Driftwork review

No need to pencil in the Pulitzer award dinner at this point but Driftwork got a good review in issue #24 of Zine World:

Driftwork #1: Describes its contents as "poetry, fabrication, image, rants, and review." Issue #1 is mostly poetry and b&w photographs along with some short essays. There is some very good writing here. The punch-line to "The Gril with the Tootie Fruity Hat" made me laugh. A piece about leaving home at eighteen is poingnant without being sappy. "Sylvia and Ted" deftly describes the dance that is done in relationships, in only a few strokes. Nicely produced. Asha Anderson, PO Box 1436, Gardnerville NV 89410, www.driftwork.net, asha@driftwork.net [$3, trades ok (contact first), ftp 16S :30]—Anu, reviewer for Zine World, a Reader's Guide to the Underground Press

As for a 2nd issue, I'm still waiting for enough good work to fill it. Think about submitting something, even if you 're in the 1st issue. See contact form on this blog . Keep in mind that simultaneous submissions and previously published material okay. Contributors get 2 free copies and can purchase more at cost. Sorry I can't give more away but it costs me enough out of pocket as it is.

Driftwork is yet another minuscule underground press publication and distribution is really limited but there are other advantages to being included in it, besides going in your bio and impressing friends and family. If you read your work in public, reading it from a publication lends a little credibility to your presentation and may generate a sale or two among audience members. Beyond that, many bookstores reserve a shelf for local and/or small press publications and will be happy to take a few copies so you make a little profit selling them there, what to speak of spreading your fame and glory. So submit, damn it! The future awaits you.

Nevada gold

It was a nice day for a ride so we loaded the bikes into the jeep and headed to the Pinenut range which is about eight miles from our house. One road in particular provides direct access but recently someone posted "Keep Out" and "Private Road" signs at the entrance. It leads to old mine so we decided to drive there in hopes of getting permission from the owner to use it. I suppose it was a bit risky but we were, after all, wearing crazy bike clothes and hardly looked like claim jumpers.


Monster at the fork in the road
00:20


It's only a few miles in, winding between the foothills but one turn and all the development, McMansions and frenzy in the valley fades to naught. Went we got to the mine we parked and weighed the possibility of getting shot. We considered going back but heard a generator and decided what the hell? After all, we're here. We went the rest of the way on foot. As it turned out a really nice old couple, Lee and Ted, work the claim. They've lived there for years, even in the winter when temperatures fall to 30 below zero. They look a bit like Jack Sprat and his wife, except she is the one who is thin as a bean. They have quite an operation, crushing rock and separating, by degree, particles of gold from everything else, magnetic sand (lead) being the last to go. At the end stage, they use water, hand, and eye. The process requires great patience, more than most people, or at least I, could possibly muster. I don't know if they sell bags of gold flake somewhere but they do make jewelery. They fill transparent lockets with gold flakes and hang the little pods from necklaces and earrings. Pure Nevada gold. They should have a website.

4x death and desert kings

As we were poking around Virginia City mountain roads last week, news of this fellow's death in the paper today caught my attention. Besides being a sad tale of a perhaps avoidable death, there is a lesson to be learned. The regular jeep trails are bad enough but driving on the lip of a pit mine is truly tempting fate.

Man killed when Jeep falls into old mining pit

by Karen Woodmansee
Appeal Staff Writer, kwoodmansee@nevadaappeal.com
May 23, 2007


From the Nevada Appeal

A 63-year-old California man on a rock-hunting trip with his wife was killed Tuesday when the Jeep he was driving rolled off a narrow trail in Virginia City into an abandoned mining pit.

The Storey County Sheriff's Office received the call about 3:50 p.m. According to Sgt. Kenneth Quirk, Alvin Ellwood Baldwin was trying to maneuver his vehicle on a narrow trail high above the Loring Pit when he lost control and rolled 500 feet into the pit.

The Loring Pit is located across State Route 341 from the Historic Fourth Ward School on the south end of town.

Quirk said Baldwin, of Occidental, Calif., was ejected from the vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene.

"They were up above the pit and that is on the very narrow roadway, it's more of a trail," he said. "The wife actually got out because it was too treacherous. He tried to do a maneuver and it rolled."

Quirk said the couple had driven to Nevada from Occidental and had gotten a room at a hotel in Carson City.

