Covid Kōan

  

           H. R.   Hufflepuff

           P is for plague playing card

           Fairytales R guff

           From: Fee Fye Foe Fum

           C is for Chinny chin chin

           Teeth U have granmum

           Ring-a-round rosy

           Market piggy is called pork

           Comfort able cozy

continue considering paradoxical compositions:

artwork & poem full of explained confusion 

A Song Which Describes You

Epitaph to Live by

The Lazy Witch Coffin Windows of Vermont

          Driving thru the wonderful Vermont countryside, one will invariably see the occasional house with a full-sized window shoehorned at an incongruous angle near the roof-line.  Ask a local why and here are a few explanations they may provide (yarns they may spin):

• Lazy windows are referred to, as such, because they appear to no longer "stand up straight" but instead have "tipped over on their sides" - or - because the homeowner was too lazy to hire a contractor to build a series of smaller bespoke windows. 

• Witch windows are referred to, as such, because they were purposefully built at an angle, in the attic of homes, since witches are unable to fly their brooms thru an open angled window without bumping their head.

• Coffin windows are referred to, as such, because they are the "size of a coffin" - or - because the steep stairway to the attic should rightfully be called a ladder and if someone died up there it would be impossible to get a coffin up or down the ladderway - or - because they were built as fire escapes and people climbing out of them would probably be coughin.  (I just made this one up.  If you use this to play six truths and a lie, this is the lie and all the others are real Vermont lore.)

• Vermont windows are referred to, as such, because they are almost exclusively found in the state of Vermont (with a tiny bleed-over into similarly-challenged homeowners in neighboring states).

          What do I mean challenged?
          Well, of course, I mean homeowners challenged by a window which prefers its own comfort over its duty; or who are fiscally challenged; or challenged by: low-flying witches, a lack of body-bags, or a complete and total lack of fuckin aesthetics (pick one).

         With a bit of research, I surmise the truth is somewhere in the neighborhood of:

• Prior to 1972, the Vermont Fire Code was not adapted to the US-standard.
• Back then, a homeowner who wanted to remodel their unfinished attic space into habitable living space was required to install "sufficient means of emergency egress."
• The cheapest (when considering the need to retain interior-heat in the winter) and easiest way to accomplish this: install a double-pane sliding storm window over a standard double-pane interior window above, or near, an outside roof.
• Expensive options:  build dormers; raise half of the roof and install a wall with windows; add an entire new second floor, add an exterior fire escape.

          But—why are Vermont Windows limited to this state?

          Most states have residential building codes for one and two-family dwellings.  Vermont does not (fire, electric, and plumbing codes only - no building codes).  Cutting thru several load-bearing studs in an exterior wall, to install a large cattywampus window would be anathema to anyone with an eye for design-aesthetics, as well as for every experienced construction engineer.  Normal structural settling will prevent these windows from opening a few years after installation.  Consequently, use of a Vermont window—to escape from a lazy witch (or a fire) and not end up in a coffin—will require smashing out the glass.

added articles addressing unique Vermont insights:
Good Day to Be a Crow
Before Driving Your Smart Car to Vermont
Before Looking for an Apartment in Vermont

Make a Version (Squat Over This Fire) - Day 1 - My Fav Song

          This is important.  Do Not Let News-Company-Fear-Porn Infect You to the extent that you begin to dream about the escalating numbers, the calamity, the CCP virus, and the briefings (unless you are so-very-curious about how self-induced depression or a mental breakdown might feel going-in).

          Knowing we are instinctively wired to slow down and gawk at the horrible traffic accident surrounded by emergency vehicles—while also being aware that every other motorist on this jam-packed roadway is also no longer looking where they are driving—requires you to exert control over your impulse.  Force your attention exclusively on the car in front of you.  No matter how loud the sirens.  No matter how frantic the firemen and paramedics.  No matter how bright the lights.

          This is a great time to do a version of this (again).  I re-post this thirty-day challenge of a video-a-day for you to either be entertained by (or to participate in).  Nine years ago, I did this challenge (archives for March and for April) with days 1 thru 8 in March of that year, and days 9 thru 30 in April.  Some of the videos have been eaten by google.  If you want to make your own list or just read them all-in-one-go, here is the master:  MySoLiMo - My Song List Month

Day 1 topic:  My Favorite Song

Like a Version*:  Squatting over someone else's fire

          There are some high-quality writers I eagerly look forward to reading.  Andrew Vachss, Dean Koontz (some things have changed) and Malcolm Gladwell are three one (off the tip of my temporal cortex) who've sufficiently proven themselves that I spring for their hardback.

          There are other writers who I feel the same way about.  Ginny is one.  Because she posts infrequently, I normally check monthly for new articles on her site, Praying to Darwin.  Today, I discovered she just lit a self-inflicted fire under her own ass.  The intent of Ginny's post a video-a-day for a month self-challenge, in her own words:  Who knows what kind of stuff that’ll make me write about?

          If I'd not checked on Praying to Darwin until after April Fools Day—and she was already a couple posts into this challenge (I say this because I can't completely avoid commenting on the funny flying pink elephant in the corner)—I wouldn't think about joining hands in solidarity or in emulation or in an icky meme-like fashion.  But.  This is her day one.  That's a sign.  A SIGN, I SAY.  So.  I'm in.

          I enjoy spurring myself towards discovery, research, and the crystallization of ideas (both new-to-me and new).  This was why I compiled Like a Version: My Alpha-vile Autopsy.  Creating the pics and mining for just the right words in order to identify an alphabet of things I dislike was an extremely self-informative challenge.

          Back to Ginny's Day 1 topic:  My Favorite Song.  Her's is Everlong by the Foo Fighters.  I hadn't seen the video in a decade and didn't remember it.  It contains overlapping dream sequences.

          I have an aversion to dream sequences.  It's not strong enough to call dislike, but I recognize my avoidance urge.  I'm bothered by them (which my little sister once called dream sequins and then got mad when I wouldn't tell her what I was laughing about) because when a story uses a dream to explain what a character is thinking I can't stay in the story.  Flashback's are fine; story within a story—also fine; jumps in time, yup, still fine...but when a character says, "I had this dream..."  Nope.  As I read (or watch) my mind keeps reminding: this is just a dream.

          I feel the same avoidance urge when reading fiction and the main character is a writer; or watching a TV show, play, or film about an actor; or listening to a song about music; or when the poem is about poetry; or the artwork is about the medium; or the joke is about being funny.

          There are exceptions, but most creative people don't have what it takes to craft a convincingly successful multiple reflection in a mirror.  Or a dream.

          Following in the shadow of Ginny's footprints—my favorite song...anchoring me in time.  The instrumentals of Starship Trooper by Yes are as important (if not more) than the lyrics. 

...take what I say in a different way and it's easy to see that this is all confusion...

   *  I'm always surprised when other people are "late to the pun" (because I am the KING of Never-get-it Land).  The title, in case you are also a resident of this land, is a pun on Madonna's song Like a Virgin with a wink and nudge because this is my version of someone else's list.  get it? get it? Huh? 

Day 2 - A Song You Fucking Hate 

Avril Poisson's Mailbox

Avril Poisson's Mailbox  -  1 Apr (April Fools Day / 'April Fish Day' in France)

          Some details about this composite-collage artwork can be found at:  when in need of a tiny giggle.

more date-specific mailbox art:

Santa Claus' Mailbox - 25 Dec (Christmas)

AULDLANGSYNE's Mailbox - 1 Jan (New Year's Day)
Sommerzeit's Mailbox - 8 Mar (Daylight Savings Time 2020 / 'Summertime' in Germany)

ÔSTARA's Mailbox - 19 Mar (Vernal Equinox / first day of Spring - northern hemisphere 2020)
St George's Mailbox - 23 Apr (Feast of Saint George)
May IV's Mailbox - 4 May (Star Wars Day)
Serling's Mailbox - 11 May (Twilight Zone Day)

  image excerpt by Jamie Wheeler

Pathogens in Sociopaths

          From the 1970s until his death (36 years ago today, of AIDS-related organ failure) Gaëtan Dugas spread the HIV virus to thousands of people.  Dugas' behavior was never in question—he claimed 2,500+ sexual partners during his years as a flight attendant.  What is debated: was Dugas a sociopath, intentionally infecting with the conscience of a serial killer?

          Consider the last paragraph a springboard to a personal perspective:

          In 1988, the US Army Criminal Investigations office where I worked, in Seoul, South Korea, began an attempted murder investigation.

          "Corporal Sid" was diagnosed with HIV (referred to as "the AIDS virus" back-then) and, subsequently, was informed by medical professionals—and his commanding officer—that he was to never have any sexual contact without a condom and was always required to inform every sexual partner he was HIV positive (even with a condom).

          Sid bragged to a buddy about 'killing whores with his dick' - his buddy told us - we interviewed Sid - and he readily admitted to having unprotected intercourse with several prostitutes.  He was charged with: Disobeying a Direct Order; Aggravated Assault; Reckless Endangerment; and Attempted Murder.

          Our contact-trace investigation was of limited effect.  Although we were successful in locating and interviewing every woman Sid claimed to have had sexual contact with (three tested positive for HIV) we were unable to identify most of the men with whom those women subsequently had sexual contact with (Note: in the late-1980s the period between contamination and first symptom averaged 9-12 months.)

          When asked why, Sid said, '...I'm gonna die because got the-AIDs from some whore.  So why not try to take-out as many as I can?...'

          When asked what he thought about the men who he was passing the virus to, Sid said. '...I never had sex with any dudes!...'

          When re-asked (after explaining what we thought was obvious to everyone), Sid said, '...guess you're right about that, but fuck-em.  Teach those dumb asses not to wear a condom. ...  I really don't care.  I am going to be dead in a year or so.  Guess I'z just doin my part to thin the herd a bit...'

          Coronavirus parties, Rudy Gobert-Bourgarel, Spring breakers, mega-church evangelists, and other people who behave recklessly, may only be (most are) clueless idiots.  But there are infected people who are sociopaths and there are also those who are hyper-focused psychopaths—who may be smart enough not to tell anyone what they are doing.

          Stay home.  Wash your hands—constantly.  Wear a face mask or scarf over your nose and mouth when you go to the grocery store, walk/jog outdoors to stay fit or go to your mission critical job.  I specifically want to thank all who are risking their life to perform society's critical hands-on jobs in:  health care, security, transportation, administration, logistics and supply (which, currently, includes my wife).

image excerpt by Mary Hurlbut