Local news

Tuesday night

Bayonet clouds criss-crossed beneath a lopsided yoke of a moon and a dog driving through the deserted middle of town with his head out the window barking.

Poetry money

A few years ago Poetry Magazine inherited some two hundred million dollars from heiress Ruth Lilly (Lilly Pharmaceuticals). Ruth was an eccentric recluse, a bit like Howard Hughes, but instead of airplanes she doted on poetry. Over the years she even occasionally, anonymously, submitted some of her own work to the magazine but it was always rejected. Founded by Harriet Monroe at the beginning of the twentieth century, the journal has high standards:

Mission

"The Open Door will be the policy of this magazine—may the great poet we are looking for never find it shut, or half-shut, against his ample genius! To this end the editors hope to keep free from entangling alliances with any single class or school. They desire to print the best English verse which is being written today, regardless of where, by whom, or under what theory of art it is written. Nor will the magazine promise to limit its editorial comments to one set of opinions."

—Harriet Monroe, 1912

The Poetry Foundation was established in a bit of a scramble when the magazine received its unfettered fortune but they took the flying leap that only money can buy. According to its chairman John Barr, Poetry Foundation has become a proper "bully pulpit". Self-described "real moguls", the Foundation's CEOs decided to invest in themselves first, the trickle down formula favored by most captains of industry. The first thing they're doing is building themselves a glorious headquarters from which to operate.

Men who previously avoided being associated with poetry's riffraff image have decided to spiff it up, monetize it, supersize it, glamorize it, mass market it. I suppose that sooner or later it had to happen. Whether or not I agree with their approach, I agree things are in a sad state. I don't know about you, but personally I can't stand the gassy narcissism that currently passes for poetry.

The moguls have plunked it all down on red. It's a stiff bet. Harriet Moore brought T. S. Eliot, Marianne Moore, William Carlos Williams, Robert Frost, and Ezra Pound and others to light. The Foundation plans to better that and up the ante. They plan to launch a Renaissance. Naturally skeptics predict the Foundation will merely do the expected ... establish a royal court, anoint an inner circle and reign over it gloriously until the whole scene implodes under the weight of its own vanity. Who knows? I do like their new website. It has some interesting pages such as Dispatches: News. Refreshing. So many writer's circles and publishing houses have their wagons ringed up tight and the only stories they tell around the campfire are about themselves.

When the money arrived, Poetry Magazine's then editor relinquished his post to head up the newly formed Foundation but didn't long survive the surge of bullies like John Barr from Wall Street. Christian Wiman is its new editor. I met him not long after he took the job. He came to Nevada to be the keynote speaker for a writer's conference I peripherally helped put together. I liked him. He seemed very grounded, open and unimpressed with himself. He critiqued one of my poems. I'm not much into things like writer's conferences and don't run around courting people's opinions about my writing so, other than the fact that I am an incurable showoff, I didn't expect much. To my relief, he didn't offer "advice". He simply challenged the need for the final stanza. When I wrote it I knew I had flinched so I very much appreciated his astuteness. I hope he continues to stick to the code. And I hope the Foundation knows what it is. We all know money talks but can it, will it, walk? Guess we'll see. Anyway, they've made some nicely designed broadsides available at Dispatches: Gallery for the Fridge Archive. Go on. Download one. Spread the word. Poetry's baaaaaaaaack.







Christian Wiman Poetry Magazine Poetry Magazine writing Poetry Foundation Ruth Lilly Harriet Monroe

H.R. 249 - Protection for wild horses and burros

Below is a forwarded letter from the Humane Society of the United States. Just got it. I know I've asked you to call before and collectively we've gotten the bill this far. Wednesday is the next hurdle. Please call again. It takes minutes. Easy number look-up here. There's a little script included below if you want an idea of what to say. Please do it. Video here, if you need more information. Warning: graphic material.

HSUS forward:

On Wednesday, March 7, a federal bill (H.R. 249) to restore protections for wild horses from commercial sale and slaughter will be brought up for a vote in the House Natural Resources Committee. Your U.S. Representative needs to hear from supporters of the bill. Please take action and help this important bill clear its next hurdle.

Call your Representative today and express your support for restoring protection for our wild horses and burros from commercial sale and slaughter. Their lives depend on our success.

