Moving Day

We were recently in Portland helping my son Jack move his family into their first very own home.

Mista Leo packed right along with the rest of us but took...

...personal responsibility....

....that his prize soccer ball...

...made it safely...

 ...to their new home.

Faerie Court

No gender bias in her house so what a surprise when, completely on her own, Thea has fallen in love with the color pink and swirly dresses and takes very seriously the idea of being a Princess in the Faerie Court.

Faerie Princess Thea

Faerie Princess Nevada

Of course, Nevada is only to happy to play along. If ever a dog were a faerie princess it would be Nevada.

Morning from the backroom

Comma Coffee is constantly changing.

Can you spot the new parlor grand piano?
Clue: look for the shinny flat surface.

In fitting Comma fashion,
the old upright is now on the wall.

 Back in the back.

"Women and children first"

MITT ROMNEY:
"THROW 'EM OVERBOARD!
NO LIFEBOAT,
NO LIFE VEST FOR YOU!"

Republican version of women and children first then the world.

Here's Romney's proposal:

• Make contraception less available to poor women by getting rid of Planned Parenthood.

• Make the option of abortion illegal by signing a Personhood Amendment.

• Make access to prenatal care and pediatric care less available by gutting Medicaid.

• Then force mothers out of the home so that they can't even raise their own children.

• Gut public K-12 education.

• Gut grants for College Education.

• Continue outsourcing jobs to third world countries where people will work for .50 a day.

• Gut Medicare and Social Security.

• Gut the environment upon which life as we know it depends.

The Mizpah at last

I'm just back from my spring trip to the lovely semi-ghost town of Tonopah Nevada. 

The desk clerk told us they sometimes hear
children talking who are not there. That made
the strange miniature furniture look really eerie.

The big news this year is that the Mizpah Hotel has finally re-opened.

Last year...outside in.

I've been photographing the place through the windows for years.

Now I finally got in.

This year...inside out.

There have been other changes around town as well.

That photo I found a few years ago of the guy posing with a beer is gone.

Gone....

It was in the cave/cabin on the floor with all the junk so, for safekeeping, I stashed it between some stones in the rock face of the "cabin". However, this spring it was gone so another face disappears into Tonopah's fading past. Also, the abandoned tailor's shack up the street that still housed some wonderful antique equipment is gone.

Little remained of tailor's
shop from days gone by.

I'm hoping the museum folks rescued the equipment. I don't think it was in the rubble but then I didn't dig around.

Tailor shop today, collapsed and gone.

And, as I mentioned before, the little store Hippies of Tonopah is gone, not the building itself, but Hippy. Graffiti inside reads "Ur Gay". So much for love in diversity. 

But no time to mourn to past.

The ghosts of Tonopah Present haunt us even now...

Goblin of the Fifth Floor

...not only the goblin that accosted us as we explored the hotel...

The Lady in Red

...but the ghost the Lady in Red herself. Legend has it that she was stabbed to death by a jealous lover in the hallway outside of her room, 502, and haunts the hotel to this day. Naturally, we tried reserving her room for our stay next fall but it was already booked. But we will be in room 501. Close enough. I'm already spooked. The building itself is morose and vaguely threatening. I was happy to get back down to the lobby and glad to re-emerge back out under the blue desert sky.

I posted more photos of the Mizpah here.

New Madhuban

Going through papers on my desk this afternoon, I came across some things I wrote years ago that I'd been thinking about, and forgetting to, do something with. As you might guess, I wrote it during a particularly difficult time in my life. Anyway, I'm posting an excerpt here and at Anna Sadhorse.

