves, grass, flowers, animals and all of us.

The planets move,

Stardust

Shifting in a cosmic wind, the heavens whirl around in their

Celestial dance,

Whether we wish them to or not.

Time

The impassive observer, it cares not

That we grow old in its presence.

_________________________________

Baaa---

Fools like smoke rings drift

Whichever way the wind

Blows

Chains made of

Clouds

A hall of mirrors entices the

Vain man, pompous in his

Empty

Thoughts, tumbling from his wooly

Mind, like dull-witted sheep

Jumping over a

Cliff

I stuffed a load of dirties into my back pack and hopped on to my bike for a trip to a nearby laundromat today. While there, I got to watch tele--it's about the only time I do get to watch tele, these days: in the laundromat or if I'm stuck in hospital or the doctor's office.

They had a cable network on, and they were showing a James Bond film marathon. Moonraker and Goldfinger. That was nice. Last time I went there, they had Fox News on (vomit). As I recall, Fox News spent the entire time advocating that we attack Iran 'cos they aren't "democratic." Any excuse for a war, ey? OK, won't do any republican bashing tonight--too easy, and anyway, they're bashing the hell out of themselves pretty well right now, ha-ha.

I went shopping after work tonight. I was tickled pink to find that the supermarket I went to, has a new Green Mountain Coffee section--with an in-store grinder and a large selection of beans in their various blends--I had a hard time deciding which to get! It's nice because now (thanks to a friend) I have a much-coveted old fashioned perculator that you use on the cooker top (my kitchen is simply to small for a drip coffee maker to be practical--and, I like REAL proper perked coffee, so much better than the filtered drip kind). The grinder actually has a stove (cooker) top perculator setting, so I can have my coffee perfectly ground.

Anyway, so now I have in my possession tonight, a half-pound of freshly ground Green Mountain hazelnut decaf blend.

I was e-mailed some pics of an art show a friend went to at Mass MoCA--a modern art museum in the northern Berkshire mountain town of Adams, Massachusetts. I went there once, with my art class at my Vermont college. It had some really cool stuff. And...some stuff I just didn't gel with.

I came to modern art late in life--very late in life. The American public (state) educational system doesn't exactly encourage abstract thinkng--it's more evolved around test-taking, and entertainment, than being challenged to go beyond your safe little world, the American schools system doesn't really care for thinking outside the box. Dangerous stuff, that. May cause civil disobedience...can't have people thinking for themselves, they might start asking questions!!!

I don't always relate to modern art. It's a lot harder for me to make sense of the abstract, to make it mean something to me. It takes a lot longer to absorb abstract art than it does with traditional art. Though traditional art also needs time to look and think and feel, of course. But still, traditional art is much less obscure in its meaning, than some splashes of colour on canvas, or a bunch of steel girders stuck together.

Sometimes I spurn modern art, in sheer disgust--I mean, it's a lot how I feel about "true" fiction...as I wrote the other day, when I want reality, all I need to do is wake up in the morning. I don't need it shoved down my throat. However, there are times when a piece or an installation will make me stop dead in my tracks, and think twice about what I may (or may not) be seeing...to me, that's a delightful thing. To me, that's what art is really all about.

Sometimes an installation that I would have mocked 20 years ago, intriques me today. As useless has it's proved to be to me, for pulling me out of a life of poverty, still, I thank heaven for my little bit of college education--it may be worthless in the practical sense, but it also opened doors to me, that I never knew existed, and opened a part of me, that I didn't even know was there.

For instance, about four or five years ago, an artist in Vermont set up an installation, in the green space between the barriers that seperated the east-west lanes of Vermont Route 4 motorway--one of Vermont's few motorways. The installation could only really be seen at night--that's because it was tall highway reflectors, set up in various patterns...lit up only by car headlights.

Now, before my wise old 40's, I probably, in all honesty, would have rolled my eyes at that, and mocked the installation as silly and pointless. Yet, having had my thinking changed after four years of constant challgenes and exposure to new ideas in college, I found the art very intriquing....someone had photographed the exhibit at night, with the car lights on it..and it was actually quite beautiful..they'd set up the photos in the theater and art building's lobby, and every day that week, in-between classes, I paused a long time, throughly engaged with the photos.

Anyway, I got a bit off topic. But, I guess my internet friend had a good time at Mass MoCA, and I think that's great. There's another wonderful museum, not all that far from Adams, in Williamstown, Mass. (famous for its college theater programme which draws celebrity performers--and also home to the state's tallest mountain, Mount Greylock where my family and I spent many a summer afternoon, picnicking--more about that some other time).

The Clark Institute is a world class art museum featuring traditional arts, with works by famous artists, from Frederick Remmington to Gainsborough to Renoir, and many more. I've only been twice, but enjoyed it both time, and wished I'd had more time there.

http://www.clarkart.edu/museum/content.cfm?ID=75

MASS MoCA EXHIBITS:

Now, I've never been someone who dodged the issue of aging. Heck, I've been up the creek, over the mountain and down the loo, I've lived a life backwards, forwards, upside down and sideways...why should I deny it? I've worked hard to be my age, pretending otherwise is just...silly--to me, anyways.

Like many people, I'm a person of contradictions...one day I'll be swilling down Perrier with lime in a glass, the next, I'll be sipping Coke from a paper McDonald's cup. I'm just as happy listening to a symphony, or to some Cajun music, The Proclaimers or the The Doobie Brothers, Pink Floyd or Glenn Miller. I can talk rough, or let rip with a western accent, talk like my ordinary myself, or speak like lady-posh like Doris Day.

I mean, those are just some examples. But, I was thinking that nature often wears a human face, much like we do. Every hour of every season in nature, is ever-changing. Like the human race, nature never stands still, not for a single exhale of breath.

Nature can wear a benign face one day, and the next, be a destructive force as every bit as great as the most powerful army.

All around us, the world teams with life; leaves, grass, flowers, animals, and us, of course. The planets move, stardust shifting in a cosmic wind, whether we wish them to or not. Time is an impassive observer, it cares not that we grow old in its presence.

Meh--I don't know what I'm meandering on about tonight. I'm just bored. Sorry.