Tag: Louis Brown

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Ice, by Louis Brown

My take on “The Iceman Cometh,” a drama by Eugene O’Neill

The year is 1912 about 10 years after the Boer War. The dramatis personae are all extreme alcoholics and are clinically depressed. They also wax philosophical. The scenes all take place in a bar with a boarding house upstairs, owned by Harry Hope who is also a severe alcoholic and is a doomsday philosopher. His bar and hotel are located in western Greenwich Village (where else?)

In a way, the drinkers are actually rather close to each other – most of them have known each other for years — although they also quarrel frequently and fiercely. In their lengthy exchanges with one another, they try and convince themselves that they are not clinically depressed, that, if only they could work up enough courage, they could/would walk out through the doors of the bar and start a steady job or even develop a career.

Of course, these steady jobs and careers are actually pipe-dreams. Pete Wetjohn is the Dutchman, a veteran of the Boer War (1899-1902). Joe is the one “angry” black man.

As noted above, Harry Hope is the proprietor of the Harry Hope Bar and Hotel and is second in importance as a play character to Theodore Hickman (Hickey).

Some play characters include James Cameron as Jimmy Tomorrow, and there are three prostitutes, Pearl, Margie and Cora. Harry Hope and Hugo are their pimps. All the characters are heavy drinkers (“drunks” or “drunkards”) and party almost constantly in the barroom. Rocky is the Italian night bartender.

All the barroom imbibers, including Harry Hope, proprietor, live for their pipe-dreams. After each pipe-dream tirade, each drinker returns to hitting the bottle, hoping to have a brain-numbing blackout.

The main character, the protagonist, the “hero” of the play is Theodore Hickman (Hickey) who eventually admits he shot his wife Evelyn to death. The reader assumes this was because he had discovered that she was having an affair with the iceman (whence the play’s title).

In a rather verbose but famous soliloquy, pp. 689-702, Hickey tries to make an extremely unconvincing case that he shot his wife to death because he loved her and because he was temporarily insane. Also unconvincing was his argument that he wanted to free Evelyn of her love for him, in which, no matter what he did, including frequenting prostitutes when he was on his hardware salesman journeys, she would always forgive him.

Unforgettable quote (that I still remember from 50 years ago): Harry Hope (note ironic last name), during Hickey’s verbose soliloquy, tells Hickey: “Get it over, you long-winded bastard. You married her [Evelyn], and you caught her cheating with the iceman and you croaked her, and who the hell cares?”

P. 700, Hickey finally admits: “I killed her.” Hickman had forewarned the police, so that, when the moment came, NYC Police Officer Moran was ready and arrested Hickey right after his soliloquy.

Hickey was so guilt-ridden, he expected and welcomed the prospect of suffering capital punishment in the electric chair.

Also in his soliloquy, Hickey preached to his own real inebriated friends that, once you give up your pipe dreams, you will find inner peace and happiness. Of course, Hickey, as preacher, has a credibility problem. The “drunks” interpreted that as meaning suicide was the only answer, and Don Parritt took him up on his correctly or incorrectly interpreted recommendation.

I must say I got the impression that Evelyn and Hickey did not actually live in New York City and P. O. Moran was a NYC police officer so that there might have been an unresolved issue of jurisdiction. This was not resolved in the play.

Another sub-plot revolves around Don Parritt, another of Harry Hope’s roomers in his hotel. Don Parritt had accepted a hefty payment from the Federal government for turning in his own mother who was permanently incarcerated in Federal prison for advocating, as an anarchist, the overthrow of the U. S. government.

Don Parritt also went on and on about how guilty he felt about betraying his own mother for a few silver coins so that, on p. 710, he throws himself out of the window of his rented room.

My reaction to this play was the playwright was matching his play’s themes to the public mood. He wrote the play in 1939 when the public was getting psychologically prepared for World War II, and in 1946 when the play was actually presented to the public, matched their doomsday mood, despite their victory over the Nazi’s. The play was a smashing success.

