Wolf Kahn

In my last post I referenced the artist Wolf Kahn so, since I really love his work, I thought I'd post an example. The first thing that attracted me to his work, of course, was his fantastic use of color. The picture here is a tamer one from him but, even here, you can see that he goes for the jugular with color. They are almost corrosive, like something you'd see flowing in a chemical spill that can eat through rubber. Yet, in his paintings, these colors are fully controlled and come to represent the intensity of light or the coolness of shadows. I also like that his use of color communicates a time of year or day, even though the colors are not at all what you would see in real life.

He seems to focus on landscapes, although his style and approach visually evoke the work of abstract expressionists. The harnessing of the freedom and psychology of abstract expressionism for something as traditional as landscape painting is a really interesting juxtaposition (how's that for the kind of arty-farty analysis like you'd find in a text book?). But I'm serious. I like abstract works, but I have to admit that there's something even more effective in a marriage of abstraction with the concrete. Perhaps this is because I feel that so much abstract art these days is more of a regurgitation of experiments that were done way back in the 40s and 50s. Anyone interested in a ANOTHER artist who does color field or 'splatter' paintings? Not me! I'd like to see something unique and innovative.

After art emancipated itself during the late 19th and 20th centuries, maybe it can back away from the need to rebel, react, or grandstand.

361 Miles

Jim and I did a bike ride yesterday afternoon. Fields of goldernrod with blotches of intense purple from wild asters. All the plants were thick and tall and at their zenith, yet there were some leaves on the path telling you it's not going to last much longer. When the leaves cover the edges of the path, it looks like an ancient, half-forgotten Indian trail. You can hear nuts and things crunching under your tires, and there's often the smell of dead leaves in the air that - to me - is completely invigorating!

At one point, we rode past a field we go by all the time, which Jim says is a soybean field. You can see it through the trees, but it's usually nothing special to look at. This time, we must have caught it just right, because the plats were yellowed and the slanting sun was hitting them fairly strongly. The combination created this intense YELLOW that rolled over the hills into the distance with nothing but a few large, dark green trees splotched in there to break it up. The fields seemed to be glowing; like a Wolf Khan painting come to life!

Overall, it was pretty windy, and it's looking like this coming week will be rainy and down into the low 60s. I'm worried that this might have been the last ride of the season. It was a good ride though, and it's been a good season. Definitely had some muddy rides. See the pic, where you can see the mud splatters you sometimes get. I love getting all dirty when I ride! We saw snakes, frogs, deer, and even a turtle crossing the path at different times during the season. Anyway, I calculated the we've probably gone 361 miles since about May, so that's an average of about 18 miles a week. Not too bad!

'Milk'

Jim and I watched 'Milk' last night. What a moving, beautiful film! Of course, whenever I see movies or documentaries about the gay rights movement, I'm just so glad these people did what they did. I'm so grateful that their work has made this a country where I can exist as an openly gay man at work and in my neighborhood without facing (too much) bigotry.

This movie mixes actual footage from the times with tremendous acting by a great cast, especially Sean Penn who completely disappears into the role of Harvey Milk. He does the perfect balance of adding some swish to the role without turning Milk into the stereotypical Hollywood-film homo. From scene one, you forget you are watching an actor play the part (let alone an actor we all are very familiar with). That's really the mark of a master. Plus, unlike Tom Hanks and Antonio Bandares who didn't have the guts to do an onscreen kiss in "Philadelphia" and, as a result, insulted the characters they played, Penn and Franco are both man enough to commit to their roles and not shy away from the fact that gay men kiss just like 'normal people'.

What a hateful bitch that Anita Bryant was! OMG! The horrible things that came out of her mouth! It's amazing to me that after all the examples of civil right movements in our country's history, that people still go to the same tired arguments to demonize massive groups of people. At some point, don't they reflect and think: "These arguments were wrong for blacks, women, Jews, etc. etc. etc....so if these arguments are the only ones I have to use against gays, then maybe I'm as wrong as those people were to use them then?"

Thank you Harvey Milk! And thanks to all the people who have shed their blood and lost their lives so we can live in a better world.

The Elgin Marbles

The Elgin Marbles are some of the remaining fragments of sculpture that originally were part of the Parthenon. They have been in the British Museum for something like 200 years. For the the last 30 years, Greece has asked that they be sent back to Greece, but the Brits have refused for a variety of reasons. The dialogue has gotten really heated in more recent years, with some who side with the Greeks even accusing the Brits of stealing the marbles from Greece. I have very strong view on this debate, and I'm going to air them here because no one I know has the least interest in discussing this subject with me.

First of all, the British did not steal the Elgin Marbles. The Museum's ownership of them is completely legal. On top of that, anyone who cares about the marbles should thank the British for acquiring them, as it is highly unlikely they would have survived to this day without the careful preservation and safety in which they have been kept by the British Museum. So there is no justification to call the Brits thieves (at least not in this case).

Further, even if the Brits did steal the marbles, Greece has no standing to demand their return. Britain acquired the marbles from the Ottomans (who controlled Greece at the time). I believe some feel that the Ottoman authorization shouldn't be valid since they had no vested interest in the antiquities of any country they were occupying. However, this position really just undermines the Greek position. The marbles belonged to the city state of Athens, so only the Athenian government would have any right to demand their return (as being the 'original owners'). But that government no longer exists.

So, the marbles belong to the Brits and they are justified to keep them as long as they like, especially since the Greeks have been so completely insulting about the whole thing. However...

Sometimes being 'right' doesn't mean you're doing the right thing. Despite the legality of the acquisition, the British Museum should return the marbles for a reason that transcends politics, nationalism, morals, and law. The marbles should go back to reunite - as much as can be done - a piece of art that should ideally never have been separated in the first place: the Parthenon.

The Parthenon is more than just a building; it is a piece of art that visually represents everything that ancient Athens stood for. It is a touchstone of heritage for the entire Western World. Now the British Museum often says that there's no point to return the marbles since they can never be reattached to the Parthenon. Maybe they can't be, but that's irrelevant. Seeing the marbles in the British Museum irretrievably divorces them them from their intended context. It would be like seeing the head of the 'David' statue - without the body - in a museum in Cleveland and expecting to get an feel for what the whole sculpture. It's impossible to get the real - and intended - impact.

I can say this confidently because I have been to the Parthenon. While I understand where the Elgin marbles 'fit' into the whole, it would have been far better to see them at the same time as I saw the rest of the building, even if they were not attached. At least then I have the best context possible for viewing this masterpiece of human architecture and art.