Quirk said the wife was taken to the sheriff's office where she called friends in California, who drove over to stay with her.

"It was horrible, simply horrible," he said.

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

Desert raven riding a wild horse.
Sorry the resolution is so small. It's almost
impossible to see the raven but he's there
right on the horse's withers.

There was one particularly sweet moment I forgot to mention in my post about our misadventures last week. Unfortunately, the photo I took doesn't show much, but if you look closely at the horse's withers, you might be able to make out the hitchhiking bird riding him. They crossed the road in front of us but neither were a bit concerned about our presence. The bird was as regal as a desert king riding slowly through the land upon his favorite steed.

Our oceans are turning into plastic...are we?

You owe it to yourself to at least skim this article in Best Life Magazine. Yet another reason to avoid bottled water - a vast swath of the Pacific, twice the size of Texas, is full of plastic.
Our oceans are turning into plastic...are we?

War Pigs - The Iraq Video Remix

Via Crooks and Liars

"War Pigs was originally an anti-Vietnam War song and is perhaps the best known of Black Sabbath's work. It first appeared on their 1970 release, Paranoid, but has come to be used by anyone who hates the horrors of war and warmakers." Read more...

Gonzales bullys for Bush

This footage of James B. Comey, former Deputy Attorney General of the United States, testifying yesterday, May 15th, about how Gonzales and Card tried to force a reauthorization of the administration's spying on the general American population. Watch it. It's chilling how far the neocons are willing to go. Enter the labyrinth through DailyKos.


Gonzales, a bully for Bush


Attila, the Attorney General




James B. Comey Gonzales Bush spying

Bad Mother's Day

My daughter sent me this great card for Mother's Day, which was yesterday. I hope it was a lovely day all around. Anyway, her card got me to thinking. However loving and forgiving our children may be some of us are too neurotic, vain, and self-centered to meet the standard of the Good Mother. It is embarrassing for both the children and us, the bad mothers, to go through the motions of Mother's Day, knowing that the honors are not exactly meant or deserved. Therefore, with an end to restoring integrity all around, I hereby declare that, henceforth, the second Monday of May will be known as Bad Mother's Day. From now on this is our day, we Bad Mothers, to do with as we please. And for good measure, because enough is never enough, I threw in the rights and privileges of Blue Monday [¹] , such as calling in sick and sighing a lot.

Naturally, many good children of bad mothers will not want to send their bad mothers Bad Mother's Day cards, irregardless of what a crap head she is. Not to worry. If you don't send one, it will just go to prove how terribly unappreciated we are. All the more reason for The DAY.

With the help of the troupe here at the Invisible Theatre, I threw together this little video to launch the holiday. In keeping with the theme, it's a variation of the old saying, "the hand that rocks the cradle" merged with the idea that, indeed, "it is never too late." I don't want any flack over the fact that a man does the lyrics. It's about time one of them kicks in. If you'd had a husband like this, you'd have been a bad mother too.

The quality of this video is pretty bad but, hell, what can you expect on Bad Mother's Day? Like I tell my kids, I tired. Anyway, the sound track is good, at least I think so and that's what matters. So sit back and enjoy William Shatner doing "That's Me Trying" from his never a hit album, "Has Been".

Happy Bad Mother's Day.

That's Me Trying for bad mother's everywhere


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

What? So you think something as important as Bad Mother's Day doesn't deserve footnotes?

[¹] The much ridiculed work of Cliff Arnall, former part-time tutor at Cardiff University explains a lot. Cardiff University distanced themselves from Arnall, but I stand by his efforts to render in mathematical terms such important concepts as Blue Monday.

Based on Cliff's work, I got my little brother (who actually is a scientist) to whip up a formula for Blue Monday Bad Mother's Day. I call it the BMBMD Effect.

... where weather (W) PLUS debt (D) MINUS ability to pay (d) MULTIPLIED BY THE time since her birthday (T), the combined time of all previous Bad Mother's Days (T¹) and the time since blowing her latest New Year’s resolutions (Q) DIVIDED BY Mommie's massive need to be right (M) MULTIPLIED BY her never ending need for appreciation (Na) EQUALS a very bad Blue Monday Bad Mother's Day. 

