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danleone at gmail dot com
I just overheard this 3 minutes ago while walking into my kids’ room. My 6 year old was talking to my 4 year old and this is the part that I heard:
….and then you fall asleep for 8 or 9 months and you wake up in your mom’s bagina
Should I be nervous?
Today….it is all about quantity.
Tell me how you are doing, the square root of pi, your favorite color, the last time you cried…ANYTHING! I feel like I am being run through a wringer right now and I really need, nee CRAVE, your voices!
Two major changes have made their way into my life in the last 5 years. They are very mutually exclusive and have begun battling in my head with no clear winner.
The first event was a self-diagnosed adult onset attention-deficit disorder (which merely replaced the self-diagnosed child-onset A.D.D when I became an adult at 38). The second event was the realization that I actually enjoy putting words on virtual paper. Sometimes, yes, SOMETIMES, I even enjoy stringing those words together into sentences and sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs back into sentences because I scare easily. You can think of it as “literal” rock-climbing where the higher I climb, the scaredier I get.
This first event has made it nearly impossible to stay focused on the task of writing. When I open Microsoft Word (or for your Mac users, the Mac-Touch, Better-Than-Breathing, Bill-Gates-Sucks, Write-a- Novel-While-Sleeping, Pretty-Artsy-Bubbly-Interface, I-Don’t-Care-If-It-Costs-Seven-Hundred-Dollars, Edition software), I am faced with so many distractions like the ever-annoying Clippy and deciding what font to use today (I write in Wingdings).
Not to mention that the internet is always seducing me by whispering mesmerizingly in my ear “Ohhhh Dan, I need you to run your fingers over my series of tubes…” and I happily succumb. Then I feel guilty and dirty and used…but sated. So, I am quick to Alt-Tab (or just think about it for you Mac-o-philes) my way through life (How I wish I could Alt-Tab people in much the same way I do screens).
Both of my readers (BoMR) are unfortunate witnesses to this internal conflict. You may have noticed some of it in the previous 8 million words of this post just to say what I am about to say in the following 150 words.
One of the tools that I really enjoy using is called JDarkRoom. This is a full-screen text editor and offers NONE of the distractions that the fully-loaded Word does. With this editor, you do not choose fonts, underlines, paragraphs or any other formatting. In fact, the screen is simply a black screen that takes up your entire monitor’s real estate. You do not see the Task Bar, System Tray, Menu Bar, Desktop or anything else. Just a black screen with green text (You can also change the color of the screen and text if green-on-black is not your thing).
JDarkRoom has many other distraction-free features. From their website:
* Change your colour preferences, font and font size - via the settings screen (F6)
* JDarkRoom remembers the file that you were working on last time
* Support for central-european character sets
* JDarkRoom notifies you if you might have forgotten to save your changes
* Word/line/character count (Ctrl-L)
* Specify a file on the command-line for JDarkRoom to open it at startup
* Text antialiasing (where possible)
* Mouse-wheel scrolling
* Adjustable margins to fit any screen resolution (F9 to reset)
* Auto-save backups - so you never lose your work again
* Text search (F7 / Ctrl-F)
* A command-reminder strip can be displayed at the bottom of the screen
Of course, I am not sure what anti-aliasing is, but I think they are building a wall along the Mexican border and a plastic bubble over Califronia which should help with that. Honestly, I do not believe I can live without the Central European Character Set! I don’t even know where Central Europe is!
JDarkRoom is shareware, which simply means that donations are gladly and deservedly accepted. I, too, am shareware, which simply means that I am shareable.
Can anyone please tell me what birds and bees have to do with THE “Birds and the Bees?!”
Today I came to the painful conclusion that I simply suck as a dad.
My father made his own wine every year since he came to this country from Italy. To him, his wine was the only wine that mattered. He scoffed at people that spend money at the wine shops, let alone spend 50 dollars or even much more for a bottle.
My dad’s wine was something to be consumed, like water or beer, as a way to quench thirst and to accompany the meal. It was not meant to be swilled, sniffed or spat. There would be no conversation about bouquet, finish or tannins. With his wine, you could add ice cubes on a particularly warm day, or you could add ginger ale if you were in the mood for something fizzy. You could add drippingly ripe peeled peaches to a glass of wine and you had an instant dessert. This is wine that children were allowed to drink, diluted with water.
His wine was to be consumed in a juice glass. My dad still does not realize that people can spend 40 dollars for a single Reidel burgundy glass. I don’t want to be the one to tell him that I have two of these glasses.
Every year until the last 5 or so, I helped my dad make the wine in our basement. I helped open the splintery crates and macerate the grapes using an antique machine with noisy rotating drums of teeth. I helped press every last drop of juice from the grapes, stems and skins. Then, break open the cider press, take out the remnants…and re-press them to eke out another few drops. Nothing went to waste. I then brought out the stems and skins, compacted to a tight brick approximately 24 inches in diameter and 8 inches tall, out to the garden. He would use the remnants to grow tomatoes, basil and beans.
My dad would then spend the next few months coaxing a drinkable concoction from the foamy, fermenting grape juice carefully placed in a dozen five gallon glass containers. I never was part of this process. Perhaps, I was wasn’t so interested, or perhaps my dad simply did not want to reveal his secrets. But, I could never forget the fruit flies that inundated the house during this time.
Unfortunately, now my dad is battling a terminal illness. Since finding out that he was dying last year, he has stopped making wine. His stash from the year before slowly dwindled until there was a final gallon left and we have since gone through that.
As part of a living homage to my dad, I have able to amass a small collection of about 40-50 bottles of wine that I now store in the same cantina my dad and I would ferment his wine. This collection is my little homage to a great man. Right now, I am a neophyte still trying to determine what I like and have an almost obsessive desire to learn about all the wine-growing regions, varietals and vintages. I also love knowing what a wine is “supposed” to smell and taste like. I scour the internet for reviews and see if my opinion is in line with the pros. Usually, I am way off the mark, but it is such a fun hobby that I don’t care if my nose does not pick up hints of gooseberries and peach pits.
I sometimes find myself alone in the cantina, the same one I helped him build 30 years ago, I smell the years of spilled wine on the floor, the drying wine at the bottom of some of his bottles and the mustiness of that comes with time and living.
I have shared with him some of these bottles. He laughs weakly when I tell him the price (I only own one pricey bottle of wine..everything else is 25 dollars and most under 15…but he still laughs). He will take a swig of some Argentine Malbec and it is funny to watch his face contort because nothing tastes like the grape juice and battery acid that we used to make.
I enjoy at least one glass of wine a night. After I fill my glass, I raise it to the air and say “Here’s to you, Donato. Mille grazie per tutti. Cin Cin.”