I do not think this would lead to a slippery slope requiring the return of all antiquities to their country of origin. It's not a matter of a single statue or a painting; this is a piece of art that has been broken apart and spread across the globe (for whatever reason). Reuniting the pieces makes this a fairly unique case.

For the Elgin Marbles and - by extension - any piece of the Parthenon, whether the piece belongs to Greece, Britain, or all humanity isn't the relevant issue. Nor is it relevant to discuss how long some part of the Parthenon has been somewhere in determining whether it should go back. The important question to ask is: Do we or do we not want to preserve great pieces of art? If the answer is yes, then the British acted to save an important part of this major site, and they should now complete this act by helping to reunite the pieces of the Parthenon as best as they are able. The Parthenon is a unique object, an architectural artwork, and keeping it scattered across the world - for any reason - is not in the best interests of anyone who cares about art or history.

Peteradio

Some of the latest adds to Peteradio:

"All is Forgiven" - Carmen Rizzo - I am becoming more and more impressed with Rizzo's adventurous spirit. He really works to merge different music together and that creates things that just totally bend your ear. This is a bit of trip-hop-like stuff you find on his albums, but he's into everything from Niyaz to collaborations with throat singers from Northeast Asia.

"Honey" - Lisa Shaw - The voice of smooth house. Her Salted Music debut is stronger than the album she did for Naked Music, but I still feel like it's a bit limp. Some good tracks nonetheless.

"If" - Colette - No summer music playlist is complete without a little house. Colette's music has substance and it sounds like she can actually sing, which differentiates her from house played as 'club music'.

"Dirty" - J-Boogie's Dubtronic Science - His Soul Vibrations album is an instant classic. There's hip-hop grit in the production, smoky live brass, cool-ass keys, and a groove that is just sick. This is one of the best releases of 2008.

"Love You" - Maxwell - I am still enjoying his comeback album, and this track is my favorite on the CD. A build up from piano chords to a complete explosion of passion in Maxwell's singing and then a cool down with an organ. No real chorus or anything, but there's a fantastic emotional build in this song and I love to go along for the ride!

"Close "- Raashan Ahmad - This is a mellow joint that sounds utterly contemporary but has at its heart everything that originally made hip-hop great. The whole album this track came from (The Push) is very strong. Ahmad really writes from the heart and, by dealing with meaningful issues, he comes across as far more 'real' than all gangsta-posing twits on the charts these days (none of whom can actually rap).

On the radar: Nelly Furtado has a new Spanish language album out. She worried me quite a bit with the watered-down crap on her last album (which I didn't buy save for a couple tracks - and, no, "Promiscuous" wasn't one of them). Samples from this album sound like she's back to making music, though I'm curious why she chose Spanish rather than Portuguese?

High Priest And Heretic

poem 8 from The Ancient Elm

Twenty years ago,
Wizard of the Wood,
outcast and alone,
I ciphered
wind earth air trees
into mythology and light.

But today,
I’m the High Priest
of a twisted myth,
practicing a Craft
whose incense invocations icons
reveal nothing.

I must split from
wand and sword and scepter
and become the heretic
who embraces darkness
that is merely new light
unciphered.

Some of the things that got me thinking about this cycle was not only the approach of 40 and viewing myself differently and embracing Zen. Between these two things, there was a feeling of charting new territory and looking at myself in a different way, and that was not always comfortable. For example, it was surprisingly jarring to me to think of myself as a man and not a young man for the first time. Not unpleasant or limiting or sad, but very, very different perspective. This is where the idea of turning from a high priest to a heretic comes in.

In the last poem, the speaker has achieved everything possible along his last trajectory and has stagnated a bit. The thing he sought was never really intended to be the end of all goals, but it became that because he has spent a lot of time getting there and there was never a need to think 'and then what?' Now there is. And, at first, the thinking is to revisit who you've been in the past. However, as shown in the Imperial Triptych, you really can't do that.

A person has to try new things and, sometimes, that requires starting over a bit and not being as effective at everything as you're used to being (turning from a high priest to a heretic). So the speaker splits from 'wand to sword to scepter' which has become a mantra that doesn't really apply to himself twenty years on. He must embrace darkness (the unknown) and view it as a chance to move on to new goals and achievements.

London (Day 6, last day)

The British Museum is incredible! So many rooms covering so many different cultures! Of course, they had the 'standard' stuff (Egypt - including mummies! - and Greece), but they had excellent pieces and the Museum goes so much further beyond that. There was Assyrian, Cycladean, Cyprian, and wonderfully varied collections from Tibet, India, China, Japan, the Islamic Empire, Persia, etc. etc. etc. The place could be an introductory window into just about any major culture, and I could have spent a week at this museum and not have been satisfied. If you go to London, plan to visit multiple times to be able to drink it all in at a leisurely pace. Truly one of the best museums I have ever been to.

The only downside is the sometimes the uncomfortable feeling that some of this stuff was 'purloined' more than 'acquired'. For example, there were a couple colossal Native American totem poles (see picture) tpurchased from a Western Canadian tribe . However, the offer to buy then was made after diseases introduced by the West decimated the people of the tribe. Purchase or scavenging? It's a fine line. There is also a statue from Easter Island that once resided in a shrine of sorts. Did the people there really just sell it? I suppose it certainly possible. If I knew more, maybe I wouldn't be bothered by this at all.

From the immediate area, there was a wonderful collection of Viking weapons and artifacts. The Vikings fascinate me, maybe because there seems to be so little information about them from before they were Christianized that they have a bit of mystique to them. Maybe I just like the idea of a warrior based culture? There was also plenty of beautiful and unique Celtic artifacts, including helmets and artifacts from the earliest days of England. Some very intricate metalwork on the helmets that is beautiful in a fierce kind of way.

After that we finished the final day with something completely different: antiquing on Portobello Road. Yet another example of how London offered something that captured my interest despite my general disinterest in the topic/area. To me antiquing isn't much more interesting than going to garage sales all day. Nicer knick-knacks, I suppose, but bor-ing! But I had a lot of fun looking in all the different antique shops here. One had nothing but clocks, another all silver, another all boxes. There were some old books to look at here and there. The best part was how interested Jim was in it. I liked watching him browse and eventually buy a silver Edwardian vase. Of course, there were some more examples of that crazy ornate decoration...and I snapped another picture (see to side: is that not something a complete over the top queen would have in their home or what?). I'm obsessed with this, and I don't know why!

