Come into my parlor,
said the spider to the mountain biker.
(enlarge this close-up and
you will see the spider
waiting by the rock
in the upper left
corner)
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
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. |
... 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.
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.
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.”
May 1, 20075:37 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.
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
closing lines from....
Requiem
by Kurt Vonnegut
When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.