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Jan. 4th, 2009

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Update on Scott's Wake

Happy holidays.  Scott's memorial/Irish wake will take place on Jan. 17 at 2 p.m. at Scott & Gail's house at 8305 Los Ranchos, Austin, TX 78749.  RSVP by e-mail or phone is requested, but not required.  In lieu of flowers, please donate to your favorite charity.

All the best,

Gail

e-mail: scottgriffiths1@sbcglobal.net
phone: 512-415-7251

Dec. 21st, 2008

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Scott Griffiths: November 27, 1946 - December 21, 2008


Scott Griffiths passed away this morning surrounded by the love and passion of his life, his wife Gail Johnson. Scott was full of life, love and stories to the very end. Cancer took him, but Scott refused to let it get the best of him.

Scott left a family that learned a lot from him. Scott taught his daughter Meg to live life to the fullest and to squeeze every bit of joy and fascination out of life’s experiences. He taught his son Ben to be a gentle, caring father and to be an independent spirit. Scott taught Gail that she was loved unconditionally, while she taught him to laugh and laugh and laugh.

When Scott’s kids were small, he used to sing them the song; “Love is something if you give it away.” Well, Scott certainly gave lots of love away. In return, he was surrounded by the love of wonderful friends and family until the very end.

Thanks to the many of you who supported Scott and Gail throughout his battle with cancer. Special thanks go to Charla and Karen who put their lives on hold and took turns as Scott’s caretaker, so that he could die at home. Special thanks also go to Gail’s coworkers who so kindly helped her balance work and caring for Scott.

A wake in Scott’s honor will be held in Austin at Scott and Gail's house after the holidays. The date is set for Jan. 17.  We'll post the time when plans settle.
 

Dec. 16th, 2008

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Collaboration

Charla is writing this for me today:

At Sundays party, my young friend, Max, and his parents Polly and Joe brought a poem to present that Max had written in response to our numerous visits and growing friendship over the preceding months. As you may have picked up from previous blog entries, I am totally amazed by this 14 year old boy's insight and talent and ability to look at what's been going on with my present circumstances. To put what I consider to be a very witty and insightful take on my circumstances. Max had prepared the following poem entitled the Epic of I, based on our frequent discussions of life in general and the current situation. What is also amazing about this is that Max has the self-confidence to stand up and give a public rendering of his creation despite his young age and what would seem his limited experience. He has a certain strength and wisdom that is amazing to behold. The poem follows.

THE EPIC OF I
BOOK ONE
by Max Hoppe

Traveling through space on a disk of light learning through books
and pondering over your shoes.
For it is. Not the number five.
And then with a whoosh of lightning on a bed of stars, comes the great Humongous.
Speeding down on his chariot of fire,He is the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla.
Yea my homie G-dogs, for the end is not far, so close in fact that you can touch it.
What a strange sensation, what is that texture? Purple I think.
Moses in the bulrushes, Hamel on fire.
jellyfish float through the green, grass sky, filtered through Marlboro lights glistening
with the sweat of all, I fly!
for the joy of naught and all comes Allah,
the king of kings striding with big steps up the halls of the elevator,
leaning against the glass of the monkey cage.
For all to see in.
Like a magnificent microscope for the amusement of the extraterrestrials
I sit and sip my thoughts through a twisty straw.
bending around and round with all its might,
that plastic tube like a serpent clinging to the tree of life!
And death sucks too.
Why oh why is it not, and forlorned is the loss of humanity.
For time and time again it all comes down to this, my friends.
Like the muzak song in the waiting room that you can't get rid of,
the parasites clinging to the bowels of aristocracy.
The bums sing a somber tune, a doo-wop band of depression.
On the side walk, a green ooze drips, traced all the way back from the sewer gators,
leaving an old, ragged doll in the underworld of society.
Imagine a horse on a lawn or a chicken on a bridge.
Hey chicken why the hell are you up there?
don't you have any common sense? Say chicken, you've got a lot to live for, don't jump!
For I nor the bird, can fly.
Down. Down. Down.
To the depths of hell you fly, or fall.
get out of my way you demons, I'm en route to China!
Where the tigers prowl the streets of gold and mine eyes for the likes of men do see.
For down in the subway,
no it's not a sandwich,
demented ravings fill my lungs and scream for the collapse of humanity,
for the death of thousands, for the suffocation of trees!
Have you no mind, man?
On late night BBC they play old episodes of British C-span. And I quote...