After we bought the vase, it was back to the hotel. Bottom line: We loved London! We saw so much, though we truthfully didn't see everything the city had to offer by a long shot. Still, after all the backbreaking walking, I was ready to go home. I hope we'll come back though.

The End!

London (Day 5)

Another trip out of London. This time to Hatfield House where Elizabeth I grew up and where she eventually learned she was queen. The actual house Elizabeth grew up in is still there, although you can't get into it other than to see the banquet hall (which is very poorly presented, by the way). Not sure why they don't let people into the house, as I'm sure it would be a bigger draw than the (admittedly impressive) newer house.

The newer house was built during the reign of James I, Elizabeth's successor, and (I believe) it was built by Robert Cecil, Elizabeth's chief minister during the latter years of her reign. It holds several portraits of Tudors and Cecils, as well as many other paintings from the period and later. The decoration in much of the house is again that gaudy/rococo, although there are some rooms with a sort of old world gentleman flavor that appealed to me. In particular, there is a library with loads of old/rare hardcover books lining the walls. I was drooling over those but I doubt they would let anyone look at them since it seems like someone still actually resides there. Someday I would love to have a library full of great old books like that; it would be a collection and an archive, as well as a source of pleasure to own.

As with the other sites, there were all sorts of little architectural details just fascinated me. Inside, the tour guide gave a lot of great information and pointed out some of the most interesting pieces, which we never would have picked up on by ourselves. For example, there was a set of rock crystal glasses Philip II gave Mary I as a wedding gift. The guide was able to tell us about the history of the set since Mary's time, and I find it so interesting to hear how something like this survives and is passed along. The guide also pointed out photos and paintings of the marquesses (sp?) who owned/own the house, which seemed to be of great interest to the Brits around us though I have to confess I really didn't care to know anything about the present owners. I'm just glad they let a bunch of tourists traipse through their house.

The grounds at Hatfield include a wonderful garden and a path that winds through some of the most massive, twisted trees I've ever seen. I took all sorts of pics of them. As you can tell by now it's a good thing I rely on tour books for the 'money shots' when I travel, as I tend to become fascinated by the most random things. Oh wellbetter to have pictures of that then bad pictures of something I can get in a postcard or tour book.

After Hatfield, we hit the British Museum. (And I might be confused..maybe we did Soho and China Town today, too). It was pretty late by that point and so we just hit some highlights (e.g., the Elgin marbles, which we really wanted to see since we had been to Athens and the Acropolis many years ago). They were great to see, but I am sure to post a separate 'essay' about the controversy around them and my opinion on the whole mess. Stay tuned!

London (Day 4)

Went further afield today. We took the tube to the train and headed out of London for Hampton Court. This was a palace Henry VIII lived in (as well as many subsequent royals). You can click on the pics here (and in all my posts) to make them bigger. While the Crown Jewels got me interested in a jewelry display (which is something I never thought I'd care about), Hampton Court made me all excited about architecture, which is a subject that has never really flipped my switch. I ended up taking pictures of all kinds of little details of the buildings and interiors.

Hampton Court holds many portraits of the Tudors, and it was great to see them in person. Photos in books never do justice to the real thing. The interiors of the rooms and the chapel were plush and very (what I call) 'rococo', meaning beautifully fancy and ornate but today only a very flamboyant gay man or a really old lady with ancient-skool taste would decorate things like that. It works in a palace though. See photo below for an example of what I mean.

They had several people running around dressed up as Henry VIII, Katherine Parr, pages, etc. And they interacted with the tourists. Now I know you're thinking: Ick! However, these people weren't interacting in an overly cutesy kind of way, and they seemed to make a point of referencing something around them in a way that told you something about the court. It was actually a pretty cool way to have someone proactively providing information to people in an engaging and non-intrusive way.

We loved Hampton Court and all it's splendor, but I didn't take to many pictures because I knew I could get a book at the tour shop that would have better quality photos than anything I could manage to get. I prefer this because then I can put away the camera and really absorb what I'm seeing and catch little details I might otherwise miss.

After Hampton Court, we came back to London and got into Westminster Abbey. Very impressive architecture, and so extraordinarily Gothic (in the Siouxsie and the Banshees sense). Dimly lit and full of dead bodies and effigies and Latin and crumbling stone. Again, seeing a place like this would normally send me into a yawn spiral, but this was just so top notch for this kind of attraction, that you are engaged in spite of yourself.

We then walked around Soho for a while, which I didn't find especially interesting. Maybe because I lived in a city? It just didn't seem at all trendy or cutting edge to me. Luckily, we spotted Chinatown and wandered in there to find a good restaurant for lunch. After that, we took a stab at the Victoria and Albert Museum, but I was so exhausted from walking around at that point that I could only snap a few pictures of some particularly gaudy/rococo-like beds, mirrors, and interiors that they had on display. I was becoming obsessed with this stuf that I started taking pictures of the extreme examples I saw.

The bad thing about Europe is that you spend so much time walking and standing and looking that your feet and lower back just start screaming by the time nine hours have passed. We had to head back after this especially grueling day. And I thought this was a vacation!

Yellow Belt

Went to Hapkido last night and had a great work-out, as always. Also found out that I passed my rank test and am now a yellow belt! Sweeeet!!!!

PS: Now that work seems to be finally calming down and the London trip is done, I need to start lifting again. It's been a month since I last lifted, and I feel like a big lazy blob.

London (Day 3)

Bright and early, we took the tube to the Tower. Once again, I could see we hit London at a great time because the place was dead! We got in with practically no wait! We made straight for the Crown Jewels...no obstacles. There are loads of roped lines leading to the Jewels, the kind you see for a popular Disneyland ride, so they clearly usually get quite a crowd.

Now, believe me, before the trip I was like: "The Crown Jewels? It's a bunch of ancient-skool bling. Who cares?" But I was impressed. One sceptre had a diamond the size of a large shot glass, and the crowns are just covered in giants rubies and all sorts of big gems. No pics allowed, sorry! Even so, I question whether I would have felt it worthwhile to stand in some huge line to see them.

Near the jewels are other royal treasures: gold plates, gold dining room implements, and huge cisterns. Part of me sees all this and thinks: how much faster would Europe have advanced if all this wealth had actually been used as capital rather than horded by a bunch of interbreeding dictators? But I suppose one must suspend ones morality to enjoy any of this royal stuff, right?

