31.2K
Downloads
711
Episodes
Dane Allred examines the "Abundance" of the universe in his list of "1001 Thanks"
Episodes
Friday Mar 05, 2010
Friday Mar 05, 2010
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Friday Mar 05, 2010
Friday Mar 05, 2010
Three and One are One
by Ambrose Bierce
In the year 1861 Barr Lassiter, a young man of twenty-two, lived with his parents and an elder sister near Carthage, Tennessee. The family were in somewhat humble circumstances, subsisting by cultivation of a small and not very fertile plantation. Owning no slaves, they were not rated among “the best people” of their neighborhood; but they were honest persons of good education, fairly well mannered and as respectable as any family could be if uncredentialed by personal dominion over the sons and daughters of Ham. The elder Lassiter had that severity of manner that so frequently affirms an uncompromising devotion to duty, and conceals a warm and affectionate disposition. He was of the iron of which martyrs are made, but in the heart of the matrix had lurked a nobler metal, fusible at a milder heat, yet never coloring nor softening the hard exterior. By both heredity and environment something of the man’s inflexible character had touched the other members of the family; the Lassiter home, though not devoid of domestic affection, was a veritable citadel of duty, and duty—ah, duty is as cruel as death!
When the war came on it found in the family, as in so many others in that State, a divided sentiment; the young man was loyal to the Union, the others savagely hostile. This unhappy division begot an insupportable domestic bitterness, and when the offending son and brother left home with the avowed purpose of joining the Federal army not a hand was laid in his, not a word of farewell was spoken, not a good wish followed him out into the world whither he went to meet with such spirit as he might whatever fate awaited him.
Making his way to Nashville, already occupied by the Army of General Buell, he enlisted in the first organization that he found, a Kentucky regiment of cavalry, and in due time passed through all the stages of military evolution from raw recruit to experienced trooper. A right good trooper he was, too, although in his oral narrative from which this tale is made there was no mention of that; the fact was learned from his surviving comrades. For Barr Lassiter has answered “Here” to the sergeant whose name is Death.
Two years after he had joined it, his regiment passed through the region whence he had come. The country thereabout had suffered severely from the ravages of war, having been occupied alternately (and simultaneously) by the belligerent forces, and a sanguinary struggle had occurred in the immediate vicinity of the Lassiter homestead. But of this the young trooper was not aware.
Finding himself in camp near his home, he felt a natural longing to see his parents and sister, hoping that in them, as in him, the unnatural animosities of the period had been softened by time and separation. Obtaining a leave of absence, he set foot in the late summer afternoon, and soon after the rising of the full moon was walking up the gravel path leading to the dwelling in which he had been born.
Soldiers in war age rapidly, and in youth two years are a long time. Barr Lassiter felt himself an old man, and had almost expected to find the place a ruin and a desolation. Nothing, apparently, was changed. At the sight of each dear and familiar object he was profoundly affected. His heart beat audibly, his emotion nearly suffocated him; an ache was in his throat. Unconsciously he quickened his pace until he almost ran, his long shadow making grotesque efforts to keep its place beside him.
The house was unlighted, the door open. As he approached and paused to recover control of himself his father came out and stood bare-headed in the moonlight.
“Father!” cried the young man, springing forward with outstretched hand—“Father!”
The elder man looked him sternly in the face, stood a moment motionless and without a word withdrew into the house. Bitterly disappointed, humiliated, inexpressibly hurt and altogether unnerved, the soldier dropped upon a rustic seat in deep dejection, supporting his head upon his trembling hand. But he would not have it so: he was too good a soldier to accept repulse as defeat. He rose and entered the house, passing directly to the “sitting-room.”