BOOK TWO

Thank you for all the bologna.
It was like rain on a winters drought.
The monkey's residue drips upon the many legs of summer.
And the people fly to and fro on sideways elevators.
love Jesus forever for all is one and one is two.
Masterpiece Theater on plasma screen televisions.
I ask: where is the restroom aboard this galaxy?
May you please usher me in the direction of the nearest automotive rest stop?
Where can I find the nearest hand grenade depot and would you like me to pay you in cash or bacon bites?
Falling for three seconds is like being in a supermarket with no milk or swifter deluxe
replacement mop pads for ultra strength cleansing power with a scent of aloe.
Viva Las Vegas!
Good night and tomorrow.
59, 51, 30, (winning lottery numbers)
If six were nine, would the hippies really cut off all their hair?
I wonder; traveling in space.
oscillating velociraptors dance to the hip-hop beat.
With style the golden Martians step forth.
revealing their true divine forms as middle aged women from HELL.
NO NO NO it is.
But I don't know why you say hello in Target ads.
Cajun Eskimos parade on Second Street.
Wish you well from five blocks down.
The earth's crust is like a pizza. and inside there's cheese.
Mozzarella.
Kalashnikov rifles above the moon, blang! bam! poof!
like a video game in a cardboard box melting,
oozing over your face like some kind of alien comes GODZILLA!
Stomping through the streets,
the grey green monster's only purpose in life.
Tired and weary, I sift through broken memories sitting in a poofy chair.
For not but not never, every time to do decide to go, for it is not often.
And then...
For why?
That cliched question that favorite pastime of the stereotyped philosopher,
I ask.
Really, there is no meaning.
My justification is over there somewhere, I lost it.
All I know is that I didn't get any sleep last night.
But yet again, there's always the possibility of...

Dec. 15th, 2008

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a wonderful day

yesterday we had a get together at the house to visit with neighborhood friends, friends from gail's work, 10,000 villagers folds and our families and their families and friends. Karen, Gail and Charla spent great effort and talent putting it together and we had a great time. Nora showed up and haad drawn me a wonderful picture about our piano experiences. Mas wrote and performed a dynamite poem for me. I got lots of great love and support from many quartersl Cathy did some great caring and sharing that warmed my heart. the food was teriffic, and the house and yard looked amazing in their refined decorations.Just when you think you are totally down and out a new shipment of up and in comes through the door. Thank you life and friends.

Dec. 12th, 2008

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And back down

Well, turns out all the new stuff they set me up with dooesn't work, so I will continure my time in the bedroom throne. This was more than devestating... and yet certainly fits the pattern of adjustment to failure to get anything positve done I have been learning.

This stuff is really hard to get through, and in some ways I don't even want to put it on the blog... but I feel the need to be straight in letting people know how this stuff goes.

Dec. 9th, 2008

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Amazing day

Today we got a sling set up and I can now be lifted out of bed, put in a wheel chair and get around the house and outside. I am exctatic with this nwe found freedom!

Dec. 7th, 2008

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(no subject)

This will be the new TexasTriangles creation circle. To join you must open a free LJ account and request to be and be accepted as a friend to this circle. For that you must also agree that what is written here is confidential and will not be publshed elsewhere except by Scott or his heirs in the form of the novel in creation here, Texas Triangles. This information is subject to copyright laws.

Dec. 5th, 2008

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NOVEL PROBLMES

I wrote this novel, (Texas Triangles) while I was still working nights at CPS.  I was also substitute teaching at Bryan Adams High fairly regularly and did the writing through a group that met every other tuesday at the Farmers Branch Library Branch.  Incidently that is where I met Traveler Trisha, later her husband Jean Francois and Raf and Natasha.  JF was teaching at SMU in Dallas... not a happy camper.

When I "finished" TT I did some rewrites by my self and the with the group and got an agent who turned out to be a dud who did not follow through on much.  My problem seems to be that the novel is too short to really be a novel and the answer may be to expand some areas or go in some other direction.  Maybe matt needs to get resolved with Tom, or maybe he needs to find his own direction away from the crew he has been "playing with"   Maybe some other section needs more detail. 

Also marketing this story has been a problem.  What kind of story is it?  Action, adventure, sex?  When I descrribe it it sounds like I have mostly put down a sexy escepate, but it also has much more than that.  It tells a lot about abuse, abusive vamilies CPS, Foster care, growing up in foster care and abuse and what it does to you.  It is not as raunchy as it "depicts" for marketing, but is the story of a woman who grew up not knowing much about how to relate outside of using sex, and having poor concepts of boundries.  Maybe some of you could help with this/. Charla and others may have to write for me when I can't..  I guess I can send large sections of the novel by email attachments.  Let me know what you think and if there is some way to participate.

Dec. 3rd, 2008

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(no subject)

Medium ind of dayl  Pretty outsidek toasty insidel  sort of a straightening out day for drugs and bowels.  Charla is here and Gail is working and my wonderful certified nursing attendant Sophhie makes me feel well attendedl  I couldnt't have bee luckier in finding a sweet young woman to help me through this tim...  five actualllly, Sophie, Gail, Charla a nd Karen.  I always feel well supported and loved, and that'ss not just the drugs.

Charla has started with me on  a reedit of my old novel, Texas Triangles, and that is really getting to be fun.  Sophie is enjoying it too.

Hope you are all well.  Love, Scott

Nov. 28th, 2008

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Gail is writing for me

I have been dreading the Thanksgiving/birthday visits, but it all went pretty well.  Been having a lot of bowel and pain issues lately but got it mostly under control for the visits with the help of drugs and soothing comfort from care givers.   The visits went well , though a bit foggy from my perspective.   Good to catch up with everyone (kids, spouse/spice, and grandson) on the current events of their lives.   My love to you all and your families.    Scott

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