Stolen for Fashion

Royce on Fashion




Stolen for Fashion
I dare you to watch it all the way to the end.
I did and it made me cry. Have you got the guts
to have a heart? Open your eyes and see.


"Stolen for Fashion"—Learn More at PETA.org.

Words in the dark 3.15

The floor of my mind is littered with crumpled, scribbled out, scrawled and often illegible words, some strung together, some adrift on their own. They are like leaves running before the wind and the next time I look they are spindly sprouts growing in the fetid dark. At other times they appear to be like bugs skittering by and I shudder. Or they are annoying the way sharp rocks are to bare feet or threatening like broken glass. Some of them are frivolous like photos in a collage, interesting only in relationship to something else, or provocative like the preview of a film and some are merely blobs of paint that didn't make it to the canvas, perhaps the best part, but dried and beyond recall. I hear them mumbling and whispering. I kick my way through them, sweep some aside, pick others up and place them under the light for a closer look. Observed they change. They have strange magnetic properties that do not obey the rules. They erratically change poles, attracting then repelling one another. Some are lurkers, suspect, shifty and resistant.

Local news at 9:13

I begin this post at 9:06 yet, if you noticed the title, the deadline is 9:13. The question, will I meet it? I say no. I say yes. Bets are down. I win.


Then again, I lose. I corrected a misspelling at 10:38 and fiddled with the placement of sentence for two more minutes.

Elmo n Ricky

Life can be pretty bleak when you stare it in the eye. Who knows? Maybe I'm just bulldozing through the last muddy patch before enlightenment. Whatever. I've gotta lighten up. My kids have been telling me for years. They outta know. It wasn't easy for them being raised by a proto-punk mom. Recently, after one particularly dark post, my daughter demanded I write her a happy kitten poem. (It's on the list, darlin', but I have to work up to it.) The point is, everyone agrees, even me. Must _*_ lighten _*_ up. So I've added a new category to the list, mirth, or some word to that effect. Whatever describes Elmo's attitude.

I have done posts that are, in some way, humorous but they're not labeled and these days I need ready to go upbeat humor, not the schadenfreude gallows black ironic variety which I'm generally fond of. I love Ricky Gervais but, like me, he tends toward dark. Elmo must lead the way because, as he says, it's time to "get it back"...


Elmo and Ricky

Snow day crow day

Scenes from the Bird Park this morning.

There was tasty peanut butter oatmeal. Good for a snow day.

The Darkling Thrush

It's cold and gloomy outside and the world at large seems fallen to rack and ruin, so this morning I warmed my hands around this poem.

The Darkling Thrush
by Thomas Hardy


I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

courtesy poets.org

Order of the morning

Drawing by Rachel Hoffman


Just after dawn, a squadron of magpies shoot up from the eastern sector of the sky, clear the stern peak of Dick's house, wings out in stunning formation and descend into the Bird Park, a black and white flash swirl touch down running breakfast grab, then are gone again in minutes. I like to think they wake up with the Bird Park on their minds, that it is first in the order of the morning. A bit later, two magpie return for seconds. I suspect they are the original 7 o'clock magpie and her friend. Generally, after the mob leaves, I tuck a few extra goodies in strategic out of the way places. They know where to look. But that's it. You may remember my neighbor Dwayne said he saw magpies eating quail babies. He ought to know. His giant, weeping Indian willow houses families. Must protect the babies so I had to revoke the magpie/crow all day pass. It's morning peanuts then they gotta go.

Soon after they leave, the starlings arrive. Then the pigeons. Then the sparrows and finches. The mild-mannered, yellow-breasted sparrows hit the yellow thistle seed sack in Quail Town over by Old Man Hills. They can pack a sack 15 deep without ruffling a feather. Share and share alike. However, fights are always breaking out among the finches in the main sector. They go for the sunflower seeds and, although there's plenty for all, constantly disagree over who eats where. They even argue standing knee deep in the very cool seed trough hanging from the fence. Trough. It's a trough of seeds. No one guy can cover the whole thing still they stop eating to run each other off.

There are the individual finches who come at off times to nibble and gaze over the park like genteel patron frequenting sidewalk cafes in the Champs Elysées afternoon. They are among my favorites and remind me of the little Buddha Bird who came here for a couple of summers. Just watching them, I feel peaceful. They enjoy the place as it's meant to be, a time out from hard scrabble, a haven of food and water, peace and quiet. Of course, even here there are predators but that's the irony of eden, isn't it? The occasional cat does appear, mainly Dwayne's drinking buddy, Clarence the Bastard, who is far too feeble to do more than reminisce. And the hawk. There is a hawk although, for the most part, he is stealth and, but for the strike, unobtrusive. Plus, he focuses mainly on Dwayne's.