1 December 2016

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Curious, by Louis Brown

Ionesco, Lewis Carroll, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Eugène Ionesco, La Cantatrice chauve

Eugène Ionesco (born Eugen Ionescu, Romanian: 26 November 1909 – 28 March 1994) was a Romanian-French playwright who wrote mostly in French, and one of the foremost figures of the French Avant-garde theatre [well, the theater of the abusrd]. Beyond ridiculing the most banal situations, Ionesco’s plays depict the solitude and insignificance of human existence in a tangible way.

[la cantatrice sings operatic songs or national anthems whereas une chanteuse sings pop songs. Edith Piaff was a chanteuse. That explains the translation “soprano’]

Mr. MARTIN : Depuis que je suis arrivé à Londres, j’habite rue Bromfleld, chère Madame.

Mme MARTIN : Comme c’est curieux, comme c’est bizarre ! moi aussi, depuis mon arrivée à Londres j’habite rue Bromfleld, cher Monsieur.

Mr. MARTIN : Comme c’est curieux, mais alors, mais alors, nous nous sommes peut-être rencontrés rue Bromfleld, chère Madame.

Mme MARTIN : Comme c’est curieux ; comme c’est bizarre ! c’est bien possible, après tout ! Mais je ne m’en souviens pas, cher Monsieur.

Mr. MARTIN : Je demeure au N° 19, chère Madame.

Mme MARTIN : Comme c’est curieux, moi aussi j’habite au N° 19, cher Monsieur.

Mr. MARTIN : Mais alors, mais alors, mais alors, mais alors, mais alors, nous nous sommes peut-être vus dans cette maison, chère Madame !

Mme MARTIN : C’est bien possible, mais je ne m’en souviens pas, cher Monsieur.

Mr. MARTIN : Mon appartement est au cinquième étage, c’est le numéro 8, chère Madame.

Mme MARTIN Comme c’est curieux, mon Dieu, comme c’est bizarre ! et quelle coïncidence ! moi aussi j’habite au cinquième étage, dans l’appartement numéro 8, cher Monsieur !

Mr. MARTIN ( songeur ) : Comme c’est curieux, comme c’est curieux, comme c’est curieux et quelle coïncidence! vous savez, dans ma chambre à coucher j’ai un lit. Mon lit est couvert d’un édredon vert. Cette chambre, avec ce lit et son édredon vert, se trouve au fond du corridor, entre les water et la bibliothèque, chère madame !

Mme MARTIN : Quelle coïncidence, ah mon Dieu, quelle coïncidence ! Ma chambre à coucher a, elle aussi, un lit avec un édredon vert et se trouve au fond du corridor, entre les water, cher Monsieur, et la bibliothèque !

Mr. MARTIN : Comme c’est bizarre, curieux, étrange ! alors. Madame, nous habitons dans la même chambre et si nous dormons dans le même lit, chère Madame. C’est peut-être là que nous nous sommes rencontrés.

Mme MARTIN : Comme c’est curieux et quelle coïncidence! C’est bien possible que nous nous y soyons rencontrés, et peut-être même la nuit dernière. Mais je ne m’en souviens pas, cher Monsieur !

Mr. MARTIN : J’ai une petite fille, ma petite fille, elle habite avec moi, chère Madame. Elle a deux ans, elle est blonde, elle a un œil blanc et un œil rouge, elle est très jolie, elle s’appelle Alice, chère Madame.

Mme MARTIN : Quelle bizarre coïncidence ! moi aussi j’ai une petite fille, elle a deux ans, un œil blanc et un œil rouge, elle est très jolie et s’appelle aussi Alice, cher Monsieur !

Mr. MARTIN : ( Même voix traînante, monotone ). Comme c’est curieux et quelle coïncidence ! et bizarre ! c’est peut-être la même, chère Madame !

Lewis Carroll

CHAPTER II (Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll “Alice in Wonderland” redirects here. For other uses, see Alice in Wonderland (disambiguation). Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is a novel by Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson), published on 4 July 1865

The Pool of Tears

‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now I’m opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!’ (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). ‘Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m sure I shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can; –but I must be kind to them,’ thought Alice, `or perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to go! Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.’

