Clippy

Ah, little Clippy. How I miss you.

Fuck the Smithsonian Magazine.

Whew!

Medium of communication

"Taking this as a warning, the superior man forestalls a violent collapse. If a man were to pile up riches for himself alone, without considering others, he would certainly experience a collapse. For all gathering is followed by dispersion. Therefore the superior man begins to distribute while he is accumulating." I Ching, Hexagram 43

I have been warned. Actually, "advised" is a better word and I am grateful for the nudge. The I Ching is a trusted mentor.

Of course, I understand if you dismiss any online "ancient Chinese oracle" as a mere computer game. When I first found it, I had my own reservations. I've consulted the I Ching for years but via the book and coins. I'm not a  purist. They don't even use coins, preferring instead traditional yarrow stocks but, tempted by convenience, I experimented with the online version and gradually it has become my main, go to, source. After all, binary code is just another medium of communication.

So, the question for which I received  Hexagram 43 (excerpt above) was, "Why is writing so hard for me?"

How to avoid meaningful work and meaningless despair

In case you happen to be doing NaNoWriMo this year, Paula over at Lite Motifs has posted a list of things you can do to avoid working on your project. Her suggestions are very useful, not only for NaNoers, but for anyone wanting to distract themselves from pressing and important work. And, as distraction is my special area of expertise, I felt compelled to add a couple of ideas to her list. They work. I myself managed to waste today's precious last hour of daylight drudging them up and writing this post.

For starters, try this zippy but soothing video of guys getting left behind when the International Space Station reboosts. Then watch and re-watch it again and again and again for, you know, as many times as you can stand it.

And if you still need more, because if you're looking for more you've already watch an ungodly number of cat videos, there are always surfer dog videos. I include them as a special homage to dear little Bella the happy dog, recently departed. Surfer dog videos are like popcorn. You mindlessly want more, even during times of deep despair when life is slipping through your fingers and you are crushed by an overwhelming sense of meaningless tedium and you are least able to remember when you last had even one fleeting second of fun.

More surfer dog videos.

We just got back from Southern Oregon. We were there to attend a going away party for a longtime friend who is moving to Portland which is located far far away at the other end of the state. About 150 people showed up. It was very nice. Everybody loves him. He's a sweet guy. And we saw lots of old friends. After the slideshow, whoever wanted to shared at the mic and the event took a decided turn, becoming more a memorial than farewell roast. The fact is, he is dying. Everybody knows it. Nobody mentioned it but most of us realized we will probably never see him again. Life. We are now entering the part where, one by one, we begin leaving the stage.

And I got a rejection (with comments) from The Fine Line, one of the magazines to which I recently submitted poems. In case you're wondering, a rejection with comments is preferable to getting a rejection without one. I submitted two poems to this particular magazine. The other is still "in progress".

Back to the starts right direction

You know I'm with Willie on this one.

Mid night choral

steamy
mid
night
cricket
plainsong
after
heavy
rain

Great Blue Heron's Day at the Beach

Great Blue Heron likes to people
watch when she goes to the beach.

The old man in the blue hat
likes to pretend she's not there.

Great Blue Heron finds this very curious.

Most people stare.

Great Blue Heron also likes watching the sunset.

It is her favorite things of all.

A Dog's Tale

If you haven't done it already, do yourself a favor and read Mark Twain's short story, A Dog's Tale.

My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian. This is what my mother told me, I do not know these nice distinctions myself. To me they are only fine large words meaning nothing.  more here

Rapture do over

Everybody knows that God keeps time with a sundial, not the UTC or even the GMT. I just had a horrible thought. What if He misses The Big Moment which is scheduled for 18:00 hours UTC? Does that mean we'd be stuck with all the damn Believers?

Writer wanted

Matt Doig wrote this ad for the Sarasota Herald-Tribune and, yes, it's a real ad in a real newspaper. It's been making the rounds but I'm reposting just in case you missed it. And no, I don't know if the job's still open. We will be staying in Florida this summer near Sarasota so I especially like the last paragraph and plan to at least do a drive by of the paper. My kind of people.

We want to add some talent to the Sarasota Herald-Tribune investigative team. Every serious candidate should have a proven track record of conceiving, reporting and writing stellar investigative pieces that provoke change. However, our ideal candidate has also cursed out an editor, had spokespeople hang up on them in anger and threatened to resign at least once because some fool wanted to screw around with their perfect lede.

We do a mix of quick hit investigative work when events call for it and mini-projects that might run for a few days. But every year we like to put together a project way too ambitious for a paper our size because we dream that one day Walt Bogdanich will have to say: “I can’t believe the Sarasota Whatever-Tribune cost me my 20^th Pulitzer.” As many of you already know, those kinds of projects can be hellish, soul-sucking, doubt-inducing affairs. But if you’re the type of sicko who likes holing up in a tiny, closed  office with reporters of questionable hygiene to build databases from scratch by hand-entering thousands of pages of documents to take on powerful people and institutions that wish you were dead, all for the glorious reward of having readers pick up the paper and glance at your potential prize-winning epic as they flip their way to the Jumble… well, if that sounds like journalism Heaven, then you’re our kind of sicko.