Finally, last to arrival, the quail. They start the day at Dwayne's but hop up then down the fence later in the morning. They prefer almost anything to flying. They come after things are rolling, after the finch and sparrows have littered the ground with sunflower seed crumbs. Recently, at the urging of M. Lee, I started putting chick scratch out for the quail, in secret places of course, mainly Old Man Hills and under the lilac bushes, one of their favorite haunts in summer. I don't want the pigeons catching on so it has to be on the downlow. Don't get me wrong. I still love the pigeons. Did I already mention that they are members of the dove family? In good standing. Birds of peace. But...well, they are kind of huge in this small neighborhood and, not everyone shares my enlightened view, so nothing special for them although the little birds spill enough for everybody. And the pigeons dearly love cold tubbing so I make sure that there is water in the baths.

I'm trying out a tasty peanut replacement for the magpies, bite size dog treats. I'm running out of peanuts, thanks to the greedy asshole Stewart Parnell. His cue, Charlie the Town Crier showed up. The loudmouth. First crow of the winter. I'd know him anywhere, cigar dangling from his beak, wearing the Unrestricted Press Pass I immediately regretted a day after issuing it. He had plenty to say about Parnell, none of it good. Ever hear a crow swear? Oh and this year, a pair of robins joined us, probably down from Tahoe. I love robins. Two. Seems robins, once the unflappable auguries of spring, are also suffering under the boot of human sprawl and growing scarce so I'm delighted they are here.


But about the peanuts. Since the greedy idiot criminal asshole Stewart Parnell, president of Peanut Corp., and his morally bankrupt idiot drone plant manager, Sammy Lightsey, choose profit over honor and integrity, and ordered their salmonella infected nuts, "turned loose" on America, I can't find whole peanuts at a decent price anywhere! These unscrupulous dingbats, at the urging of company executives, even begged the USDA for permission to continue shipping peanuts after salmonella was discovered. People and animals died and they want "business as usual?" Now, my supply of safe peanuts for the magpies is dangerously low. In fact, it is very nearly gone. WTF, Stewart!?! I hate that guy. Money is NOT the bottom line, Stewaaaaart. And I can't find any my peanut butter Kashi TLC bars anywhere. WTdoubleF!?

Anyway, top o' the mornin or afternoon or whatever time of day it is to ya.


Stewart Parnell Sammy Lightsey Peanut Corp. salmonella outbreak

Dance of the Dolphins

Warning: embedded autostart music*. Sorry. Can't disable it but I like the video but am posting it anyway.

As we enjoy a collective sigh of relief that at least three of the dolphins stranded in Newfoundland made it safely back to sea thanks to the help of the kind, brave townfolk of Seal Cove, here's that short (famous) clip of a dolphin sporting with bubbles. If you sent an email on their behalf, thank you.

So. Sit back and enjoy 01:06 minutes of this delightful underwater ballet.

Dolphins at play


Ps. Yes. I realize these dolphins are in a prison and, of course, that's a dreadful thing to do to any creature but for a minute, one minute and six seconds to be exact, I just want to believe that this dolphin is actually enjoying herself just as she would in the wild because she has wisely made peace with her situation. And after all, it is better than being trapped under ice.

*The music is "No One is Alone" from "Into the Woods" by John Williams; The Boston Pops Orchestra. From the Album Music of the Night: Pops on Broadway 1990 CD.

stranded dolphins Newfoundland dolphins dolphins playing

Dolphins rescued, Newfoundland

Three of the five dolphins stranded off the coast of Seal Cove, Newfoundland were rescued yesterday by a brave group of townsmen in a speedboat and survival suits. Whether the other two survived, scared off by their initial approach, is unknown. The men rocked the boat back and forth against the ice, breaking it apart and working a small path 250 metres long into the enclosure where the three remaining dolphins circled around them.



Mayor Winston May said the remaining three realized what was going on and quickly became very happy and friendly.

"Two got out through the channel, but the little guy was too tired," said Brandon Banks, 16, who leapt into the icy water to keep him from drowning.

The dolphin wrapped his fins around Banks and rested his head on his shoulder. It was then Banks slipped a harness around him.

"I kept him up with my legs, keep his head up from under the water", he said.

He tied the rope to the boat and the boat slowly towed the dolphin through the ice. Once they hit open water, he caught his second wind. They freed him from the rope, and the dolphin swam off.

