farewell to meat, hello, my friends, blablabla

just learned that "carnivale" (carne + vale) means "farewell to meat." how timely & comforting, the uncanniness of the etymology & a-ha moment: of course! 40 days of change & increased vigilance w/regards to food, people, & ideas is a wise place to go for sacrifice & continuing discipline. carnivale!
am not ready to go get ashes today, tho... maybe next yr. carnivale, tho, is not just imperative right now, i'm thinking, but a doable task!
it'd've been better, maybe, if i'd spent last night in revelry instead of repentance, but such is life right now & @ least w/each new sunrise & breath, there's chance for renewal. to stop & stand in mistakes, like a pile of stool, would be the only real mistake. (sing along: "go forward... move ahead... try to detect it... it's not too late... to whip it... whip it good!")
san diego county is paradise, the beaches peaceful & less crowded than LA's; friends run deep for me there, ppl whom i admire & aspire to be more like.
the dear mcgraws are the hosts w/the mosts, friendly, fun-loving, generous, tough, & kind. we attended little italy's carnevale & watched brocaded, stilted street performers w/elaborate masks lumber around while mediterraneanesque musicians sang & played & children hopped & twirled & danced & merrymakers gathered at pizza joints & cafes. not just people, but pets, too, walked around dressed like montresor & fortunato or extras in the merchant of venice, & the romantic melodies of each song we heard lingered. bill & i could've driven freddie a little nuts w/our constant happy singing, whistling, & humming except that F&B're too big-hearted to drive nuts; they just love all as-is, always, tho, as i mentioned, pull covers as called for!
got to go to many mtgs. got to hang w/candye & laura in oceanside, watch foghorn leghorn, spend time @ the beach there in meditation & stroll, have a tasty repast @ pannikan coffee & tea near the ocean. got to get a pep-talk from candye, who is generous & caring & strong that way &, as busy as she is, always makes time to bolster others. it occurred to me one night that in january while i was trying to come back to life cooling my heels in new mexico, candye was onstage performing her heart out, telling her own life story onstage! talk about contrast... candye says it's not yet out on DVD, but here's a link to her play, which laura said sold out more & more each night of its run... you know it must be a heck of an inspiring story -- must be quite a well-done production, too, to have generated that kind of buzz! the toughest girl alive

discipline & unsung stories

- updike would rise early each a.m., head to his upstairs, & dutifully write for 3 hrs. kerouac supposedly wrote on the rd by feeding a 120-ft roll of paper into his typewriter & letting fly. somewhere between's people like me (neither disciplined nor dope-driven, most of us toil in obscurity, which is just fine w/me). as a kid, i loved nothing but the piano more than my portable olivetti, & i'd clack away daily at it: imitation chandler & hammett, detective stories, marx bros script, feverish tales of my cousin, sister & i meeting the beegees (i was a KID after all!). never finished a one, & my niece is now the same, tho she writes her feverish tales by hand & they revolve around androgynous j-rockers.
- as much as music, people, exercise, & finding shiny objects on the ground, i just love to write, & besides a behemoth of a masters thesis & yrs in jr reportage, i do it for self-expression -- tho i spose there's always a bit of social agenda there, since i AM a teacher from a family of teachers &, tho yes a little smudged by a kinda sordid but mostly garden-variety-drunk past, basically am a goody two-shoes... i like to be good, & i like people who read what i write to feel good, & i keep that in mind while writing. yes, nihilism, marker of my youth, is gone, & therefore, i guess, so are my tender yrs, & good riddance, i say!
- haven't written for many days, so it's time, is the idea. things’ve been up & down: lots of headaches/sore throats probably due to our poisonous air; much time w/family & friends; enjoying crisp-autumnal clime; did 1/2 marathon the other day & am still somewhat crippled by the bout (time was 2:19, not bad for a non-athlete like me)...
- see, i've always been in this place & tho for a while chronicled my mostly-drunken escapades in a comic (look to link @ right for true tales of glumglum), @ times i glaringly know i just don’t have much that’s exciting to write of.. however, i DO know people who’ve had fascinating lives, & i trumpet here & hope they read & are inspired to finally get some of their stories down!
- here, for instance, is my dear friend donna's nativity scene: step-dad is coming home off the rd; he's stand-in for hank snow when hank's too drunk to get on stage & sing. he walks in & donna's dear mom's laying across the kitchen table w/the other kids standing worriedly around, mom’s yelling, "i'm having the baby!!!", step-dad runs across the rm, slashes down the venetian blind cord & uses it to tie off & cut baby donna's umbilical cord.
- what a frigging entrance!! donna's hilarious & weird story "the worm" is at that link at right, & she has tons & tons more. what an amazing life, & she’s gotta lot more to live!
- and aunty rita? she lived all over the u.s. as well as in el salvador when uncle henry worked shutdown on nuke plants & she just bursts w/stories: armed guards escorting her to the mall in salvador; carjacked at gunpt in miami beach & then the thief got on the fwy & got stuck in a traffic jam & the cops got him; dancing w/merle haggard & all the honky-tonk hunks when she was the knockout-life of the party in the 50s-60s; living on buttermilk & cigarettes a smitten cowboy’d bring her every single morning to nurse her hangovers when she worked at the bank; coming to in the bushes & knocking on the window, but her sister wouldn't let her in the house… (well, ok, i DID live that particular story…) my long-time friend, big gruff dm, tells of partying at his friend chief’s pad while dm was a hollywood high student, putting down the bong to espy a stretch limo outside, & next thing he knows, in walks elvis! yes, none of these stories’ve been written down… til now… so you read it here 1st! :)
- i should be more like dad, local historian, who gets wind of others’ fascinating lives & patiently but doggedly pursues til they spill. dad, the quiet but politely subversive gentleman w/matinee looks who always has lived w/in 10 miles of his birth, is someone who thrills @ others’ narratives (b rode sidecar as a motorcycle ice racer in colorado; uncle henry went out on the nuclear sub, where they couldn’t shower for the 1st month cause the stalls were filled w/smokes & booze; steve strelich stood in for movie stars, did marathon swims & dances, & met a dictator before starting up a wrestling arena that still stands here in bakersfield). yes, dad really listens & truly loves interviewing & getting down on paper the adventures of others. he honors others, in so doing! please click here to read some of dad’s work: www.gilbertgia.com
- well, aside from getting marmalade at the bent ‘n’ dent for my students (who’ve never heard of or tasted it) & some terrific books @ the goodwill, "my" tale for tonight’s been told, so if you’ve got a story that needs telling, post it, post it, cause why the heck not??! life’s too short to sit back & wait for someone else to sing your story, & even if you’ve not traveled far, as folks  mentioned here have, i believe that a tale well-told can take place right in your kitchen, bathroom, backyard, or noggin...