For those unaware of Florida’s reputation, it’s arguably the best news state in the country and not just because of the great public records laws. We have all kinds of corruption, violence and scumbaggery. The 9/11 terrorists trained here. Bush read My Pet Goat here. Our elections are colossal clusterfucks. Our new governor once ran a health care company that got hit with a record fine because of rampant Medicare fraud. We have hurricanes, wildfires, tar balls, bedbugs, diseased citrus trees and an entire town overrun by giant roaches (only one of those things is made up). And we have Disney World and beaches, so bring the whole family.

Send questions, or a resume/cover letter/links to clips to my email address below. If you already have your dream job, please pass this along to someone whose skills you covet. Thanks.

Matthew Doig

Sarasota Herald-Tribune
1741 Main St.
Sarasota FL, 34236
(941) 361-4903
matthew.doig@heraldtribune.com

---

No butts? I think not.

 What the citizens of Kansas City do not realize when they stroll by the Busy Bee Cafe is that, while the place appears to be a grubby joint with dirty windows frequented by writers, photographers, travelers, artists and other mysterious hang-outers, it is much more. The Busy Bee Cafe houses a very strange wonderful device, the Alternate Reality Generator. The ARG as we say in the comics. So today, when the entire staff at the Bee so very earnestly insisted that the suspicious looking object in the popcorn hopper could not possibly be a cigarette butt, I did a little research and discovered what, indeed, they are trying to hide.

This photo was taken by Judie Ellis, an unsuspecting Brit, while on holiday in the Maldives with her husband Tony. What Judie and Tony did not realize is that the quaint little thatched-roof Maldives beach bar where they had just had lunch and a few too many beers, resulting in Tony dropping his ciggies in the sand to the delight of a couple of smoker crows, regulars who routinely entertain tourists in hope of the occasional peanut or bit of beer-soaked chapitis, is actually an alternate reality to the Busy Bee.

We all know crows, like ravens, are frequent travelers and emissaries between alternate realities. Obviously, Judie took her lucky shot just as the ARG rang back at the Bee. Blow back happens. It's simple, my dear Watson. The bell rang, it startled the crow causing him to drop his cigarette just as reality went into flux and that cigarette fell into the popcorn hopper back at the Bee.

But is this an isolated incident? I wonder, given the odd disclaimer on the hopper. "Busy Bee Popcorn . . . Mmm mmm good--no butts about it!"

Letter from Uncle John

January 3, 1991

Dear Asha,


How goes the girl on the lonesome road? Any lunches these days? I haven’t been out there for quite some time but I’ll bet the traffic’s about the same as usual. Sometimes I think of the days around Seattle where we used to live, and of your mom and dad and your brother and sister and the fun we used to have in doing things. Maybe someday we’ll remember all of it and I’ll send you a copy. How would that be? Nevertheless, one time I bought a very good soup called Minestrone in an Italian place and also a delicious hamburger after hours.

In place of these wishes I could go to school and start an entirely new life. I’m still thinking about the Minn. Vets Home with its facilities and All. I should check on that with the social worker, and put on my prosthesis shoes and overcome this predicament. I could arrive there in time for the cold weather and receive all the benefits from the new year. Jesus. It would be lovely. I just pray I will.

I would go right to the U. of M. and enroll in an English Composition and a Philosophy course right away. This would give me something to hope for. At least a bachelor’s degree in English with a minor in some related field – like French or Creative Writing – say Poetry would do. I could go 3 years without any questions, calling up my 15 sophomore units from Seattle U. as good. I think they would give me about 9 semester units for that work. St. John’s would be 30 and 12 Seattle U 12= 42 altogether out of 120 necessary to graduate. Anyhow, I should be glad to go back to Minnesota and stay there at the Veteran’s Home for a mere $175.00 a month if it would give me a new start on everything. I could have a cubicle and purchase new shaving gear and deodorants, bath soaps and colognes and after shaves, plus new socks and underwear plus a shirt or two and a couple pair of new slacks; say gray flannel plus dark brown tweed – HARRIS – SPORT – COAT. THE GOLDEN & BRN – TAN TIES AND REAL MONOGRAMMED LINED HANDKERCHIEFS – PLUS A LOUNGING COAT – ALSO BROWN SHOES AND SLIPPERS. AND A NEW PAIR OR FLORSHEIM BROWN WING – TIP DRESS SHOES. Real style for real money. But, I’d like to go back to my own home. Some girls have guessed at my whereabouts – with statements like – “power of attorney” – etc. That’s what I have over myself that I can give someone in case of change.

I’ll ask the I Ching again. I think the Social Worker would send me there when she found out the cost of staying there would sort of put them in a relatively different position. I’d be responsible to myself once I left, but she would have taken care of all the arrangements ahead of time. I could still have Nick take my things to Greyhound and check them to Mpls. then buy the ticket and leave a few days later. I shall tell Jean again and the doctor about Minneapolis.

I found my cap. It was on the floor next to the bed. I’ll be sure to exchange that hoop decoration for something more conventional tomorrow. The psychiatrist here doesn’t apparently care to know me at all. His comments on my wheelchair are something I should do without and I know is a trap for myself to fall into.

