an ernest world

as some of you know (and some don't), i enjoy reading ernest hemingway. there is something about his prose that captures my imagination and attention.

yes, yes, i am aware of his haltng, short dialogue wich occurs infrequently throughuot his prose or his machismo attitude which pervades through his writing.

however, when i read many of his books, especially the ones his wrote during the 1920s, there's a sense of time encapsulation that transports me back to the era -- the roaring '20s.

true, for many, if not most of that time, he spent his writing years in eurpoe as part of the group that beame known as the expratriots, a group that included gertrude stein, ezra pound and t.s. eliot., among others. yet, reading "in our time" or "the sun also rises" takes me there to that time, whether in northern michigan ("up in michigan") or to pamplona ("the sun also rises").

this morning i walked over to the bookshelf where my hemingway collection is located and rifled through the books, some not opened in years, some dog-earred, others with scribbled notes on the pages from college. there was a sense of nostalgia, probably from times i'd read the books, of course, not from actually being in the places where he set the novels and stories.

a time when typing was done through a typewriter not through a computer. where revisions were made on pages then retyped. a simple life.

then i think that it was probably a good time to live during that time. true the great depression was right around the corner. still, the 1920s seemed like a great time to live the literary life, living abroad, pounding down booze in a bar in paris or somewhere in spain, watching the running of the bulls, attending a bullfight, talking books with other writers, living a life where you wrote novels or short stories, made income that way, and lived the rest of your life doing things you enjoy. experiencing life, experimenting.

and so with this begins part of my journey. not to relive any of that. the roaring '20s, that time is passed. but to do other things that are in my realm of accomplishment.

A H

there's a funny story behind those initials. perhaps some of you have figured ut what they stand for. either way, here's the story.

i talked to my sister today. we chatted and as i was about to hang up, rena came in. i said "hey." and then hung up. later linda called me back with something funny to tell me.

to back up, my mom had some sort of falling out with the priest at the parish where she attends mass. i guess it happened this weekend. also this weekend, rena served as altar server for the first time.

so linda and arnold asked rena how it went being an altar server.

"it was the first and last time," she replied. (she's 10 years old)

my sister and arnold inquired as to why it was the first and last time. after some prodding and talking, rena finally said the priest was not very nice.

"he's an A H," she said. i can almost picture her saying this, face squinted up in a look of disgust.

linda didn't get it. she mulled over the initials but they made no sense to her. so she asked, "a h?"

"he's an asshole."

now, i've never heard my niece cuss, mainly because over the past three and a half years, i see her only once or twice a year. so there isn't much opportunity. what i would have given to have heard this, though.

i think linda laughed, but she told her not to be saying that, that her parents would be upset with her if they heard her saying that word.

also, though, linda told me that a few months ago, rena was there and some comment was made and she ended up using the word, "bitch."

i don't condone the use of bad language from children. god nows i cuss, but when it comes out of the mouths of babes, we got a problem. i'd like to think rena doesn't cuss, she simply knows the words, tucks them away after making a mental note of them when she hears them.

will i excuse her for saying asshole? sure i will. as long as it isn't a habit we're ok.

thinking back, i don't think i used any bad word until i was well out of high school, maybe my third year of college. well...ok, middle school.

but as to the priest thing...well, if the collar fits, then the collar fits.

oh, a little of this and a little of that

going through life with rose-colored glasses

narrow-minded

my way or the highway

"was he a mexican?"

foolish decisions

"I don't read them."

"glorifies witchcraft"

sorry, i'm ot man enough to admit the error of my ways

i'm with stupid

no more meedles please!!!

let's put this issue behind us

harry potter's going to die,he has to

"if I had a taser gun..."

"it's like our attic"

"everyone's got a gay uncle."

"the people going to church were the one's doing the bad things."

"i saw his eyes roll back until there was only whites. he took one last hitching breath..."

four stories and a calendar item? that's too much.

we really do care about ztown, we really do.

we're prostituting ourselves, and for what? for that? no way, not worth it.

our they really taking their word on this? what do they know?

abbey road's my favorite album.

do you think we should leave her car up front to get a ticket??

mmmmm, enchiladas. bean empanadas? you got to be kidding me.

snape's going to redeem himself.he has to.

three weeks away and counting.

i think this bedroom looks nice.

you are all a lost generation, gertrude stein to ernest hemingway.