The name Ghost Dog is in reference to the Jim Jarmusch film of the same name. I love this movie and the name Ghost Dog is the perfect trope evoking for me several levels of meaning, the first of which is my love for movies. Followed closely by my love for books, stories, photography and music. The movie contains all these elements and more. Including an eccentric character acting alone following his own code as expostulated in the book The Hagekure: The Way of the Samurai. Another element of my life very important to me is my interest and devotion to Eastern Philosophy. The way of the Samurai has long fascinated me. Two of my favorite passages from the book and included in the film are as follows:
“The Way of the Samurai is found in death. Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day when one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears, and swords. Being carried away by surging waves. Being thrown into the midst of a great fire. Being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake. Falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease, or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master. And every day, without fail, one should consider himself as dead. This is the substance of the Way of the Samurai.”
“There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything.”
My tagline: Notes from the Underground with pictures says two things. First it is another literary reference about a disaffected character communicating with a wider audience from the vantage point of his underground location actually a “mouse hole.” This could be any blogger typing away on his computer keyboard in some dimly lit lonely basement,a cheap hotel with neon lights blinking outside, or lonely apartment on Santa Monica Blvd. or other such accommodation. I see Tom Waits, Charles Bukowski, or Nelsen Algren.
The picture thing has to do with my love of photography, visual images, and the stories they tell. I will be illustrating my posts with my own work for the most part, but on occasion, when the moment is right, I might snag an image off the internet.
Well, that about explains it. I would be interested in hearing what you have to say, so drop me a line or leave a comment. As my friend Timi says, keep the conversation going.
Notes From the Undrground
Take Me to Paris
The place I would most like to be transported to is Paris in the 1920’s- 1940’s. The time and place where Ernest Hemingway lived as a young man and wrote A Movable Feast. I would like to be part of the group that surrounded Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Albert Camus during the time of post war France when they were trying to re-establish French civil society as was depicted in The Mandarins. This is where and when I would most like to go.
QOTD
Barbarism is not the inheritance of our prehistory. It is the companion that dogs our every step.
-Alain Finklekraut
Road Trip Day 9
A league is the amount of distance one can travel in an hour. A journey is the amount of distance which can be covered in a day. Today my journey will take me to Atlanta.
Road Trip Day 2
On our way to Boca Raton I said to Mary, let’s stop at the liquor store before we get to Miriam’s and I’ll pick up some Wild Turkey. She said, I’m already driving with a wild turkey. Boom!
Road Trip Day 2 P-1
I have always been an early riser. In America everything is true at first light and a lie by noon. What fresh hell will be served today?
Road Trip Day 1
Mary and I started on a road trip today in our Fiat 500. We packed light and are bringing our dog Gideon. He thinks he is a human.
We are on our way to Boca Raton Florida to celebrate Mary’s cousins 50th birthday. Miriam has requested all her guests to wear white for the party. So we are coming prepared. Including Gideon.
We drove about 500 miles today. Making four stops along the way. We stopped in Smith’s Grove Tennessee, Murfreesboro Tennessee, Chattanooga Tennessee, and Forest Park Georgia just outside of Atlanta. We made our final stop for the night in Macon Georgia. Found a pet-friendly Best
Allow Me to Introduce Myself
Hello readers. I am posting today an introduction. I am doing so as part of a Blogging 101 exercise but also as a way of actually introducing myself and getting to know you better. I am new to blogging but have always been interested in writing.
I am here because I love to write and I seek an audience. I want to improve my writing and hone my blogging skills. I will be writing about a variety of topics that interest me and I hope will interest you too.
I will be writing about culture, both pop and otherwise, art, photography, books, movies, current events, politics, philosophy and religion. I am particularly interested in Eastern Religions such as Buddhism. Over time I may narrow my focus or create separate blogs, but for now I will contain everything in one place.
I want to connect with people of like minded interests who have exciting ideas to share. I hope to find an audience and a readership that will continue to grow. I have already posted a number if pieces and I invite you to take a look at them. Feedback and comments are welcome.
Buddhist Chant – Heart Sutra Sanskrit
Avner the Eccentric Mime or Time Flies Like Arrows
Wilbur, bearded and wonderful, popped out of the
boys locker room to the right of the stage. The
restive audience grew quiet. Wilbur shuffled
slowly across the polished surface of the gymnasium
floor, eyes wide, and mind vacant. He then disappeared
into the girls locker room to the left of the stage. A few
titters of laughter rippled through the crowd.
Several moments of time passed. We all expected to
see him appear up on the stage. Instead, once again
he popped out of the boys locker room. This time to
gales of laughter. Wilbur turned to face the audience,
eyes wider than ever, his head tilted at an impossible
angle on his neck. Why are they laughing, he seemed
to wonder?
He did an about face and stumbled up the stairs and
was at last in his proper place: on stage.
Wilbur was in trouble and the audience loved it.
Once on stage the bearded wonder treated us to
the magic of illusion and the unexpected. He led
our minds and we eagerly followed. Wilbur clowned
and mimed for us for nearly an hour.
“Time flies like arrows,” he said to me later.
“You betcha!” I replied.
He dressed for the occasion in an old brown overcoat,
rumpled and worn. He had great fun getting out of it.
And so did we watching him. His pockets became as
birds; taking on a life of their own. When it wouldn’t
hang in mid-air as surely I thought it would, he selected
one of us at random to hang his hat and coat upon.
He wore baggy grey trousers and charcoal suspenders,
blue sneakers, and a wrinkled black tee shirt. His hat
was of old brown felt and was quite misshapen.
Although, I am sure, at one time it was worn by someone
with great dignity and aplomb. It was that kind of hat.
Wilbur never said a word, but we knew what he was about.
He became a cow. Then he milked it.
He became a frog. Then he choked to death on his tongue.
He became a surgeon and performed a heart transplant.
Then he took us on a fantastic voyage through the human
body. From anal passage to nasal passage. From stem to
stern. He did hand over hands on the rib cage.
Wilbur ate fire in the dark. He juggled brightly colored balls
In the bright white light. He lost his pants and treated us to
a view of his shocking pink boxers. Then he threatened all of
our lives by balancing first a large wooden plank on his hairy
chin. Then a long aluminum step ladder. We all sensed the
danger and shrunk down in our seats. Soon the danger was
over and Wilbur was back on stage pulling yet another bit of
magic from his bag of tricks.
“Wilbur was my first clown name,” he said proudly after the
show. Whereupon he stepped gingerly to the other side of
the room and neatly lifted off the top of Notre Dame and
peered into the darkness below to see what he could see.
I just smiled.
Ghost Dog 