Son of a Preacher Man

Uma Thurman - Pulp Fiction

Uma Thurman – Pulp Fiction

On the seemingly endless loop of mundane errands we all must do – I drive to mine – city folks walk or take buses, trains, or taxis — but I drive. While I drive sometimes I listen to a local high school radio station which is both excellent and charming. The kids are bright and goofy. I have learned about genres of music from all over the world, new covers of old songs, how the students think their teams are doing, and who has to leave for class because it’s F period or something. The station also plays classics — some going way way back: girl groups from the 50’s, rockabilly, The British Invasion, American pop, rock, R&B, —  all of it. While I was on my trek today on came a song I like a lot and hadn’t heard in a long time. It was Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man.” Great song Great singer.

Dusty Springfield

Dusty Springfield

I remember this song was used by Quentin Tarantino in Pulp Fiction as Uma Thurman makes her spectacular entrance. I also read a while back that they were going to make a movie about Dusty Springfield’s life starring Nicole Kidman, which I think would be amazing but I never saw or heard anything more about that. Come on guys make the movie!

Nicole Kidman

Nicole Kidman

Back to the song. I think it has definite sex appeal and I think it touches the romantic ideas of  young woman, or just women….the idea of falling in love with a “holy” man and that love is an awakening in all the obvious ways. Of course in the fantasy he looks something like this:

 

 

 

But he has the soul of this:

Lord Byron

Lord Byron

Now you see how it’s a total fantasy? But a fun one. We all need to indulge in flights of fancy and imagination. Come on in, the water’s just fine.

Clare Irwin

Shhh! Una Tomba!

Hi! I took a break for a couple of days. I’m back  — and I hope — refreshed. We are having another heat wave, so I better try to get some postings done before the heat either wipes me out or I use it as an excuse to go and binge watch Game of Thrones or Lost. I’m a fan of Rhonda Byrne and The Secret, The Power, and I have done all the exercises The Magic . I started to feel a summer cold coming on so I went back and redid the “health” chapters in The Magic. In the chapter exercises the reader is asked to think of 3 times in your life when you felt on top of the world. So I thought of three and did the rest of the exercises and this morning I felt a lot better! Hooray! A curious side effect of looking back and remembering wonderful times is unbeckoned memories . Post

Out of nowhere I recalled a trip of many many years ago when I went to see Etruscan ruins in Italy. These remains of a city were in the South and by the Mediterranean Sea which was visible from every vantage point. As I was walking around there was this older man in worker’s overalls sitting on an ancient stone — maybe it was once a column or part of a building — he had his pail lunch with him and a wicker flask of water or maybe it was something harder. He wore a beat up hat to shade himself from the mid-day sun. He was smiling and just seemed to be totally content and right with the world. As we approached he said to us, gesturing in the international finger to the lips sign of quiet, “Shh! una tomba!” In other words, “Quiet please, this is a tomb.” He wasn’t reproaching us, I think it was his job to let visitors know that this was an ancient burial place and we should give it the appropriate respect. I remember this marvelous man who seemed so proud of his charge. He too is probably gone or very aged. I think of the Etruscans who lived there so far in the past, and if they could imagine in 2,000 or more years that there would be this gentle man taking care of their resting place by the sea. And, I think of this lovely man, and if he has passed away that he too has someone come to visit him and that they come often and remind people where he rests, and where the dead rest is a quiet respected place.GreekTemple I know I will remember him and the added joy he gave to me in that beautiful place at that moment in time and that exists in memory with no constraint of past present or future.

Clare Irwin

On the Corner of Cranky and Crabby

CrankyOk, the heat is getting to everyone. Sunday mornings I attend church and I love the fact that it’s not air conditioned – it’s an old stone building which stays fairly cool. There’s lots of fans and it’s nice because the windows are open and you can see the trees and hear the birds. I know I’m in the minority about the a/c. Today is relentlessly hot with no breeze and everyone was a bit sticky after an hour of service. I hung around for refreshments, and had a pleasant conversation with an acquaintance about a recent business trip she made to Singapore.. There was also some Pokémon contest afterwards, but not many people hung around because it was too hot.  One guy said, in the context of the Pokémon event, “Soon we’ll all be living inside our phones!” That statement was received by the two women standing next to him with crabby grumbles.  I could feel the crankiness descending on my fellow parishioners, so I left. Crab

I took a walk around the water which was fairly deserted. Everyone had retreated to the indoors and the cool. I did encounter a father with a baby in a stroller and a little boy around 3 or 4 years old. Cute as a button and he was pushing his bike along beside him. He stopped and turned to me — big blue eyes and light brown curls and said, “Hello my name is Brooks.” I introduced myself and told him I was happy to make his acquaintance. His father was busy on his phone and gave this exchange no attention (maybe he was playing Pokémon?). I also saw some dogs at the dog park having a great time drinking from and playing with a garden hose.