Alice stretched tall.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


The curious Sherlock Holmes and the curious Dr. Watson, both found many curious clues in their murder investigations. Agatha Christie also found curious clues, curious inconsistencies that led her to discover the identity of a victim’s true killer. It is the favorite adjective of the British murder mystery genre and tradition.

© 11 December 2017

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Dark (Précis), by Louis Brown

For me “Dark” means three
themes:
(a) Gay Liberation strategists should
acknowledge that, when we speak of minorities in the United States aspiring to
liberation, this means Americans with a darker complexion, the black and
brown complexioned people. Our liberation groups have to make political deals
with black liberation groups such as the NAACP, the National Action Network
founded by the Rev. Al Sharpton, The Urban League and the Southern Poverty Law
Center. Rev. Al Sharpton was a frequent visitor to the Queens Lesbian and Gay
Democratic Club of Queens County in New York City. He is a true friend of the
gay community of the USA.
The foremost
personification of black and gay liberation is James Baldwin.
James
Arthur “Jimmy” Baldwin (August
2, 1924 – December 1, 1987) was an American writer and social critic. His
essays, as collected in Notes of a Native
Son (1955), explore palpable
yet unspoken intricacies of racial, sexual, and class
distinctions in Western societies, most notably in mid-20th-century America.[1] Some
of Baldwin’s essays are book-length, for instance The Fire Next Time (1963)
(b) On the other hand, “Dark” also means, in
terms of gay European and American history the “Dark Ages,” the Middle Ages
which lasted from 478 A. D. to 1399 A. D., which is the last year covered by
John Boswell’s historical study, Christianity, Social Tolerance and Homosexuality
(published 1976). John Boswell died of AIDS in 1994, the same year his other
book was published, Same-Sex Unions in Pre-Modern Europe.
[moving outside of prompt: Jonathan Ned Katz’ Gay American History
could be seen as the historical sequel to Boswell’s book
(c)
“Dark” means Halloween fun.
The Middle Ages gave us a
rich population of ghosts, specters, elves, witches, wizards, warlocks, elves, goblins,
fairies, leprechauns, angels, demons, etc. Halloween is a medieval Irish
holiday, as pointed out in the film Halloween Three produced by Mustafa Akkad
in 1982.
© 30 Oct 2017 
About
the Author 
I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City,
Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker
for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally
impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s.
I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few
interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I
graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.
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Finding Your Voice, by Louis Brown

