Pigeon Cafe

"Today is today, the only day there is,
this day, today, so live it and love it"!
- Juan Carlos

It's been open for a long time, five or ten thousand years, give or take a few thousand but, most importantly it is open this morning. In the words of Juan Carlos, "Today is today, the only day there is, this day, today, so live it and love it"!

I can think of no better place than here at the Pigeon Cafe and I use that word "here" lightly because pigeons are everywhere.  In fact, the way I see it, it's their world. I just live in it. So, I'm having coffee this morning at the Pigeon Cafe and what better place to start the day?

Basel lion and the strange drifting refrains

Basel, Switzerland


This "music" was coming from within
a 700 year-old cathedral where this lion was embedded in the door.

They say life is what you make of it. Yes, it's an irritatingly simplistic saying, an elitist platitude but, even at that, there is something to it otherwise we are dupes only, powerless to shape or influence our reality. So what do I make of life? A favorite view of mine is the surreal. I enjoy dark, ironic, absurdist and/or stupid humor and thrive on life's strange details hidden in plain sight. No wonder then, when I heard creepy organ music wafting from the nave of the 700 year-old built and rebuilt Münster (cathedral) in Basel I had to stop, listen and watch.

Swami and Flat Eric

Rockin' out here tonight . . .



. . . with Swami, his cousin, Flat Eric . . .



. . and Mr. Oizo.

Swami and friends

The whole world is on a first name basis with Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn but Swami calls him Zoon.  He tells me they go way back.

Swami and his old friend Zoon meet again
at Rijks Museum - Amsterdam

This little fellow looked really weary walking around saying hello to everyone at a kid's carnival in Bruges...

Roby working at a kid's carnival

... then he came upon his old friend, Swami.

Old friends meet again

"A friend is, as it were, a second self." - Marcus Tullius Cicero

Rolling on

She ambles out on stage to a dark house and stands a moment gazing into the gloom. It is the night sky. It is the bottom of the sea. It is where lost dreams gather and discuss amongst themselves what could have been. She listens then turns and walks off stage. One light slowly comes up on the curtain. It parts.

Swami, one year later

A story is like a river. Sometimes a river disappears, but that doesn't necessarily mean it has dried up. Sometimes it goes underground where it travels, not just miles, but hundreds or thousands of miles through the secret earth before resurfacing... to be it's own same/never-the-same self again, like it always was.

The thread of this story disappeared amid the ruins of Angkor Wat, leaving us with the clangorous ring of the cicada and the rattle and whir of Mr. Keen's tuk tuk as our only comfort in the dark broken heart of Cambodia.

This story began a year ago almost to the day and is in three parts, here, here and here. If you've never met Swami, I took this video in Ankor Wat last December, about a half hour before he disappeared. It's good way to get to know him before reading further.

 Swami riding in Mr. Keen's tuk tuk

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One year ago Swami, our beloved traveling companion of nearly 15 years, disappeared at Angkor Wat. It was totally my fault. I was careless. He was very vulnerable riding in his little bag. I kept telling myself I should make a harness for him but never did.

M. Lee and I were heartbroken. It wasn't like losing a family member. Swami is family. It was devastating. But, traveling without him is inconceivable so he immediately "reincarnated" as coral Swami. I know. We're odd.

Me flouting a warning at the cursed temple of Ta Keo

But here's the thing. After that first, heart stopping moment when we realized Swami was gone, the idea that we'd never see him again was simply and totally unthinkable. To even consider such a thing was not only preposterous, it was impossible. We knew he would return. He just had to.

Swami contemplating Swami

So, this last year, we've combed secondhand stores, gift shops, baby boutiques, toy stores, junk shops, art museums, Pintrest, Etsy, Ebay and countless other websites hoping to find him or someone who could make a new yellow Swami body. Family and friends, old and new, joined the search, some even volunteering to sew a new one and finally we realized that, unskilled as we are, M. Lee and I would have to figure out how to make the yellow Swami body ourselves.

Swami with his friend Andy

at the old Whitney Museum in New York

Then a few weeks ago, almost exactly a year to the day since Swami disappeared, a very strange thing happened. Totally out of the blue, and in his usual innocent and cheery way, Coral Swami turned to me and said, "Yellow Swami is coming back". We didn't know what to make of it. How could he know? On the other hand, how could he not know?  But last week, when we were still in Chiang Mai, M. Lee stumbled on this.

Yes, yes. Click the button and watch the scary, bad clowns.