Then I went to the supermarket where everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Two kids were fighting over a phone — Pokémon again?. While I was there I got a call from one of my kids who unbeknownst to me is on a camping trip in Vermont. The tentative plan of not letting the entire summer go by without reading or maybe thinking about college or whatever seemed entirely forgotten. So now I’m hearing myself on the phone — and it sounds like she’s on stage at a concert — I’m competing with whatever is way more interesting than my now cranky dose of reality that I’m delivering! I have officially arrived at cranky and crabby too. We ended the call deciding to table this conversation till tomorrow in person. But as I drove home I had a hard time shaking the cranky and crabby feeling. So, you know what? I’m going to think about Brooks and his insouciance and the dogs having a grand old time with a plain garden hose and take a leaf out of their book.PokemonClare Irwin

What’s the Rush?

babycartWe all have “to-do” lists. On a sultry summer day the impulse is to chuck the list. The weather is telling us to take it slow. It’s easy for me to put things off — I am a good procrastinator. There’s decluttering, piles of things to go through. A friend loaned me the book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing which is wise, kind, loving and thoughtful (my friend described it as bit treacly which may be true – I’ve only read parts of it!). I was inspired for a while and went at it with zeal. Then I just tapered off. I’ll get back to it one of these days. During one of my walks I saw this cart that had been earnestly designated “Work Cart” standing idle and empty and relegated to a corner. I like that. Sometimes it is a good idea to just be and push the work cart aside. We are all in too much of a hurry. It’s the weekend, why can’t we just slow down? This morning I was driving and enjoying the ride listening to the radio, watching all the beauty glide past. Apparently my leisurely speed was too annoying to other cars who were in a frantic hurry. I was the recipient a lot of angry honks, pointed passing and aggressive arm gesturing. Stopping, or at least slowing down, to smell the roses was totally unacceptable.

This little cart photo reminded me of an obscure series of Japanese films that I recall entitled Baby Cart. They were violent had minimal dialogue featuring a Ronin warrior father who travels around Japan with his baby son, in you guessed it: a cart. A friend of mine who was into offbeat films introduced me to directors like Dario Argento, Lucio Fulci, Massimo Dallamano, and Kenji Misumi the director of Lone Wolfe and Cub: Sword of Vengeance aka the Baby Cart series. My friend was also into WIP, women in prison films, and what is referred to as Nunsploitation. I can’t say these were my cup of tea, and they are mostly an unmemorable blur, but Baby Cart stuck with me. With all the warrior and revenge plot aside, there was something fundamental and oddly touching about the father and baby son relationship. I mean they were tight! It’s something we can all understand. I don’t know how I arrived here, but that’s okay. Let’s all think about the ties that bind — the good ones — and remember to breathe.

BreatheClare Irwin

Day 1

Welcome! I can’t say for sure what this site will be except that it will be about everything and anything and nothing much at all. I thought to start like a good blogger and begin at the beginning, and explain the name and  genesis of the site. I think I will save that for another time, and do what has been traditional for millennia and begin in the middle of things. Life is messy and disorganized so why should PHANOT (that is how I refer to the site) be any different?

Sunflower I was going to write about my recent experience of going to car dealerships to talk about leasing or buying a car. If you are a woman it may be 2016 out there – but it’s 1950 inside that dealership. I don’t care high high or low on the car scale you are searching. I encountered some odd frustrating and downright insulting incidents. However, the events of last night in Nice, France on Bastille Day are hanging heavy on my heart. I lived in France, in Paris, years ago. I was in love with a man, or thought I was, who had a house there. I remember my/our time there as safe and lovely and all the adjectives that are used to describe Paris. It was the Paris of Amelie not of Charlie Hebdo.

It’s too sad, beyond words what happened yesterday — while people were jubilant and enjoying the summer night. I know I shall take a minute, and more, today and give thanks that at least right now we are safe, and with our hearts and minds send our mercy and our higher selves to the people of France.

I am happy you have come to stop here for a bit I hope you share something with me and do return. Tomorrow will be something completely different. Humming La  Marseillaise…..

Clare Irwin

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