New Madhuban
West Virginia


this forest,    
planted for a loaf of bread
and a dollar a day, 
is a solemn place
the hill it has taken possession of
drops sharply
to a holler     too steep for pasture
a place where small skeletons   slowly turn to stone
this is a good place to be alone

the sun seldom finds entry to this grove
is a stranger here     off his path  
from a world that does not exist
his probing beams
only deepen the darkness
and threaten to ignite the brittle trees

one may only be here carefully    
this forest has no need of company
birds know it   they do not nest
or sing among its spiney branches
there is no undergrowth   
nothing pierces the needle mat

and the pines themselves
have shed their lower branches
becoming heartless    
pitch steeped trunks with shattered limbs
they offer no place to rest
who comes here must stand alone
who comes here to dream must dream
indifferent as the dead


asha
West Virginia, 1975 - Excerpt from Sunday Feast

Trees were planted in this area during America's Great Depression of the 1930's as part the New Deal.

First dance

My niece Maren's wedding last month in Portland was a very sweet affair.

Maren, Thea and Mama

Uncle Papa Jim conducted the ceremony. Before meeting and marrying my sister, he was a fourth year novice at a Catholic monastery so priestly duties are natural for him.

He did choke up though when it came to the part where he put Maren's hand in Drew's. For a moment, we all held our breath.

Papa Jack, Mister Leo, Jeannette and Uncle Papa Jim

Unfortunately, I'm one of those crappy amateur photographers who waves the camera around in the air and hopes for the best. It's like trying to catch a swarm of butterflies with a bucket. I took a lot of photos but, unfortunately, these are about as clear as any of them get.

Big Girl Thea teaching cousin Leo to dance

Penny Robin meets Mme. Chanceuse

Adrienne Rich

So sorry to see you go. 

"We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear"

—

Adrienne Rich, "Diving into the Wreck" (excerpt)

May 16, 1929 – March 27, 2012

Minerva & the outdoor crows

Minerva & the outdoor crows, a photo by ashabot on Flickr.

Watching you watching me watch you.

Old friends and familiar places

We're currently in Southern Oregon, en-route to Portland Wednesday for a wedding next Saturday. My niece is getting married. We left Nevada a week early in order to attend the Celebration of Life for a friend who recently died. And I've been visiting friends everyday since and will again tomorrow. I lived in Ashland for years and have never made friends like these anywhere else. It's home in a very special way. This trip I reconnected with three people in particular that I was estranged from when we moved to Nevada 11 years ago. It's not just a case of absence making the heart grow fonder, at least with two of them. It is that we realize now that if you love someone tell them before it's too late.

2 chiens jouent La Valse des Puces au piano AKA The Flea Waltz

Two dogs play the Flea Waltz on the piano!

Coffee with Old Robin

It was barely light this morning when I put breakfast out in the Bird Park but Old Robin was already there enjoying an apple. What's very cool is that she didn't fly away when I opened the door. She hopped off a bit but then turned to watch as I filled the water and scattered the goodies. That was about 15 minutes ago.

We're now on the third shift although the demographics have changed at bit. The crows are back, sometimes even beating the magpies to the table but, for today at least, Old Robin gets the Early Bird Award. Otherwise, and every morning, the crows and magpies swoop in first then, about 10 minutes later, the grackles arrive along with a smattering of starlings. That order is fixed. At least so far, Old Robin's presence is seasonal and intermittent. And, of course, the quail make their appearance at some point, a few pigeons drop in, including a lovely couple of mourning doves and last, but of course not least, the finches arrive. They are here on and off all day and the quail who come and go in waves. Lately Old Robin has been around a good part of the day, along with a second robin she chases off, to no avail. And, yes, the Seven O'clock Magpie checks in through the day on a regular basis. She is the most loyal of all.

And, while I'm on the subject Bird Park wonders and special events, yesterday at dawn a crow watched me silently from the peak of old Dick's house as I put the food out. I heard his talons click on the roof as he dropped down from the sky but I pretended I didn't notice and he didn't get scared off. Woo-hoo.