It was dimly lighted by an uncurtained east window. On a low stool by the hearthside, the only article of furniture in the place, sat his mother, staring into a fireplace strewn with blackened embers and cold ashes. He spoke to her—tenderly, interrogatively, and with hesitation, but she neither answered, nor moved, nor seemed in any way surprised. True, there had been time for her husband to apprise her of their guilty son’s return. He moved nearer and was about to lay his hand upon her arm, when his sister entered from an adjoining room, looked him full in the face, passed him without a sign of recognition and left the room by a door that was partly behind him. He had turned his head to watch her, but when she was gone his eyes again sought his mother. She too had left the place.
Barr Lassiter strode to the door by which he had entered. The moonlight on the lawn was tremulous, as if the sward were a rippling sea. The trees and their black shadows shook as in a breeze. Blended with its borders, the gravel walk seemed unsteady and insecure to step on. This young soldier knew the optical illusions produced by tears. He felt them on his cheek, and saw them sparkle on the breast of his trooper’s jacket. He left the house and made his way back to camp.
The next day, with no very definite intention, with no dominant feeling that he could rightly have named, he again sought the spot. Within a half-mile of it he met Bushrod Albro, a former playfellow and schoolmate, who greeted him warmly.
“I am going to visit my home,” said the soldier. The other looked at him rather sharply, but said nothing.
“I know,” continued Lassister, “that my folks have not changed, but—”
“There have been changes,” Albro interrupted—“everything changes. I’ll go with you if you don’t mind. We can talk as we go.”
But Albro did not talk.
Instead of a house they found only fire-blackened foundations of stone, enclosing an area of compact ashes pitted by rains.
Lassiter’s astonishment was extreme.
“I could not find the right way to tell you,” said Albro. “In the fight a year ago your house was burned by a Federal shell.”
“And my family—where are they?”
“In Heaven, I hope. All were killed by the shell.”
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Friday Mar 05, 2010
Friday Mar 05, 2010
Daily Drill
I like to go to the dentist. It took me a long time before I reached this point, but this week when I emerged from the three story building he has an office in, I looked at my teeth and for the first time I can remember, I saw no fillings.
I have spent more time in a dentist’s chair than I care to recall, but it is probably into the thousands of hours. I’ve had many, many root canals, as in more than 5 and less than 10, and too many fillings to count. I have a bridge across two of my teeth, and I really don’t know how many crowns I have in my mouth. It’s that bad.
My daughter texted me last week and said the dentist told her she had her father’s teeth. It made me feel sad for her, because I know the kind of pain and suffering she will face throughout her life. She was fitted for another crown this week, and on the same day the same dentist fitted me for another crown. She in her late twenties now, and we have paid for extensive work on her teeth including braces and veneers, and now she is finding out how expensive bad teeth can be.
When I was young, my teeth hurt so often I had to choose which side of my mouth to chew my food on, and it was usually the side with the least cavities. To make my teeth fit in my small mouth, the dentist pulled four teeth and the others straightened out, so I did escape having to have braces.
But I know my mother paid for several very nice boats for the dentist while my teeth rotted away. We all know the main culprit for my teeth problems is the amount of soda I drink. My teeth are so weak the dentist even gave me prescription strength fluoride toothpaste. Well, he gave it to me and then charged me for it. But I thought it was a nice gesture.
Teeth are an interesting symbol of strength. We don’t want our teeth to be weak, and we don’t want the pain associated with weak teeth. So we do a few things to make sure they stay in good health, like brushing, flossing, and visiting the dentist regularly.
In my forties, I finally got most of my teeth in shape. I still had some of those ugly silver fillings from the sixties, but I can say I spent a decade or two without tooth pain because I actually kept going to the dentist.
Our lives can be like teeth. Without the proper examination, we may be rotting away and not even know it. If we find ourselves in a place where we feel bitter, disappointed or angry, the decay into this condition started long before today. Perhaps we are harboring bad feelings, which rot away our soul as surely as sugar rots my teeth.