So be a good kid and do something nice for your mother or not. Hop to it.


bad mother's day William Shatner Has Been cradle Blue Monday equations BMDMD Effect

Mother's Day

Factoid: Did you know that Anna Jarvis, the founder of Mother's Day, was jailed on Mother's Day for protesting how commercial the observance had become?

My daughter sent me this poem today and it's well worth sharing. I do believe women, with children or not, must lead the way if we are ever to come anywhere near establishing world peace.

Happy Mother's Day.

Mother's Day Proclamation
Julia Ward Howe

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses
and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and
earnest day of counsel.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Also, time to dust off this internet classic ...

Barats and Bereta Mothers Day

Julia Ward Howe Mother's Day women world peace

Watch out for the.....

Killer Tortoise

Time past and passing

I'm gone for a couple of days and when I get back I find that Roy pulled the plug on his blog. What the hell's up with that?

I was in Oregon the last few days where, unexpectedly, I got to spend time with family members from whom I have been estranged for several years. Much as I would like to rush a healing along, I have no control but I am grateful to still be around. Both of my parents died during my prodigal wandering.

Anyway, It's been a long day.

627 days to go.

Uncle Monkey explains the curse
of evil bush spirits to Ugly Bear.

Bush countdown

Slide show - Dulary's arrival

There is now a slide show of Dulary's arrival in her diary. Great pics. If your heart needs a little warming, check it out.

Dulary update update

Dulary and Tarra get to know one another.

May 1, update
Meanwhile, back at the Elephant Sanctuary, after 41 years of confinement, it only took Dulary a little over 4 hours to decide at that it was okay to step out of the trailer and meet her new sisters Tarra, Delhi and Misty who stood nearby the whole time eagerly waiting to show her around. An elephant in the wild can easily take a hundred mile stroll before breakfast so what a thrill it must be for her, after a lifetime of concrete, bars, and leg chains, to walk freely with friends along the lovely, lovely, rolling miles of soft, sweet dirt elephant trails. I can't wait to hear about Dulary finding the lake. She is water bug. I would love to work at the sanctuary. Full report at Dulary's Diary.

Commander Guy

"I am the

Commander Guy".

Just for the record, here is an excerpt from The Caucus reporting this newest, mind-boggling display of Bush's hubris and stupidity. Unfortunately, Commander Guy is so delusional and self-centered that he will probably never grasp just what an asshole we think he is. Too bad. It would be some, small satisfaction, if not comfort, to know he is capable of shame. As it is, Commander Guy, aka The Decider, is a really scary man.

The Caucus
Political blogging from The New York Times
May 2, 2007, 5:11 pm
Bush: ‘I’m the Commander Guy’


By Sheryl Gay Stolberg

WASHINGTON, May 2 – And you thought he was still “the decider.”

President Bush has coined a new nickname for himself — ‘’the commander guy” — on Wednesday, as he criticized Congressional Democrats in a speech to the annual gathering of the Associated General Contractors of America, a construction industry trade group.

The man who last year proclaimed “I’m the decider,’’ in response to a question about whether he would fire Donald Rumsfeld as defense secretary, came up with this latest moniker in explaining why he vetoed an Iraq war spending bill that dictated a timeline for troops to withdraw from Iraq.

“The question is, ‘Who ought to make that decision, the Congress or the commanders?,’’ Mr. Bush said. “As you know, my position is clear – I’m the commander guy.”

commander guy bush the decider idiot

Dulary update

In happier news, Dulary arrived at the Elephant Sanctuary today. Here is a clip from her diary at elephants.com.

May 1, 2007

5:37 p.m.
As Dulary was backing out of the trailer, Tarra came up to see what was happening -- Dulary was a little uncertain about that, but after she realized that Tarra just wanted some of her food, everything was OK. Dulary followed Tarra and they have been playing ever since!

2:30 p.m.
Dulary has arrived, safe and sound. She took a bath in the trailer where she remains, enjoying the sights and sounds of her new home. She is munching on lots of hay and 3 of her new sisters wait anxiously -- Misty, Delhi, and Tarra.

7:30 AM
Dulary is on her final leg of her journey home.

