June 27th, 2004

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How could they know? how could they guess? and other Bowie lyrics

I worked this afternoon at my office, while the rain pelted down in huge thunderstorm drops. My trip to Furr's cafeteria was like driving through floodwaters, although the fried okra made the trip worthwhile.

Our crape myrtle trees are finally blooming, joining (belatedly, as they always do) the thousands of red and pink and white crape myrtles in bloom all over north Texas.

Thanks to the kindness of kind folks, I now have additional seasons of Buffy on DVD, which I must watch soon. I just finished reading Hal Clement's Half Life, a well done short hard sci fi novel. I miss that kind of simple,taut narrative with science hidden in the fringes.

We went to Macaroni Grill for pasta tonight. I am no longer much of a pasta person, and I am less of a chain restaurant buff than I once might have been. But I must admit the pasta was quite good. I never want to become a food snob, because I see no point to denying oneself the pleasures of enjoying everyday eating.

"Harry Potter" was sold out, so we went to "The Terminal" instead. It's a small sweet, simple movie--much better than the somewhat mixed reviews I had read. Tom Hanks remains a fun actor to watch, while the camera remains frighteningly kind to Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Tomorow I will rest and relax, and perhaps get a bit more work done. I'll enjoy the upcoming long weekend. We could hear fireworks from Allen's nearby "early celebration", but we did not drive over to see. I love fireworks, but I do not love crowds. In California, we could walk to nearby Two Strike Park, and see the nearby stadium firecrackers, rising above the surrounding pines and cedars.

I listened to Rickie Lee Jones sing "Rebel, Rebel" on my CD player. I'll bet Boy George could do a stunning "Golden Years", although They Might Be Giants might be more fun on "Space Oddity". My personal Bowie cover would definitely be "Memories of a Free Festival", although "Warsawa" sounds awfully good on a kazoo.

When all is said and done, I want to get more done than I do. But if I am fortunate, I can remedy that. I'm glad I worked today.
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Created universes

I love writing appeal briefs. Appeals feature a defined universe of facts. The evidence before the trial court is admitted or excluded. The finder of fact has spoken on the facts in a way which is to some extent binding. One writes a story about a world that is well-known and fully understood.

On appeal, the universe is created, and emanates into one's very way of thinking.
One has a record of hundreds or thousands of pages. That is reality as far as reality can be known. In most instances, the ability to ask for an alternative reality is limited indeed--usually to situations in which reality makes absolutely and positively no sense whatsoever.

That old-time justice Holmes said something gizmo like the way to understand law is not through logic but history. His reference was to "pure law", but it's also got a pull in an appeal. On appeal, one begins with the consciousness of what has been introduced at trial.

I have a biography of Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science, on my living room coffee table. The photo on the cover features Ms. Eddy as a widow in her late 20s, before she got absorbed into the fabric of destiny and began founding churches and healing the sick and dead. The woman in the photo is actually through the years rather appealing, if, like me, you find yourself drawn to intense, "stare into the camera", direct people who look what my mother calls "right thought-y". Although she was not reputed one way or the other as to whether she proved to be a particularly fun date, it's no surprise when one reads of her ideas and approach to life why she absorbed the interest of so many people.

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