23/01/2010

Local news at 5:15 PM

A gray white moment coming in the window from the bird park. Smooth snow pocked with claw prints. And mud reappearing covered in tiny black husks. This afternoon, under a bright blue Nevada sky hawk flashed by after a crying bird. Color fading now as inside the room around the monitor grows quietly dark.

22/01/2010

Daily Dead Log


TEXAS

The extent of the cruelty and neglect PETA documented in this massive and filthy animal warehouse is mind-boggling. Tens of thousands of animals—including ring-tailed lemurs, wallabies, sloths, hedgehogs, hamsters, guinea pigs, prairie dogs, squirrels, ferrets, snakes, turtles, and tortoises—were dumped into severely crowded and filthy boxes, bins, troughs, and even soda bottles and left there, often without food and water, basic care, or minimal veterinary attention for their life-threatening injuries. The following are a handful of examples they documented of the daily, systemic mistreatment of animals:

  • Scared hamsters were crammed by the thousands into litter pans, unable to move for fear of being attacked by other distressed hamsters. These cruel conditions resulted in rampant cannibalism, horrific wounds and infections, and a daily death toll. Faulty watering-system nozzles routinely flooded bins, drowning the animals trapped inside.

  • Delicate green tree frogs were kept inside plastic soda bottles. Denied food and water, the frogs sometimes remained inside these bottles for weeks at a time until they were either sold or died—whichever came first.

  • A young hedgehog (pictured here) who was one of hundreds of little "pocket pets" at the facility was denied basic medical attention after his front leg was nearly severed. Many animals—including a spotted squirrel whose neck was torn in half—were dumped into a chest freezer to die slowly.

  • More than 12,000 baby turtles languished in cardboard boxes for weeks in the facility's warehouse and were deprived of food, water, space, humidity, heat, and ventilation. In just one day, 657 turtles were recorded in the facility's "daily dead log."

For more than seven months, a PETA investigator worked undercover inside U.S. Global Exotics (USGE), a major player in the pet trade. USGE buys and sells hundreds of thousands of mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and arachnids from all around the world, many of whom are eventually sold to large pet store chains PETCO and PetSmart—stores PETA has campaigned against and even won major concessions from over the years. This was the largest cruelty-related seizure of animals ever conducted. It has already affected the global pet trade, and with more hard work, it could change the industry forever.

If you'd like to join the fight against U.S. Global Exotics, and other traffickers in this barbaric trade, consider contributing. I tossed $5 into the can. How about you?

20/01/2010

Storms and circuses


One of the many clowns at Reno's Circus Circus casino. I love/hate clowns. This guy in particular caught my attention the other day. The Circus Circus midway is a truly strange place. Macabre.

This little fellow, a midway prize, looked otherworldly amid the garish gloom. Reminds me of the Tarot's Hanged Man reversed which has some interesting meanings.

For instance, there is this interpretation:
Reversed: as the Hanged Man card usually involves sacrifice and insight, the inverse would be a refusal to surrender what needs to be surrendered, or a refusal to see things from a new perspective. In this regard, the reversed card is the assertion of the ego; stubbornness or selfishness. The querent is clinging to whom and what they are - all that they have - refusing to give it up even though the exchange could transform them and help others.

and this one:
The Hanged Man generally shows a life or situation at a crossroads - one with only two options e.g. in or out, up or down, yes or no. This is not a time to attempt to control people, outcomes or situations, it is a time to look critically at yourself and your options, and to be deliberate in your progress. If you don’t know what to do, at all, it’s often a clear signal to do nothing.

Well, much to think about but I am off to Reno today. Big storm coming. Stay warm wherever you are.

17/01/2010

Local news at 10:09 AM


Today is the 31st anniversary of my mother's death. We share a tradition on this day, my sister, brother, and I; an email exchange and candles plus whatever goes on in our private thoughts. I included my brother's message below. Seems all three of us dream and redream our childhood home. It's like a haunting but that can be a good thing, I suppose. Or okay anyway.



Today in Seattle the weather was just like it was 31 years ago, that January day - cold with a dirty fog that closing in the city. We put mom in a wheelchair and pushed her around the hospital floor. Which one? The 7th? We stopped at the NW window looking out over 15th st. A very depressing, gray mist pushed up against the window. I distinctly remember feeling embarrassed showing her such things. I told her I loved her and that I would miss her dearly. She just looked out, saying nothing. Moving on, we went back to the room and I lifted her into bed. So light and frail.

The other night I had a dream of biking home to Beaux Arts. I was going up 106th street, the Akin's house to the left, the Wah's to the right, the road was cobble stone with emerald green moss growing and healthy between the stones. I was tired, it was a long ride from my office in Seattle, or wherever I had come from. In dreams you never really know, only the moment, the cobblestone path, and the thought that it was so so long a ride. Soon I would be home. But then I realized the family was not there and I would have to make it a home on my own. It was too far to ride.

One hell of a dream, eh?
Love to both of you.