The Tower also had an exhibition with armor and weapons worn by Henry VIII or those at his court. Plus we had a great view of Tower Bridge, saw Traitor's Gate, examples of torture implements, and of course the famous Tower ravens. All in all, an interesting time.

Then we left for the South Bank. The hurricanes in the mid-Atlantic were sending loads of clouds that flew over London so that we got brief microshowers before quickly reverting back to sun. (So the weather was probably better than we had any right to expect, as well).

London Eye gave us a worthwhile panoramic view of London, with a rainbow over the city, Whitehall, and the Thames. Incidentally, this was the day of our 13th anniversary, so it actually turned out to be a great day for this kind of a ride. More relaxed fun on the South Bank included plenty of street performers, some of whom were very entertaining. We sat on a bench overlooking the Thames and took a load off.

Then we re-crossed the Thames to walk by Parliament, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey. We thought about going into the Abbey, but it was closed. At this point our feet and backs were aching from standing and walking so much and we went back to the hotel to crash.

Happy Anniversary!

London (Day 2)

This morning, we started off with the included guided tour, which actually turned out to be worth it. It was a spin through London, seeing the neighborhoods and major sites, including a stop at the Albert Memorial (gaudy beyond belief), Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Parliament, etc. etc. London is certainly worth seeing in this way, because everywhere you look, the architecture snags your eye.

We wandered St. Paul's Cathedral and saw the crypts there. Then back to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard. Everyone had told us: "You can't miss this." But we thought it was a waste of time. Some uniformed people march by and are inspected before the palace. Yawn city! But we can certainly now say we've seen it, and the crowds were not that bad so I think we hit London at a good time.

We got back to the hotel, found a nearby pub, and had a fish and chips lunch (and a pint). It was good and fun (because it was London and a pub and fish and chips, you know) but, generally, as far as British cuisine goes, all I can say is I'm glad London has lots of ethnic restaurants. After lunch, we went ahead and signed up for an optional tour of the Royal Mews and then Buckingham Palace.

The Mews are a stable, a fancy stable, but a stable. It does offer you the chance to see this massive golden carriage used for coronations, which is straight out of Fairytaleland. (You can click on the pic here to see a much larger view). Very impressive. Of course, we had to laugh at some of the other displays. Anyone want to see the Queen's chauffeur's shoes? Not me! Yet, lo and behold, herds of people actually took pictures of them! Pictures of shoes! Guess the people running the Mews know their audience.

The inside of Buckingham Palace was very impressive (as a palace should be, right?). No pics allowed, but that is a blessing because you spend more time really looking rather than snapping. Lots of art, mainly Italian and Dutch Masters. Loads of massive portraits of royals. Some intriguing (Charles I), others epic (Victoria's coronation), and some sadly hilarious (some military garbed paunchy latter day kings, who didn't look as if they could even get on a horse much less go into battle).

The Palace was definitely worth the time. Though, in a way, it's strange. The furniture and decor are very ornate and impressive...in a palace. Yet I'm certain that any single piece taken out of that context would look like something you'd expect to find in your tacky Aunt Minnie's annual garage sale. It definitely works in the Palace though!

This was our only day with a tour group. From here on in we were on our own, and we went to sleep after plotting what to do once we were cast adrift on the streets of London.

London (Day 1)

We got to London in the afternoon, so there wasn't a ton of time to see much that day. However, since we arrived just at the beginning of the Carnaval, we walked all the way from Paddington to Notting Hill (it wasn't clear to us newbies which tube stops were even working since some were closed down for the event).

We only had a vague idea how to get to Carnaval, so we just followed the sounds of crowds and music. At one point, two women came running by and asked: "Do you know where Paddington Station is?" Very broad accents, skimpy clothes, and one had a huge tattoo covering her back. They were definitely party girls. We pointed them in the right direction and they ran off. As we walked away, I heard them call after us again. "Are you guys gay?" I laughed and said "Yeah!" (as in 'of course, girlfriend!'). She looked like I'd just given her a Christmas present early. "Oh I love it!" she cried out. She opened her arms, so did I, and she ran back over to me, and we hugged. I was in a great mood after that, and I can't think of a better welcome from any city I've ever visited!

Needless to say, the festival was totally vibrant. There were some elaborate costumes, and the energy was terrific all around. There were stacks of speakers sitting along the streets everywhere. Lots of great music, food offered from the restaurants, and people could wander around with open beer bottles. On one corner, there was a stage with a DJ spinning some really crushing beats and a crazy guy shouting into his mike to get the crowd worked up. I could feel the bass reverberating in my chest cavity as we passed by. I found it exhilarating, but Jim seemed a bit unimpressed by it all.

We had arrived well before the full tilt insanity, though it was obvious what was coming. The barricades were set up a dozen blocks before we even got near the crowds, and many shops were completely boarded up as if they were expecting a hurricane to come through. We later heard that there were fist fights and a decapitation, so I'm glad we went at a relatively tame period. I've long since had my fill of event hysteria, and I was way too tired from the flight to get drunk.

Anyway, after we wandered around and snapped pictures like good little tourists, we found our way out, strolled through Kensington Gardens, walked past shops and hookah bars, and had dinner at a little Lebanese restaurant (a new ethnic experience for both of us). Great food, with free baklava for dessert. The best baklava I've ever had actually. Then we called it a night; we needed to rest up for our first full day in London!

Mind The Gap

No, I did not get lazy and quit blogging. The gap in blogging is because Jim and I just got back from London and, believe me, this was not a trip for lazy people. We were on the go pretty much constantly. We had a great time, but I'm completely wiped out. I'll start posting all the details tomorrow!

Cheers!

Imperial Triptych: Emperor Of Thorns

poem 7 from The Ancient Elm

I am the Emperor of Thorns,
my reign a score of years.
Hobbled by majesty,
armored and enthroned
in a Castle of Illusion
built by my own hand.

‘Neath tapestries
of cobweb tatters:
assassins, magnates, fools
posture and plot
in endless intrigues;
necromancers
drink blood to tap the Untamed Wood;
scribes and clerics
twist my saga into dogma:
“…Wand to Sword to Scepter
Wand to Sword to Scepter
Wand to Sword to Scepter…”
a canticle of nostalgia
clutching like chains
in my majestical dungeon.