So that's it for now. If you're a regular here, you've probably read similar rundowns before. Sorry about that. I just felt the need to write some words and this is what's happening outside my window. At this point, everyone has come and are already gone except for Old Robin who has all the apples to herself again and she is taking her time. She's at that last cup of coffee part of breakfast when you're full but want to stretch the moment out as long as possible before launching into the day. And so am I. Well, I haven't had my oatmeal yet but it is time for one last cup of coffee. So, have a nice day. Good chatting with you.

Etude leaves the garage

Etude developed a soul warbling songs in the dark to the mice for weeks after being thrown in the trash. I felt very sad when the little fellow finally grew silent. Naturally, I assumed he'd died.

Etude's return

Etude 02.24.12

I'm shocked. Etude's back!

Conservative Chickens

Looking for something to go along with your morning coffee or whatever? Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi just published an excellent article on the Electric Conservative Paranoia Acid Test. Check it out.

Predominantly Inattentive

That's me. Predominantly Inattentive. I keep going back to this because the term is a relatively new update to the ADHD thing and fits me like the proverbial missing piece. As for strategies for "afflicted adults"? Wikipedia covers that here.

If I could just call my mind back to attention with a dog whistle fine.... but I'd keeping changing where I keep the whistle and sometimes forget I have it at all. Which isn't to say ADHD-PI is the same as Alzheimers but hey, they're not mutually exclusive. Woo-hoo. On the other hand, maybe I should get a whistle.

Anyway, truth be told, the real reason I did this post today is because I wanted to use this photo again. I took a few years ago at Comma Coffee . The bits of mirror were, at the time, pasted on the wall. However now, in the light of the PI addition, it's really the most accurate photo I have of myself.

Now back to the tasks at hand.

Red-eye

1:30 A.M.
Reluctantly the metal beast shudders up and above a sudden spill of sleepless iridescence, lagoons of gold, pockets of blaze, sprawling tendrils of light trailing off to coals glowing in the dark then a few scattered embers then they also vanish and there, traversing the interstellar night, the edge of our planet and her lovely moon who is, at the moment, gazing at her reflection on my window. Hello Moon. But before she can answer our reverie is interrupted by the arrival of the steward bearing peanuts.

________________________________________

I found this entry in one of my notebooks the other day. I wrote a while ago and totally forgot about it until now. Don't be surprised if it has changed if you happen to drop by and read it again later. That's how things go around here.

Bird Park Wish List

If it weren't for the damn CC & Rs, we
could have a fine fellow like Mr. Kung Fu around
to greet the neighborhood gangster cats that have made
the Bird Park their own personal Nevada casino style dessert buffet.

Meet Mister Kung Fu Rooster.

Mexican standoff at the brain drain

Writing doesn't come easy to me. It's generally a miserable experience trying to get a sentence or two straight, real work on my part, but then concentrating on anything for long is hard. My attention is as divided as a swarm of bees working a meadow. Naturally this kind of thing has a diagnosis. There's a diagnosis for everything isn't there? And thanks to Big Pharma, there is a drug to conveniently "manage" it but I have no interest in living my life high on speed. Okay. I am always battling my inertia, but cycling, walking, weightlifting, swimming etc., along with my improvised version of mindfulness, however imperfect, are way better than that. As ol' Zeke would say, it's a better way to live.

As you might guess, this blog is one of my regular stops in the meadow. At the moment I am taking a break from two other tasks that have pressing deadlines and are locked in a Mexican standoff.

In other news, breakfast was a huge event in the Bird Park this morning. Only now, the quail finally wandered off giving me an opportunity to restock the apple treats since a chattering of starlings dropped in and ravaged them.

Okay. Gotta go.

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?"

A few words before sleep

Once again, I crank the wheel and roll the page forward. It's night, 9:01 to be exact. Was. That is all.

Sirenia Shadows

After watching this video from Build by Wildman forwarded by M. Lee, I'm thinking it would be a step up to come back as a manatee or dolphin. Also, nice track from Palace Of The Innocents by Glitch Mob.


