Welcome to the Den.

the very latest news is:

(january 4, 2000)
well, the new site is up. there will be no more updates of the Den unless something dramatic happens. in fact, you're likely to see "downdates," instead, as i slowly peel away whatever content from this site that i wish to keep, and move it to the new sight. thank you all for your visits and interest. (december 14, 1999)
the days are strictly numbered for the den in general, and for the den's days at geocities in particular. i expect to be out of here by the end of the month. where i am going and what i'll be doing there-- well, these are things that are either a) yet to be figured out, or b) "state" secrets at this time. one thing is certain: i am incompetent enough with HTML or java or any other programming language, that, regardless of a new location, or even a new name, my next effort will be as shoddy as this one is. but, i'll have just as much fun in my silly shoddiness on the new site as i have on this one. so. how about that?

(december 9,1999)
life is a quest for beauty - for some kind of beauty, one way or another. whether you find it in a fresh blossom, an edgy piece of music, or twirling left-footed cross from the foot of Ryan Giggs, it's beauty that moves us. or is it meaning? in the end, i think most of us don't know what we're looking for until it bites us, and, even then, in my experience, it's a sad few who are able to comprehend that that bouncy feeling in their tummy is telling them they've found what they've been looking for. alas, to each-- one's own. there is no such thing as an objective truth, not for humans, there isn't.

did anyone see what Manchester United did to Valencia yesterday-? a splendid performance, worthy of Sir Alex's efforts, worthy of poetry... Beckham on the far right, plunging forward artfully, tricking the ball out into a goal-front cross... and that baby-faced assassin, Gunnar Solskjaer, tapping the ball into the net.... deep breathe, ah, such beauty!
and of course, Ryan Giggs, my favourite, for those who do not know, had a terrific match, even if his shooting - which has always been the only weak part of his game - was way off, as usual. nevertheless, the impish Welshman was beautiful to see, scampering down the left and tying the defenders in knots...

this site will be moved from geocities soon. not sure quite when, of course, but in the meantime, i have decided to continue with these little sporadic updates. which is what i'm doing now. so.

i haven't been to a real casino now for months. this is a major loss. say what you will about gambling ("gaming," they prefer to call it), it is, if nothing else, a wildly good time. particularly if you're in biloxi, on the beach, at treasure bay or perhaps the biloxi grand... last time i wagered, i won very well, convincing the dice to roll "9" over and over again (this was craps, with the odds they give you for winning on a 9, your chips pile up quick). craps is the best game in the house - of you like winning - play the pass line only, it's the best odds in the house. then, pointedly DON'T do what i usually do, which is go to the roulette table - since roulette offers the WORST odds in the house. but such fun... and, lordy, when that little ball lands on that little black number eleven-- heh heh.

i guess i have very little to say today. or not. hm.

(november 29, 1999)
i'll probably have the means to redesign/re-start/continue the den here in another three weeks or so. which gives me three more weeks to make up my mind about what to do. rest assured, whatever i do will not likely involve pigs, choirs, atomic- powered onion-peelers, or anyone wearing a crocodile on their head (with the possible exception of marty feldman... who knows-?)

(october 20, 1999)
okay, so, yes indeedy, it has been awhile... but hey, i have my reasons, as always. the main thing here is that i'm trying to decide what to do with this page; i am either going to move it someplace where the hosting folks don't want to hork all my ideas, or i am going to discontinue this site altogether. haven't decided which, yet. but updates may be sporadic for the time being, to say the least. i am asking myself quite what purpose this page serves, and once i have answered that question i'll know better what in heaven's name i am going to do.
in other news, i saw alegria in early september (for the 2nd time) and loved it even more than i liked it the first time. so i am once again ready to encourage everyone and anyone to do all in their power to instantly get themselves to any cirque du soleil performance of any kind. it's worth any effort you make to get in to see one of these shows.

(august 10, 1999)
during world war I, the french pilots gained a love for a certain airplane above most of the others, with a few exceptions. this remarkable airplane was the SPAD XIII, a sturdy single-seat biplane which the french took over the lines, flying out to fight incredibly bloody and nerve-jangling battles with their german enemies. why did they like the SPAD? was it because it was nifty looking? fast? maneuverable? nope. it's simple, and almost comically simple. they liked the SPAD XIII because, although it did have all those other attributes, it had something no other plane at the time had. it had the remarkable ability to not lose its wings when it went into a steep dive. this is a very useful trait for your airplane to have. because, if you lose your wings... y'know. crunch.
i wish sometimes human life was closer to flying a SPAD XIII. it's all too easy to lose your wings. and you don't even have to be diving at the time, either. so let's all raise our glasses to the dear old SPAD, and see what we can do to size up the series of impossible aerobatics and mind-numbing gee forces that is living.