I'll light a candle tonight.


I posted a new poem on my poetry blog today. I started it awhile ago, I don't know when. I found it in one of my old notebooks. Anyway, I finished it this morning.


13/01/2010

As though


I am the shadow and the leaves tonight. I am pooled under trees. I seep into the forest floor and smell of mold and rot. I am quiet as moss and the dark side of rocks. I drink rain with an open mouth. I am the reflection that looks back with many eyes.

10/01/2010

Local news at 12:31




I am a wreck. Have been for a while. My office is a wreck. Everything is a drag. I will tell you what. I am getting really sick of this. Just sayin.








Depressed Hamster

09/01/2010

Cookies for breakfast but no Haloscan

Coffee can message holder
left at the peak of a lonely
mountain top somewhere
in the Nevada desert
They weren't the hit I'd thought they'd be but this morning I gave the magpies butter cookies for breakfast, the kind you buy at xmas in the big tin. I'm not sure how old they are. At least a year. By seconds the general consensus was they were weird. A few birds hung around to pick and nibble but even they left some on the table. Now, as usual, one fellow is still out there cleaning up but I hope he doesn't get a tummy ache. No more cookies for magpies. Maybe I will try them on the ducks. They are pigs with feathers.

In other news, Haloscam has finally extracted itself from my blog. Good! Skeevy bastards. It was waste of time installing their stupid service in the first place. Blogger comments always worked just fine. I was like a crow, enamored by a bit of shiny tinsel. The downside is that the brilliant, witty comments left here over the years are also gone leaving me at this outpost border crossing bribing birds for company and hoping a ragged traveler or two will happen by and leave a note in the can. Yes, they are only digital but they do make the world seem a friendlier place.

05/01/2010

Local news at 12:17



From where I sit, twenty-ten came out of the gate sideways. Change. So be it. I don't have to like it. I just have to go with it. Even my favorite cafe in Reno closed. WTF? It had the best poetry open mic in town and was right on the river in the same building as a great gallery and an artist's resident hotel. On the other side of the spectrum, the assholes at Haloscan still haven't removed me from their service. Fuckers. Anyway, I am in Reno today. Will post some photos later. I hope your year had a more gentle beginning.

03/01/2010

Real friend test


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Skin flick

Do you need heart or guts to watch this video?

02/01/2010

Bird eat bird

Today is Haloscan's big deadline. Either start paying for their service or get dumped. Screw them. I have been wanting to switch back to the Blogger commenting system for years but, oh no, Haloscan didn't offer that option. Undoubtedly, part of plumping up the user base in hopes of getting acquired and/or eventually discontinuing the free service. Yes, I could have reverted to Blogger's default widget template at any time thereby (probably) deleting them in the process but didn't want to make work for myself so good. Delete me. Adiós assholes.

And while I am on the subject of good sites gone bad, WTF Technorati? Seems Corporate also decided to castrate this once saavy interconnected site and turn it into a top-down-one-way-maze leading to the inevitable craphole advertisement. Fuck you too, Technorati.

Okay then.

And while I am on the subject of predator and prey, a small hawk recently claimed the Bird Park as his personal hunting ground. He is eating the little birds and leaving disturbing feather piles in and under bushes and trailing across the yard in tell tale testimony to successful captures. Just yesterday he swooped by my window after some poor fellow who probably did not get away. The Bird Park is on the brink of becoming yet another Nevada ghost town. The magpies still come about 7 am but they just grab their peanuts and go and though, at the moment, the little birds are braving death for a quick breakfast, they don't stay long. I really miss watching them throughout the day. Now, more often than not, I just look out at the fence and ugly roof line of the neighbor's horrible house. No movement, no life just another dead suburban moonscape. While I really resent corporations who suck the life out of things, I don't blame the hawk. He is not obsessed by profit and control but, between him and the fat neighborhood cats who saunter by after breakfast to play lion, there is not much joy in the Park. It's sad. I'm wondering if the magpies might chase the hawk away or at least challenge his hold on the place. They'd hang around if I feed them more. They scream at the cats. Of course, they also eat finches. It is a bird eat bird world.

The pigeons don't bother anybody but the neighbor on the other side of the fence but he died last month so that's something anyway. His widow doesn't give a crap about the outdoors. And the quail keep to themselves and are very fun to watch. They too are plagued by hunters, mostly the babies, but that's in the spring. Talk about sad. I get instantly attached to the tiny fluff ball babies following their parents around like a little train winding around curves after the engine. Last year the hunters gobbled them up like popcorn. What are ya gonna do? We are all food for somebody no matter how I wish it were NIMBY.

31/12/2009

Blue Moon New Year

The photo is from Beaver Dam Wash. We don't go there anymore. The one road in washed out. Only the moon goes there now.

30/12/2009

Mexico revisited

I needed a graphic today

Street vendor

and ended up going through my photos for hours.
After that, I felt pretty useless.

Three of Cups

Three of Cups, reversed.

