January 2009 Archives

As I mentioned living in Estate Nazareth in the last post I figured this photo had to go up. It's the view from the front porch where I was living.

Red Hook Harbor is on the left. Blue Beard's Beach is the beach on the lower left and Vessup is on the right. St. John is directly across the way (the first island you see) and Tortola is in the mist behind St. John. There's a bar down on Blue Beards called Latitude 18—never been there though.

The photo was taken with a throw-away camera and is acknowleged as being a throw-away snap, but I'm holding on to it for its sentimental value.

A non sequitur here but this story just came to mind. Over in Red Hook there was a place called the Big Kahuna. K— and I went down for an evening and tried to guess who was a undercover cop and who was a drug dealer spurred on by the rumor circulating at the time that there was a undercover operation at the BK gunning for druggies. No way of knowing if my guesses were right, but we had a good time.

Road Town with T— and a few friends. Photo of T— and myself having drinks before we shot over to St. John for a swim and then back to Red Hook in St. Thomas. At the time I was living in Estate Nazareth. Those were good times.

Me playing Santa at the group home many moons ago.

What do you call a Contra who doesn't believe in Christmas?

A rebel without a Claus.

J— talked me into doing a Santa gig at the group home. I was waiting upstairs in a hot office wearing the whole Santa kit and boy it was wearing a little thin. J— came up to check on me after a long time and by then Santa had figured out who was naughty. The S-man was thinking about handing out some lumps sans coal and J— thought it was pretty funny so he took a snap shot.

1994—I know because it's written on the back of the photo. Me with a friend's plane....

Can't remember now...I think it was the Kennebec River but it was a while ago. This is a church group I used to hang around with quite a bit. That's me in front in the green taking up space.

I don't know how old I was when this was taken—it was a long time ago. That's Aunt B— with me by the pond. B— passed on a few years ago now. She was good people.

Posting a few old photos of myself...I was thinking about the past and I got to looking at a small photo album I keep.

This was before a Rolling Stones concert. That's me in the front striking a pose. C— is beside me on my right; he married my old girlfriend B—, who is taking the photo while he dry humps J—. Classy.

DG and I were going to hang out two nights ago. We hit the town for some beer and pizza and twice he gets into these conversations that drag on and on with friends of his we happened to meet.

The first person tells him a woman they both knew was dead. She hung herself. I was off doing things while this was going on and I was getting annoyed at DG for doggin' it, but then he caught me up on things.

The second person he runs into lets him know his old friend and mentor has liver cancer and the guy's dying.

DG was subdued that night, kind of thinking through the things he'd found out. He called me last night and asked if I wanted to hang out again and get hammered. I was good for it. The man got himself pretty well towards the bottom of a bottle and I took his keys. He crashed on the couch and made his way home in the morning.

I've seen my share of people reach the end and it always leave me feeling like there's not a lot of sunlight left for me to get wherever it is I'm going. I figure that's what DG's feeling, too.

Damn.

I received an email from someone answering my request for donations to Nepal Outreach and I realized the fatal flaw in my little plan. Lesson 1: There's always a SNAFU. Here's my response to the email:

Thanks for your interest in the Nepal posts.

I'm looking for donations for Nepal Outreach, which represents Forward Looking in the states. Nepal Outreach was founded by my in-laws, C— and S—, to assist Forward Looking in subsidizing the cost of education for Nepali children who would otherwise receive little or no education; that gift makes a huge difference in the lives of whole families and villages.

Latha is a little girl we support in India. She's an orphan and she has HIV. My wife knows the folks who run the home in which she lives, and she was the impetus for our support. This photo is on our fridge and I just looked at it as I walked by it in the kitchen. I thought it might be nice to put her photo on Jephnol. She's such a beautiful little girl.

D—is in Nepal right now, so I can't fish for details about the orphanage. I'll put the info up on the site when she comes home in a few weeks.

Elvis was getting a little old and quite susceptible to jams brought on by limp wristing (too loose a grip, causing the frame to catch-up to the slide on recoil and shorting the cycle).

I put some drop in upgrades along with new Wilson Combat magazines and he's shooting like new.

