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| The Ninth Tail |
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Location:14th Street,Santa Marta,Colombia
Friday, October 5, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Listen to the Wicked Witch Cackle..
Now for a completely political post.
I've been thinking that one salient reason to vote Obama over Romney (who in virtually every other respect would probably govern more or less the same) is that I've thought that Obama is slightly less likely to attack Iran than the utterly neo con Romney.
I'll take the moderate neo con foreign policy of the Democrats over the insane jiggaboo neo con extremism thrown off by the Republicans in a heartbeat.
Abortion, bank and corporate servitude, health care reform, assaults on the Bill of Rights and human rights, ever burgeoning institutional militarism, all that, I think Romney and Obama will govern basically the same, because the president isn't really calling the shots anymore. The corporate elite are.
I've thought though that Obama is temperamentally less likely to do something totally idiotic in the Middle East and plunge us all off a cliff that could lead to WW III and the utter bankruptcy of our economy.
(Actually, as I think about it, Obama is probably preferable to Romney on taxes - he's less likely to cut them, more likely to raise them, if he could - and entitlement reform- I'm still naive enough to hope the Democrats really want to save and even extend to all Americans - read Gens X, Y & other future generations - Medicare and Social Security.. Both essential bastions of the Middle Class as we know it, economically.. But Obama's record has me wondering about that too, and while Romney talks libertarian smack, like most things he says I'm not at all sure he means it, and may in fact govern more moderately. So who to trust when they're all lying and playing double games?? Obama seems moderately less oleaginous, a bit more sincere, than Romney, is all I can say.. But in the end that may mean very little, given the circumstances.)
Witness how he is blowing off Netanyahu, and refusing to meet with him. That warms my heart. It is exactly what Likud and the Israeli right deserve. Exactly in keeping with our national interests. And that is something that Romney would never do.
So I've been thinking that I might vote Obama for that reason, alone. Because it is of utter importance that we never go gratuitously to war with Iran, in the absence of an egregious act of aggression by the Iranians.
Then I see something like this:
This shows you just how corrupt and unified our governing class truly is. How little the charade that is our political process matters. The old man on the left is James Baker, former Secretary of State under George H.W. Bush. The woman is of course Hilary R. Clinton, our current Secretary of State.
Listen to her laugh. They're discussing a potential war that will make the Iraq boondoggle - which despite what everyone these days thinks, has come off exceptionally well, considering what could have, and yet still might happen there, precipitated by our meddling - look like tiddlywinks, the moderate act of colonial aggression it was.
An unprovoked attack on Iran will not only discredit us utterly as a nation in the eyes of the world, shredding what moral authority we have left (and that really matters, because it makes people want to follow us, and imitate us) it could lead to global conflict, destabilizing the Gulf, Turkey, and Pakistan, possibly drawing in Russia. It could not so hypothetically lead to WW III.
Even in a best case, it will cost trillions and kill hundreds of thousands. More American troops will die in months than have in all the last ten years. The impacts - political and economic - will be incalculable.
Jim and Hil of course know all this, and this type of talk is posturing to intimidate the Iranians.
Jim: "We oughta take them out."
Hil: "Frankly, there are those who are saying the best thing that could happen to us is to be attacked by somebody. It would unify us, it would legitimize the regime."
It would legitimize the regime? The regime? The US regime? Or the Iranian? The editing here is unclear. I think she means the latter. I hope she means the latter.
The crazy thing is, it is no longer beyond thought that she could mean the former.
This is whichever way you cut it, utterly evil and irresponsible. Loathsome. And I'm just paranoid and cynical enough to believe them capable of "creating the conditions" necessary to provoke the Iranians and precipitate conflict. I mean, it's not like they haven't done it before. Jim and Hil are informed by a CIA/Rand Corp. Machiavellian calculus that only considers things in materialistic, economic terms. It's all about the resources. And Iran and the incipient Arab Shia revolt the Iranians are patrons of, sits on the jugular, threatening our Sunni Arab petrol client states. That's the real deal, the Israelis are secondary, but much more popular domestically, so they get all the propaganda airtime Stateside..