I find my voice most clearly at the Monday afternoon sessions of “Telling your Story”. In fact, in an ideal world, we would have generous sponsors who would give us a radio station so that, when we come in, each one of us sits in front of a microphone. Once we have told our stories, Phillip will take calls from the radio audience.
One caller calls and asks what our mission is exactly. Phillip says he has his opinion, and Tell your Story’s corporate papers have a mission statement, but Phillip says he would like us participants to answer that question, that is those of us who are so inclined. After an hour or so of discussing our mission, the general consensus emerges that our mission is to liberate gay and Lesbian people from oppression by developing a new mass media that different gay communities can use to communicate with one another. Another important goal is to record how gay and Lesbian people perceive the society in which they are obliged to live. Thirdly, we must develop a political liberation strategy that includes keeping close tabs on the activities of our opponents, i.e. Focus on the Family, the Family Research Council and more recently Mike Pence who, according to Donald Trump, wants to hang all gay and Lesbian people. Jokes like these we can do without.
After a month or two on the air, we get a grant to set up a political newspaper for gay people who live in the Denver area. Maybe such a newspaper already exists. This new publication should promote our gay civic groups and print gay liberation type literature of all kinds.
Other groups also perceive irrational hostility directed toward them. For instance, in the last election, when we had a choice between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, we did not really have an authentic liberal alternative. Was the public really satisfied with these candidates? Hillary Clinton admires the memory of Barry Goldwater and still admires Henry Kissinger. That makes her clearly a right-winger despite her dubious claim to being a progressive. Barry Goldwater, Henry Kissinger and more recently Donald Rumsfeld all became discredited warmongers. As Gilbert & Sullivan would say, “You can put them on the list, you can put them on the list, and they’ll none of them be missed, they’ll none of them be missed.
 Politicians who accept their legitimacy should be discarded by the public. The peaceniks of the 1960’s and their numerous followers in today’s culture need to develop an alternative mass media outlet to counter the current blackout on real political information.
Our gay magazine or newspaper of the future should hook up with one these newspaper enterprises. Perhaps Rolling Stone, something of that ilk. Rolling Stone started up as a new independent alternate culture media tool.
And then, of course, the Socialists. Bernie Sanders says he is a democratic socialist but who, according to the current media, did not convince a significant number of black people that he was their candidate. I will admit I was waiting for Bernie Sanders to tell black people in a loud public way that, in addition to promoting perpetual war, capitalism promotes racism because it is very profitable. In the early nineteenth century, slavery in Dixieland was very, very profitable. Also, pitting one ethnic group against another is an easy way to break up labor unions. These are basic socialist tenets. Bernie never really developed this in his speeches.
And Bernie Sanders never really expanded on the relationship between capitalism and perpetual war. War is very profitable, and the resulting profits are more important to the war profiteers than the lives of a few million people. Of course, the war profiteers eagerly purchase senators and U. S. representatives and Supreme Court Justices. To a large number of people, this is all obvious and a truism, but many Americans do not seem to be aware of these purchases of public representatives.
Did you notice the large number of protesters in Hamburg, Germany, during the G-20 Summit? This indicates a large number of people recognize they are locked out of the current status quo, and they need another media outlet to promote their point of view.
Also, huge protests occurred when the U. S. started the unjustifiable war in Iraq. The mainstream media made sure they were not covered. Another reason for developing a new independent media.
Thus we see the necessity for developing a new more independent alternative media. In my fantasy, I am one of the   CEO’s of this alternative media. I will have found my voice. Wish me a Happy Birthday.
© 23 Oct 2017  
About the Author  
I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.
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The Tragic Myth of Niobe, by Louis Brown

(a)The tragic tale of Niobe is one of
the most memorable Greek myths, for Niobe’s story features a striking example
of the consequences of hubris, a Greek term defined as arrogance or excessive
pride. This myth was popular in ancient literature, poetry and art. Therefore,
it is not a surprise that the legend of Niobe appears in one of our oldest and
best sources for Greek myths, the Iliad of Homer.
Her father
was Tantalus, king of a town above Mount Sipylus in Anatolia, but we do not
know exactly who her mother was. Niobe had two brothers, Broteas and Pelops,
who would later be a legendary hero and would give his name to Peloponnese.
When Niobe grew up, she got married to Amphion, king of Thebes. This was a
turning point in her life and a series of tragic events followed, to give her a
distinct place in one of the most tragic dramas in Greek mythology. Niobe and
Amphion gave birth to fourteen children, seven sons and seven daughters.
The fatal mistake and the horrible
crime at a ceremony held in honor of Leto, the mother of the divine twins,
Apollo and Artemis, who was also living in Thebes, Niobe, in a fit of
arrogance, bragged about her fourteen children. In fact, Niobe said that she
was superior to Leto, as she had fourteen children and not only two. When the
twins knew this insult, they got enraged and at once, came down to Earth to
kill the children of Niobe. Apollo, the god of light and music, killed all
seven of Niobe’s sons with his powerful arrows in front of their mother’s eyes.
Although Niobe was pleading Apollo to feel mercy for her last surviving son,
Apollo’s lethal arrow had already left his bow to find its mark with deadly
accuracy, thus wiping out all the male descendants of Niobe.
Artemis, the virgin goddess of
nature and hunting, killed Niobe’s seven daughters with her lethal arrows and
their dead bodies were lying unburied for nine days. Turning into a rock, devastated by the slaughter of his children, Amphion committed suicide. Some
versions say that he too was killed by Apollo when he tried to avenge his
children’s deaths. And so it was that Niobe’s entire family had been wiped out
by the gods in a matter of moments, and in deep anguish, she ran to Mount
Sipylus.
There she pleaded [with the] Gods to
[put] … an end to … her pain. Zeus felt sorry for her and transformed her into a
rock, to make her feelings [express themselves from the] … stone. However, even
as a rock, Niobe continued to cry. Her endless tears poured forth as a stream
from the rock and it [her statue] seems to stand as a moving reminder of a
mother’s eternal mourning. To this day, Niobe is mourning for her children and
people believe that her faint image can still be seen carved on a limestone
rock cliff on Mount Sipylus, with the water that seeps out of the porous rocks
bearing a strong allusion to her ceaseless tears.
The meaning of the Myth the tragic
tale of Niobe centered on the consequences of hybris, a strange concept in the
Greek antiquity, which said that, if you act with arrogance towards the Gods,
then you will be punished. Actually Niobe’s story is a classic example of the
wrath of gods against human weaknesses and has been beautifully narrated in
Homer’s Iliad. The tale of Niobe also finds mention in Metamorphoses, a
narrative poem, written by the renowned Roman poet Ovid, who, however, has
inverted the traditionally accepted order and portrayed the desires and
conquests of the gods with aversion, while elevating human passions to a higher
Source:
(b)O Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn! Version of
Bruce Springsteen
“O Mary Don’t You Weep”
Well if I
could, I surely would,
Stand on the rock where Moses stood, Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Well Mary wore three links of chain,
On every link was Jesus name,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Well one of these nights about 12 o’clock,
This old world is gonna rock,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Well Moses stood on the Red Sea shore,
Smote the water with a two by four,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Well old Mister Satan he got mad,
Missed that soul that he thought he had,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Brothers and sisters, don’t you cry,
There’ll be good times by and by,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