This is the poem that forms the third and final part of the triptych and is a direct opposite to The Court Of The Sun. I mimicked the structure and form but, instead of the speaker being filled with power, he is now a prisoner of the illusions he has built and accepted for himself. Every line in this poem matches up to one in The Court Of The Sun in order to really contrast between the beginning of the this persons 'reign' and where they find themselves twenty years later. In this position, it is hard to find a way out even when if possess all the power because you have become so out of touch with who and what you are that you can't tell the difference between the Court of the Sun and being an Emperor of Thorns. The next poem moves the cycle onwards.

Previous Halloween Costumes

Yes, I really shaved my head to get a Mohawk for the punk costume, and I liked it! I actually think the look kinda works for me! Well, maybe if I were younger...and punk...LOL!

I Love Halloween

As long as I'm on the subject of autumn, I may as well prepare anyone reading this who doesn't know me (if anyone reading doesn't know me!) that I am crazy about Halloween! I love dressing up, decorating the house, decorating the front stoop, carving pumpkins, and I even can enjoy giving out candy (though it gets in the way of watching horror movies). By the way, I watch a gazillion horror movies in the weeks leading up to Halloween, which drives Jim crazy. I also listen to black metal when I drive, read Poe and Gothic horror novels from the 1800s while playing creepy music, and going to the Halloween supply stores to see all the crazy-expensive animatronics that Jim would kill me if I ever bought. I'm 100% bonkers about this holiday!

For a couple of years, I tried to have Halloween parties. My first one was a huge success, but I quickly found that most people are just completely uptight about Halloween. I'd mention I was thinking about throwing another party, and the first thing out of everyone's mouth would be: "Do I have to dress up?" WTF? That's like asking do you have to get gifts at Christmas time, or do you have to eat turkey on Thanksgiving. Except it's worse. How can a Halloween party possibly be fun when that's the first thing out of people's mouths? To everyone's immense relief, I gave up years ago.

Luckily, there is a very active Halloween party atmosphere where I work, and it hasn't been ruined by any bible-banging douchebags crying how it's against their religion (probably because we are very respectful not to press anyone to participate if they say 'no'). One year, we decorated our row with bedsheets to make the cubes look like padded cells. Then we all made ourselves up to be diseased in some way related to our clients' products. Another year, we all came in as dead celebrities. This year, our team has settled on a heavy metal costume theme. Should be very fun!

Autumn Started Thursday

I took this past Friday off from work, and so Thursday ended up being a very relaxing evening for me. I had the house to myself, there were storms, strange sunlight because of the clouds, and cool winds blowing through the house. And then it happened...

I have always had a weird reaction to autumn. And not the autumn that the weather man tells you about, meaning that on such and such a day the season begins. For me, autumn begins when there is a certain look to the sunlight, when you breathe and the air feels more aloof than summer air, when I feel a restlessness in me...just all sorts of sensory stuff like that. Part of it is a very wild, creative urge that shoots through me almost like a drug. There have been times when it's positively spooky the way the floodgates open, and I just start writing or drawing or playing and it's as if I can't keep up with the ideas coming out of me! It's a wonderful feeling...though it always has a sort of odd darkness to it, too.

I haven't really felt it as strongly over the last couple years (although the beginning of autumn is what ultimately what got the whole Ancient Elm cycle going), but it happened this past Thursday. I knew it was autumn, and I let the house get dark as the sun set and just let myself feel it. I know I probably sound like a complete crackpot, but it is what it is.

Anyway, the next morning I was just sitting and eating breakfast when all of a sudden images started popping through my mind and strong feelings were associated with them and, before I knew it, I was writing stanzas on a napkin. One after another, in no order (though I instantly knew what order they would go in later). I even thought stuff like: "This will go before the part about me lying in the hosta leaves" (before I'd written anything about lying in the hosta leaves...just had the image flash in my head). When I went upstairs to make sense of it, I had a poem in a few of minutes. A good poem; one that says something really important (to me). It just came out of me!

Some of the stuff that comes in autumn is born complete: it bursts in my head, I write it down, and it's done. This poem is a little more complex, so I have to work with it. I thought about posting the draft version, but I'm afraid that if I do it'll kill the urge to complete it. I have found that sometimes sharing something incomplete makes finishing it unnecessary in some odd way. So I'll hold off.

So funny that the other day I wrote on here that I was resigned to not being creative right now, and then BANG! Maybe I'm not as dried up as I thought!

Herman Melville - White-Jacket (1850)

It's often said that, in Huckleberry Finn, "life is a river". White-Jacket, Herman Melville's fifth novel, may be his take on this: "the world is a ship". In fact, the subtitle of White-Jacket is The World in a Man-of-War. This is an interesting idea for an allegory and, in many ways, Melville succeeds. Using the events on the man-of-war Neversink, Melville draws many parallels to society in general and human justice in particular. Further, in the final chapter, Melville provides a moral to tie his allegory together.

However, despite these successes, White-Jacket pretty much fails as a novel. The main problem is that Melville exercises no control over his allegory. White-Jacket contains far too much content that doesn't add to the allegory, and some of it clearly is not even meant to. While every word and chapter does not necessarily have to drive an allegory (unless you're Dante and writing something genius like The Divine Comedy), the narrative that does not propel the allegory should have some point. Unfortunately, that is not the case here and it makes White-Jacket pretty tedious.

The excess material is especially frustrating because White-Jacket quite simply tells no story. There is no plot, no character development, no conflict, nothing other than the allegory. So if a chapter doesn't fit in with the allegory, it really serves no purpose whatsoever! Although I did find many of the vignettes interesting, it just wasn't enough. And, quite frankly, if Melville had honed his allegory the way he should have, his final chapter - which is terribly prosaic - would not have been required.

Oddly, it seems to me that in writing his fourth, fifth, and sixth novels, Melville repeats the path he took with Typee, Omoo, and Mardi (his first three). His fourth book (Redburn) was like Typee, even though Typee was more romantic and Redburn darker. Both are quite successful works, tell a great story, and have clear themes communicated by those stories. Omoo suffered from a directionless narrative that never came together as a story, very much like what we have with White-Jacket. In his third book, Melville made an ambitious attempt at something deeper and, since his sixth book is Moby-Dick, the parallel seems to hold.

I also found myself thinking of Redburn and White-Jacket as two halves of the whole that would become Moby-Dick. Redburn focuses on the story, and White-Jacket focuses on an all-encompassing theme. In Moby-Dick, Melville would attempt both in a single novel. In addition, Moby-Dick's theme of the microcosm echoes the 'world in a man-of-war' theme in White-Jacket.

