Earth life

Breathing earth

The birth/death rate here just reflects human life. I wonder what the numbers would be if, say, animals destined for the slaughterhouse were factored in.

A good ol' girl

To: Cairo * From: Asia * July 10, 1995

Cairo - my Baby!

I love you
Bark Bark
meow (just kidding)
He he
Grrrowl
*Pat – Pat*
*Rub – Rub*

Take a flea bath

Go to the Lake

I MISS you ---

momma

November 4th, 2007 - 12:27 pm

I shouldn't be surprised. Her health had been failing, the latest a tumor under the eye. Last night, suddenly, she started hemorrhaging and it was clear that her time had come. Still I am stunned that how between yesterday and today, she is gone.

Actually, that's a smile. Even as a pup Cairo had
a wacky, wonderful smile but in the beginning I insisted
she wear this mask when my daughter brought her over.
I felt really bad about it but it was the only way to keep her
from consuming the house plants.

From a letter dated 7/18/95

Aside to CAIRO

I had a dream with you in it. It involved boats, of course, and tides and travel. Strange dream. I remember you running around exploring, doing your own thing. You weren't constantly by my side but whenever I called you, you came running with your tail wagging. I miss you so very much. Often, when I'm out walking, I look down and imagine you trotting alongside me with your fur shining and your tongue hanging out the side of your mouth.



I love you.

Momma



I was always trying to photograph that smile, but whenever she broke into it, she was also wiggling too fast to "capture" it. This was about as close as I ever got. In the next second, when she was in a full grin, she had already hopped and wiggled out of range. She greeted everyone with complete joy although every now and then somebody would freak out thinking she was being aggressive. I felt bad for both of them but especially Cairo because animals always pay the price for our ignorance. Sometimes I thought I should hang a sign from her collar saying, "SHE'S SMILING AT YOU, STUPID!"

She lived with all of us at different times,
and was always ready for a road trip
but loved her Momma best of all.

Waiting for someone, anyone, to join her for a walk

or toss her a snowball

Cairo and her Momma.

Eventually Asia sent me a dog nose mask, as its teeth were a bit like Cairo's in full grin. I took a photo of that mask this afternoon, after Cairo died. I didn't plan to blur the shot for some arty effect. The photograph just came out this way so finally I see. Cairo's smile could no more be "captured" than the twinkling of a star.

Another Dog's Death
in
Collected Poems, 1953-1993
by John Updike
Knopf

For days the good old bitch had been dying, her back
pinched down to the spine and arched to ease the pain,
her kidneys dry, her muzzle white. At last
I took a shovel into the woods and dug her grave
in preparation for the certain. She came along,
which I had not expected. Still, the children gone,
such expeditions were rare, and the dog,
spayed early, knew no nonhuman word for love.
She made her stiff legs trot and let her bent tail wag.
We found a spot we liked, where the pines met the
field.
The sun warmed her fur as she dozed and I dug;
I carved her a safe place while she protected me.
I measured her length with the shovel's long handle;
she perked in amusement, and sniffed the heaped-up
earth.
Back down at the house, she seemed friskier,
but gagged, eating. We called the vet a few days later.
They were old friends. She held up a paw, and he
injected a violet fluid. She swooned on the lawn;
we watched her breathing quickly slow and cease.
In a wheelbarrow up to the hole, her warm fur shone.

At the end, livin' the good life with grandpa.

"More than just a dog, she is her own Era"
by her Momma

Digital nightmare

Backing up that precious manuscript? Remember to use a flash drive, send copies to an online email account or both. And, in the interest of your own personal mental health, I suggest you give each version a separate and distinct name. This guy doesn't have a backup and has a presentation in 10 minutes.

(I tried posting the clip but, for some reason, it screws up my template but you can watch it here. Trust me. It's worth a click.)

CRASH

Watch your butt

Okay, NaNos, if you haven't finished your 1,667 words yet today, take a little break (00:25) then get back to work!

Photocopy your ass

00:25

Death industry

Seeing as how it's just one day after Halloween, here's a timely upbeat little clip from the Good Magazine called

The business of death

03:27

Halloween fire circle cast party

As it turned Mme. Nott and Wolfie kept an eye on

Straw Woman. The troupe convinced me that
Halloween is just too big to leave to an amateur.

Astoundingly beautiful, the seeds the pumpkin left
behind, tucked carefully away for the future.

The kids came for their candy
while inside the cast party got under way.

Confessional
a poem I wrote years ago
but read tonight at the
Invisible Theatre Halloween cast party.
Everybody loved it. Scared the stuffing
out of them, especially Little Bear.