Enough. I'm voting third party, is all I have to say. Enough of this bullshit. I hope everyone who reads this will consider following suit.
It's time for a change.
[h/t: Daniel @ Caelum et Terra]
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I've been thinking that one salient reason to vote Obama over Romney (who in virtually every other respect would probably govern more or less the same) is that I've thought that Obama is slightly less likely to attack Iran than the utterly neo con Romney.
I'll take the moderate neo con foreign policy of the Democrats over the insane jiggaboo neo con extremism thrown off by the Republicans in a heartbeat.
Abortion, bank and corporate servitude, health care reform, assaults on the Bill of Rights and human rights, ever burgeoning institutional militarism, all that, I think Romney and Obama will govern basically the same, because the president isn't really calling the shots anymore. The corporate elite are.
I've thought though that Obama is temperamentally less likely to do something totally idiotic in the Middle East and plunge us all off a cliff that could lead to WW III and the utter bankruptcy of our economy.
(Actually, as I think about it, Obama is probably preferable to Romney on taxes - he's less likely to cut them, more likely to raise them, if he could - and entitlement reform- I'm still naive enough to hope the Democrats really want to save and even extend to all Americans - read Gens X, Y & other future generations - Medicare and Social Security.. Both essential bastions of the Middle Class as we know it, economically.. But Obama's record has me wondering about that too, and while Romney talks libertarian smack, like most things he says I'm not at all sure he means it, and may in fact govern more moderately. So who to trust when they're all lying and playing double games?? Obama seems moderately less oleaginous, a bit more sincere, than Romney, is all I can say.. But in the end that may mean very little, given the circumstances.)
Witness how he is blowing off Netanyahu, and refusing to meet with him. That warms my heart. It is exactly what Likud and the Israeli right deserve. Exactly in keeping with our national interests. And that is something that Romney would never do.
So I've been thinking that I might vote Obama for that reason, alone. Because it is of utter importance that we never go gratuitously to war with Iran, in the absence of an egregious act of aggression by the Iranians.
Then I see something like this:
This shows you just how corrupt and unified our governing class truly is. How little the charade that is our political process matters. The old man on the left is James Baker, former Secretary of State under George H.W. Bush. The woman is of course Hilary R. Clinton, our current Secretary of State.
Listen to her laugh. They're discussing a potential war that will make the Iraq boondoggle - which despite what everyone these days thinks, has come off exceptionally well, considering what could have, and yet still might happen there, precipitated by our meddling - look like tiddlywinks, the moderate act of colonial aggression it was.
An unprovoked attack on Iran will not only discredit us utterly as a nation in the eyes of the world, shredding what moral authority we have left (and that really matters, because it makes people want to follow us, and imitate us) it could lead to global conflict, destabilizing the Gulf, Turkey, and Pakistan, possibly drawing in Russia. It could not so hypothetically lead to WW III.
Even in a best case, it will cost trillions and kill hundreds of thousands. More American troops will die in months than have in all the last ten years. The impacts - political and economic - will be incalculable.
Jim and Hil of course know all this, and this type of talk is posturing to intimidate the Iranians.
Jim: "We oughta take them out."
Hil: "Frankly, there are those who are saying the best thing that could happen to us is to be attacked by somebody. It would unify us, it would legitimize the regime."
It would legitimize the regime? The regime? The US regime? Or the Iranian? The editing here is unclear. I think she means the latter. I hope she means the latter.
The crazy thing is, it is no longer beyond thought that she could mean the former.
This is whichever way you cut it, utterly evil and irresponsible. Loathsome. And I'm just paranoid and cynical enough to believe them capable of "creating the conditions" necessary to provoke the Iranians and precipitate conflict. I mean, it's not like they haven't done it before. Jim and Hil are informed by a CIA/Rand Corp. Machiavellian calculus that only considers things in materialistic, economic terms. It's all about the resources. And Iran and the incipient Arab Shia revolt the Iranians are patrons of, sits on the jugular, threatening our Sunni Arab petrol client states. That's the real deal, the Israelis are secondary, but much more popular domestically, so they get all the propaganda airtime Stateside..