The decay in our lives doesn’t have to match the gradual decline of our bodies. With proper intervention, we can live interesting, fulfilled lives until the day we begin to decay after our death. But the mental brushing and flossing might include things like hobbies, puzzles, new interests, and it may even include a general restructuring of our lives.
The dentist had to drill away what was left of my broken tooth, but the good news is he also got rid of a really prominent silver filling. Now the temporary cap they put on matches my teeth, and the ugly darkness which had greeted me every time I looked in the mirror, and for the last four decades or more. But first he had to build up a post of new material so the crown had something to hold onto.
We may have to restructure our basic foundations to be able to secure the new habits we want to build. If I want to be a writer, I may have to do some writing every day. I can do all the planning I want about my book, but until I actually put pen to paper, or type some words into a word processor, I will never start to become a writer. We can dream all we want, but when the dreaming stops and the work begins, we will find out just how much we want something.
I have been to the dentist so much I can have him drill on shallow cavities without being numbed up. The dental assistants can’t really believe when I do this, and then I don’t have to worry about the numbing stuff wearing off. Are you ready to jump into life? Maybe it’s time to get up out of the chair and face the work we need to do.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Wednesday Mar 03, 2010
Wednesday Mar 03, 2010
Incongruous
Life is full of contradictions, but this doesn’t mean we need to label one side good and the other bad. This world can be both a beautiful and an ugly place at the same time. When I see abundance in the universe, it doesn’t mean I don’t know about the pain and suffering that also exists locally and across the world.
It may seem incongruous to acknowledge abundance when there are still people hurting. But I really think there is no other way to improve this world unless we gain a positive perspective and try to emphasize what is good.
Let me explain one of the ways I have come to have this peculiar appreciation of the incongruity of life. While I was taking a Russian language class in college, the cute little lady from Germany who was struggling to get me to speak Russian without a western drawl told me a story about the Soviet Union. She said if you were walking the street in the Soviet Union and you saw a line, you should get in it. She said when there was a line; it meant there was something being sold which most people would want. She used the example of pineapples. She said when you get to the front of the line; you should buy all you could carry. It still made no sense, so she said you would take those pineapples home and give or sell them to your neighbors, who would do the same for you next time something was being sold which everyone wanted. The shortages made the lines something you should never pass up.
This reminds me of the defection of a MIG pilot during the Soviet Union era. When he decided to come to the United States, he was convinced every place he was taken had staged the plenty we have become accustomed to here in the West. So the pilot decided to run-away from his supervisors and see for himself. He was sure the stores with plenty were prepared just for him, and after searching for the kind of scarcity he knew from the Soviet Union, he turned himself back in after a month or so. It was so unbelievable to him he had to prove it to himself.
Do we really need to live for a while in a less fortunate place to appreciate the bounty we have all around us? I’m not only talking about pineapples, but the opportunities we are surrounded with which we take for granted, or worse, ignore. Best of all, many of the most glorious things we can enjoy aren’t really things. Here’s a list I was making this morning on the way to work. I was able to enjoy the radiant sunshine reflected off a snow covered peak to the north with a reddish pink brilliance. Since I was driving, I was only able to look at it for a moment, but it was an amazing sight.
Then as I drove South, I recognized the sun rising in the same place it rises during this time of the year. It’s been a favorite time for me since it is a precursor to the approach of spring. But the sun was still a little too far north, and it wasn’t rising on the same bridge it does at the end of next month. I considered why this was, and with the education I’ve received in excellent public schools, I was able to imagine our part of the hemisphere tilting away from the sun on our yearly trip around the sun. As I drove to work, in my mind I could see the planet slowly revolving around the sun until we are pointing directly at it and we are basking in summer glory. It was another amazing opportunity to acknowledge the incredible, wonderful and amazing life I am living.
Where millions of people in the past cursed the winter and wondered what ceremonies they needed to perform to make the spring return, I live in a world where the wonders of science can explain why it is fifteen degrees outside this morning, and it has nothing to do with offending the gods. I drive along in a car going 75 miles per hour, and think about the fact that people believed the human body couldn’t survive speeds faster than 40 miles per hour. I work in a climate adjusted building, enjoy plentiful food, affordable clothing, and can provide for my family.