02:15

Happy Halloween

It's cloudy today and the scene in the Bird Park is completely different than it was yesterday when the Buddha Bird was the first to arrive. This morning the magpies made it here first, around 7:30, which is a bit late for them but it's cloudy. They didn't stay long enough to eat though. A couple of them got into a knock down roll in the dirt fist fight, or I guess I should say claw fight or claw, wing and beak fight. It was brutal. They made such a fuss they scared themselves off and everybody else when with them. Dummies. The lone magpie who comes about 8, after they are gone, will be happy for that. More goodies for him. I'm pretty sure he used to be the early bird, until the gang started tagging along. Hard to cover your tracks in the air. Now he comes back after the boobs takes off and I make a point of having a bit of birdie brunch waiting.

And what's up with pigeons? They must have radar eyes. I tucked some chicken scratch away in Old Guy Hills for the quail but the pigeons were all over it this morning, with the quail perched on the fence just watching them. Now I have to cut everybody off for a while, until the pigeons go back to their regular routine of stopping by for a cold tub and the few sunflower seeds the finches drop beneath the feeder. Ah the drama.

Happy Halloween. I strung lights last night. Looks pretty good, even if I do say so myself. The stage hogs at the Invisible Theatre, headed up by Uncle Monkey and Rat Woman of course, are agitated because I brought in outside talent to be the greeter this evening. Now everybody is miffed. They consider Halloween their gig, exclusively. It's not in their contract but tell them that. I hope they don't decide to pull some Halloween tricks on me.

Eternal Sunshine of the Buddha Bird

Buddha Bird came by today. First one in the Park this morning and had it all to herself. Great to see her again. I thought she was dead but in the magical world of the Bird Park, they live forever. As usual, she sat serenely on the feeder perch for at least 20 minutes before beginning breakfast.

In other news, yesterday's storm left that lovely leaf on my window and the San Carlos sailors set out this morning on another camping trip. This time they are headed north for 5 or 6 days looking for that ever illusive lonely lagoon in which to drop anchor. All in all, today is off to a good start. I hope yours is too. If not, remember you can start it over any time.

Drift, ruhf cut

This damn project is getting on my nerves. Today I got so frustrated that I was about ready to throw my synthesizer and mixer out into the street. It's so technical. I can't even figure out how to get the mic to run through the mixer. Arg! I know. RTFM! But it overwhelms me. A guy came over a while ago and set it up but didn't really show me how to do it myself. Later I detached the mic for a reading and now can't figure out how to plug the damn thing back into the system. I'm over it now, for the moment. I decided to keep it simple and just do something. I always feel better when I do something. It's the ADD and OCD, don't ya know?

So here's a beta version video. I made it this afternoon. It's one of two or three I haven't deleted since starting this project two weeks ago. I've got mixed feelings about posting it as it's very [ruhf] : having a coarse or uneven surface, as from projections, irregularities, or breaks; not smooth". Plus, it doesn't help that the dishwasher is roaring in the background. I was just dinking around on the keyboard with the camera on. I had no plans to use any of it but at one point I did the poem over the sound and it kinda worked or at least resembles what I'm working towards. So it goes. Unwrapped and unruly as it is, it's a marker on the way and I'm posting it.

The poem is called Drift. I wrote it couple of years ago. The accompaniment is improvised and, you guessed it, [ruhf]. Among other problems, the pace is lagged and faltering. Anyway, it's a moment in my afternoon I decided to share with you. If I wait until everything is perfect, I'll never do it. I hope you find something in it to enjoy but, whatever the case, please don't shoot the piano player.


Drift

03:08

Trip report and local woes

I wouldn't say they threw caution to the wind but M. Lee and friend got over the rough start at the beginning of their trip. It took a few days but after they got to San Carlos, got settled, got the boat moored safely in the harbor and talked things over, the chance to sail some beautiful lagoon inaccessible but by the sea proved too great to pass up. No surprise. They left on Thursday, so were out during the full moon. Must have been lovely. They are supposed to be back this afternoon so the alarm on my built-in worry clock is set to go off tomorrow morning if I don't hear from them but until then I shall wave off images of pirates, rough seas and unforeseeable circumstance.

As for me, I have been hard at work making and deleting videos. I am just not comfortable in front of the camera but am driven to make my peace with it. Who knows why but at this point, I'd be happy if I managed to read even one of my poems without seizing up. We shall see.

Lookin' good

I managed a quick shot before they took the stitches out of my hand the other day. It feels like there's a cardboard disc in the middle of my palm and a strap running horizontally across the middle of it. Scar tissue. Now it's up to me to exercise the hell out of my hand in order to break that down.