Mission NOT accomplished

George W. Bush is a disgrace to this country. And a menace to the world. On this, the 4th anniversary of his bullshit "Mission Accomplished" photo opp and speech on the flight deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, there are 3351 American soldiers dead and 4 more pending DoD confirmation. Dead, Mr. Flight Suit. Dead. Because of your phony "war". And a country in ruins, countless citizens dead, maimed, homeless, outraged. Their civil war is on you Poster Boy, and your fascist buddies Darth Cheney, Crazy Rummy, Condie Baby (your ever-adoring war wife), Bill Kristol and the rest of the neoconservative elites who pull your strings, the religious freaks you duped and the corporations you serve. Happy Anniversary, asshole.

Propaganda wars


mission accomplished Bush Iraq veto

Surfing dog

Here's a video I think will bring a smile to your lips. This guy just loves to have fun.

Surfing dog

Dulary's journey

Today Dulary the elephant is en route from the Philadelphia Zoo, where she has lived for the last 41 years, to the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee. Big Day! Zoo officials have a great attitude about sending her and I think this kid does a good job of summing up the attitude for most of the locals in this CBS video.

You can leave a message for Dulary here. You may think, "Why bother? She's an elephant, for chrissake." Naturally, I think it makes a difference. There is more than one way of hearing.

Bass in the bathtub updade

The bass speaks

The bass is out of the bathtub. The other day we had a buyer. It was love a first sight. He bought it, half up front and years to pay, no interest, but when he got it home he freaked out. He plays for the Reno Philharmonic and it turned out that it wasn't as loud as his current bass, which was a deciding factor. Plus, I think he decided that he couldn't afford it. The poor guy recently moved to a double wide in the valley after his divorce. His wife got the house in Tahoe. As he put it, she got the gold, he got the shaft. Anyway, of course we refunded his dough but crap. But now that the fiddle is out of the tub, neither of us have the heart to put it there again. It just seems wrong. It has such a heartbreakingly beautiful sound. Now we have to find it a home. We were going to take it to LA as Bonhams and Butterfields will be there doing appraisals next month, but decided against it. We wouldn't do a consignment with them anyway. Brad (the musician) gave us a San Francisco contact who seems better suited to our needs. At this point, we are not sure what to ask for it, eight to ten thousand was always the upper end. You know how these things are. You get what you pay for but you also only get what people are willing to pay. Either way, it is a beautiful instrument, perhaps as much as two hundred years old, solid, hand-crafted wood and in great shape, but Lee's x-dirty beatnik bebop bass player dad, heavily modified the neck. It is ... at this point in it's star-crossed life, after 50 years in someone's basement, or was that good fortune? ... a jazz bass. Want to buy a great bass? We will make you a sweeeeeeet deal.

Strange days

I have been too swamped the last few days to spend any time on line, but I always have my camera with me so here are a few strange things I came upon in recent days.

I can't imagine how hanging strips of toilet paper from the supermarket ceiling is suppose to be attractive to people but obviously the manager at the local Raley's finds it so. To me it merely underscores the obvious connection between eating and shitting.

The Salvation Army had this neat item for sale. No. I didn't buy it. The Raley offered enough virtual reality for my "taste" this week, thank you.

As I do from time to time, I visited the grave of the unknown baby boy who died in the '60s. There is no name on his marker and he only lived a couple of days. I'm not the only one in town who looks in on him. The cartoon drawn on the scrap of wood is new since my last visit but I was alarmed to see tire tracks across the lower, right edge of his tiny resting place. The images came out very bleached and over exposed which seems to fit the melancholy shrouding his little grave.

Victory for horses!

Here's a happy update...



Last Wednesday, the U.S. House of Representatives voted overwhelmingly (277-137) to restore a 34-year-old ban on the commercial sale and slaughter of America's wild horses and burros (H.R. 503 - the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act). On Wednesday, the bill to ban the sale and transport to slaughter of all American horses cleared a critical Senate committee by a decisive 15-7 vote. There is more work ahead but these victories move us even closer to banning horse slaughter in the United States permanently.

Thank you.

H.R. 503 horses slaughter ban

Frenzy

I have been way too busy lately and feel half crazy from the frenzy. Things are finally beginning to wind down but I have no energy tonight to anything more than check in. Doing graphics and editing makes me crazy after a certain point, and over the last week, I went past that certain point.