Enough. I'm voting third party, is all I have to say. Enough of this bullshit. I hope everyone who reads this will consider following suit.
It's time for a change.
[h/t: Daniel @ Caelum et Terra]
---
Martha, Mary, Magdelena..
I wrote a post last night that got partly swallowed by Blogsy, an ipad app I like, but that has its issues. I gave up re-writing because it was past midnight and I was meant to be up at 7 this morning to dive. When I got up this morning they told me that because I was the only one who'd booked diving, they were postponing 'til tomorrow.
I went out and walked about Santa Marta instead. The hostel is at the city center, just off the beach. There's a central square surrounded by a dozen banks, and a few casinos (and hardly anything else, scum collects) with a great equestrian statue of Simon Bolivar, the George Washington of South America, who died here at 47 in 1830.
There's a container port with one of those great hoist cranes to lift the containers off the boats on the waterfront, and a beach that verges into a breakwater.
The water seems relatively clean, and there were urchins diving and swimming all along the waterfront, looking for coins and seafood.
I was propositioned by this very talkative and friendly woman who wanted to give me a massage. Twenty five bucks, my choice of creams. Much more subtle come on than usual from the prostitutes down here, who usually are quite aggressive.. She left me the pretension that we could have been talking about shiatsu, which we in fact could have been, but I'm pretty sure weren't. I was grateful for this, because I can't stand aggressive whores. I listened to her, as she told me about her life and all about the coast about the city.
I left my camera in the room, so this evening after eating a forth time at the superb Mexican place that is owned by the hostel, I decided to go out and walk about getting pictures, including the two prior.
This time, I ran into a whole clutch of whores. Just as I was taking that picture of Bolivar, there. Four or five of them, a couple I think were transvestites. Now, to be honest, there's something venal about the Caribbean, that I dislike intensely. One of the reasons La Cieba, Honduras got so much on my nerves, and was so depressing was that you couldn't walk the waterfront in the evening without being harassed by streetwalkers. I've never noticed this type of aggressive pandering stateside. Granted, I never go where you'd probably encounter it. But the center of a city? Right next to city hall?
This is why I detest libertarianism. Like this crap is supposed to be legal? Leave me the f**K alone, please. Where are the cops? If you think prostitution should be legal, think about having our public spaces invaded like this. This type of thing makes me appreciate what it must be like for girls to be hit on and leered at. Not cool.
Still, there is in fact a certain nasty charm in being propositioned so blatantly. They're actually kind of funny, the things that they say, like "¡Que rrrr-ico!" (how yummy!) "¡Ay, papi!" - other stuff like that. Until they get down to groping (no respect for personal space, they try to feel you up) and flashing you (the girl - I think she's a girl - in the picture below actually has quite a nice ass, I know because she showed it to me several times) and asking to fellate you. I flatter myself, I think a few of them would have done it for free..
They wanted me to take photos of them, I obliged:
Yeah. So that's Santa Marta by night.
I then headed back to the hostel, which is quite happening. There's a bar upstairs where they blare the tunes until two-ish every night. Not so loud that it disturbs my sleep, so I don't mind. As I mentioned, there's a really, really good Mexican place in the same building, and the downstairs has a groovy swimming pool in the center courtyard, with a movie room where they have probably a few hundred films tevo'd and on constant rotation. The crowd is twenty-ish and international, but largely anglophone.
The hostel too, has an air of decadence about it. This picture is on the wall in the stairway to the bar area. It's pornographic and sacrilegious, so don't study this image too closely if you don't want to be offended:
That's just how we roll these days, eh. Penis jokes never get old, especially when they're blasphemous, right?
There's also a ram's skull on the wall of the barroom, which reminds me of this.