Sirenia Shadows from Built By Wildman on Vimeo.

Happy Squirrel Appreciation Day

If you've been thinking about baking a peanut cake for the neighborhood squirrels, today's the day. It's Squirrel Appreciation Day.

I decided that a good way to appreciate squirrels would be to register the Bird Park with the National Wildlife Federation. That would make it a certified wildlife habitat but when I got to the final step the NWF wanted twenty bucks. Plus, I travel a lot and being Mother Nature to a world has to be a full-time job. Ah well. Maybe later.

Anyway, happy Squirrel Appreciation Day. Now go appreciate some squirrels.

Outtakes, San Francisco 01.12

San Francisco from Oakland Hills

Chinatown conversation

SF Chinatown

Angry Bird & Co.

Woman in black, SF Chinatown

Chinatown apartment bldg.

AA Cafe, SF Chinatown

Buddha and dragons

Stop SOPA and PIPA.

503: Service Unavailable

Fade to Black.

On Wednesday January 18, 2012 thousands of sites, including Wikipedia, Craigslist and this outpost border crossing will be dark. This is in protest because the US Senate is considering internet censorship bills, SOPA & PIPA. If either one of these bills passes, your favorite sites could disappear forever.

PROTECT IP Act (PIPA) would put anyone in legal jeopardy who linked to a site anywhere online that had any links to copyright infringement. And Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) would, to put is simply, completely gut and unmake the Web.

We don't want the world that would leave us in. If you don't want it either, visit AmericanCensorship.org for instructions on contacting your Senator. The Electronic Frontier Foundation has more information on this and other issues central to our freedom online.

This is the largest online protest in history. Join in by blacking out your site and urging everyone you can reach to contact Congress now.

For more info also go here, here, here and here.

PROTECT IP / SOPA Breaks The Internet from Fight for the Future on Vimeo.

News at 3:52 PM

Time to roll this thing forward. We're in So. Oregon at the moment and driving to the Bay Area in  the morning. More family business. A couple of years ago M. Lee's sister had a sudden, baffling break with reality. For her own safety, we had to move her out of her apartment and into assisted living and ever since, and till death do us part, we must monitor her care. It's been a couple of hard years for her but the good news is lately things have been getting better. New meds, thanks entirely to M. Lee who never gives up.

Generally this is a turn around trip but this time, after such a sad Christmas, we're staying a few extra days for some RnR. We've rented a house by Lake Temescal in N.E. Oakland. It's a million dollar place M. Lee found on AirBnB. It costs less than it would to stay at our usual crappy, noisy, worn out motel. If you haven't heard of airbnb, check it out. It's definitely a game changer.

Oh, and happy Martin Luther King day. BTW, what's up with it being in January? January is a crappy time to have a Day. Who wants to go to a BBQ in January?

Moment before dawn

Burfi by Srivalli

6:43 AM: Breakfast is out. The world is quiet. The Bird Park emerges from the dark. I am waiting for the birds to arrive. This morning there is burfi.

7:16 AM: Even the grackles came.

No One Sees You Like Your Dog Does

Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

Marty Smith

.
Credit goes to M. Lee for digging up this article posted by Paul Vincent Spade, Professor of Philosophy at Indiana University. I did a little research on its author Marty Smith. Seems he's currently playing guitar for the Portland band Slutty Hearts. The Free Agent, one of Portland's many fine but unfortunately now defunct alternative newspapers, published it in 1987 and Utne Reader, now Utne, republished it in 1993. Maybe to appreciate it you have to be a depressive type like me but I think it's hilarious.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

Happy New Year!

Buon 2012!

Thea Bella, Madonna of the Bath

Even in this sad time there is light and joy. Thea and her Mom are visiting us for a few days. Funny how I so naturally think of my daughter as her mom but there you have it. The generations roll on and so do the years so here's to all Raphael's angels. Felice anno nuovo!