God gave Noah the rainbow sign,
No more water, but fire next time,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more,
Oh Mary don’t you weep no more.

Pharoh’s army got drownded,
Oh Mary don’t you weep.

The phrase vale
of tears (Latin vallis lacrimarum) is a Christian phrase referring to the
tribulations of life that Christian doctrine says are left behind only when one
leaves the world and enters Heaven. The term “valley of tears”
is also used sometimes. (Wikepedia).
  
Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart. His Lacrimosa (weeping) is part of his Requiem Mass 1792. Was
completed by Sysmayr.
Cry
Me a River
Diana
Krall
Now
you say you’re lonely
You cry the whole night through
Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river
I
cried a river over you.
Now
you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue
Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river
I
cried a river over you
You
drove me, nearly drove me out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I remember all that you said
Told me love was too plebeian
Told
me you were through with me
And now you say you love me
Well, just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river, cry me a river
I
cried a river over you
You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I…
© 16 Oct 2017  
About
the Author  
I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City,
Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker
for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally
impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s.
I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few
interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I
graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.
Posted on

Wisdom Teeth and Weltschmerz, by Louis Brown

The two parts to my essay are (a) physical pain and (b) Welstschmerz.

(a) Back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, I was having trouble with my four wisdom teeth. The wisdom tooth pressing up against its neighboring tooth caused extreme pain. The first wisdom tooth extraction (Upper right) went rather well. A dentist got it out. The second wisdom tooth (lower right) was more complicated so I had to go to Flushing Hospital.

The wisdom tooth resisted being extracted by the dental surgeon’s first attempt, and he used a reasonably sized pliers. But as the wisdom tooth resisted, the pain increased dramatically, and the dental surgeon kept choosing larger and larger pliers. The last pair of pliers was quite enormous and resembled a medieval torture instrument. For about a week after that, I just stayed drunk, and I rinsed my mouth with whisky which is not only a good antiseptic, it helped deaden the pain.

A month or two after that, my two left wisdom teeth were pressing up against their neighboring teeth. The pain was excruciating. So I chose an oral surgeon or rather an oral surgery team.

I lay down on a gurney, they gave me phenobarbital, and I went into a semi-dream state, but I was still awake, and I was aware of the surgeon and the three or four nurses assisting him who were hovering over me. They extracted both wisdom teeth with surgery rather than yanking them out with pliers. Everything went smoothly, I felt no pain, and the subsequent recuperation period had some pain but it was minimal.