All of which leaves me ambivalent, in that while this town and hostel are once beautiful, they are also charged with a souspeçon of corruption. I've been of paranoid mind these past few years.. I've been getting over it lately, throwing myself more fully back into an emphatic life of prayer where I'm trying to avoid analyzing things and becoming judgmental (ergo prudentes sicut serpentes, et simplices sicut columbæ.. that in my case by grace alone, because I'm too much the fool to manage it by my own) and thereby jacking up my inner life with the idea that I understand anything or anyone, or that I am actually in control of anything or anyone beyond my own mind and heart, and even that is touch and go, most the time...
I went out and walked about Santa Marta instead. The hostel is at the city center, just off the beach. There's a central square surrounded by a dozen banks, and a few casinos (and hardly anything else, scum collects) with a great equestrian statue of Simon Bolivar, the George Washington of South America, who died here at 47 in 1830.
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| The Liberator |
There's a container port with one of those great hoist cranes to lift the containers off the boats on the waterfront, and a beach that verges into a breakwater.
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| Port lights at night |
The water seems relatively clean, and there were urchins diving and swimming all along the waterfront, looking for coins and seafood.
I was propositioned by this very talkative and friendly woman who wanted to give me a massage. Twenty five bucks, my choice of creams. Much more subtle come on than usual from the prostitutes down here, who usually are quite aggressive.. She left me the pretension that we could have been talking about shiatsu, which we in fact could have been, but I'm pretty sure weren't. I was grateful for this, because I can't stand aggressive whores. I listened to her, as she told me about her life and all about the coast about the city.
I left my camera in the room, so this evening after eating a forth time at the superb Mexican place that is owned by the hostel, I decided to go out and walk about getting pictures, including the two prior.
This is why I detest libertarianism. Like this crap is supposed to be legal? Leave me the f**K alone, please. Where are the cops? If you think prostitution should be legal, think about having our public spaces invaded like this. This type of thing makes me appreciate what it must be like for girls to be hit on and leered at. Not cool.
Still, there is in fact a certain nasty charm in being propositioned so blatantly. They're actually kind of funny, the things that they say, like "¡Que rrrr-ico!" (how yummy!) "¡Ay, papi!" - other stuff like that. Until they get down to groping (no respect for personal space, they try to feel you up) and flashing you (the girl - I think she's a girl - in the picture below actually has quite a nice ass, I know because she showed it to me several times) and asking to fellate you. I flatter myself, I think a few of them would have done it for free..
They wanted me to take photos of them, I obliged:
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| Que rico. |
Yeah. So that's Santa Marta by night.
I then headed back to the hostel, which is quite happening. There's a bar upstairs where they blare the tunes until two-ish every night. Not so loud that it disturbs my sleep, so I don't mind. As I mentioned, there's a really, really good Mexican place in the same building, and the downstairs has a groovy swimming pool in the center courtyard, with a movie room where they have probably a few hundred films tevo'd and on constant rotation. The crowd is twenty-ish and international, but largely anglophone.
The hostel too, has an air of decadence about it. This picture is on the wall in the stairway to the bar area. It's pornographic and sacrilegious, so don't study this image too closely if you don't want to be offended:
That's just how we roll these days, eh. Penis jokes never get old, especially when they're blasphemous, right?
 |
| Creepy. |
There's also a ram's skull on the wall of the barroom, which reminds me of this.
All of which leaves me ambivalent, in that while this town and hostel are once beautiful, they are also charged with a souspeçon of corruption. I've been of paranoid mind these past few years.. I've been getting over it lately, throwing myself more fully back into an emphatic life of prayer where I'm trying to avoid analyzing things and becoming judgmental (ergo prudentes sicut serpentes, et simplices sicut columbæ.. that in my case by grace alone, because I'm too much the fool to manage it by my own) and thereby jacking up my inner life with the idea that I understand anything or anyone, or that I am actually in control of anything or anyone beyond my own mind and heart, and even that is touch and go, most the time...
Anyhow, as I came back to catch some sleep before diving tommorow, I noticed that the hostel is right next door to this:
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| eis qui sine peccado.. |
Which made me smile. We're also right around the corner from another Paroquia de San Francisco here, as well. I took a couple crummy shots of the church, it's a humble little colonial structure, I like it quite a lot. I hope I can assist at mass there sometime before I leave here these next couple days..