Jim

"How strange a vehicle it is, coming down unchanged from times of old romance, and so characteristically black, the way no other thing is black except a coffin—a vehicle evoking lawless adventures in the plashing stillness of night, and still more strongly evoking death itself, the bier, the dark obsequies, the last silent journey!" -Thomas Mann

M. Lee's Dad passed away two days before Christmas.
At his Mom's request we disassembled his music room.
Gig over. It was a bleak obsequy.

At twelve, Jim played bass in the Chicago Symphony.
At fifteen, and well on his way to 6'9", he played
professionally in Chicago clubs but from
behind a curtain because he was white.

In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco
and caught the end of the 50s North Beach Bebop scene.

Elvis wanted Jim to join him. So did the Jefferson Airplane.
He refused. He was a purist.

He left the Baby Grand to Nolan,
his piano player for the last forty years.

WINTER
for Joe & Jim

In the evening we
carry down our dead
they leave our hands willingly
above Dog Star watches
cold, white
as on ancient evenings,
Dog Star
bringer of rain.

excerpt from Dead Reckoning by asha

Winter Solstice 2011

Okay. It's nearly midnight but I don't like to see a Winter Solstice pass without wishing you a good day and new year. Of course this Solstice marks the beginning of the final countdown to the end of the Mayan Long Count Calendar (5125 ears long) and some say the end of time and life on earth. It's always something.

And tonight I learned that Al Linde, an old friend, died about a week ago. Seems he was on blood thinners following knee surgery in preparation for the new baseball season, suffered a freak accident blow to the head and just bled out. WTF, Al?!

Submissions Update,12.11

To date, of the six poems I submitted in October, two have been rejected (with comments), two remain unanswered (I'm assuming rejected) and two were accepted. After the first of the year, I'll send out more. 

'Road's Eye View', a poem I wrote in Mexico a few years ago, was recently accepted by Sein und Werden for publication in their January online issue dedicated to Futurism. Sein und Werden features work that is "experimental, non-genre, erotica, horror, philosophical, noir, crime, hard-boiled, surreal" so cool. The deep night voices from that seaside swamp found roost.

Baxter Blackwell

Not Baxter
but you get the idea.
Source

Roy commented on a previous post that all my Bird Park lacks in complexity is a stray dog and complimentary dog catcher which brings us to the subject of one Mr. Baxter Blackwell. I take a lot of photos, some might say an insane number of photos of the passing parade, the Great Circus, the Theatre of the Absurd and Wonderful to which I say...why not? M. Lee has created what is, in practical terms, a Bottomless Pit of Storage and I have a fine camera so I take it as a personal responsibility to try and fill it. But, and I say this with much sadness and regret, I do not have one photo of the rag-a-muffin darling of our neighborhood, the fickle and fanciful, the wayward and whimsical, the ever and absolutely uncontainable hairy Houdini of scruffy little mutts, the one and only Mr. Baxter Blackwell (regrettably deceased).

I can't remember the number of times I scooped Baxter up and returned him to his home and family, who did not even realize he'd slipped out again only to see him, within the hour, trotting down the sidewalk on yet another walkabout. What mystery did he seek, this inscrutable lover of the open road? Was he driven by a mere doggie's thirst for adventure or was he under the glamour of a faerie spell? I tended toward the latter but, in any case, Baxter was a beautiful woolly gypsy soul. Whenever I saw him trotting by, whether or not I could capture him, I wished and prayed that the world were a safer place. Baxter was far too small and completely irrepressible. Unfortunately, it didn't end well. Not long after his death the couple divorced, sold the house and moved, as we say in these parts, back East. Happy trails, Baxter Blackwell, wherever you are.

Fatty report

Not Fatty the Hawk but
another Fatty from last year
just before he snagged and
devoured one of the finches
enjoying breakfast
in the Bird Park.