Among other things, I have been working with some friends to put a show together. We call ourselves the 5th Night Company. We are planning to do three shows this year, each one of the 5th Friday of the month. As there are only four this year, a 5th Friday is something like a blue moon. The first 5th Friday of the year was on March 30th but we started too late to catch it. The next 5th Friday falls on June 29th. That's the one we're shooting for, then August 31st and November 30th. As I can only maintain my marginal sanity if I take things one day at a time, this kind of thinking can quickly become just too much but we shall see.

Naturally the event will be at Comma Coffee. Thanks to June, the place is becoming the hub of Carson City's scene. Woo. But kidding aside, she is a one woman, downtown arts renovation project. So what is 5th Friday you might ask? It is a performance opportunity for actors, poets, musicians, dancers, comics, puppeteers, anyone who dares to be interesting.

So that's it. Now_I_must_rest.

Wednesday snow

No wonder there was such a frenzy in the Bird Park last night. They knew it was going to snow and wanted to fuel up for the cold night ahead. This morning, I made sure there was enough for everyone but this crow didn't think so.

Magpie and crow

00:30

Tuesday Blue Plate Special

The 7 o'clock magpie is early tonight. I guess she noticed that a couple of starlings have been vacuuming up the goodies at 6:30. Actually 2 more magpie just showed up so I'm not sure any of them are the 7 0'clock magpie. After all, it is only 6:43. Perhaps she isn't even here yet. Whoever it is, they are hoovering up the peanuts and drilling the apples. One of them just stashed a slice under a clump of dirt for later. It's a feeding frenzy out there. I think it's the wind. It's been a fury all day and that sets everyone on edge. The magpies are hopping and lunging around, hurling themselves through the gusts to get to a peanut, jetting off in a wobble, then are back for more and the pot bellied quail are running in every direction scooping up what they can before the wind sweeps them and the seeds away.

Roy asked about the photo in last night's post, No. I did not take the original. I just happen to really dig diners. Somewhere in the dark-rooted ganglia of my brain an inviolable connect exists between poetry, sleazy roadside diners and cheap hotel rooms so a while ago I hunted a diner image down on the web and have been playing around with it ever since. These things are something of my personal mythology I guess you could say, as is the coyote, the crow and others too numerous to mention. I apologize for using the little lemur. He is rather famous. I should swap him out for one of my own but ... mañana.

(Note: As is their style, Blogger ate the photos once posted here but here's the idea.)

Also, in keeping with last night's post, here's another jumble of words I stumbled across today while I was rummaging around in my files. I had forgotten I'd written it. I'm not sure I like it all and may end up just deleting it, but for the moment I'm including it in a draft called Book of Images. Posting it tonight might be in bad taste because of the recent tragedy at Virginia Tech. It is not my intention. I wrote this sometime ago. You might say it is a portrait of the world from a vegetarian point of view.

Dinner party
excerpt from Book of Images

I sit at the table of the living before a living feast; hearts, eyes, livers, backs, spleens, ribs, dreams marinated in their own juices; blood, sperm, milk, bile, tears. A quartet plays music behind a velvet curtain. They are blind. The cello sobs. Blood is dripping from my elbows. The woman on my right is dining on breaded fingers, spaghetti and eyeballs. The man on my left is slicing into a breast, colostrum oozing from the nipple and greasing his lips. There is a live fish on my plate laying on a pile of sautéed brains that pop like blisters when I stick my fork into them. They splatter fluid on the woman but she does not seem to notice. She stabs an eye, drags it through the sauce then pops it into her mouth. I look back at my plate. The fish is nibbling the brains. I press my fork into its scaly skin and it excretes a black pearl. I hurriedly snatch the pearl and tuck it into my pocket. The music stops. All the eaters turn in unison and look at me. They thump their utensils on the table making a fiendish racket then suddenly quit and the room is completely silent. The fish takes a tiny violin out of his hat and begins to play a heart rendering solo. The man slowly runs the prongs of his fork up and down my arm. He smiles dragging his tongue over bloody lips, burps loudly then resumes eating. Everyone resumes eating. I stand, slowly withdraw the pearl from my pocket and place it into the fish's hat. He continues playing. I exit the building and find myself standing in a giant, noisy, congested stockyard. After a pause to get my bearings, I push through the herd of people pressing eagerly forward toward the feast.

-asha

Peace please

The chickens have had enough but are the rabbits
fighting or playing?