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| He's always popping up, wherever I happen to go.. |
Tonight is the eve of our little brother's feast. Saint Francis, pray for us. I pray tonight especially for my little whores, may they come to no harm in the resurrection..
I think that's all I got for you guys tonight. Blessings on your heads. Sleep tight.
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Oracion Simple
Senor, haz de mi un instremento de tu paz,
Que alla donde hay odio, yo pongo el amor.
Que alla donde hay ofensa, yo pongo el perdon.
Que alla donde hay discordia, yo pongo la union.
Que alla donde hay error, yo pongo la verdad.
Que alla donde hay duda, yo pongo la Fe.
Que alla donde hay desperacion, yo pongo la esperenza.
Que alla donde hay tiniebas, yo pongo luz.
Que alla donde hay tristessa, yo pongo alegria.
Oh Senor, que yo no busque tanto
Ser consolado, cuanto consolar.
Ser consolado, cuanto consolar.
Ser comprendido, cuanto comprendar.
Ser amado, cuanto amar.
Porque es dandose, como se recibe.
Es olvidanose de si mismo, como uno se encuentra a si mismo.
Es olvidanose de si mismo, como uno se encuentra a si mismo.
Es perdonando, como se es perdonado.
Es muriendo, como se resucita a la vida eterna.
Amen +
I think that's all I got for you guys tonight. Blessings on your heads. Sleep tight.
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Monday, October 1, 2012
Hiatus, Undone
So, after fulsome promises to blog with conviction once I left Guatemala, I have instead fallen into a severe rut in which I have not felt like blogging at all. And so, I haven't.
La Cieba, Honduras left me a moderate depressive (I'll probably get around to explaining why here, soon) so that I decided not to go out to the Bay Islands to dive like I'd planned. Instead, I came directly south to Tegucigalpa, then Managua, then San Jose, then Panama City. I spent several days in Costa Rica's national Marian shrine, in Cartago near San Jose, which I will blog these coming few days. I have good pictures, and the place was impressive. I'll gloss everything I've done, mostly by posting some of my backlog of photos. That's both easier, and I think more interesting than writing and reading a blow by blow of my travels.
In any case, last week I took a sailboat to Columbia. If you were not aware, there is no road from Panama to Columbia, the isthmus is blocked by a jungle called the Darien Gap that is home to FARC communist insurgents, drug smugglers, and other thuggish types best avoided. The passage took five days, and it was exceptional. I shall blog that, too..
See how glibly I promise. I'm not much in the mood to write, even now. But I ought to, just to feel virtuous.
Tonight however, I'll just tell you that I am in Santa Marta, Columbia. I was in the extremely beautiful colonial gem Cartegena for five days after debarking, and spent far too much - 45$ - Like a cheap American motel price, for a nice room in Getsemani, one of the historic parts of Cartegena, a room that in the States would cost probably at least three times what I paid. 45$ for a crappy motel stateside would have me feeling frugal and disciplined, but that price here made me feel bovine and used. This afternoon I hopped the bus here, where I suppose I'll go diving if feel so inspired tomorrow. If I don't, I'll just hop another bus to Maricaibo or Caracas. I figure I need go pay Hugo his respects, perhaps sooner than later.
Anyway, I got nickel and dimed stupidly by the cabby from the bus station to the hostel tonight. He asked for 10k pesos - about 5 bucks, again maybe half what I would have paid in the states for the 3km ride - when I asked at the hostel what the going rate is, they told me 5k. So I was left feeling absurdly gypped over 2.5$.. Until they quoted me 35$ for a single room here, putting that in perspective. I took it, because I am in no mood to sleep in the dorm, nor look for another hotel where I may not even get a better deal.
I'm kevetching about all this because until Panama I never paid more than 20$ a night down here. One of the great charms of traveling Latin America has been sleeping and eating well on less than 30$ a day, which is rather significantly less than it costs me merely to live in a damn apartment and eat groceries and all that back home.
