Jim Morrison reading

The American Night

from LiveLeak 05:27

Bon voyagers

Nevada
Starting out

On Monday M. Lee and his buddy Greg are leaving for a month of sailing on Mexico's Sea of Cortez. It's Greg's boat, truck and camper. Lee is rail meat, Gilligan and co-conspirator. I can't imagine navigating Mexican roads with that setup, even the toll roads. All in all the whole thing is as awkward as a semi, but I'm sure they will be just fine. Greg has been hauling one boat or another around for years and once they get to San Carlos they will be able to chose between living on the boat or staying in the trailer park and the marina is a wifi hot spot. Far cry from the kind of camping we do in the desert with nothing but coyotes for company. Anyway, I'll be lonely but Lee set up Gizmo on the laptop so it will only cost us 2 cents a minute to talk. Not bad. And while he's gone I plan on turning the whole house into a studio. I'm going to record myself reading poetry, playing music and, OMG, just talking to the camera YouTube style. I've done a few takes already and immediately deleted them. Frightful. I don't know what drives me to do the things I do.

San Carlos

Destination

Zen bird

click... clickclick........ click......... cl..... ick..... click....

That is the sound of one hand not typing but I'm not complaining for one day after surgery. Hell, I used to know a poet in Santa Cruz who typed all his books with the one finger method. Anyway, yesterday I wandered down some pretty dark paths. For instance in pre-op, while the lab tech blew a couple of veins trying to set the I.V., it occurred to me that the glare of the oblong overhead light I was staring at is the last thing some people see just before dying and lying on the hard cold surgery gurney as I began swirling around the event horizon of my failing mind, I was overwhelmed with sadness thinking about all the lab animals who watch in horror as heartless researchers do terrible things to them, all without pain relief, and after surgery I briefly understood what it must be like to outlive your world and await death among indifferent strangers.

Today, swollen as it is, it's still wonderful having the pressure off my middle and ring fingers (ulner and median nerves) and the carpal tunnel repaired. If it weren't for the cast, I'd probably be able to flip the bird from a fist, a talent all but lost to me before yesterday. But in my brief absence I fear Uncle Monkey has been up to more shady business.

Hi ho

Tomorrow I am going in for carpal tunnel surgery and am trying not to obsess on the fact that I can't eat or drink anything after midnight. It's a re-do and this time ... THIS TIME ... I am going to give it enough time to heal. Yes indeedy. My poor right hand is in need of four separate repairs, undoubtedly karma, a use it or lose it kind of thing, because I still haven't written the book that keeps swimming circles in my mind like a damn shark.

Not that I don't want to write it, mind you, plus November is bearing down on us like LARGE MARGE's semi. You know what that means. NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Already I am receiving GET READY emails from the NaNo guys and feel the pull as though a gigantic hot full moon were rising in my head. But NO! I am not going to ride the cyclone this year. One, because I don't want to put undo stress on my hand. I'll save that for pressing matters such as commenting on political blogs. Two, because I still haven't done anything with the 50,000 words I mashed through my keyboard last year. Once I received my NaNo winner gif, I closed my password protected manuscript, sent it to several of my email accounts for safe keeping, and didn't look at it again for months. When I did, I was overcome by vertigo. Nevertheless, if you're thinking about doing it, go for it. What have you got to lose? Your sanity? ... whahahahaha .... Ahem. Excuse me. Well, it is a mind altering experience but I love that shit. Since I don't do drugs anymore, gotta get it however I can.

Achewood all over again

Achewood is of my favorites but I can't read the new ones Chris continues to post daily because I never read up to them. I don't even remember where I left off so today I started reading the complete archive over from the beginning. Good thing to do after my carpal tunnel surgery this Thursday.

The Web Designer

Lie Bot's Shoes

Rat tales

Puppets are like birds, very camera shy,
especially when you sneak up on them.

The troupe here at the Invisible Theatre
are actors but even they can get touchy
when caught off guard. I only managed to
get a couple of photos before they all
scampered behind the proscenium
and pulled the curtains.

Turns out Rat Woman was reading from an
old five year diary that belonged to my mother (R).
It covers the time when she was first dating my father
and goes a couple of years after their marriage.
I wonder what else Rat Woman has been getting into?

September 11, 1940

"To C.B.* after work with Peach & Chuck.
Andy met us & to Jennings awhile.
The Draft Bill was passed. Wonder what's to be."

* Candy Bar - a favorite tavern where my parents and their friends spent A LOT OF TIME.