also, i forgot to mention, i have a spare ticket for Alegria, if anyone wants to go to it with me. it'll change your life. and make you cry.

i'm leaving this bit here on the page because i like it:
(august 5, 1999)
okay. for some reason right now, it is like incredibly important that i explain something. specifically, i feel the need to explain a day in may when manchester united beat bayern munich and thusly won the european cup and the treble.
why the urgency, kenn? you might ask. because i felt things that day. big things. and that's why i follow the club. so i can feel things. so i can feel the loopy twist in my tummy when Beckham puts a cross right on - and i mean like exactly - yorke's head, and the keeper rips himself apart trying to keep it out. or the gust of pure worship for the human form that comes out when i see ryan blazing down the left, hurting people with his fakes and dummies, pushing around and thru some defender and then - the cheek of this - pausing, as if he has all the time in the world - before he rips the other team's heart out with a pass or shot. or - long ago - watching cantona pluck a ball from schmeichel out of mid-air - surely this is magic, he used his foot, of course - and insultingly direct it into the upper 90 in such a way that you sit there thinking "god." people, this is sport, yes, but pay attention. it's also passion. it's a representation of why we live. in may (i forgot the exact day, of course - terrible with dates - happy birthday anyone i've forgotten) - i watched munich pound us for 90 minutes. i'm screaming, hoarse with anxiety and just abject terror. we're going to lose. we're going to lose the fucking european cup to a bunch of germans who have nothing on us but calm and aplomb.
and then -injury time - i have just opened a beer and quaffed it in about 1/4 of a swallow and tossed the bottle away - beckham steps up to take a corner - we're 1-0 down on that wayward genius, Basler's, free kick. i hear the play-by-play guy say "will united score?" pause. "they ALWAYS score." beckham hit it... into the box... schmeichel - our goalkeeper - we're so fucking desperate here, folks, we've got our keeper in the other guy's penalty box - schmeichel heads it.... my beloved ryan corrals it, hits it weakly toward goal - time is ticking away, there's no way in hell this thing is going to get into the net, a goalie in a wheelchair could get there - and then.... Teddy Sheringham pops into the picture, taps the ball as it rolls, lazily..... into the corner.
there is this amazing pause. all of my body functions halt. i'm serious. they did. i stare. the ball is in munich's net. teddy is running across the pitch like a mad man. i am just dumb, staring, staring. it's a goal. it's our goal. our goal. we're level. 1-1. i screeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaam. i leap to my feet. i holler and beat my head on the floor, crying out. i run out of the house, scream something utterly unintelligible, run back in.
we're still in injury time. my heart is beating about 340,000 times per minute. manchester red never looked so beautiful on a soccer shirt. the lads are suddenly galvanized. they attack with passion. i think to myself, "we're going to penalties.... wouldn't it be nutty if we scored again before then? extra time, i am afraid of extra time.... but we're going into extra time and there will be no score and there will be penalties and i just can't handle that right now." and as i think this, another corner happens....
the ball sails in - i am hardly paying attention, so distracted by the fear of extra time, penalties, losing on a freak missed shot that deflect's off the post.... and i see, barely, the ball swoop in, onto Solskjaer's foot - the baby-faced assassin, they call him - he just thumps it. it shoots into the top of the net. i.... sit.
and then, i convulse. this isn't real. cannot be happening. no way. it isn't possible. i wait for offside, a foul, a cryptic disqualification of any kind. it doesn't happen. no one disallows the goal. still i refuse to believe. then, i see them practically killing one another there on the pitchi in the nou camp, in barcelona... and i see it. manchester united 2, bayern munich 1. there will be no extra time. there will be no penalties. injury time has expired. i am shaking all over. i do nothing. i weep. i scream and weep and scream and weep some more.
that's why i watch it, that's why i love manchester united and david beckham and giggsy and keano and yorke and jaap and sir alex. because i get that feeling. that feeling. that's all. i canna explain it.
i can say, manchester united are european champions, and because of it, i cried like i have not cried since martin tenbones got blown away. except this time, it was happy tears. weeping with joy.

What's new or sort of new, more or less:

Index of the Den's content:

The Jackalope's Poetry Pages | The Dreaded Nimon Page

Notions of Life and Living | Dirigibles, Lighter Than Air Ships

The Jackalope Football (Manchester United) Page | The Tile Page

Page of General Links | The World's Coolest Animals

Science News


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