Anyhow, I'm sitting at the bar at the hostel here, surrounded by people speaking English - lots of Australians mate d- and being ignored by the bar tender. Like what the crap. You know. What the crap. There's a horned bull skull on the wall opposite, creeping me out. There's absurd alternative music playing, damn kids these days think it's still 1988. Have REM sold out? I still don't care. Like whatevah.
I shouldn't be here.
From here on down, I am am avoiding these gringo infestations. Puede llamarme Carlitos del Barrio.
I'd post a picture, but I got nothin on the pad. Tomorrow. Maybe.
Well, gee, I'm cranky. Time to go to bed.
(autre chose: aujourd'hui c'est le fete de chere ste. therese. prie pour nous tous therese. I'm beginning a novena, tonight, time to get down, you know..)
---
Location:14th Street,Santa Marta,Colombia
La Cieba, Honduras left me a moderate depressive (I'll probably get around to explaining why here, soon) so that I decided not to go out to the Bay Islands to dive like I'd planned. Instead, I came directly south to Tegucigalpa, then Managua, then San Jose, then Panama City. I spent several days in Costa Rica's national Marian shrine, in Cartago near San Jose, which I will blog these coming few days. I have good pictures, and the place was impressive. I'll gloss everything I've done, mostly by posting some of my backlog of photos. That's both easier, and I think more interesting than writing and reading a blow by blow of my travels.
In any case, last week I took a sailboat to Columbia. If you were not aware, there is no road from Panama to Columbia, the isthmus is blocked by a jungle called the Darien Gap that is home to FARC communist insurgents, drug smugglers, and other thuggish types best avoided. The passage took five days, and it was exceptional. I shall blog that, too..
See how glibly I promise. I'm not much in the mood to write, even now. But I ought to, just to feel virtuous.
Tonight however, I'll just tell you that I am in Santa Marta, Columbia. I was in the extremely beautiful colonial gem Cartegena for five days after debarking, and spent far too much - 45$ - Like a cheap American motel price, for a nice room in Getsemani, one of the historic parts of Cartegena, a room that in the States would cost probably at least three times what I paid. 45$ for a crappy motel stateside would have me feeling frugal and disciplined, but that price here made me feel bovine and used. This afternoon I hopped the bus here, where I suppose I'll go diving if feel so inspired tomorrow. If I don't, I'll just hop another bus to Maricaibo or Caracas. I figure I need go pay Hugo his respects, perhaps sooner than later.
Anyway, I got nickel and dimed stupidly by the cabby from the bus station to the hostel tonight. He asked for 10k pesos - about 5 bucks, again maybe half what I would have paid in the states for the 3km ride - when I asked at the hostel what the going rate is, they told me 5k. So I was left feeling absurdly gypped over 2.5$.. Until they quoted me 35$ for a single room here, putting that in perspective. I took it, because I am in no mood to sleep in the dorm, nor look for another hotel where I may not even get a better deal.
I'm kevetching about all this because until Panama I never paid more than 20$ a night down here. One of the great charms of traveling Latin America has been sleeping and eating well on less than 30$ a day, which is rather significantly less than it costs me merely to live in a damn apartment and eat groceries and all that back home.
Anyhow, I'm sitting at the bar at the hostel here, surrounded by people speaking English - lots of Australians mate d- and being ignored by the bar tender. Like what the crap. You know. What the crap. There's a horned bull skull on the wall opposite, creeping me out. There's absurd alternative music playing, damn kids these days think it's still 1988. Have REM sold out? I still don't care. Like whatevah.
I shouldn't be here.
From here on down, I am am avoiding these gringo infestations. Puede llamarme Carlitos del Barrio.
I'd post a picture, but I got nothin on the pad. Tomorrow. Maybe.
Well, gee, I'm cranky. Time to go to bed.
(autre chose: aujourd'hui c'est le fete de chere ste. therese. prie pour nous tous therese. I'm beginning a novena, tonight, time to get down, you know..)
