I’ve got new creative things coming this week for the blog. But as for today —
Rumor has it, and statistics will show, that on Saturdays less people read blogs and surf the net in general! Where did I get that? I dunno… I’ve been around. However– for me, Saturdays involve talking to the family, and lots of leisure time of course, and that’s when memories like this one come back to me:
It must have been 1995… not really sure. I’ve seen the family videos and it’s obvious from my squeaky voice and short stature, that puberty hadn’t hit. Whereas normally it was understood that summers were for being in Portugal and spending time with g’ma, g’pa and the many beloved cousins. In that particular summer, Mom and Dad decided we needed to do something more; they bought round-trip tickets on an overnight train to Madrid, and then tickets to Paris via train, as well. I had never stepped outside Portugal as far as Europe was concerned — so it was a very welcome idea!
And so this family of four set off by land to see the continent. It was a first for my family, but they were prepared for the adventure. I remember careful analysis of maps, meticulously packed bags, and the confirmation and re-confirmation of hotels, for those welcome nights not spent on the train.
But oh that train ride, especially in the night. I remember not being able to, or wanting to sleep. No… I wanted to stare out into the darkness of Extremadura, the vast emptiness that Spain seems to have so much of. Occasionally I would spot a streetlight, or a car, and I would follow it on the horizon for as long it was in sight. I also remember getting nervous when the train would make stops in the middle of the night. Convinced that the whole train was sleeping, except for me, and I was the only witness of the made-for-tv style robbery that was about to take place. Oh sure, they were supposed to be border guards, but I knew the score, I was ready to defend the family train cabin! Hmm… I think I fell alseep after that.
I wonder if it wasn’t around then when this bug bit me. Wanting to learn french, and any language you put in front of me basically. My parents had brought me to the heart of Europe, and I liked it, perhaps knowing that I would return eventually, taller, wiser, and with a receding hairline.
Oh and I’m still A-Peeling for tips to help fund the mac purchase, much thanks to I.V. in Jacksonville, and my buddy Sunlight Disinfectant.
Today’s Sounds: Maynard Ferguson – Caravan
This is not to discourage you. No No. As I’ve often written, immigrating from one’s country of birth is an honorable and timeless tradition. I hate how sometimes the US is seen as immune from this tradition. They talk and talk about immigrants moving to the states, I want to talk about emmigrants, who left the country and made lives for themselves around the world! What do you think the percentage is anyway? statistics.. I’ll work on that.
And oh the waste. Lots of megawattage, but they have no clue where to put the waste. Tons and tons that will slowly kill us all or just maybe contaminate our drinkin water and kill us nice and secret-like. Some old rich white men in the US congress want to put it in the mountains of Nevada or somethin…. you can bet my friend 
AudioCommuniqu? #18 (mp3)
Well last week, in what came as a huge surprise to me, Chris Missick returned to the US, ending (i think) his tour of duty, and letting him be home with his fam in Calipornia. I was surprised because, though he said it would happen soon, in my mind it was always going to take longer than expected… like one of those things you try not to look forward to because the wait will make you grow restless.