So, if you need to have more than one tooth extracted at a time, choose oral surgery. Phenobarbital was wonderful. You get anesthetized, but your body does not feel threatened as with ether or other anesthesias. And you are still actually awake.

(b) The other type of pain I have experienced is Weltschmerz or “World pain,” defined in Webster’s Dictionary as “sentimental pessimism or melancholy over the state of the world”:

(1) JFK got assassinated. That trauma was painful, but we discussed that already.

(2) The twin towers came down on 9/11/2001. But of course we already discussed that trauma as well.

(3) President Nixon ordered the invasion of Cambodia on May 8, 1970. I remember the protests in this country were swift and enormous. I tried to go to a protest demonstration in Washington, D. C., but there were just too many protesters. Our bus had to stop somewhere in the outskirts of Washington, D. C., so we just sat there; some of the passengers had guitars so we made the best of it by singing peace songs and Beatles’ songs. It was fun. But the invasion itself was traumatic and caused a lot of people Weltschmerz.

(4) January 30, 1968 was the date of the Tet Offensive. That was when we realized that, actually the Communists whooped us. On April 30, 1975, the U. S. withdrew from Vietnam. Pictures of the “fall” of Saigon were quite traumatic. I felt more Weltschmerz.

(5) The death of our two friends, Steve and Randy.

On a less serious note, the French language has two interesting tongue twisters, that is le vire-langue (rarely used):

(a) Ton thé, t’ôte-t-il ta toux? Does your tea get rid of your cough?

(b) La reine Didon dîna, dit-on, d’un dos dodu d’un dodu dindon. The Queen of Carthage dined, they say, on the fat back of a fat turkey.

Of course, Dido (Didon) was not actually a queen, she was a princess, though she did run ancient Carthage.

©14 September 2017

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Thanksgiving Dinner at the Brown House, by Louie Brown

(published in this blog previously on June 20, 2014)

When I was around 11 or 12 years old, I remember having Thanksgiving dinner with my parents and brothers in College Point. It was the mid-1950’s. Dwight Eisenhower was the President. I was a child happy with life, but my parents were very poor. I was too young to understand the inconveniences of poverty. We lived in a two-family house, and the upstairs tenant was a mother and daughter, Edna. They were poorer than we were. Edna got herself invited to our Thanksgiving and enjoyed setting up for the feast.

My parents and especially my mother and grandmother wanted us to remember that once upon a time the Brown family and my maternal grandmother’s family, the Wilcoxes, in the 19th century were enormous affluent, influential families. On the wall were a picture of Abraham Lincoln in an oak oval frame and another of my great grandfather Captain Francis Leicester Brown of the Union Army in an oak oval frame. There was a petty point sampler that read “God bless the family in this household,” completed by me on my 15th birthday, May 10, 1819, Hannah Hopkins Hodge.

In the 17th and 18th centuries my ancestors were prominent Puritan ministers. Even back then there were seemingly endless irreconcilable theological battles going on. On the other hand, my mother warned us that, though we should remember our ancestors, we should not be like her great aunt and become ancestor worshipers. It wasn’t wholesome either.

The meal consisted of turkey, creamed onions, turnips, yams, rather traditional. What made it memorable was the chinaware: Limoges and Haviland plates and platters, a Wedgewood chocolate pitcher, Limoges demitasse espresso coffee cups that were works of art. Crystal goblets for the cider, a magnificent Damask table cloth and napkins. Ornate sterling silverware, Victorian style. Our attic was full of these remnants and memorabilia of an affluent comfortable 19th century past. Corny but beautiful oil paintings, more petit point samplers, lavish gowns with the finest French laces. More Victorian extravagance. Edna from a Catholic family really enjoyed our Thanksgiving dinners. For a day we Browns were again important people though the reference point was to another earlier century. For a day we were ancestor worshipers.

Moral: How do poor people become whole happy well-adjusted people in a hostile social environment? I think poor people learning survival skills is probably more important than measuring one’s personal worth by the balance in our checking accounts and the influence we have in our communities.