---
Location:14th Street,Santa Marta,Colombia
Posted with BlogsyFriday, August 17, 2012
Into El Salvador
Today I finally did something I have been meaning to do all this week. I took the minibus on the hour long 30Q roundtrip ride up to the Salvadoran border, and walked across for 15 minutes. You know, just to say I've been there. (That's one more country to my list Mr. Coady!) Unfortunately, because of the CA4 customs agreement, I entered on my Guatemalan visa, and got no nifty Salvadoran stamp for my passport, even though I asked very nicely, por un recuerdo, you know? But they are rigid bureaucrats there, and refused me. But they stamped me out and back in on the Guatemalan side, which is almost as good..
The minibus driver on the way back drove like a bat out o' hell, which drove me nuts - he'd take sharp corners going at least twice as fast as my old man nerves could handle. It began to rain, and whenever he stopped to pick a new passenger up (they pick anyone who hails them down along the way up) he'd slam on the breaks unnecessarily stressing both his stupid van and my heart simultaneously. I was sure one or both would give out before we got home here, in a blur of hydroplane wipeout ending with us careening violently into one of the many stream gorges by the way, but we somehow all survived.
I'll just add that I am oddly wearing the same damn clothes in this image as I was in the last I posted of myself. That's because I only have three sets of clothes in rotation here (well packed, or something thereabouts.. clotheswise, anyway) and I had my laundry done the other day.. Just thought I'd call unecessary attention to that fact.
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Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Como Siempre, Me Porte Como Quien Soy..
Okay, aside from the fact that in my last post I claimed it was the feast of Saint Dominic, when in fact his feast is not August 4th, but this coming Wednesday, August 8th ..
(an error due to my not checking the calender and thinking that the 4th of the month is always the feast of a cool and somehow important saint to me personally - see how October 4th is St. Francis, November 4th is St. Charles Borremeo (my patron), December 4th is St. John Damascus, January 4th is St. Elizabeth Anne Seaton, and August 4th, is um.. yeah, St. John Vianney. Not Dominic.. Uh. That's what lack of due dilgence born of laziness gets you.. I ought take this opportunity and write up one of my many cuentas de los domini canes.. But I wouldn't want to fall prey to overweening blogger ambition or anything.. )
I have to say that while I have been busy with a dozen different things, in addition to my taking full advantage of the shrine here - I've been to confession, mass daily, and have spent a bit of time there praying - I have yet to really sit down and crank out the finished essays I have been gestating here. One of the things I have been doing these past two days is organizing my computer and hard drives (3 of them, nearly a terrabite of data) so that I know where everything is, and everything is hopping and popping the way it ought to softwarewise.. Major aspect of this is my photo and video library, nearly a decade's worth of accumulated material scattered everywhere, with duplicates and multiple caches and libraries - a total nightmare. I have excellent software to help me address all the various gnarly issues, but it still takes a while to run it all. Over 300G of images takes a while to process, vet, rename and properly organize, see..
When I have finished, say sometime tomorrow, I will have a mother load of material ready to deploy. And I fully intend to lay it on you, my dear public. Even if there are only a dozen of you out there that may care, I am committed. I will not disappoint.
At the moment however, my main library is being sorted for duplicates, and I cannot touch it. So the grand illustrated meditation on my sojourn in Guatemala that I am preparing will have to wait until tomorrow evening.
As a sop for your ravening curiosity though, I give you this wee appetizer. The most interesting of all possible subjects, a picture of myself before the basilica here in Esquipulas. As I say, more coming right soon. Enjoy:
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(an error due to my not checking the calender and thinking that the 4th of the month is always the feast of a cool and somehow important saint to me personally - see how October 4th is St. Francis, November 4th is St. Charles Borremeo (my patron), December 4th is St. John Damascus, January 4th is St. Elizabeth Anne Seaton, and August 4th, is um.. yeah, St. John Vianney. Not Dominic.. Uh. That's what lack of due dilgence born of laziness gets you.. I ought take this opportunity and write up one of my many cuentas de los domini canes.. But I wouldn't want to fall prey to overweening blogger ambition or anything.. )
I have to say that while I have been busy with a dozen different things, in addition to my taking full advantage of the shrine here - I've been to confession, mass daily, and have spent a bit of time there praying - I have yet to really sit down and crank out the finished essays I have been gestating here. One of the things I have been doing these past two days is organizing my computer and hard drives (3 of them, nearly a terrabite of data) so that I know where everything is, and everything is hopping and popping the way it ought to softwarewise.. Major aspect of this is my photo and video library, nearly a decade's worth of accumulated material scattered everywhere, with duplicates and multiple caches and libraries - a total nightmare. I have excellent software to help me address all the various gnarly issues, but it still takes a while to run it all. Over 300G of images takes a while to process, vet, rename and properly organize, see..