We replayed the part around 0:35 seconds, where HAM sprinkles vinegar on everything and stuffs his mouth with more chips. The music is building as he picks up the newspaper, sees the picture of a little yellow dude in the ad section, throws his bike into high gear and roars off into the store to claim him. And we paused at 1:07, the part where HAM first sees the little yellow dude on the shelf. so that we could read and re-read the name on the wall.... Flat Eric! Of course, we had checked out Flat Eric before but the searches never led anywhere. This time was different.

And don't miss this one. It is part of the narrative.

Flat Eric

What happened next went as fast as the gunfight but had a better ending. M. Lee did a quick search for Flat Eric. That took him to a six-year-old discussion where someone had posted a link to the German Ebay account of a guy named buecherfritzke01 who sells second hand collectibles and there he was... Swami! We bought him immediately and, within the next 24 hours, buecherfritzke01 sent him on his way. Thank you very much. And a couple of days ago yellow Swami arrived in America! The mailer was beat up and taped back together, but he is still smiling. Now he is waiting for us in Portland, Oregon. I hear he's hanging out with some crazy Christmas angels there. We'll be home in January, Swami! See you then.

Swami, resurfacing at last

So, thank you HAM, Mr. Oizo (aka Quentin Dupieux) and Flat Eric. And thank you Dalai Lama and the Tulkas, and Mr. buecherfritzke01 wherever you are. And especially thank you, our family and friends. The fact that you guys get it and care, or at least care, makes all the difference. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a year of wondering where and how Yellow Swami disappeared that day, I came to the conclusion that it was right by this tree in front of Angkor Thommanon. As we were approaching the temple, a group of young girls suddenly surrounded me with a tight circle, talking and waving souvenirs in my face all the while then, as suddenly, they were gone.

Angkor Thommanon
by the tree where Swami disappeared

It was then I noticed he was gone. We immediately questioned everyone in the vicinity as best we could given no one spoke English or seem at all interested in what we were tying to convey with photos and body language. After that, Mr. Keen drove us back to the cursed temple of Ta Keo, although everything seemed pretty cursed at that point.

So now, one year almost to the day, he's back . . . he's home with us. Coral Swami was right.

Swami contemplating the full moon
Ko Kood, Thailand 2013

PS.  No. I do not think M. Lee is at all like Mr. Oizo and certainly I, in no way, resemble his tailgate buddy so don't even go there.

Coffee with Swami, not the Mona Lisa

This morning I got up about five. After starting the coffee, I went outside for a look at the stars. Venus was in the east over the Bird Park, Jupiter at the top and in the west a nearly full moon had just dipped behind Dwayne's giant arching willow tree of life which fills that once horizon beyond our backyard fence. This behemoth entirely blocks our view of the Sierra, the one we enjoyed when the housing development was new and had no trees of note. In spite of all that, the moon was quite lovely glowing through its branches. I ran in to get my camera but by the time I got back, only moments later, it had slipped further down and it's light too obscure so I didn't bother.You'll have to use your imagination.

Instead, and still before dawn, I worked on my current new painting. This one is of Swami, the Invisible Theatre's  first and most venerable resident. He's a great model, always upbeat and encouraging. As the Mona Lisa was one of the few must-see treasures we obstinately did not see during our five weeks in Paris this summer, I created a Mona Lisa type backdrop for him. At the moment, I'm struggling with the hills over his left shoulder. I will have to paint them out and start over. For the little experience I've had working with oils I miss them. It's pretty hard pushing acrylics around. They are water colors after all and dry in a flash. And, no excuse, but this is only my third time using them. At least I am not suffering the delusion that I have to match the Master.  So on with the day. Have a good one.

Tooting Bec to Paris

Fond farewells in Tooting Bec.

Minerva, Ellie, Monkey Dude & Swami in Tooting Bec

We've come to regret bringing bikes on this trip.

Leaving London. Moving is a nightmare.

Home for the next five weeks.

In Europe, what we in the US call the 1st floor is called ground,
the 2nd is the 1st, the 3rd is the 2nd etc.

Elevator to the 3rd (or 4th) floor

John, this one's for you.

This is only half of the cheese selection at the grocery store

Swami

Swami at Tower of London

Etude leaves the garage

Etude developed a soul warbling songs in the dark to the mice for weeks after being thrown in the trash. I felt very sad when the little fellow finally grew silent. Naturally, I assumed he'd died.

Etude's return

Etude 02.24.12

I'm shocked. Etude's back!

Morning Peanut

The morning janitor has come sweeping through the theatre of my mind and requested that I move along so here's a new top post just to honor the passing of time and our incessant need for something new.

Frida Kahlo enjoying a morning peanut.