Catholic Edna for example is happy. She started out poor. She is still poor, but she has a good understanding of why certain politicians say what they say. She has a spiritual dimension to her belief system. She survives, she is well-adjusted. She also proves that Puritans and Catholics can get along just fine, thank you.

Personally, I am still a “mal-content”. I am dissatisfied with church-sponsored homophobia, and the establishment’s irrational hostility to poor people, but I am on the mend.

Our best teachers in the current environment are Occupy Wall Street and the Radical Faeries. I heard clearly what they have to say. They are convincing. We Americans should object to Wall Street giving orders to our elected leaders about how they should victimize the public for the sake of increasing profits for billionaires. The Radical Faeries in their presentations at the Lesbian and Gay Center in New York City pointed out the need for Lesgay people to develop a spiritual side to their personalities, to revere their sexual orientation rather than skulking around hating ourselves for the convenience of homophobes. We are an international “tribe”. Guess what, there are gay people in Morocco and Australia.

In her personal search to find meaning in life outside of material success, Edna feels that she should boast about her family, her two children. In general, since Lesgay people are banished from traditional families, we have to devise another system that suits our communal interests.

What do we tell Lesbian and gay homeless teenagers who have been tossed out of their fundamentalist parents’ homes because of their sexual orientation? In other words, empower the out-groups. Amen.

© 31 March 2014  




About the Author



I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Hooves by Louis Brown

(1) The Mongol hordes: their great skill with horses made them successful conquerors.

(2) The four horsemen of the Apocalypse: death, famine, war and conquest. (Emily Dickinson: “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.) in a horse-drawn carriage.

Because I could not stop for Death —
He kindly stopped for me —
The Carriage held but just Ourselves —
And Immortality.

We slowly drove — He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility —

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess — in the Ring —
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain —
We passed the Setting Sun —

Or rather — He passed Us —
The Dews drew quivering and Chill —
For only Gossamer, my Gown —
My Tippet — only Tulle —

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground —
The Roof was scarcely visible —
The Cornice — in the Ground —

Since then — ’tis Centuries — and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity — 

Theme: Do not be afraid of death. (“A Narrow Fellow in the Grass”)

(3) The age of chivalry in medieval Europe: Lancelot, King Arthur, Perceval, Sir Galahad and Ivanhoe, all rode horses to their glory.

(4) My Presbyterian friend has a daughter who raises horses in Kentucky.

(5) Pegasus and the Roman Centaurs.

(6) Mr. Ed (talking horse on TV).

(7) The Denver Broncos.

(8) Mustang is the name of gay porno company. Don’t know if it is still in business.

[For Halloween]

A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides – You may have met Him? Did you not His notice instant is- The Grass divides as with a Comb – A spotted shaft is seen, And then it closes at your Feet And opens further on – He likes a Boggy Acre – A Floor too cool for Corn – But when a Boy and Barefoot I more than once at Noon Have passed I thought a Whip Lash Unbraiding in the Sun When stooping to secure it It wrinkled And was gone – Several of Nature’s People

I know, and they know me I feel for them a transport Of cordiality But never met this Fellow, Attended or alone Without a tighter Breathing And Zero at the Bone.

© 9 October 2017

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Collective Evil in Us Results in Evil Leaders, by Louis Brown