"He was just getting his energy back, and he was swimming around," Mr. Banks said. "It was pretty good seeing him go off free like that, in the open water."

"The dolphin just kind of attached to Brandon and wrapped his flippers around him, more or less like a friend or a mate," the Mayor told The Canadian Press. Mr. May called it "a real nice ending."

Full story here.
Photo by Norma Miller for Canwest News Service, as published in National Post.

HELP STOP CANADA'S CRUEL SEAL HUNT!

stranded dolphins Brandon Banks Newfoundland dolphins

CEO roast

Democracy is a participatory sport. Here's a delightful clip from last week's grilling of Wall Street CEOs. At the end of the day, Congress included Sen. Chris Dodd's amendment limiting executive pay in the stimulus bill. It passed on Friday.




Video via MoveOn, narrated by Rachel Maddow.

Local news at 9:19

Humane Lobby Day was a blast but way too much went on to describe right now other than to say it was pure theater. The Senate and Legislature are in session and there is business_to_be_done. The actors are playing many parts: politician, lobbyist, staff, director, audience, page, stage hand, choir, and chorus, simultaneously in different plays, in different acts and rehearsals, overlapping lines and scenes and sets on numerous stages, in green rooms and cafes, and under it all, the constant, clandestine backstage whispers which everyone strains to hear. Then there was us. The animal people.

Nevada at night

I retired my other blog, Synesis, at least for the time being, and am in the process of moving some of the material to a new blog I've been fiddling with for a while. It's a place for my poetry. It doesn't fit here. And maybe a little flash fiction or a drawing here or there. If you're interested, it's here... Anna Sadhorse.

Koala Sam and local news at 9

Of course you've seen this photo of Sam, the koala rescued by firefighters during Australia's devastating brush fire. Why can't we humans always be this cool? For the record, I think the biblical "dominion over animals" thing is bullshit. I read today that Australia's fire was started by some guy with a taste for arson. We have a lot to make up for.

The Rescue of Koala Sam

Koala Sam Mr. Tree Australian brush fire

Nigerian goat follow-up

Remember that goat in Nigeria who was arrested in January for witchcraft and stealing a Mazda? Well, yesterday there was a follow-up article on the incident in the Nigerian Village Square. Seems the charges were dropped and the goat auctioned off. Poor fellow. Here the goat was, minding his own business, then BLAMMO...a vigilante mob drags him off to jail claiming he's a witch and car thief, without ever being given the dignity of a name other than... goat. As far as I've read, the issue of animal rights never came up. Who would dare? Anyway, it's thoughtful article with some interesting suggestions on how to deal with superstition and arcane cultural beliefs, Nigerian or otherwise and, if only for that reason, is at least worth skimming.

Casa Lupita and Dog Helps Dog

First off, here's a bit of footage that will both break and gladden your heart. If you aren't a better and more humble person after the 52 seconds it takes to watch, then call your doctor. You may need heart and brain implants!

It's a dog helps dog world!
~via Animal Rights Blog via Metacafe

The long of it or, if dogs can do it, people can too.

Angel

Nicaragua update

In other goings on, I have been busy setting up a blog for Casa Lupita, a clinic in Granada, Nicaragua for street animals. The clinic is a project of an NGO called Building New Hope. I was inspired to get involved by the little dog in this photo. I call her Angel. She was stranded on the sidewalk with a broken hip right where you see her and completely unable to drag herself to a safe place, had there been one. People were walking around and over her as though she did not exist but she stopped me cold. I was stunned. I stepped to the wall and leaned back. A Japanese girl was standing there so, after a moment I said, "I can't go any farther. This is too much. I can't leave just this poor dog laying here on the street." She said it was the same for her, that she was a vet student and could not walk by and leave her suffering like that. Her friends, also students, were off looking for help. Eventually they returned with rumors of an animal shelter somewhere in the city (Granada) and coaxed the girl to leave with them to search it out.

I stayed a while longer with the little dog but finally decided to go back to our room to get her some food and water and tell Mr. Lee what was up. He remembered seeing a poster at the Bearded Monkey about an animal shelter so he went in search of information and I returned to Angel. Unfortunately, I didn't think to bring a bowl. That's why there's water on the sidewalk in front of her. It freaked her out. I instantly regretted pouring it, plus I felt like a total idiot. She was happy for the food though.


