22/02/2007

Yesterday's news



All the Democratic presidential candidates but Obama were in Carson City yesterday to kick off rutting season. I didn't even hear about it until this morning when I dropped by for a meeting that didn't happen because of the snow but I found the morning paper lying on the bar with this photo and headline. That's June (the owner) dragging Hillary through the room.


Things were considerably calmer there today but still there were plenty of interesting looking people scattered around. Some were probably lobbyists, then there were the edgy guys in suits with strange badges, slick guys wearing designer glasses, watchers, readers, mellow woolly folk, a man quietly playing his guitar, people on laptops, chatty lunchers, a couple of loners besides myself. Anyone from anywhere might show up at the Comma. The legislature building is right across the street and there are two penitentiaries in town. Politicians, crooks, travelers. People with secrets and money to spend. It's that kind of place. It all revolves around June. Even Hillary knew enough to pay respect.


June has all the poetry books out that we, as Ash Canyon, recently donated. She sawed the bookshelves we gave her in half so that the library lines the walls unobtrusively. Very cool. I got a cup of coffee, grabbed a stack of journals and read and worked on a poem for a few hours. Heaven in a snowstorm.



Today June was back to business busy making sandwiches during the lunch hour rush. Another day at the Comma. As for the carpetbaggers, they did their one night stand and are gone. The big news from the Carson Valley today is that Willy the squirrel made his first appearance of the year at the Bird park yesterday. I'd say he's looking pretty fat and happy for mid-winter.














21/02/2007

I will not waste my afternoon blogging.



I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
I will not waste my afternoon blogging.
Or posting on message boards.

20/02/2007

White House Mordor




Patrick Fitzgerald is right.
Cheney and Bush have drawn "a cloud over the White House."
Impeach these bastards!



Dirty Dick Cheney

bushbash.com

Can't Earth host an interplanetary game show and raffle Cheney off to aliens? I suppose not. He could be the booby prize though. This loser would even be the booby prize at a sweetheart box social in Folsom.











Morning

It's morning again in my part of the world. It's a lovely morning although I did miss seeing the new nova in Scorpius at dawn. Here I am again, wondering which way to go. Lots running through my head. So many possibilities. Instead of choosing one, I am circling the event horizon of the day and, as always from the approach point of view, possibilities never appear to cross the horizon. It takes an effort to escape this hypnotic spell. I no longer take freedom for granted.

“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” - Jack Kerouac

19/02/2007

Tonight



A flame is quietly wavering above the clear pool of melted wax cupped in the top of the stubby green candle on my desk. A new nova was discovered only a few days ago in the constellation Scorpius. It will be visible to the naked eye tomorrow morning just before dawn.






18/02/2007

Yesteryear's tombstone art




This photo is of an old tombstone in nearby Carson City. I took it a few summer's ago but polished it up today for your viewing pleasure.





15/02/2007

Beat Baby #05 - Magic Carpet

Here's the latest in the adventures of Beat Baby and Hep. This episode took a long winding path to the fourth frame but it's finally done.

Open book



Everybody needs someone to hold a little hope for them. Valentine's day in Reno.
Who do you love?









13/02/2007

Night without candles


White Owl by asha
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A STORY
by Czeslaw Milosz

Now I will tell Meader's story; I have a moral in view.
He was pestered by a grizzly so bold and malicious
That he used to snatch caribou meat from the eaves of the cabin.
Not only that. He ignored men and was unafraid of fire.
One night he started battering the door
And broke the window with his paw, so they curled up
With their shotguns beside them, and waited for the dawn.
He came back in the evening, and Meader shot him at close range,
Under the left shoulder blade. Then it was jump and run,
And a real storm of a run: a grizzly, Meader says,
Even when he's been hit in the heart, will keep running
Until he falls down. Later, Meader found him
By following the trail—and then he understood
What lay behind the bear's odd behavior:
Half of the beast's jaw was eaten away by an abscess, and caries.
Toothache, for years. An ache without comprehensible reason,
Which often drives us to senseless action
And gives us blind courage. We have nothing to lose,
We come out of the forest, and not always with the hope
That we will be cured by some dentist from heaven.


Berkeley, 1969
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