Full moon night at the Invisible Theatre

Full moon night at the Invisible Theatre - photo by me

Behind the scenes

Harry and Max have both been Invisible Theatre cast members for quite a while now but only recently, actually over the New Year's weekend, became new best friends. It's kind of nice as they are both, well, odd. Max was a total loner and Harry's only other friend until now has been Clown Girl and then awhile ago she started hanging out with the gorilla.

As for me, I re-shuffled shelving around in my office this morning. Everything is much more accessible now and the light is better. Plus I finally dragged myself to the gym. Woo-hoo.The new year is off to a roaring start.

Cruel world but there's always NaNoWriMo if you don't feel bad enough already

I had laugh at the photo my daughter emailed me yesterday. So much for the new toy I sent Owen the dog. I guess it lasted about a day. Cruel world. The santa bear I gave him for Christmas lasted a week.

The big news around here is that the other day I finally printed out the manuscript I wrote a few years ago during NaNoWriMo. I finished it a day or two before the Nov. 30th deadline, or more accurately I belly crawled past the required 50,000 word finish line, called it good, encrypted it and emailed it to the NaNo word counter bot who counted it in about two seconds then shot back my NaNoWriMo "winner" badge, sort of like receiving a gold metal in the "special" Olympics. I then filed the manuscript and that was that. I never read it and tried not to think about it.

However, I thought I might have lost it during a recent computer upgrade so the other day, out of curiosity, I went looking. The shame over writing such total crap has kind of faded. Time heals. And there it was. It seemed harmless enough so I released it from it's digital limbo. It lives incarnate in the world as black ink on white paper. It looks impressive, especially printed out in 12 pt. Courier, double spaced with 1" margins, 197 pages of .... well ... words. I started reading it and kind of like some of it, although it is shamelessly about nothing. Uncle Monkey, Ugly Bear and Clarence are dubious.


Other than that, I'm headed up to the lake this morning. Some writer friends, also NaNoWriMo gold medalists, put together a weekend retreat. I planned on going last night but got to the base of the Sierra and was turned back by the flashing red CHAINS REQUIRED sign. I'm sure most people forged on, chains or no, but I did not. Okay. Gotta go.

Saturday musings

Today's Daily Thea really knocked me out.

Spring is a great time to be born,
with the entire summer ahead
to kick back and take it all in.

Seems everywhere I look,

babies are doing their thing.

Even the Invisible Theatre has a new little one,

Buug and Hawgwahr.
(long o as in true blue)

Lucky for Buug,
Trusty Hawgwahr is there by his side

Buug, Hawgwahr and Rat Woman

keeping an eye on things. After all...

Buug, Hawgwahr and Rat Woman

you never know who you're going to meet along the way.

Baby Thea at the park

Plus having a special friendmakes every adventure a whole lot more fun.

Baby T

Uncle Monkey, Baby T, Sweet William, Ugly Bear

Today Uncle Monkey proudly introduced Baby T to the troupe here at the Invisible Theatre. Everyone made a huge fuss over her. They were smitten.

Hairy and Bela

Hairy and Bela, Return

After spending centuries cloistered in an astral monastery, during which time he got a few things straightened out, Hairy returns, reconciles with Bela, and is accepted into the troupe at the Invisible Theatre.

New Year, 2009

Meet Sweet William, the newest member of the troupe. His origin is shrouded in mystery. All we know is that he crossed the snow-covered mountains of Montana and the vast desert region of the Great Basin to join us, a gift from my son and his lovely wife. No doubt about it. Sweet William is a charmer. Heartbreakingly sweet. Everyone loved him instantly, but tricky old Uncle Monkey had an apple up his sleeve and claimed the honors.

So...
here's to a saner, healthier,
more peaceful future for all
inhabitants of planet Earth
from all of us here at the
Language Barrier & Invisible Theatre.

Come on. Visualize Peace.

Language addiction

San Jose, Costa Rica. We are still in Costa Rica. Tomorrow we return to Guatemala and perhaps more school. We're just checking out Costa Rica this trip but looks like it's a must return. Some years ago Costa Rica figured out that offering eco-tourism would be a good investment and really, it's a no brainer. Who doesn't want to roast marshmallows over a volcano in view of both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans... simultaneously?! But not for us this trip. We're concentrating on Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras. Maybe in the spring. I can't believe it but we are both kind of yearning to go back to Antigua and do more language school. They didn't tell me that language school can be addictive, especially as I can get addicted to anything, but it's hard walking away from once you get started. It's like leaving a puzzle unfinished in the middle of the table. In any case, tomorrow it's back to Antigua and the rain. They said the damn rainy season was supposed to taper off this month. We shall see.