That place back in Minneapolis was located on Minnetonka Blvd. right on the Mississippi River. It was pretty cold there in the winter and when I went downtown on the bus it was very cold too. I don’t go many places when it’s that cold. Still, we had to go outside to the dining hall and to other things. I was just reminded of that cold when I went outdoors a while ago for a smoke. I’m watching the Michigan State U.S.C. Game. I wish I knew where I am going after I leave here. ---KAN – DANGER .63 AFTER COMPLETION


Uncle John

John Chance, June 9, 1934 - February 1, 1992



John Chance North Beach Beat poet

Something to tide you over

I'll be in Reno most of the day tomorrow and when I do have any time, I'll be working on my podcast so here's a rain check and a few photos to amuse you until I have a little time to do more.

The good news is that the lovely Delicata seems to be doing better. She came out and gobbled up a bunch of the honey smeared orange. That must have been quite a treat.

Okay, on with the show, up close and personal I give you, compliments of the Eye of Science ....

Lavender

Marigold

and...TA-DA...


Velcro

The Virgin of Guadalupe's day

Today is the anniversary of the appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe 464 years ago. She is much loved, especially in Mexico where the day is observed all over the country with festivals. Mexicans have parades and celebrations constantly anyway but today is an extra special day. The Virgin of Guadalupe is the patron saint of the country. I decided to post a few of the photos I took when we drove to the Yucatan this fall. Her image is everywhere but on the mudflaps of trucks.

As the story goes, she appeared on the hill of Tepeyac, once the site of a temple to the Aztec mother-goddess Tonantzin. She told the pious Aztec convert Juan Diego to go to Bishop Zumarraga in Mexico City and tell him that she wanted a church built there. Juan Diego did as he was asked but naturally the Bishop rejected the request. He insisted on a miracle for collateral. The next day she filled Juan Diego's cloth roses that did not grow in December and when they spilled out at the feet of the Bishop, her now famous image was imprinted on the cloth. I've left out a few details but that's the gist of things.




I'm not into organized religion. It's corrupt, sexist, inspires violence etc etc. And I don't believe she's real but still I like what the Lady of Guadalupe represents. She is kind and she is safe. But, I'm a realist. I suspect old Bishop Zumarraga adapted her message to better serve the land grab and genocide the church and Spain were in the middle of, otherwise why would she encourage barbaric foreigners who where plundering her native land and killing her people to build their church on top of the pyramid of the goddess Tonantzin, a place sacred to her people?



In any case, these days the old, bureaucratic Church still does it's damnedest to own her, but I don't believe it can. The Virgin of Guadalupe is independent, something they despise. They tolerate her because she is the refuge of the soul of Mexico. Anyway, whatever did or didn't happen on December 12, 1531, today is her fiesta. Hope you had a good day.

Empath

Another point of view

Perhaps I'm an empath. I've always had the ability to feel and see from opposing points of view at the same time. Grab a few, current hot topics out of the hat... abortion vs. choice, whether or not it's okay to perform medical experiments on animals, the death penalty, environment issues, gay marriage...I appreciate, even have strong feelings for both sides. I wonder how many people are like this. Hard to say. I don't think we make the news. People become famous basing their careers on being one-sided, the more inflexible, the more confrontational, the better. The public loves 'em. In fact, Big Media operates like a brothel madame for the media whores ever busy pandering all the sound and fury the world is willing to pay for.


Big Media Madame


Guess which one is the empath.

But don't assume that because I have a live and let live attitude, I don't have my own point of view. I have a very strong point of view. And I act on it. My bias? Compassionate Progressive. Are you surprised? Why am I telling you this? I don't know. I woke up with these thoughts on my mind and just had a very strong cup of coffee. By the way, did you write your senator yet about blocking the Rethuglican one party rule? See below.

Freedom's just another word for Alternative Energy

I am heartsick that congress has moved another step closer to sanctioning oil drilling in Alaska. We need to be free from oil. Cleaner, alternate technologies have been around for years but they still aren't available commercially. Why?

People minimize the environmental cost of ransacking the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, one of the last pristine wilderness areas on earth. They say drilling techniques have improved. Unfortunately, one of the laws of human nature is, "if it can be fucked it up, we will fuck it up." Okay. Nature will make the balance without consulting us humans. The prospect of drilling makes the Teamsters happy. Fair enough, but in spite of that, ANWAR's drop in bucket would only supply the state of Texas with oil for 9 years and that's without sharing with the rest of us. And it would do nothing to curb escalating gas prices, just like invading Iraq did nothing to keep fuel costs down. Remember when they told us it would?

Some say the issue is "oil shipping route independence." They point out that bringing oil to the West Coast from the north could save us a few trips through the Panama Canal. Nice sentiment but shipping route independence is not real independence. It's another fantasy. It doesn't matter which direction oil comes from. Using oil is the problem. Using oil deepens our already crippling dependency on oil. We must devote our attention, talent, time and resources towards developing alternative forms of energy.



Get real. Freedom in the twenty-first century will have to include freedom from oil.