It can’t really explain why I wore a Hawaiian shirt to work when it was fifteen degrees outside. I told everyone I was trying to hurry summer along, but the truth is I just like the shirt. I maybe in my own superstitious way, I am trying to offer my own sacrifice so summer will return.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Tuesday Mar 02, 2010
Tuesday Mar 02, 2010
This is the complete episode from February 21st.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
Much Too Much
We are consumers. We are trained to consume from the day we see the McDonald’s commercials and beg for Happy Meals. We see the endless advertising telling us how much happier we can be if we only buy the faster car, the bigger house, the latest IPod, the Blu-Ray, the big screen TV.
Our economy is based on people consuming. It is the engine that drives the world, and without consumers, there might not be things to consume. It does make a kind of sense, and no one wants to return to the middle ages. But just when do we reach the point where we finally have too much?
I trumpet the abundance we live in at every chance I get, and try to offer my thanks for the wonderful circumstances I find myself in. I celebrate the present day technology and advances, eager to see what tomorrow brings. But I hope somewhere in the equation we decide who we are. We aren’t our car, our house, our job, our position in life. If we think that is who we are, then we miss out on what is happening right now in our lives by planning ways to keep our possessions and titles.
Some may say I live a charmed life, and I would agree with them. But you also lead a charmed life, simply existing in a world where cholera has been largely eliminated because we chlorinate our water. You and I live in a world where probably no one we know has tuberculosis, has ever had scarlet fever, the plague, measles, mumps and a host of other diseases common just 50 years ago. Our highway engineers design safer roads and cars, and though the newscasters would like us to believe otherwise, we live in less crime, poverty, and abuse. Does it mean these things don’t happen? No, but it’s like someone once said – The world isn’t getting worse, it’s just that the news reporting is so much better.
Can wringing our hands and decrying the remaining problems in our world make this world a better place? Or does our focus on the negative emphasize and empower it? I want to be one of the positive forces in the world, working for a better attitude about what we really have today, and the abundance which awaits us tomorrow.
It is reflected in the things I do each day. I teach high school students that education can make a difference in their futures, encouraging them to get as much education as possible, sacrificing what seems like the opportunity work at McDonald’s today for the chance at better jobs tomorrow. It happens with a high school degree. I also teach college students, who often wonder if the sacrifices they make in money today to endure the poverty of a college life will be worth it tomorrow. They know of the promise of more education and endure the challenges of endless classes, lectures and stultifying boredom to be able to provide a better future for themselves and their future families.
I work each week promoting religious activity in my church callings, urging people to see the benefit of living correct principles today, which gain us happier days now and the promise of a better life after this life. I’ve been given other talents I try to use to entertain people, helping them make it through one more day, or to help them see the absurdity, the adversity, the abundance, the diversity and the beauty of this incredible blue planet.
The world is overwhelming, and we can either celebrate the good, or commiserate about the bad. I’m not asking you to ignore the problems, but use an attitude of the possible to defeat the negativism which surrounds us. Can we be happy in an unhappy world?
I contend there is nothing else we can do. When you see the stranger on the street, are they met with a grimace or a grin? Are you pleasant to the cashier about being there to serve you for a wage you probably wouldn’t work for, or do you vent your frustration about prices on the person least able to do anything about it? Are you crowding out others in traffic so you can hurry off to your next appointment, or are you waving for someone to pull in front of you?
It really all does come down to attitude. People choose the kind of day they will have. Even in the midst of the worst of circumstances, we are allowed to choose. We choose each and every second how we will use our life, and at the end of 31 million seconds, another year has passed. When we get to this moment next year, will it be enough?