Congress originally passed the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro Act in 1971 to protect our wild horses, but in 2004 this protection was gutted. In a midnight maneuver by then-Senator Conrad Burns (Mont.). He slipped a few unnoticed lines into a massive spending bill, overturning 30 years of protections for wild horses and burros. Senator Burns was booted from office last November and it's time to win these protections back.

TAKE ACTION!
Please make a brief polite phone call to your Representative today. It's easy. Numbers here. Just say is something like:

"Hello, my name is [your name] and I am a constituent from [your city]. I strongly support H.R. 249, the legislation to restore protection for our wild horses and burros from commercial sale and slaughter. It will be considered this week by the Natural Resources Committee. Please give it you support. We must provide permanent protection for America's wild horses and burros. Thank you."

Now that you've done your good deed for the day, here's a fun little video of not-so-wild burros.





H.R. 249 wild horses wild burros stop slaughter

Sunday dreamin'

My grandfather used to talk to himself, a lot. I could never make out what he was saying. All I heard was a steady stream of whispers mixed in with his breath. As a kid I worried that it might be a family trait. I do talk to myself sometimes but I'm still not as bad as Grandpa Chance.

For instance, when I'm writing I often speak the words out loud first. Take the sentence I just wrote, and the one I'm writing now. I said them both out loud as I composed them. I'm quiet now but actually, by the time I typed out the first 3 words of this sentence, they were no longer true. I thought the words "I'm quiet now" decided to write them without speaking them so they would be true in real time, but as I typed them I spontaneously said them out loud and muttered "typed it out" while I typed that. There's a peak into my head, in case you wanted one but were afraid to ask.

And, while I'm on the subject, I might as well admit that I did mutter to myself this morning, something to the effect of, "Humans are a violent, greedy, predator species; carnivores who fancy having a unique, divine nature and personal relationship with a god who likes them better than everybody else and doesn't mind if they torture and/or kill the rest of his family."

It is Sunday morning and I am off to a rocking start. Minutes after I got online I found myself watching a video of soldiers in the Islamic Army inspecting a helicopter they just downed and executing the sole survivor, probably a Blackwater contractor. Then I watched Anna Nicole's funeral procession in the Bahamas, and videos of several other totally unrelated events, although their disparate nature actually underscores just how prone we humans are to self-undoing. My ricochet tour brought me back to the question I pondered aloud in the shower earlier this morning. Can we, as a species, survive our own precocious narcissism long enough to wake the fuck up? Then I found the following gritty view of hope. Now I'm off for second cup of coffee while I've still got a chance of a day. Bon matin, mon ami!

END OF CONFLICT

Jed's Other Poem

Even if you don't like poetry you might like this video poem or, if you've already seen it, might enjoy seeing it again. It's that kind of thing. It was made by a very interesting guy named Stewart. The music is by Grandaddy. Warning. Their site opens with music.

"Jeddy-3 the humanoid was assembled in the kitchen out of spare parts. Before Jed's system died he wrote poems. Poems for no one." more history here.

Jed's Other Poem (Beautiful Ground)

Jimmy

Jimmy Mouse stayed at the Hotel Nevada last night. I didn't discover him until late yesterday afternoon, too late in the day to release him, too cold. Temperatures what they are right now, it would be a big drag to suddenly find yourself homeless at the end of the day. It's supposed be sunny through the weekend though so he'll have a running start on finding a nice comfy new home by the meadow pond. We found our last guest at the hotel dead in the corner as though he were trying to dig himself out when he expired. It was very sad. We forgot the lid was down. We're very careful now. Once the trap is set we check it at least once a day. We don't want innocent creatures to suffer. We like happy endings for our guests, like Fatty Leland. Jimmy Mouse did okay too, although he didn't seem all that eager to face the big world. I don't blame him. He's a pretty tiny fellow. I hated to see him go but, as I understand it, field mice don't do well in captivity.

Goodbye Jimmy Mouse and Good Luck!

Books I found at the second hand store today.

This one I bought. This one I just photographed the cover.

Because it's soothing

Ragged Feather did a nice claymation to the Beatles song, Because. It's a 02:45 massage for the frazzled psyche.