I wish I had gone to Casa Lupita that night. It's easy to care. Taking action is the hard part but I did go the next morning. Donna was there, along with a volunteer veterinarian from the US, a Dr. Terry Kane. He said no one had brought in a dog of that description but it quickly became clear that this would not be the end of it. This was Casa Lupita after all, where no one is too small or insignificant to be loved. Donna grabbed me. We jumped into her old black truck and headed off for Angel's last known place on earth.

She wasn't there, but as Angel had lain directly in front of an open door the day before, Donna asked the woman inside if she knew anything. Yes. She had witnessed the whole event and said the Japanese girls came back for her in the evening. Mystery not solved but, as we could do no more, Donna invited me to join her on her rounds. We fed a group of street dogs that live along the shore of Lago Cocibolca, (or Lake Nicaragua if you prefer). We distributed more food along the road back to town and stopped by her place for a minute where I met a couple of other street dogs recuperating from sever injuries and emotional trauma, then we returned to the clinic. When we told the vet how the girls had rescued Angel from the street, he realized she was the dog who'd been brought in the night before. He told us that in the states he could have saved her but, unfortunately, Casa Lupita isn't currently equipped for major surgeries. Her whole hip was crushed, not just her leg. Amputation would not be enough. He had to put her down.


Before we left on our trip to Central America last September, I prepared myself for the suffering animals I knew I'd encounter. Mexico drove me to distraction so this time I was determined to pace myself. Yes, I know there is so much human suffering that needs addressing but I feel a call to help animals. It's just the way it is. So I fed a dog here and there but kept reminding myself that that I couldn't drop everything every time my heart broke. Then I met Angel. So a week or two later, election night to be exact, while the US was choosing Barrack Obama to be President of the United States, and sweet hope hung heavy in the air, a bunch of us gathered at a local hotel lounge to cheer and celebrate and I promised Donna that, after we returned home, I'd set up a blog for Casa Lupita to help spread the word, a tiny contribution, but something I could do from afar.

That was nearly two months ago but last week, after coming across Angel's photo one more time, I got down to it and hammered a beginning. I scrounged up a little content but am not quite ready to tell Donna yet but here's the link, if you want to check it out. If you have any suggestions before I email her this coming week, I'd love to hear them.

So here's the short of it: Casa Lupita Nica


Last two photos of dogs and cats on the street by Finnegan Dowling, Nicaragua Redux: The Sarna Dog Chronicels. Thanks, Finnegan.

Little mention

The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest.

~Henry David Thoreau

Eye on Plain

Sarah Palin, enemy of all that is wild and free, is hot to stay in the public eye as she desperately wants to the America's first female president in 2012. So fine. Here's an...


Eye on Palin


Join the fight to save the wolves.


Please note: In the spirit of full disclosure I feel that is is only right to make it clear that I CAN'T STAND THE BITCH.

Local news at noon, or there abouts

Yesterday I finished the first issue of the newsletter I volunteered to help with. Next month's publication shouldn't take as long although I do have a genius for complicating very simple tasks. In other news, I'm holding to my decision to downsize the Bird Park, or at least be more selective about who I roll the welcome mat out for. I tried but couldn't entirely cut off the magpies. That early morning guy kept showing up looking for peanuts so, yes, I toss a few out but I am not going back to the way is was, obsessively shelling and crushing large amounts of peanuts to keep the park flush most of the day. As you might recall, that led to magpies and crows snacking on the quail babies. I had to choose. The office re-organization, begun last New Year, is creeping along. I managed to hold the line in '08 so I didn't have to start over in '09. For me, holding the line is progress. And this year already I have managed to eliminate one desk and replace it with an only slightly dented but otherwise lovely secondhand white metal bookshelf ($15) with a much smaller footprint which absorbs the items formerly piled on the gone desk, thereby allowing me to shift the PO tub and shelves to the same wall, thus making the entrance to my office less like a tunnel, big victory, although the Invisible Theatre stage may swap places with the bookshelf later because the light is better there for photos and video but I don't have to do everything at once, do I? And this morning more small changes afoot. Without an additional purchase, although I have a couple in mind down the line, I believe I can move the synthesizer keyboard into my office without being bottoms up for days in a very messy revision that might not work anyway. Wish me luck. Looks like it will fit on top of the other desk that is currently earmarked for removal. I will have to use earphones when the keyboard is in my office but what the hell? Keyboards are portable. If I want to mix or record anything or play through the speakers, I can take it out to the front room. I love baby steps. One last thing. Yesterday, Kimberlee's post, Gringa in Santiago, motivated me to desperate measures as the little Spanish I acquired in Centroamerica, in language school and via the gentler kinder method, osmosis, has been melting like the ice caps. I've had fantasies of asking a stranger, maybe some lady shopping in the grocery store, if she would consider being my language buddy but, no matter how I ran the scenario in my head, it always ended with a very uncomfortable stranger backing away and me feeling like a creepy idiot. However, I have had one possible candidate in mind for a while, the manager of the G'ville Fish store where I bought the bookshelf last week (secondhand store, not secondhand fish). He's a nice guy, Spanish is his native language, and we already have that all-important nodding acquaintance so yesterday, after reading about Kimberlee's first day in Spanish class, I did it. I asked if he'd mind it if I practice my (mutilated) Spanish on him. He not only said yes but added that we could help each other as he is always interested in improving his English. He's already very proficient but I am delighted to reciprocate. Cool. There is always more to learn about a language. Myself, I'm still learning English.

