Shadow Flutter

I live in a quiet, peaceful community in southern Maryland, which suits me just fine.  I am not a social person who needs a lot of human companionship.  I am a loner, preferring a slow tempo to life, one in which I have time to think and reflect and tend to my own thoughts.  I rely on my own counsel, having learned over the years that the counsel of others is suspect, sometimes tainted by motives of self-interest rather than selflessness. Whether intended or not, people occasionally project their virtues and faults on you. This wasn’t always so.  When I was in school I played football, and there is nothing like playing football to make one popular, even when that popularity is undeserved.  I had friends I had never met.  I remember playing a hotly contested, hard fought game, when one of the opposing players lost a contact lens.   There we were, 22 of us wearing helmets outfitted in shoulder pads, hip pads, thigh pads, and cleats, on hands and knees gently probing the grass t

I live in the Washington D.C. metropolitan area.  When I first moved here I had a decision to make.  I had no car, and I had to decide to buy one or use mass transit for all of my traveling needs.  After weighing the pros and cons carefully, I am glad to say that I decided to choose adventure over convenience. I would like to say my decision to ride the train was borne out of some noble cause, like saving on energy or a personal commitment to saving the planet from global warming. I mean that would sound classy and very politically correct, wouldn’t it?  But, if truth be told, my decision was based on selfish reasons.  My employer offered a per diem for taking mass transit, a kind of free pass, and by accepting the free pass traveling to and from work each day would cost me nothing, while driving a car to work would cost me gas and a monthly car payment. So I moved to an apartment situated about 1 1/4 miles from a train station, and the next day I began my daily journey

In a previous life I did proofreading for the American Institute of Physics.  They published at the time prestigious peer-reviewed physics journals.  This was also when I had grand delusions of becoming a writer or editor.  After securing the position I discovered why most writers and editors have day jobs.  They aren’t paid much.  So I opted out after a year, and chose another career path, one in which I actually made money for what I did.   And no, I didn’t verify the math.  I simply made sure it was copied from manuscript to galley correctly.  If it was wrong in the manuscript and wrong in the galleys, I was fine.    But I digress. I got pretty good at proofreading, looking at words forwards then backwards (which works for some reason), and comparing manuscripts to galleys to make sure there were no misspellings, extra words, or words missing.   But there was also the math.  Some journals were math heavy, while others were word heavy.  The math heavy journals present

These are all examples of incivility, something we have no shortage of here in the U.S. —  My favorite is riding as a passenger listening to the driver talk about needing more excise, then watching him or her circle the parking lot and hold up traffic waiting to park in a space as close as possible to the building they intend to enter. Walking is exercise. Try it. If you are in fair shape and without medical problems, why not park farther away and leave the closer spots to those who need them?  —  I tire watching drivers of large SUVs back their buses into spaces too tight. Now that’s holding up traffic. Attempt 1, Attempt 2, Attempt 3 . . . Reminds me of someone trying on pants two sizes too small. I’ve had my car dented twice by such drivers. —  Don’t park in a handicapped space unless you or one of your passengers is handicapped. Despite what you think, the world doesn't revolve around you.  Don't be so self-absorbed. —  Don’t park next to someone when

Victor Hugo was a gifted artist and an impresario of his talent.  Most people know him as the great novelist (e.g. Les Miserables), poet (e.g. Boaz Endormi), and social activist, but did you know he also painted?  Some of his paintings are the product of quite the imagination.  Wonder what was going on in that head.  Port in Flanders  Lace and Ghosts   Octopus There's more.  Just google "Victor Hugo's art." Factoid: When Louis Bonaparte seized power, Hugo was forced into exile and did not return until Bonaparte was gone, twenty years later.  These years in exile were some of his most productive and include Les Miserables.  Hugo referred to Louis Bonaparte as Bonaparte le-petit.

This is not your usual kind of novel. There is no plot, no theme, no rising action, no climax.  Instead the book is one long letter written by an unnamed woman to her best friend, Butterfly, whom she grew up with and who later betrays her.  They are no longer in contact, and perhaps the letter is never meant to be sent because there is no address to send it.  The letter serves as a catharsis, a device the author uses to revisit her relationship with Butterfly, reflect on the moment of betrayal (a kind of death), and to examine what her life has been like since her friend left to never return. The writer lacks energy, is frozen in time, and seems quite content to watch life pass her by as she goes through the motions of living.  The tone -- and tone is a central element of this story -- is one of reflection and regret, and it becomes obvious the deeper and deeper we get into the letter that the writer misses her friend and loves her. The book (letter) is written in beautif