Here's the list:

Clark reverse recoil spring plug - the factory plug was poorly engineered and had a tendency to give way at the nipple, throwing the recoil springs down range.

Wolff 22 lbs. recoil spring (stock #42322) - it's a single spring system that works with the Officer's ACP's original stubby guide rod. It's less mushy than the old dual-spring system, plus it ensures we're running at factory spec 22lbs.

Wilson Combat Magazines - gives the gun a 7+1 round capacity rather than the 6+1 factory magazines. Mags have an extended butt plate which lengthens the grip on the medium frame semi-automatic. They feed reliably and eject without a hitch.

Finally, for self-defense I've moved over to Speer 230 grain Gold Dot Short Barrel ammunition from Federal Hydra-Shok 230's.

Went to the range to shoot some of the Gold Dot and recoil is easy for a 3.5 inch barrel. I did some double-tap and hammer exercises (shoot, aim, shoot and two as quick as you can get'em off respectively) at seven yards and if paper were an assailant the good guys would win by a mile.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building....

Jephnol Photo
D2Hs 85mm

Photo of D— by Jephnol
D2Hs 85mm

"Why is it all over with you? You said so just now," Alyosha interposed.

"Why is it all over with me? H'm!... The fact of it is... if you take it as a whole, I am sorry to lose God--that's why it is."

"What do you mean by 'sorry to lose God'?"

"Imagine: inside, in the nerves, in the head--that is, these nerves are there in the brain... (damn them!) there are sort of little tails, the little tails of those nerves, and as soon as they begin quivering... that is, you see, I look at something with my eyes and then they begin quivering, those little tails... and when they quiver, then an image appears... it doesn't appear at once, but an instant, a second, passes... and then something like a moment appears; that is, not a moment--devil take the moment!--but an image; that is, an object, or an action, damn it! That's why I see and then think, because of those tails, not at all because I've got a soul, and that I am some sort of image and likeness. All that is nonsense! Rakitin explained it all to me yesterday, brother, and it simply bowled me over. It's magnificent, Alyosha, this science! A new man's arising- that I understand.... And yet I am sorry to lose God!"

"Well, that's a good thing, anyway," said Alyosha.

"That I am sorry to lose God? It's chemistry, brother, chemistry! There's no help for it, your reverence, you must make way for chemistry. And Rakitin does dislike God. Ough! doesn't he dislike Him! That's the sore point with all of them. But they conceal it. They tell lies. They pretend. 'Will you preach this in your reviews?' I asked him. 'Oh, well, if I did it openly, they won't let it through, 'he said. He laughed. 'But what will become of men then?' I asked him, 'without God and immortal life? All things are lawful then, they can do what they like?' 'Didn't you know?' he said laughing, 'a clever man can do what he likes,' he said. 'A clever man knows his way about, but you've put your foot in it, committing a murder, and now you are rotting in prison.' He says that to my face! A regular pig! I used to kick such people out, but now I listen to them. He talks a lot of sense, too. Writes well. He began reading me an article last week. I copied out three lines of it. Wait a minute. Here it is."

Mitya hurriedly pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and read:

"'In order to determine this question, it is above all essential to put one's personality in contradiction to one's reality.' Do you understand that?"

"No, I don't," said Alyosha. He looked at Mitya and listened to him with curiosity.

"I don't understand either. It's dark and obscure, but intellectual. 'Everyone writes like that now,' he says, 'it's the effect of their environment.' They are afraid of the environment. He writes poetry, too, the rascal. He's written in honour of Madame Hohlakov's foot. Ha ha ha!"

Chapter 4, The Brothers Karamazov — Dostoyevsky

Just finishing up a little blogging break....

So I'm sitting in front of this infernal machine scanning photos from Nepal, thinking to myself that I should publish some to the blog. They're C—'s photos, which I'm scanning for D—. He's in Nepal just now so I can't really ask him if it's okay. But you know, I'm just going to put them up and if he has an objection I'll nuke the posts later. They're pretty cool.

D— is heading over to Nepal in a few days and she wants prints to show folks in the village—she says so many people have passed away or grown old since the photos were taken and they'll get to see the old days and have memories refreshed.

So coming up: Photos from Nepal.