Okay, all that aside, is this a book worth reading? The answer is 'no', unless you're interested in delving into Melville's development as a writer or have an urge to learn in great detail what it was like to serve on a man-of-war in the 1800s. Bottom-line, in White-Jacket, Melville was overtly trying to write another 'tale of the sea' to earn money and regain the attention of his readers, while creating a deeper work 'under the radar'. However, the lack of plot means the book fails dismally as the former and the lack of control by Melville undermines the latter. White-Jacket could have been much better, but Melville clearly needed more time, effort, and craft on this novel to realize this potential.

Imperial Triptych: The Twisted Myth

poem 6 from The Ancient Elm

One day,
while hunting for sport,
a strange leaf
catches in my cloak
and a mythmaker cries:
“Beware, my Lord!
The Elm is a dangerous tree!”

But I am of the Ancient Elm!
Turned into the Oak Emperor
by strange hands twisting
the tapestry of my myth.

Back behind my Castle walls,
deep in my Imperial Chambers,
I unlock my chest and release:
withered elm leaves,
a tattered wizard robe,
runes of secrets
in language I’ve long forgotten.

But I cannot go outside!
My Castle is all;
the gild and glamour of my Court
dazzle me.

Ah, for my young questing days!
Where, I ask, is my Untamed Wood?
Where my Ancient Elm?
“They are gone,” say the mythmakers,
“paved under the Imperial Road
which leads to your Castle…”

…and ends.

The problem with not being in touch with your true self is that it allows others to control you. When you act from illusion, you are more easily manipulated. So the myth of the speaker in the poem is twisted, and he becomes an Oak Emperor fearing the Elm which was the actual reason he came to power. I also chose this, because it is so often true that the energy or creativity which allows someone to rise to power is hijacked by those around it and it becomes an act people pay lip service to rather than an actuality.

The speaker of the poem tries to relocate what he's lost but finds himself disconnected from it because he has spent twenty years (see The Court of the Sun) in illusion. Worse, he realizes that he cannot 'go outside' because the Castle, the Court, the entire establishment that he seeks to escape comes from himself and is controlled by himself. And yet, because he has handed over control to 'the Mythmakers' he can do nothing about it.

I think sometimes achieving something you've longed for can create a sort of dead end. There's a stagnation because the things you've been after for so long are in your grasp, and this brings you other things that you hadn't anticipated. So there's a sense of 'What now?' People can miss the striving that comes with not having what you longed for and just accept that the rough trail you fought to create is now an Imperial Road anyone can walk and that it leads to your destination and ends. There's something of a crisis when this happens, especially if some parts of that destination are not truly of your own making and just accepted by you. For example, when someone does well in their career and let's continued upward movement become their goal rather than the self-actualization that drove them initially. Realizing that you've somehoe gone off track is a very scary thing when you're on the 'throne'.

The Creative vs. The Physical

For most of my life, I've been creative in at least one area. Whether it was writing, painting, drawing, music, or whatever, I've always been actively creating something. For the last several years, though, it seems like I have completely changed focus. I've been almost entirely about physical stuff...almost jock-like...and been really interested in active pursuits. I've learned how to horseback ride (a little), I've been lifting a lot, and now martial arts again, plus biking.

For quite some time, this change has really been bugging me. It's so different than the way I've lived most of my life that I assumed it was some kind of failing in myself. However, I think I've realized that I need to let myself off the hook. I'm not sure why this change has taken place, but it doesn't seem like I have much say about it. It's not that I don't "have time" for being creative or that I don't have ideas. I just seem to consistently choose to do other things than the creative stuff.

On some level, I wonder if part of it is that I have been a lot more dedicated to my job than I have ever been in previous places I've worked. Not sure I like that much at all, especially as a reason for a change in my personal life. But there it is.

The bottom line is that I am very happy so, as long as that is the case, I suppose I should accept this change and see where it takes me. It's just very strange, after over thirty years, to accept living life without some creative pursuits burning a hole in my mind. Of course, all that time spent in those areas has added to me in ways that will never go away. Later in life, if I find myself returning to the creative side of myself, I'm sure it will all be waiting for me like an old blanket to wrap myself in.

Jet Li's Fearless - My Favorite Movie

My favorite movie is a martial arts movie. It's the Director's Cut of 'Fearless' staring Jet Li.
Briefly, 'Fearless' is based on the life of Huo Yuan Jia, the man who founded the Jin Wu Martial Arts Federation (a school of Kung Fu). Huo (played by Jet Li) is the son of a martial arts master and becomes a famous master himself. However, Huo is a shallow man and his interest in martial arts is based solely on arrogance. This leads to his downfall just as he achieves the pinnacle of success.

Once his success and position are destroyed, Huo is just an empty shell of a person. He wanders aimlessly, homeless, and almost dies until he slowly discovers the spirit that is supposed to go along with martial arts. At this point, Huo starts to rebuild himself.

Thankfully, there are none of the pat 'moment of truth' scenes you'd find in most movies with a fall and redemption theme. As Huo finds a real sense of self and purpose, he returns home to reclaim his life and make amends. As an extension of his own healing, he seeks to unify different schools of martial arts.
'Fearless' has lots of great fight scenes, yet it also tells a very deep and moving story with awesome cinematography. Ronny Yu makes the film so epic and yet it is so simple, almost like an ancient parable you'd read about some Zen master. Much of the reason the movie is so powerful is that the script allows the story to unfold rather than using dialogue to tell us what to think. Also, Li does a fantastic job conveying the various stages of Huo's journey in his expressions, delivery, and body language. You can really tell the difference in the character from the beginning of the movie to the end. As far as I'm concerned, that's what great acting is all about.
As is usually the case, the Director's Cut makes this a long movie. However, I never felt at any time that 'Fearless' had unnecessary scenes or dragged in pace. If anything, I think the shorter versions of the film must be lacking key scenes or subplots whose absence would lessen this very rich movie. As a result, I have no interest at all in the shorter versions.
'Fearless' speaks to me in so many different ways: the importance of friendship, the importance of wisdom versus knowledge, what real success is all about, and what it is to be a man. For these reasons, as well as the sheer beauty of the film, the great story, and the terrific fight scenes, this is my favorite movie of all time. It's also the movie that inspired me to get back into martial arts.

Breathing

Hapkido is going well, and I'm stoked after every session. Today, the Master himself applauded (literally) my throws! I'm continuing to practice for the rank testing that is coming up though; I want to NAIL it!