Welcome to your next 31 million seconds. Spend them well.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
A Quick Five Hundred
Sometimes it’s fun just to do something different. Plus you might get to miss parent-teacher conference. When I was requested to show up one more day for the pain patch video, I had no idea what an easy day it would be. Plus I got a ton of stuff done.
Sleeping in was the best part, since my call wasn’t until one-thirty in the afternoon. I could only sleep until 8 am, and I don’t think the wife was too happy to have to go to work while I slept. We usually have the same schedule, so we leave for work at about the same time. She was a little noisy, and I guess that was her way of showing her displeasure. But even when I did get back to sleep, I had nightmares about our kids. Serves me right.
So after a shower and shave, it’s off to the races. Which means getting some stuff ready for my substitute while I get personal leave deducted for the day I miss, but I still have to show up at work. Then off to check on some of the surplus places I like, and then to the IKEA store to buy a couple of pillows. I even had enough time to go to the radio station to record some commercials, and then go to the agent to get a voucher so I could get paid for the two days. Somewhere in between I had an Astroburger and some fries.
So far a great day, since I didn’t think I would be working the usual 12 hours in a filming contract. A late call usually means a short day unless the crew is planning on shooting late. I once sat for 12 hours before even being called to the set, and we didn’t finish for six more hours. I got overtime pay, but it was a very long 18 hour day. For this pain patch video, I had spent 12 hours the day before, but only had a couple of scenes to shoot today.
The only bad news from the whole day was that when you show up this late in a shooting day you don’t get lunch, and I showed up right as lunch was being served. I was already full, and remember, there is always craft services. I had a Coke and a water. But I had other work I could do as I waited for my shot, and after two or three hours, they were ready for me.
One of the hardest things is to get the lighting right for a scene, especially if there is sunlight involved. It actually took longer to get the lights right than my scene took to shoot. Eventually the clouds helped out and solved the problem, and after sitting around for the afternoon, I shot my scene. It was supposed to be an interview with a doctor, and I found out the guy playing the doctor does the voice you hear at Disneyland. I thought it sounded familiar. We went through some fake dialogue since none of the sound was being recorded. Then we went through some more everyday conversation and the cameras kept rolling. I looked like I was in pain. I wrung my hands. I grimaced. Sometimes we laughed, but who knows which parts they will lose. An extended take like this lets the actors relax and then the camera can get some nice honest shots. Then I was done.
That’s right. I was filmed for less than 5 minutes – probably more like 3 minutes. They were willing to pay me five hundred dollars to sit around all day and do that one scene. And people wonder why movie tickets cost so much.
But really, this footage will only be seen on the internet and maybe on some DVD’s sent to doctors. But it’s what the client wanted, and everyone was very happy with our work. I was definitely overpaid on that day, and most of you know I would probably show up and do the same for just what craft services lets me eat. But don’t tell them.
Don’t get me wrong. These are good people doing hard work which most of the world thinks is glamorous. But the nurse who was experiencing this world for the first time this week told me she didn’t really think it was for her, and she had no idea how hard the work really was.
But again, I don’t really want to do this kind of work full time even when the money is so good. I really missed my students, my colleagues, and like I said before, sometimes it good just to do something different, so you can appreciate those things you really do love to do. Is there research you need to do?