BANNED - Veggie Love

Too hot for Superbowl!

Heh heh. GO PETA!


I've been a veggie for years and highly recommend it.


It's way healthier, although I did have my cheesy puff phase. But if the PETA video offends your moral, aesthetic, or intellectual sensibilities, or you are outraged because they are exploiting women by pandering to stupid, sexist pigs remember that glamourless guys like Pythagoras, Plato, Leonardo da Vinci, Sir Isaac Newton, Van Gogh, and Albert Einstein were also vegetarians. I don't know about Cartman.

Nigerian police detain goat

"Suspect"
We are still living in the fucking dark ages.This kind of shit makes me sick. It's not quaint or funny. It's pathetic. And it's dangerous. I put witchcraft, evangelical religion, sexism, speciesism, conspicuous consumption, and other things, all on the same lunatic continuum...but no time now. Gotta go.

Police parade goat as robbery suspect

The goat "suspect" is being detained over an alleged attempt to snatch a Mazda car. The mysterious goat, according to the Police Public Relations Officer, Mr. Tunde Mohammed, while briefing bewildered journalists at the Force headquarters, is an armed robber who attempted to snatch the said car, Wednesday night, and later transformed into the goat in a bid to escape arrest.

He explained that men of a vigilance group in Anifowose Ipata/Oloje areas of the state capital had chased two armed robbery suspects who wanted to demobilise the Mazda car with the intention of stealing it, and

"while one of them escaped, the other was about to be apprehended by the team when he turned his back on the wall and turned to this goat. They quickly grabbed the goat and here it is.’’ Mohammed said.

More at Vanguard Online

A "Vigilance Group". Right. A mob of idiots. Leave the poor goat alone.

Dear Mr. President

These delightful snippets come via Huffingtonpost. No surprise really but these kids are all smarter than Bush & Company. Will we prove to be now that it's time to act?


Dear Mr. President,

I'm writing to you so you can hear a kid's point of view. Lots of people care about global warming. I think if you could find a way to let people know that you care about our environment, you could set a good example. I bet you could make lots of people bike to places or recycle, or even use less electricity. - Elise

To start off, I want to say this is a serious letter. Don't read this letter thinking that I'm just a puny 5th grader in Massachusetts whose opinion doesn't matter, because I know it does. And if a little President's helper is reading this, give it to the President. - Harry

I would like you to be friendly to other countries and save our environment. - Stephanie

If global warming is not decreased it will become extremely dangerous. Many polar bears are dying. - Henry

I think you should pay attention to global warming. Why? Because global warming is happening on our planet Earth where both you and I live. - Erin

You should donate money to save the rain forest charities and recycle charities. People are out there trying to have a voice and say in what's going on in the global warming, but nobody listens. But you have a voice in this, you can do a lot. - Eliza

You can make cars that go by sunlight, like solar cars! - Yoojin

No school on Fridays. Less homework. Stop the war. Stop global warming. - Ben

You could spend money on trying to find more green stuff like extremely fuel efficient vehicles. - Eliza

If you don't take my advice many children will be mad at you! So would you want the children of the U.S.A. thinking they are living in a horrible place or would you want them to be happy? - Jameson

I hope you understand I'm not demanding you to do these, I'm asking you. I want you to try to think about global warming. We all don't want the water levels to rise. - Anna

I simply hope that you can solve the problems of the world, and make it a better place for everyone. - Warren

Congratulations President Obama! We wish you and your family the best! - The Park School Fifth Grade

Torture Prosecutions

On the eve of Bush and Cheney's exit from office it is vital to remember that...

Silence is compliance.