My biggest issue is that I do not breathe properly. Back when I took Karate, I learned how to breathe deep and from the belly to oxygenate the blood and all that. I've completely forgotten to do that though. Every time I work on something new, I focus on it really hard and I think I just forget to breathe. Within minutes, I'm completely winded. Then I have to ask for a break, and that makes me feel like an abject wimp. One of the red belts told not to worry about it, pointing out I'm not the first person to get winded in a work-out. That made me feel better.

One of the instructors spent some time with me to help me get the hang of breathing again, and I have improved. Bottom line, I think I just need to relax! I want to get everything right and I focus too much on being good rather than just listening and practicing. After all, it's not like anyone expects me to be (or that I could be) perfect after such a short amount of time. The Master still corrects even the black belts on some stuff, so for me as a white belt to expect to get things right is just dumb. Plus, if I just chilled out, I'd probably end up performing better and enjoying class even more.

Imperial Triptych: The Court Of The Sun

poem 5 from The Ancient Elm

I am the Oak Emperor,
my reign a score of years.
Majestical in dress armor,
my diamond throne
illumes my court:
the Court of the Sun.

‘Neath my tapestries
of lions, eagles, roses:
my knights, lords, acrobats
amuse and revel
in jousts, feasts, pageantry;
my prophets
cast fair fortunes;
my poets and mythmakers
embroider my myth –
wand to sword to scepter –
into an epic saga
for my bards
to sing across the realms
I rule
from my mighty Castle.

The power the speaker in the poem gathers to himself becomes something that sends him into orbit, as far as success goes. The poem is littered with images based on 'The Great Chain of Being' which assigned a highest example of all sorts of categories of objects: oak, diamond, lions, eagles, and the Sun. The Oak Emperor is a symbol for this kind of power and authority. He rules, enjoys his power, and attracts all sorts of people to him, while poets and mythmakers write the tale of his struggle and success - embroidering it to fit their own purposes and interests - and spread it around his kingdom. This poem would be the left side of the artistic triptych and it represents a man at the apotheosis and zenith of his potential. It's a heady place to be.

Maxwell - BLACKsummers' night (2009)

Anyone who loves soul and R&B needs to thank Maxwell for coming back in such fine form. I bought his first CD back in 1996, when he had this R&B/soul/acid-jazz vibe that was really sweet. His 1998 follow-up (Embrya) was also very inventive, although it leaned a little too heavily on his rep as a 'slow jam stud'. His largely forgettable 2001 album (Now) continued this trend and seemed formulaic, despite some solid material ('Lifetime') and a left field cover of Kate Bush's 'This Woman's Work'.

On BLACKsummers' night Maxwell sounds reenergized, and this is easily the funkiest album of his career. There's so much about this album that is refreshing. First of all, Maxwell can sing. There's no auto-tune here or studio wizardry on the voice. At the same time, Maxwell doesn't constantly PROVE he can sing by screaming high notes all the way through a song (do you hear me, Mariah and Christina?). Instead, Maxwell lets the emotion bleed out of his voice. The effect is far stronger.

The overall sound of the album is outstanding. Like I said, there's no auto-tuning so his vocals actually sound like a human voice. There's also no pro-tools or compression as far as I can hear. As a result, the album sounds very 'live' and there is a depth in the sound that is just absent in 99% of what is produced in the US today. Instruments simmer in the background, then surge to the forefront. His vocals rise and fall and breath. Percussion and drums interplay and mimic the kind of hip-hop beats that lace most modern R&B, but here the crisp sound makes the rhythm cook in a way very few current soul or R&B tracks ever manage.

The songwriting is also quite varied. For example, there's the balladry of 'Pretty Wings', the searing crescendo of 'Love You', and the horn-infused 'Cold'. None of the tracks are radio-ready singles, and Maxwell must have purposefully avoided verse/chorus structure on this album. Instead he favors a more organic flow to each song. Very interesting approach, and the songs tend to keep growing on you with repeated listens.

The album is not perfect. 'Phoenix Rise' is a throwaway instrumental that has so much potential you have to ding Maxwell for not taking this track further. Still it's fun to listen to even in its current form. Even when BLACKsummers' night doesn't soar, though, it's still interesting to listen to. It never fails in any way.

The fact that Rolling Stone magazine panned this album just proves what a fossil that magazine is. This album and the fact that it debuted at #1 is a beautiful example of what R&B and soul (and by extension the entire American music industry) needs to do. Get away from the emphasis on producers and manufactured 'stars' and get back to talented artists with unique vision who can sing, write, and surround themselves with musicians that make great music. The results speak for themselves.

Imperial Triptych

poems 5, 6, & 7 from The Ancient Elm

In The Ancient Elm cycle, the next poem is actually a group of three interrelated poems called 'Imperial Triptych'. This was a really tough part of the cycle to write. In 'Siegecraft', the speaker finds that the internal power he has gained over himself leads to external success, as well. More success, actually, that anything he anticipated. What I wanted to explore was the idea that this success can become a bit of a trap. At bottom, it's illusion. However, it can slowly come to be thought of as the source of that peace and power, which is actually only gained and maintained through inner truth via Zen.

The idea of a triptych came to me because getting all this across was leading to a really long and convoluted poem, so I needed some kind of structure that would allow me to get all of this across through images rather than resorting to a lot of preaching. I was paging through a book of painting by Hieronymus Bosch and came across several works of his that were done in the triptych form (click on the image to make it larger and see an example).

I immediately realized that a poetic version of a triptych was exactly what I was looking for. After that, it became very easy to break up the ideas I was trying to communicate into different poems and get this part done. The first and third poems are meant to mirror one another and yet present polar opposite situations. The second (or middle poem) offers a transition between the other two and provides insight into why they are different.

I'll start posting them one at a time, but it's pretty important to get the idea of how the parts of a triptych interact. If I ever published this in print, I wonder what would have to be done to lay out the three poems in order to replicate the idea of a triptych!

...and then there's the Kindle

While I'm on the topic of technology, here's another one that I was initially resistant to (though far less vehemently that the cell phone stuff). I love having a hardcover book in my hands to read. I like the weight of it, the feel of the paper, the smell of the book (I actually smell my hardcover books as soon as I open them, yes), the silk bookmark that often comes with them, and the sight of them on the shelf. Definitely a bibliophile!

