Pieces of Me Introit

No direction
I'm scattered in the breeze
Living on memories

Fates Warning - Pieces of Me

I've been thinking of doing something like this for a while now - Something of what? you're wondering, Way to start in the middle of a thought, without explaining yourself!, to which I reply, Exactly - so it's high time I actually start.

Everyone's got stories - even those that aren't worthy of becoming short stories, poems, or novels. Snippets, maybe, bits and pieces of thoughts or memories. Sometimes funny, sometimes witty, sometimes entertaining, sometimes incomplete and pointless. Most of them are true, even if time distorts them a bit. I make no bones about them depicting real and actual events with the accuracy of a Really Accurate Thing. Names are changed to protect the innocent and to dissuade the guilty from general nastiness - however, some nicknames aren't changed because to do so would be to change one nuance too many.

That's the Something of what?, and this is the start of it all.

Well, not really, as there's no story here, but it is an opening salvo of sorts. Stay tuned, and watch for the pieces of me tag.

All that I remember now
Are people and shadows

Fates Warning - Pieces of Me

Pieces of Me - Stand in Line

Just another pistol, waiting for someone
To come and pull the trigger
So let his bullet fly through the air...

Impellitteri - Stand in Line

As this has come up in general conversation several times in the past few days, we'll start with it...

Back in the sixties, Belmont and Watertown used to get together on the town line, right on Common Street, and rumble - and the kids from Belmont were not the ones with slick-backed hair and leather jackets. Up on Belmont Hill, there's the four million dollar mansion (amongst other slightly pricey properties.) Belmont has always been a bit hoity-toity, and its police department had a reputation for not being completely kind to long-haired weirdos who happened to stray into their way.

While I was working at the music store, I spent many an hour talking with a Belmont police officer who brought his daughter in for lessons - piano, I think, but just as likely flute or saxophone or something else. One of those times I related the following little bit that I had recently experienced in Arlington (that's Ahlington, for those who are unclear on Massachusetts place names):

I was over my girlfriend's house - we'll call her Denise - with a bunch of others, and we were hanging around in her front yard. I don't recall if her mother was at home or not. Two good officers of the Arlington police department arrived on the scene, because long haired guys and girls talking quietly on private property (with permission, and, indeed, with one or more residents of said property) are not to be allowed.

The six or so of us were lined up on the front lawn, and the good officers walked down the line.

"What's your name, asshole? Where are you from, asshole? Go back to Watertown, asshole."

They worked their way down the line, and the only thing that changed was the name of the town.

See, I had gone to high school at a regional school, and most of the assembled group were current or former students, and all but one or two were from different towns. Apparently, it was not legal to cross town lines. Or the cops were bored.

Anyway, the point (not that there really is one), is that the officer from Belmont said "a good cop can tell the troublemakers" and said he would never stop or question or harass me, because it was obvious that - despite long hair, leather jacket, and what have you - that I was not the troublemaking type.

Of course, I think that the many hours spent discussing various subjects with me did more than his own sixth sense, although one can always hope, but I'm thinking that there are - judging by the instant accurate ID ability - far less good cops than one would like.

Pirates of the Mediterranean

All manner of stories here... interesting how Australian headlines read "Aussies under attack..." and UK ones read "Cruise ship Britons attacked by Pirates" as if each is more important. Hmmm, I thought only the US media stooped that low as to pretend things were more newsworthy only when American citizens were involved.

People were attacked.

Why care only about those in your country? Next thing you'll know, you'll only care about those in your state or region. Or who went to your college. Or from your city. Or neighborhood. Or your household. Or... lets face it, at that point all you care about is number one, and you really are unsure of why your picture is there for the definition of "self-centered."

(no subject)

A photographer just posted this over on the Arborday.org forums... some beautiful pictures of fall color in the southern Sierra... enjoy!

(Meanwhile, we're down to oak leaves and a handful of young trees - everything else has dropped!)