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
Saturday Feb 27, 2010
The Mouse
by Saki / H.H. Munro
THEODORIC VOLER HAD been brought up, from infancy to the confines of middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep him screened from what she called the coarser realities of life. When she died she left Theodoric alone in a world that was as real as ever, and a good deal coarser than he considered it had any need to be. To a man of his temperament and upbringing even a simple railway journey was crammed with petty annoyances and minor discords, and as he settled himself down in a second-class compartment one September morning he was conscious of ruffled feelings and general mental discomposure. He had been staying at a country vicarage, the inmates of which had been certainly neither brutal nor bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic establishment had been of that lax order which invites disaster. The pony carriage that was to take him to the station had never been properly ordered, and when the moment for his departure drew near, the handyman who should have produced the required article was nowhere to be found. In this emergency Theodoric, to his mute but very intense disgust, found himself obliged to collaborate with the vicar's daughter in the task of harnessing the pony, which necessitated groping about in an ill-lighted outbuilding called a stable, and smelling very like one--except in patches where it smelled of mice. Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric classed them among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long ago have recognized that they were not indispensable, and have withdrawn them from circulation. As the train glided out of the station Theodoric's nervous imagination accused himself of exhaling a weak odor of stable yard, and possibly of displaying a moldy straw or two on his unusually well-brushed garments. Fortunately the only other occupation of the compartment, a lady of about the same age as himself, seemed inclined for slumber rather than scrutiny; the train was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in about an hour's time, and the carriage was of the oId-fashioned sort that held no communication with a corridor, therefore no further traveling companions were likely to intrude on Theodoric's semiprivacy. And yet the train had scarcely attained its normal speed before he became reluctantly but vividly aware that he was not alone with the slumbering lady; he was not even alone in his own clothes. A warm, creeping movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and highly resented presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse, that had evidently dashed into its present retreat during the episode of the pony harnessing. Furtive stamps and shakes and wildly directed pinches failed to dislodge the intruder, whose motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior; and the lawful occupant of the clothes lay back against the cushions and endeavored rapidly to evolve some means for putting an end to the dual ownership. It was unthinkable that he should continue for the space of a whole hour in the horrible position of a Rowton House for vagrant mice (already his imagination had at least doubled the numbers of the alien invasion). On the other hand, nothing less drastic than partial disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress in the presence of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an idea that made his ear tips tingle in a blush of abject shame. He had never been able to bring himself even to the mild exposure of openwork socks in the presence of the fair sex. And yet--the lady in this case was to all appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to crowd a wanderjahr into a few strenuous minutes. If there is any truth in the theory of transmigration, this particular mouse must certainly have been in a former state a member of the Alpine Club. Sometimes in its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for half an inch or so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit. Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life. Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonized watch on his slumbering fellow traveler, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the ends of his railway rug to the racks on either side of the carriage, so that a substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment. In the narrow dressing room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with violent haste to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely from the surrounding casings of tweed and half-wool. As the unraveled mouse gave a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end, also came down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the awakened sleeper opened her eyes. With a movement almost quicker than the mouse's, Theodoric pounced on the rug and hauled its ample folds chin-high over his dismantled person as he collapsed into the farther corner of the carriage. The blood raced and beat in the veins of his neck and forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication cord to be pulled. The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at her strangely muffled companion. How much had she seen, Theodoric queried to himself; and in any case what on earth must she think of his present posture? "I think I have caught a chill," he ventured desperately. "Really, I'm sorry," she replied. "I was just going to ask you if you would open this window." "I fancy it's malaria," he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as much from fright as from a desire to support his theory. "I've got some brandy in my holdall, if you'll kindly reach it down for me," said his companion. "Not for worlds--I mean, I never take anything for it," he assured her earnestly. "I suppose you caught it in the tropics?" Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the tropics was limited to an annual present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that even the malaria was slipping from him. Would it be possible, he wondered to disclose the real state of affairs to her in small installments? "Are you afraid of mice?" he ventured, growing, if possible, more scarlet in the face. "Not unless they came in quantities. Why do you ask?" "I had one crawling inside my clothes just now," said Theodoric in a voice that hardly seemed his own. "It was a most awkward situation." "It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all tight," she observed. "But mice have strange ideas of comfort." "I had to get rid of it while you were asleep," he continued. Then, with a gulp, he added, "It was getting rid of it that brought me to-to this." "Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn't bring on a chill," she exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric accounted abominable. Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and was enjoying his confusion. All the blood in his body seemed to have mobilized in one concentrated blush, and an agony of abasement, worse than a myriad mice, crept up and down over his soul. And then, as reflection began to assert itself, sheer terror took the place of humiliation. With every minute that passed the train was rushing nearer to the crowded and bustling terminus, where dozens of prying eyes would be exchanged for the one paralyzing pair that watched him from the farther corner of the carriage. There was one slender, despairing chance, which the next few minutes must decide. His fellow traveler might relapse into a blessed slumber. But as the minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away. The furtive glance which Theodoric stole at her from time to time disclosed only an unwinking wakefulness. "I think we must be getting near now," she presently observed. Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring stacks of small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey's end. The words acted as a signal. Like a hunted beast breaking cover and dashing madly toward some other haven of momentary safety he threw aside his rug, and struggled frantically into his disheveled garments. He was conscious of dull suburban stations racing past the window, of a choking, hammering sensation in his throat and heart, and of an icy silence in that corner toward which he dared not look. Then as he sank back in his seat, clothed and almost delirious, the train slowed down to a final crawl, and the woman spoke. "Would you be so kind," she asked, "as to get me a porter to put me into a cab? It's a shame to trouble you when you're feeling unwell, but being blind makes one so helpless at a railway station."LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Thursday Feb 25, 2010
Thursday Feb 25, 2010
Same Old, Same Old
Being overpaid isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It may seem grand and glorious to shoot a commercial, but it really is just another kind of work. The days are long, the pay is good, the people you work with are professional, and some of the work you do never sees the light of day.
I spent today shooting a commercial for a pain patch. These are called “industrial” shoots, since they aren’t intended for the big screen, but usually help sell some product. The pay is usually good and I got five hundred dollars for the day. I’ll also be working tomorrow for another five hundred, but when you deduct the personal leave I have to take from school, it’s not much per hour more than I usually make. Plus most people don’t know the regular shooting day is scheduled for 12 hours. It starts from when you show up and check in for costumes. After six hours you usually get a free lunch, and many of you already know how much I love to check out the craft services table. Craft services is a bunch of free food meant to keep actors close by. Today I enjoyed a Coke, a chocolate cake donut, and an energy bar. There was also some fruit, so I ate a couple of pieces of mango and cantaloupe just for good measure.
The problem with shooting schedules is they tend to get behind, and that may be the reason for a 12 hour day. When you schedule stuff that might take eight hours, it usually takes longer. I have been on shorter days, sometimes finishing in just a couple of hours. But then you don’t get a free lunch.
I was shooting with a nurse who has actually given the product in the approval tests, so she was excellent, especially filling in the details of what the rest of us didn’t know. She was very excited since this was her first day to be filmed except a movie which was shot in her yard. But today, she was the star, and it’s hard not to feel pretty excited after getting the right clothes on and having someone fuss over your hair and makeup. This is why actors usually look better on screen than in person. I won’t mention names, but you would be surprised how some very famous actors look when not made up and in the center of a soft-focused lens. Let’s just say it makes the imperfections disappear.
She was having a good day, but to the rest of the crew it was just another day to everyone else. But the bad news is many of these talented professionals don’t get to work every day, and there may be long stretches between jobs even when they are the best at what they do. So even though the pay is very good, sometimes it has to last a very long time.
Every time a commercial or movie is shot, someone has to haul the lighting and camera equipment to the shooting location, today two floors up from the parking lot. The grips and lighting guys show up early to get everything set up, and then they get to be the last to leave as everything is loaded back up.
Before the shooting day even begins, scripts have been written, scenes designed, a shooting schedule designed and remember – someone has to arrange for craft services also. But enough about the food. And don’t forget, after the scenes are shot and in the can, they have to be edited, orchestrated and marketed.
The worse news is after all this hard work, sometimes all the hard work never makes it out of the can. I have worked on films yet to be released. That’s right. Even though it is listed on the Internet Movie Database. The IMDB is a place where most films get listed so people can look up their own work. Really, it’s just another place to see who was in a movie, and directors will sometimes list films which have not been released, but it still would be credited to that director, actor, etc.
