Early Halloween

Early trick or treaters, Seymour and Sierra. They got cheese.

Pine Nuts to Ash Canyon

Here are a few photos from our drive in the Pine Nuts the other day. Naturally the Swami wanted to come. None of us have been out for a long time so it was a big deal. We only took trailer as far as Crow Stone Road. The hitch currently has an extender to clear the spare which makes the connection a bit vulnerable. The road gets pretty rough past that point and we didn't want to loosen anything. In case you're wondering, that white rack on the top of the trailer is the Maggiolina, our crank up tent.



We went as far as this collapsed cabin. The stone work was nothing like we've seen in the old miner cabins further out in the Great Basin. Those places were built by Europeans who knew how to work with stone. The walls and foundations they did are still standing, well into their second century. Whoever built this place didn't know what they were doing. The stones are small, unmatched, and unworked. The only thing that held them together at all was great gobs of mortar. I doubt it lasted more than 50 years. They used a few nice stones in the hearth but most of the hearth stones were also small and glued together.




I took the stone to return to the crows but came home with it instead. Mr. Lee reminded me that they only loaned it for a year. I'll get around to it one of these days, maybe.





I went to Ash Canyon after we got back. I believe it's been nearly a year since I went last. I'm glad I did. It was nice seeing the group again, plus it was Susan's birthday (R). She was co-editor on the first issue of Driftwork (submissions are open for the next issue, btw). I didn't have anything new to read. I've been working on one poem for months and it's still no closer to being done. If I stick with NaNoWriMo for even a week it will a colossal kick in the ass. Those are witches fingers on the plate.

Bush moves closer to martial law

On October 17th, 2006, in a stealth ceremony in the Oval Office, the same day he legalized torture (anyone - anywhere - no trial), Bush signed a second bill giving himself the power to declare a "public emergency" and station troops anywhere in America and take control of state-based National Guard units without the consent of the governor or local authorities. The Republicans have now given themselves full power and authority to suppress all dissent, by any means, without any accountability. Where does it end?


This is a very disturbing article but read it anyway. Mirror site here.








martial law torture republican dictatorship Bush

Saturday at the Roxy - 10.

Welcome to the matinee.

As this is Halloween weekend, today's videos tend towards the macabre, nothing heart stopping but in the spirit. This may be it for the Roxy for a while. I decided to give NaNoWriMo a shot which, if I stick with it, will severly limit my time. At any rate enjoy the show.

Happy Halloween!

Dylan Moran's

TELL IT TO THE FISHES

00:41

CAT WITH HANDS

03:33

Be careful.
Be very, very careful. The mind is
a very powerful thing. Ask
VINCENT

05:52

Watch out!
Shaye St. John
wants to wish you a
TRASHY HALLOWEEN

02:33

Test run, Poe and the Crow Stone

Now that the trailer is done we're taking it out to the Pine Nuts this afternoon for a test drive. Perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the little band of mustangs I saw last spring. The babies should be pretty big by now and it would be fun seeing them again before winter sets in. Even if we don't it's a cloudless day, perfect for a drive.

I guess it's also time to return the Crow Stone. I've grown very attached to it but the crows only loaned it to me while I was recuperating from knee surgery. I'm doing better now so it's up to me to work on it in the gym. They were very kind sharing a little of their mojo in the first place and I don't want to take advantage of their generosity. One must be very respectful of crows and ravens. Remember what happend to poor old Poe.

Letters from home

... home in this case being my little brother. It's one of those letters that meandered into some fanciful territory so I thought I'd post it here for the hell of it. It started out with a note from my brother. Naturally I have changed the names to protect the innocent but otherwise spared no details.

Dear sister,

I just donated some money to the Democrat Party to throw the bums out. Makes the day a little better to know I did something worthwhile. Last night we had my graduate students over for dinner. It is quite an eclectic crowd.

KA starting a MS degree is from Bombay. His parents were born in Pakistan. JG starting a Ph.D. is from Toronto. Her parents were from Vietnam. TL second year M.S. is from China. Her parents work for the government so they are communist. GH fifth year Ph.D. is from Pittsburgh. His father is a professor at Case Western. He was conceived in the Ukraine where his parents were from. He was born in Jerusalem and grew up in Cleveland. EZ Second year Ph.D. is from Hobart. His father was a Boeing engineer, who lives up in the Cascades off the electrical grid.
GF second year Ph.D. is from San Francisco or Modesto. He is doing a Ph.D. in from Sweden and I am his U.S. representative.

Needless to say telling stories to each other eating and drinking fine wine made it one of those magical evenings.

To which I answered:

And you from a village. Very exotic! Sounds like a great evening.

Glad to hear you threw some money in the ring. I did too. What bastards!

He replied:

Actually I trace my roots back to North Dakota, a place so strange I have this reoccurring vision about being a very old man living in a run down shack on the prairie. The only lights at night the Sirius and his friends rising. I am very old and everyone is gone except me. My memory is fading and I spend evenings talking to the west wind, recalling a family, sisters, wife and wonderful dogs, I only remember the dogs clearly because a stray dog comes to my back door, the one facing south, and curls up there on warm nights. This last winter he finally came in the house and after several circles and scratches dropped with a thud on the floor by the pantry door and watched me with intense suspicion. I sleep much and have strange dreams of the tropical ocean, mathematical equations, congress with golden angels in the ceiling. I don't know whose memories they are. After the stroke it all comes at me from the shadows. Approaches just to the penumbra of somebody's past and waits. And this old dog, there he lays, his chin on his crossed paws watching me with one eye. I am not dead yet you old hound. Is that what you here for? You are too old to eat me … heh heh. But he closes his eye and I have the distinct feeling that he knows the path through the prairie grass to the north where the lights dance in the sky.

Oops! Where did that come from? See. Just thinking of North Dakota does strange things to me.