by Andrea Elizabeth
That The Revenant is based on is well recounted here. “This article was written by Nancy M. Peterson and originally appeared in the June 2000 issue of Wild West.”
Because it’s none of their business who I am. They went through my purse! Pocket knives are expensive! I am not a cow.
I would way rather spend 2.5 days driving than 3.5 hours flying and use the McDonald’s bathrooms.
All for my granddaughter. I must love you a lot.
It means Very Most Reverend
Despite the copy cat repetition, it had enough continuing saganess to renew the experience of the original trilogy, which 1-3 didn’t do. I missed Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, R2 and 3PO, so thanks for getting them back together, JJ. And Kylo Ren is compelling with his Bane-like voice and fabulous hair, as are Rey for her spontaneous quickness and Finn for his Everyman along for the ride.
A large percentage of murder victims were last seen at bars.
“Amanda hated these pictures. She looked and saw her sister playing salt for the sirloin, setting for the stone. She saw her sister sometimes identified as Mrs. Landon, sometimes as Mrs. Scott Landon, and sometimes—oh, this was bitter—not identified at all. Demoted all the way to Gal Pal. To Amanda it must seem like a kind of murder.”
Excerpt From: King, Stephen. “Lisey’s Story.” Scribner. iBooks.
I wonder if the Holy Spirit feels the same way.
When it says The two shall become one, it can seem that one loses their identity. Or that one’s effect on the other is subtle while the other’s is almost total. In the Trinity there is one Divine mind. Isn’t it the Father’s? I don’t think in a marriage it should be the man’s but the Father’s also.
I had more suspension of disbelief with Jack Torrence’s descent into murderous action in The Shining than Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov’s in Crime and Punishment. I believe that people capable of intentional murder have a propensity traceable in their childhood. In other words I believe murderers are born that way. They are missing some sort of barrier. Not inevitably so, mind you. The rest of us are more subtle and do it in our hearts or more indirectly and subconsciously. Note Dick Hallorann in the shed. Actually. I think that scene was a nod to Dostoyevsky and not as believable either.
These days I’m appreciating rocks more than trees. I think I got enough of trees in Maine and Canada. There there are endless walls of monotonous, repetitive trees that keep going and going, on and on and on and on forever without a break or reprieve for miles and miles and miles without stopping. Like a corridor with mirrors on the ends. Like a huge box of toothpicks spilled on a wood floor of a toothpick factory where all the boxes malfunctioned. Like if all the stars turned to trees and encircled you at close range and followed you around so that you were always in the middle of them.
Rocks are not so. Unless you’re talking about pebbles. But pebbles are by water and with larger and more varied rocks around them. Rocks are not opportunist like trees are. Tree seeds most likely came from somewhere else and moved there within the last 100 years or so. Ancient trees longer ago, but they have big trunks, but short arms and hardly any leaves. Rocks have been there since the earth was in the early stages of being formed. Before plants. Rocks are the only things that are truly local. They are what makes a place local. Their individual strata and composition define only that particular spot where only those particular weather and water things happened. Unless they were moved there by a great big flood or much manual labor. Then they are foreign visitors of great importance who should be treated with respect for their ancient wonderfulness.