Even so, when I first saw the Kindle on amazon.com, I was very intrigued. After all, part of being a bibliophile is that I do not like my books to get all messed up. Paperbacks I could care less about, even 'high quality' paperbacks. But the idea of packing a hardcover or taking it to the beach? Gives me the willies just thinking about the potential scuffs, worn corners, and stains. And then, of course, you really have to commit to a book to bring it along. What if you change your mind? So the idea of Kindle - a durable device that holds hundreds of books - was very appealing.

Still, I know would miss the hardcover book. And there are other objections I had: being able to mark where you leave off, the quality of the reading experience (I stare at screens all day), will anything I want to read be available or will it all be trash like Stephen King and Danielle Steele, etc. etc.

The more I investigate Kindle, however, the less the objections seem to weigh on me. You can download direct using the Kindle and get the book right away, so there's the convenience factor. You can 'dogear' pages and type notes, which I honestly cannot bring myself to do in my hardcovers. So this is actually an advantage for the Kindle. To me, the display looks pretty easy on the eyes and you can make the text bigger or smaller. The Kindle can hold 1,500 books now, which answers a prior concern I had that I would fill up the Kindle pretty quickly. Books are still very reasonably priced, and I've found a lot of stuff for sale (like novels in Emile Zola's Rougon-Macquart cycle) that are fairly rare. The price of $299 means it would quickly pay for itself too.

I still hesitate because there's no clear indication of how you recharge it. Is it going to take two days? Is there a docking station I can set it in so it is always charged? I also wonder if, once I buy the Kindle, am I stuck buying books only from amazon, because that would be a deal killer. No outlet offers everything, and I want to get what I want to get even if I have to go elsewhere. I'm also not aware of whether you can move books off the Kindle and onto your laptop. I would see myself keeping only stuff I like or may come back to on the Kindle and place other works on my laptop.

Bottom line, I guess I can still have hardcovers, but perhaps I would only get them for absolute faves, or if I find a rare/old edition, or if it's something specially made (like my hardcover edition of The Agony and the Ecstasy which is in a box slipcover and has color plates of Michelangelo's art inside). These sorts of lovingly created books are so enjoyable to have.

And the big question is, of course, where is all this going? At some point, I'll bet the iPhone will develop a Kindle-like function (maybe they already have one!?). If so, I'd hate to buy a separate device for reading and have it become obsolete within a year. I'll have to keep pondering this one. In the meantime, I am still on my Herman Melville kick, and I'm about a third of the way through his fifth novel (White-Jacket).

Seduced by the iPhone

I don't hate cell phones, blackberrys, palm pilots, bluetooth or any of that stuff. I'm just disgusted with how people become enslaved to it. Bring back the second hand smoke, I say. It's much preferable to the zombies running around glued to their inane digital chattering devices.

I hate that I can no longer be anywhere without some asshole's ringtone going off. I hate idiots who speak into their phones in something akin to a bellow so that everyone around them has to listen to them prattle about nothing for ten minutes. I hate soccer moms holding up traffic because they can't steer their SUVs while yakking on the damn cell phone. I hate riding my bike on a stretch of nature trail and seeing someone stomping along, ignoring the outdoors and staring at a cell phone and texting. I hate people that play with their phones and call people without having anything to say whenever they find themselves at an airport or alone with nothing to do. I think people are already afraid to be silent and do nothing because they might reflect on their lives and not like what they see. Cell phones make it easier for people to avoid themselves by keeping 'busy'.

I love technology, but I hope I am someone that uses technology and does not let it use me. I actually turn my cell phone off and leave it off for days - even weeks - at a time. When I went on vacation and my boss asked for my number in case he had to contact me, I said 'NO!' I do not twitter, because I do not give a crap what anyone is doing every minute of the day. It's all I can do to keep myself interested in what I'm doing every minute of the day! So, in short, I am not interested in being 'connected', and my efforts remain unconnected have done nothing to hamper my relationships with friends and family or to hurt my career.

So now that I've outlined my gripes about the misuse of technology, let me make it clear that I am not a Luddite. I love the iPhone!!!!! I have two friends who have one, and I want one. Mind you, based on the above commentary, it's clear that I do not need one. This is sheer Veruca Salt styled consumer acquisitiveness. I want an iPhone! I want it now!

I love how the Internet, GPS, cell phone, .mp3 player, photo album, (to an extent) your computer, and who knows what else can all be held in your hand in one device. I love how you can use your finger to move stuff around. I love the look of it, the ease of it, and the convenience of it. In short, I am being seduced by the iPhone. Of course, I may yet realize that I do not need this toy and that buying it is a waste of money, but I think this is unlikely. Once I glom onto a bit of technology, I go all the way immediately. For example, within a few weeks of getting my iPod I got the speaker to go with it, trashed my stereo, almost never bought another physical CD, and fervently championed that people should be free to burn or share or steal music because it's a form of free advertising for the artist.

Who knows what will become of me if I heed the siren song of the iPhone. Probably nothing, now that I think of it. For no matter how entranced I become with the iPhone (or anything else), the spell will undoubtedly be broken when the latest Black Eyed Peas ringtone goes off to announce that my second cousin's aunt just fed her cat!

April 2010: St. John, Virgin Islands

With London scheduled for the Fall, we set our sights on where to go in the new year. We went to St. John's last year and loved it but, when Jim mentioned going back, I kind of resisted because I preferred to go someplace new. But the more I thought about how much we loved the villa we stayed at, the number of beaches we haven't seen there, and the great snorkeling, the more I thought "Well, why not?"

St. John's was the first time I saw squid in the water while snorkeling. There were three or four of them and each was about a foot long. Colors were rippling up and down their bodies from their chromatophores, and they were just hovering there. Totally cool! They like aliens on Earth! The best snorkeling I think I've had was in the Turks and Caicos Islands, but St. John's definitely was very good too.

The picture is me while we were hiking around the island (you can click on it for an even larger view - and then you can see my unattractive squinting, as well). Check out that empty beach! It's empty because we went in April and, although the weather is beautiful at that time, there are hardly any cruise boats or tourists. So we'd get up early, and I'd drive us in the 4WD jeep to a beach like the one above, where we'd be practically alone for much of the day! The villa had a hammock along the patio with a commanding view of the sea so, each afternoon, after a morning of swimming and fun, I could read and nap there in the shade and stare out over the water.

I can't wait to go back! Maybe this time, I'll convince Jim to go deep sea fishing with me. Someday, though, I have GOT to learn to scuba dive!