When I have finished, say sometime tomorrow, I will have a mother load of material ready to deploy. And I fully intend to lay it on you, my dear public. Even if there are only a dozen of you out there that may care, I am committed. I will not disappoint.
At the moment however, my main library is being sorted for duplicates, and I cannot touch it. So the grand illustrated meditation on my sojourn in Guatemala that I am preparing will have to wait until tomorrow evening.
As a sop for your ravening curiosity though, I give you this wee appetizer. The most interesting of all possible subjects, a picture of myself before the basilica here in Esquipulas. As I say, more coming right soon. Enjoy:
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| Soy asi, me porte como quien soy. |
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Sunday, August 5, 2012
Cuentas de los Perros del Señor.. Que Viene Muy Pronto..
Today is the Feast of Dominic de Guzman, founder of the Order of Preachers. And thus it is one of my feasts, as I am by my association with Providence College a friend and disciple of the Fathers.
I have a few stories to tell of that relationship, one of them of the afternoon I spent at the House of Studies in DC on this very day several years back.. But not tonight. For while I am no longer in Antigua, I am still in Guatemala. I have resolved to begin writing in earnest when I am finally free of this amazing country and her people, whom have given me occasion for a deep retreat these last few months. The retreat comes to its end this week, and now I shall be bent on adventure, exploits and great feats.. of blogging, at the very least.
So, I've come to the national shrine here at Esquipulas for one last long weekend before crossing south into Honduras, Tuesday. I will post a few final thoughts on Guate before then. When I am in Honduras, I intend to write much more, and about many multifarious things..
Tonight, though, I am tired and have only in me to beg Saint Dominic's intercession, and bid you all dulces sueños, que sueñes con los santos ..
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Thursday, July 26, 2012
La Virgencita Guatemalteca
"¿Quién es ésta que se asoma como el alba, hermosa como la luna llena, refulgente como el sol, imponente como escuadrones abanderados?"
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Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Upon the Votive by Our Door
I have yet to describe or comment much upon the habits and customs of our house here, owing defense due the privacy of my own. Tonight I invade this near silence sharing this lone image, of the shrine near our front door.
After dinner (circa 8 o'clock) the lights in the common areas go off. There is little spare income for electricity here, you see.
The lone light you see when you come through our front entrance after dinner is a votive candle illuminating two icons, those of Our Ladies of Guadalupe and Fatima:
Stuck in the corner, almost out of sight, but with flowers before them.
I, of course, like and approve this custom very much. It is yet one more of many things that makes me feel well and at home here.
Our Ladies of Guadalupe and Fatima pray for us, and bless our homes. Ruega por nosotros Virgencita.
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Location: 8 Calle Oriente,Antigua Guatemala,Guatemala
After dinner (circa 8 o'clock) the lights in the common areas go off. There is little spare income for electricity here, you see.
The lone light you see when you come through our front entrance after dinner is a votive candle illuminating two icons, those of Our Ladies of Guadalupe and Fatima:
Stuck in the corner, almost out of sight, but with flowers before them.
I, of course, like and approve this custom very much. It is yet one more of many things that makes me feel well and at home here.
Our Ladies of Guadalupe and Fatima pray for us, and bless our homes. Ruega por nosotros Virgencita.
---
Location: 8 Calle Oriente,Antigua Guatemala,Guatemala
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
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