We've had a blue sky cold week here in Nevada, just the kind of weather that drives birds to the feeders but Fatty the hawk has been hanging around so, for a couple of days, everyone stayed away. Fatty's a saucy little fellow. I invited him to go elsewhere but he was totally unimpressed. All I got for my effort was a "One step closer, girlie, and you're mine" look and an impassioned pitch from M. Lee about Predator Rights. I know. Hawks get to eat too. I'd just prefer they do it somewhere else. I don't like it when any of my bird buddies gets eaten alive. Finally Seven o'clock Magpie, the Bird Park's self-appointed magistrate, took it upon herself to make Fatty's life miserable enough that he stayed away until late yesterday afternoon and so far today he hasn't showed up at all. Now, if the damn cats would bugger off...

Common ground

Note to self: G'ville is hosting annual Festival of Lights this evening. When we go out tonight, do everything possible to avoid it.

I'm just now watching a couple of finches duke it out in the Bird Park in yet another late afternoon food fight. They get intense when seed levels drop to the bottom hole. Plus it's cold out there. And in here. I'm bundled up. Even my hair is mashed under the blanket. I am immobile as a giant winter doll, other than the freewheeling fingers typing these words. It took a few goes before they agreed to tap out "words" rather than "worlds". In the meantime, it seems to me that the repeated hard drives to the letter "L" scared the finches off. In spite of all their chest bumping, they are timid fellows.

Now, balancing along the fence top, the quail covey makes its twilight return to scratch and peck the remains of the day.* Three of them linger at the water bowl awhile then wander off to nibble the apples. Gray fat birds fading into eventide.

*All due respect to Kazuo Ishiguro.

Last Day of November and Submissions Update

Welcome to the last day of November 2011.

I am reluctant to see the month pass as it means that the very fine photo calendar of Baby Leo's first year is coming to an end. At this point Baby Leo is well into year two and goes by the moniker Mister Leo. That's all good but god it goes fast! Anyway, good morning or, as they say in Norwegian, God Morgen!

Last night we returned home from Oregon where we spent Thanksgiving. Of course the 7 o'clock Magpie was at the Bird Park bright and early for breakfast...as always. And, as always, the rest of the charm did not show up. It generally takes them a couple of days to figure out that I'm back. She and her mate gobbled up as much as they could and then spend the rest of the morning stashing the remaining peanuts and kibbles around the yard for later. I think of her as a magpie genius, which is quite a compliment given that magpies are already, not only one of the smartest birds, but also among the most intelligent of all animals. Among other talents, they are the first non-mammals proven to recognize themselves in the mirror. Facial recognition is a big deal, especially for birds. When we were kids, my brother's blue parakeet Chi-chi, may he rest in peace, spent an awful lot of time cooing and nibbling his tiny mirror. Clearly, the little dummy believed his girlfriend was the two-dimensional floating head in the glass. Whether or not Chi-chi's relationship in anyway resembles online obsessions will remain a discussion for another day.

In other news, I just learned that Pele, one of the poems I submitted in October to The Fine Line, was accepted and will be included in its upcoming fourth issue. It's a digital publication so unfortunately no complimentary copy but they do post a free download of each issue should anyone care to print one out. Not me but I do appreciate the recognition. And to their credit they accept reprints, which I consider god damn enlightened. So, now Pele has been published twice, once in Skidrow Penthouse, which is a print publication and does pay with copy, and now in The Fine Line.

Tofurky Day

Happy Thanksgiving!

Don't worry, my love. We're having tofurky.

Lily Shreds!

Pure joy in motion...

Lily is awesome.

When Science becomes Art or 25 Ways to Tie a Scarf

I am a great fan of neck scarves but, until today, did not know the Science of the Well-Tied Scarf, then M. Lee sent me this delightful video in which Wendy turns science into art.

25 ways to tie a scarf

For more fashion wizardry check out Wendy's Lookbook and her YouTube site for some and cool hair tutorials.

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".