Bush and his administration must be prosecuted for their war crimes, especially for ordering acts of torture. If we allow them to walk away from these criminal acts, we are as guilty in our cowardly silence, as they by willfully violating both Constitutional and International law.


torture Obama war crimes torture prosecutions

Notes from the crossroad

I am currently in the middle of what is shaping up to be my yearly new year's office re-organization. Last year's attempt, while a good start, didn't quite meet the projected goal. It is still frightfully congested in here. Adding a desk did not magically result in one open surface. The new space quickly became as cluttered as all the others. I could have told myself that last year. Did. The only problem was I wasn't listening. However, this year I tweaked the concept. Reduce surface space. Reduce opportunity for chaos. Here's how it works. Toss out two tables. Replace with one cheap, small computer desk. Add one bookshelf. Move shit around. This time it is going to be different.

Anyway, just thinking with my fingers. Talking to myself. Technorati puts this blog in 1,150,716th place. Dismal. That makes the language barrier a very tucked away corner of the digital multiverse, much like a tiny corner table in a noisy, overcrowded coffee house with steamy windows and an anything can happen, don't know where this is going, crossroad of the world feeling.

I have to stop now. I'm meeting a guy in Reno in a couple of hours to discuss a tiny newsletter type thing I'm going to be working on now that I'm back, provided I don't lose my left hand. If I am reduced to a one-hand-hunt-n-peck, I would probably be a little choosier with my time at the keyboard. Swirling around the event horizon would but probably, remain high on the list while public service work could drop a notch or two. I just jammed a seam ripper about a half inch into the fleshy part between my thumb and hand. Puncture wound. Deep. A full force flaying of the flesh that would be impossible to do intentionally. I have little interest in being a fall on my sword hero. I doused it with everything in the bathroom. It doesn't look like much now but it did some mighty throbbing in the beginning. Already, I'm thinking HOOK!

Typewriter to Bookstore

Going to finally finish that manuscript this year? The Digital Marketing Team at Macmillan threw together this little video to enlighten us all on the next step....

A publishing story

03:37

Growing up moose.

Tara & Bella

Here's a happy story about a very odd couple:



Note: Video begins with a LOUD obnoxious 30 second commercialso, before starting the video, turn volume off.

Evening in León

Sometimes the camera does catch the mood of the moment. Or enough to remember it by. In any case, this is one of my favorites. And just to be clear, I did not tweek any of these photos, in any way. The light and colors appear exactly as they were, which really amazes me because they were so theatrical and painterly.

Evening in León - Nicaragua

It was one of four.

Bob Wilkins died today. :(


Nicaragua Leon evening street scene

Hand out

Mary Mungummory waits for her daily hand out at the kitchen door while inside Paloma the dog takes advantage of the distraction to search for scraps on the floor. But, in spite of this apparently homey scene at Monty's Surf Camp, Jiquilillo beach is no animal haven. There, as elsewhere in Centroamerica (and the world) injured, sick, starving, often homeless animals are not only systematically neglected, they are abused. As for the precocious Ms. Mungummory, I have no doubt that one day soon it will be her body roasting on the flame.

It is a bother to notice them. And it is an even bigger bother to actually do something to help one of them. Plus, everything excuses our indifference... poverty, religion, tradition... an indifference that is enshrined in the slag of specieism. But nothing makes it right.

Bird Park blues

Baby Woodstock, summer rescue
The first day of the new year still hangs in rear view mirror but soon it will fade from view like all the others. Today, outside my window, I watched a hawk capture a small bird and carry it off. The Bird Park used to be a refuge for the little guys but last summer was a tipping point and since then it's become a regular hunting ground for the scavengers. Even cats make the rounds. Life. Everyone's food for someone. Except for a few morning peanuts, I stopped putting out food for the big birds but, in the two weeks we've been home, it's clear the word is out.

Today, I feel like I'm on the downside of everything. I don't really like being back. I feel very isolated here but here we are. I know the mood will pass but the fact will not. Anyway, I've been adding a lot of photos to my Centroamerica album on flickr if you're interested.

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.

Quirky Christmas

Photos from the Petén region in Guatemala, gateway to the ruins of the great Mayan city of Tikal.

I was especially taken by the absurd beer tree perched on the highest point in Flores, the tiny island town where we stayed while visiting Tikal. This island was once the home of the Itza and the site one of the last independent Mayan kingdom, Tayasal. Naturally the Spanish eventually got around to destroying the place, along with the rest of the Mayan world, in the name of god and king. Then went broke.

Guatemalan snowman
where once the mighty Mayan Spaniard stood.