A Cyprus Credit Union commercial I play a small business advisor which recently showed up on television was shot almost three years ago. Why the wait? Who knows? But the good news is I get paid whether it shows up soon or not.
So after a 12 hour day, I get to go back and do it again tomorrow. I don’t have to go quite as early, so that’s always nice, but I did have to make a couple of adjustments to my schedule. But how often do you get to pretend you are in pain and get paid for it? Wait while I work on my grimace.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Wednesday Feb 24, 2010
Wednesday Feb 24, 2010
Too Much Money
Is there such a thing as too much money? I don’t think I want to be tempted by the lure of riches, and as a teacher, I probably never will be. It’s been a good career for me, and I love what I do, even if I will never be rich from my profession. But there are times I think I am overcompensated, and these usually involve some of my other activities.
I shot a commercial Wednesday where I was paid $500 to model my overweight pasty white back. It’s a commercial for a patch, and they wanted a picture of my back, so I had my wife take one with my camera phone and I e-mailed it to the client. It’s a strange thing to have someone else want to display your back for their product, and I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this kind of exposure – pun intended. I was definitely overcompensated. But these are the kinds of special occurrences in my life that make me wonder about the universe.
I love the abundance I see everywhere, and getting paid this kind of money for baring my back is a strange way to celebrate abundance. Don’t get me wrong – I won’t turn down the money, it’s just that I think it’s ludicrous to get that kind of money for one day’s work, especially when I consider some people in the world never make that much in a year, let alone in one day. But there definitely is something strange about getting paid to make a commercial about a pain patch. But stranger things have happened, and I hope this isn’t the last time I get a chance to do something different.
I did get overpaid one time when an advertising agency saved a bunch of money by filming in Utah. This commercial was supposed to be about how MCI was the telephone company of the future. Somehow it had something to do with driving the Golden Spike, so when the company budgeted three million to shoot it, they had quite a bit left over. Since the Golden Spike Monument is a national park, there was no cost to use the site. When all was said and done, the extra money had to be spent. You know how that works. If you don’t spend the budget you are given, then your budget will be reduced the next time.
It really shouldn’t be this way, but it is one of the problems of business. I had already been paid too much to pose at the top of a telegraph pole, peering off into the future seeing what a great company MCI would become. I got two hundred dollars for spending two days pretending to be building the first transcontinental railroad. The workers who slaved away and risked their lives only got $35 dollars a month. Yes, that was many years ago, but it still doesn’t make it right.
Since there was extra money, the company shooting the commercial called me up and asked if I would like to be bumped up to be a featured extra. They sent me a check for $3000, and all I had to do was sign a paper. Like I said before, it’s overcompensation, but who turns it down when it’s offered?
I really only have two rules that apply to almost all situations. Number one is “They will take your money.” I have found this to be true in most cases, even when a deadline is involved. I was admitted into a Master’s program at a major university nine months after the “deadline”, and I only had to pay a late fee. I think it was fifty dollars.
Rule number two does have some qualifications, but it is “I’ll take their money.” There are some things I wouldn’t do for money, but we don’t need to list those here. Let’s just say if it’s not immoral or illegal, I will probably take money to do it. Lift sheetrock over my head and hold it while an old guy tries to screw it in? No problem. Castrate pigs? Also no problem. Risk my life cutting trees with chainsaws miles from civilization? Again, no problem.
I’ve even been paid to say words I really don’t want my daughters to hear, but they are understanding as long as I am playing a character. I don’t think you could pay me to swear at them. I’ve done that without pay, and I’m usually sorry after. That being said, I know there are people in the world paid to do bad things, and I don’t want to be like that. I like being paid to do good things best. But if I have to bear my back to make a buck, just watch my shirt come off.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin