To the side

Was travelling down Highway 7 to a Toronto area hearing. Had not travelled road in some time. Very few places to stop between Ottawa and Madoc. So many closed businesses at the side of the road. Turns out that this is something others have observed:

What happens in the fade:

Part of The Lost Highway film, by Derreck Roemer and Neil Graham.

Telling a particular story, of place, time and past:

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Victims Here

Neil Remington Abramson commented as follows (reproduced with permission):

The nun says he (the Boston bomber) is sorry and shouldn’t receive the death penalty. His lawyers sent her, because he wouldn’t come himself. He didn’t testify and say he was sorry himself. She came because she is opposed to the death penalty, regardless of the circumstances.

I don’t want to debate the death penalty. There’s no death penalty in Canada. Here, it wouldn’t matter if he said he was sorry, or sent an intermediary to say what she understood he wanted to say.

I want to debate how we know that someone sincerely repents and hopes for our forgiveness. Maybe not to gain redemption, but just to live, to hope to redeem oneself, in God’s eyes, over the years that follow.

If he won’t come in person to tell me he repents – if he sends someone else because he can’t or won’t look me in the eye and swear he was wrong and is truly sorry – did he really repent? Was it sincere? I don’t really care if he looks me in the eye – that’s a cultural thing. I’d just want to hear him say it and to judge for myself from his tone and body language. I hope if I did something so bad, I’d have the courage either to apologize or else denounce the whole proceeding, and take whatever was given as a result.

As Paul said in the First Epistle to The Corinthians, we cannot know the heart of another. Only God knows. But we must have a basis for believing mercy should trump justice. There are victims here who didn’t die – the families of those who did. Their hearts cry for justice. How shall we decide whether the repentance expressed is enough to receive mercy from people, let alone God?

He declined to say he was sorry. That says something, loudly.

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Hotel of Sparrows

Stayed at this hotel where, every morning, hundreds of sparrows were all around. In the trees and on the roof. Lots of nests being made in both places. Complete silence by dusk to dark, and then the community conversation recommencing the next day. Geese would drop by, to see what was going on.

Wondered what caused birds to be attracted to certain urban locales. Turns out that others have asked the same question; no surprise. Some research tried to make the point that urban birds were more intelligent, but the evidence is weak. Instead, there is stronger evidence that urban birds tend to be generalists in habitat, seed eaters and inclined to nest above ground. It is pointed out that birds have been around longer than people, so urban areas are still newer to them. Yet sparrows are disappearing from many urban areas, with the explanation being a decline in insects. Thought it was the seeds that kept them around. Maybe more fortunate than thought, to see so many settled around a particular hotel.

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No rage in the cage

Friend spoke to me about how she did it. Always calm, always pleasant; ready laugh.

I do it because I know that those who don’t lose control are more respected than any raging professional I have ever met. Some people want you to lose control; it’s their overcoming strategy. If things are out of control and you don’t show it, it’s a nice way to fake education, maturity and a sense of responsibility. It’s also a nice way to be, generally. Nobody likes screamers.

She smiled, and laughed.

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Vulnerable

She said after the sex, they seem so vulnerable.

And then they grow so cold.

And then they help you less than a casual friend.

Said I know that feeling.

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Down The Mountain

Climbing out of open windows
Crashing down from broken stairs
Keeping watch on smoking cinders
Falling over burning chairs

Some not stopping the falldown. How easy it is to simply descend. Going down the mountain and not seeing the branch. Or, if seeing, not reaching for it. Caught by introspective exaggeration.

No lessons from survivors. Comes from within. Or from without. Stopping the fall turns to no one else.

Speech reduced by poor relations

Drum solo as the grasp:

Spark plugs burned out
Power’s fused

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Marjo

As here and here.

Fais pas l’fou:

1987:

Certain…

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