Because

Life without replay

I find the bank of TV monitors in front of the stair steppers at the gym incredibly annoying. We canceled the service and gave our set away a few years ago so I don't have any tolerance for replay after replay after replay, changing only when there's another clip or program to take its place, the endless foie gras for the brain, that is television. The brain drain. Outside the window it was snowing and a couple of cows were standing over a very young calf sheltering it from the storm. It's sad knowing what they don't, that probably by the time summer arrives that calf's loving mother will be hanging by her back legs with a slit throat.

Holy shit!

Not long ago I started getting forwards from a mystery source but they sent the emails properly (Bcc'd) so I checked out one of the links. To date, they are almost always excellent. I did a little polking around and seems the sender lives nearby. Perhaps we've met, but I don't remember. That remains an open question about which you may hear more later. Anyway, here's one of the links I recently received. It's really impressive. Even though you, being very hip, have undoubtedly encountered some of this information before, it's all put together here in really Big Picture. I highly recommend you watch it. Learn a little bit about the world that does not yet exist because that's the world we are living in.

SHIFT HAPPENS.

Foie Gras, you are what you eat

Here's a little good news. The grocery chain Giant Eagle announced today that it will no longer sell foie gras in any of its 230 stores! They join Whole Foods as well as the state of California, the city of Chicago, and 16 nations worldwide that have already banned this barbaric practice.

Sir Roger Moore volunteered to narrate a documentary for PETA revealing the cruel facts of foie gras production. Give it a watch. It's a lesson in compassion and, as we all know, compassion is food for the soul.

The hidden lives of ducks and geese.

FOX propaganda channel

Fox sucks! It doesn't report news. Fox injects wingnut propaganda into the public debate. That's it. The rest is cover. They don't deserve an FCC license. For starters, this channel should be investigated for fraud, criminal lobbying, and intentionally misleading the public. If you haven't been following their attack on Senator Obama, check out this video. It's a sickening mixture of lies, innuendo and slander disguised as news. The people in front of the camera aren't reporters. In fact, it's even flattery to call them actors. They are media whores. Fox my "campaign headquarters?" In your dreams, assholes...

FOX ATTACKS OBAMA

Barack Obama Fox lies and liars

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.













Hillary Clinton Nevada Carson City presidential candidatesComma Coffee

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.

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

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.

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.

Nora and Paris, music lovers

Nora, the musician

Paris, the fan

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?

Night without candles

White Owl by asha

_________________________________________________

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

_________________________________________________





Czeslaw Milosz poetry

Bush Republicans

Howdy Doodie contemplates his navel.

This story from Huffingtonpost defines tilt. When asked by C-SPAN this morning how "(George W.) Bush Republicans would be defined, and what images the phrase "Bush Republican" might summon for future generations" Howdy Doodie replied, "Compassionate conservatism. I made a name by being compassionate". This guy is a psychopath. It's that simple. America and now the world is being held hostage by a group of psychopaths, Cheney, Rummy, Gonzalez etc. etc., and Bush is their Howdy Doodie star power who thinks he has a hot line to God when actually that "hot" line is ham head Cheney's fist up his ass.







compassionate conservative Bush Republicans C-SPAN GOP

Invisible Theatre

The Invisible Theatre has new digs. They moved from a shelf onto the new table. It is a tiny island at this point but, with a little luck, will continue to develop. Everyone here is quite excited about it.









Monsieur La Chance and Lucky Pierre have been backstage all afternoon gossiping and watching the goings on. They are quite pleased with these latest developments. All in all, slow as it's been, my office is finally beginning to shape up.

And the rain finally came, days late, but last night it rained the whole night through.

Cheney's 16 words

"The + British + Government + has + learned + that + Saddam + Hussein  + recently + sought + significant + quantities + of +  uranium + from + Africa." = BIG LIE by Dick Cheney as Vice-President of the United States.



Check out this haunting little video by Margo Guryan called 16 Words. These are the 16 words Republican Vice-President Dick Cheney's used to lie us into an unnecessary, unjust, unstabilizing, unending war with the Middle East. My hat is off to Margo Guryan. The creepy melody and disturbing words have an onomatopoetic quality, mimicking the hypnotic repetition of the macabre nature of Cheney's message, personality, high crimes and treason.

16 Words

Given that it just came out in the Libby trial that Cheney ordered the leak of Valerie Plame's identity to the press, this little video is especially timely. Did Dirty Dick hypnotize Dummy Bush? I agree with Dr. Knight on this one. No need.



Dick Cheney 16 words Plame affair Bush Administration leaker treason