New Evil: to protest the
passage of the Trumpcare bill, call Senator Cory Gardner, 303-391-5777 or
202-224-5941 DC and Senator Michael Bennet, 303-455-7600 Colorado, or
202-224-5852 DC. I called the office for both of them.
I am the self-ordained
wannabe Presbyterian right reverend Louis Brown who would like to expatiate not
only on the evils of our current world leaders, but on the evils in our own
hearts. I point this out because “evil” is a heavy-duty theological term.
Many conservative leaders
constantly repeat that the U. S. government is evil. Well, since Donald Trump
is the government, Donald Trump is evil. This is “true” because of ipse dixit, he himself has said it. But
there are degrees of evil. Donald Trump is not the most evil world leader, he
is not even the most evil Republican.  If
Congress removes DT from office, we get Mike Pence who is worse than DT. If
Congress removes MP from office, we get Paul Ryan who is worse than MP. For
people who want to counter their evil intentions, we should remember first that
we should not be afraid of these people since they are paper tigers.
In other words, God is
punishing us for our sins by imposing evil pharaohs on us. Look at France’s new
president Emmanuel Macron, an anti-union banker. He promises to become quite
evil in the near future. Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the new president of Turkey, a
really bizarre medieval president. And of course the abusive Rodrigo Duterte of
the Phillipines. Evil, evil, evil.
When we read the Book of
Job in the Old Testament, Job has extremely bad luck in his life and asks God
what sin he had committed to deserve his wrath and punishment. God does not
answer Job so Job suffers without knowing why.
The other flamboyant evil
world leader is Vladimir Putin. What sin did the Russian people commit to
deserve President Putin? Another punishment from God?
Then we are subjected to
endless condescending lectures by graduates of the London School of Economics
on the inevitability of “globalization,” Think also of Mark Zuckerberg. I
always wondered why the London School of Economics boasts about its prestige.
Because, as an evil institution, it glorifies ignorance, profound ignorance. In
other words, I would like to know, if your version of the economy is failing, why
are you boasting and strutting about like a peacock?
I believe our collective
sin is not advocating more consistently and more vociferously for the rights
and interests of working people. Our world “Leaders” act as though the 20th
century never happened. Amen.
© 26 Jun 2017  
About
the Author  
 I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City,
Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker
for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally
impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s.
I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few
interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I
graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.
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Anxious Moments, by Louis Brown

( A ) Because Bernie Sanders told his followers to campaign for Hillary Clinton, I went to the local office of Ed Perlmutter, member of U. S. Congress, and did many hours of phone work for her. However, I felt uncomfortable doing so. Hillary Clinton, despite her consistent claims to being a liberal, really isn’t. She admires Henry Kissinger, voted for the War in Iraq and generally does not even acknowledge the existence of the liberal base of the Democratic Party. She was for the TPP before she was against it. Her opposition to the TPP was not sincere and she really never touched on the underlying hostility the TPP represents to working people in America. However, when I campaigned for her, I kept my real opinions to myself. Was this an anxious moment of an awkward situation?

( B ) When I took the course for para-legal studies at Queens College, NYC about 12 years ago, I noticed there was no real preparation to pass the final exam. Many participants told me you really did not have to know much to pass the final exam. So I did not take the final exam. And I flunked paralegal studies at Queens College. In addition to the dishonesty of the course presentation, I also noticed at Queens College (Flushing, NY) that there were virtually no Americans in attendance there – not in paralegal studies, not in the undergraduate school or the professional graduate school departments. I once saw a group of Jewish students, and I said to myself well at least there are some Jewish Americans attending college here. But as their boisterous dinner party in the cafeteria proceeded, I learned they were all from Israel, no Jewish Americans. Later I noticed there was one exception, one awkward Jewish American young man, not a part of this group, and I definitely identified with him. He was taking the paralegal course too. I doubt he passed the paralegal final exam either.

My point is that, as much as I am against xenophobia and am generally anti-Trump, I do think it is strange that the American public is not permitted to attend medical school. Trump is succeeding in appealing to people’s fears.

( C ) At Democratic Party meetings, including the Lesbian and Gay Democrats of Queens County, supporters of the AFL-CIO, like myself, remember when Democrats and the AFL-CIO spoke for the economic interests of about 80% of the American public, and, as a result, the Democratic Party flourished and was the majority party for many years. Now that the Democratic Party has dumped the AFL-CIO, they are losing dramatically elections all over the country. Many people like me know why, but our pro-labor advocacy is rarely brought up at Democratic Party meetings or at their promotional events. About 3 years ago I called the Colorado AFL-CIO and they told me they were not on speaking terms with the Colorado Democratic Party. I called the offices of Ed Perlmutter, Michael Bennet and Mark Udall, and they all told me they could not comment on what the Colorado AFLCIO said or thought about them. Why not? Because of the absence of the AFL-CIO in Democratic Party politics, you can expect their numbers in the Congress and state legislatures to decline even further. What a shame!

© 12 June 2017

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.