Street shrine

Maybe I'd feel better about myself

Escritorio publico

if I were an Escritorio Publico

M. Lee & Don Plata

but my customers would have to speak English.

Street dog, shadow, blue

Mexico is a beautiful but sad country.

Pink wall

On this particular trip, M. Lee drove 10,000 hard miles

Inexplicably mannequins

and I took 10,000, mostly blurry, photos.

From the cafe window

The rest of this batch is at flickr.

28/12/2009

Robohamster

Ladies and Gentlemen, and children of all ages.....

Meet Robohamster from ekai on Vimeo.



22/12/2009

Here on earth

The gulp of magpies just left after a quick breakfast of peanuts and cookie crumbs. We picked out the chocolate. Bad for birds. They came late this morning, after the longest night. The regulars will return throughout the day. The rest go I don't know where, wherever magpies go on their winter foraging route. The way they shoot up from the east at day break like a fighter squadron, I like to think the Bird Park is their first stop.

Writing is a tough job. For me. Seems words prefer a different part of my brain than that part I use when writing them down. Writing makes me self-conscious. Critical. I have given it up ten million times ten million times. Still the words want out so I write again and the process repeats itself. At this moment, I loathe myself for being so analytical. Welcome to my morning.

It is a lack of faith. Not religious faith. Screw that crap. No need to explain further. After all, this is, for the most part, a time lapse conversation with myself and I already know what I mean.

I wrote one poem while in Costa Rica and plan to submit it to The Midwest Quarterly. Their listing in Poet's Market states they are looking for poems that use "intense, vivid, concrete, and/or surrealistic images to explore the mysterious and surprising interactions fo the natural and inner human worlds." We shall see.

I hope your morning/day/night is going well. The winter solstice is among my favorite times of year. End and beginning. Darkest night. It is not just a moment but a season. It's message this year? Lighten up.



15/12/2009

Maybe the Moment with voice


I have been a fan of Ken Nordine, master of Word Jazz, since high school. Anyway, at 89 he is still doing wonderful things like this video which he posted on youtube last spring. It is not only funny, strange, poetic and lateral as always, it is actually poetry, and not because it is rhymed. It is poetry because, well, it is a poem, a rare bird these days.

Maybe the Moment with voice


And speaking of birds, hawks and eagles are beginning to arrive in the Carson Valley which is a wintering ground and nursery. One pretty little hawk has taken to hanging out at the Bird Park but he's a real party pooper. Everybody takes off the minute he arrives. The neighborhood cats also hunt here, fat bastards. The magpie alerts me when they show up, lots of squawking, but they don't have much to say about the hawk. So it goes.

08/12/2009

Magpie Snow Day Breakfast


Maggie and her tiding enjoy a breakfast of toast and peanuts in the Bird Park after a night of snow. Little wonder "gulp" is one of the names for a group of magpies.


PS. I'd appreciate hearing from you if you happen to know the name of the composer of the piano piece. I would like to add the attribution. I didn't note it at the time and now I've forgotten. 


29/11/2009

Issa and Thoreau on compassion

No human being, past the thoughtless age
of boyhood, will wantonly murder any
creature, which holds its life by the
same tenure he does. The hare in its
extremity cries like a child.
...............................- Henry David Thoreau




All the while
I pray to Buddha
I keep on killing
Mosquitoes.
...................- Issa
The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest..- Henry David Thoreau

25/11/2009

Local news at 9:14



Pothole in Costa Rica

I posted a couple of poems at annasadhorse, if you're interested in that kind of thing. Otherwise, just move along. Watch out for the potholes.

21/11/2009

Local news at 10:42



We're home. When we left for Costa Rica, I was unimpressed by the Paul Tzanetopoulos pylon light display, and the US in general, dirty politics, the Christian Talivangicals, Wall Street, our gross consumption, all the bullshit but returning I glimpsed how, to the world, we still hold out hope. In spite of it all, the US is still a very cool place. I even liked Tzanetopoulos' lights.

Anyway, we are leaving for Oregon this morning to spend the holiday with family. The details of our trip are quickly fading but I do want to write a bit about the crazy BnB we stayed at but for all the ups and downs, when we left, everyone came out to wave good-bye, along with two of the very sweet street dogs I'd been feeding. It was very nearly tearful.




14/11/2009

Reflection


Giant moth.
Costa Rica

08/11/2009

Morning conversation

Now or never squawk the parrots flying over the house. I yell back, then never!

06/11/2009

Thinking into midnight

Eye over Costa Rica

What happens when things change, when a part of you, or your life, breaks off, slips away? I don't mean the big things that rearrange the world into Before and After. I mean the little things that quietly remind us of where we are, where we have been, that make us unique to one another. Time changes or deepens those things in it's course but what happens if you do it to yourself, out of sequence, and you need to talk about it with someone and you realize that, other than family, and thank the gods for them, you have spent a lifetime parsing out bits of yourself, that you never told anyone the whole story, that you haven't allowed friendships to flourish, that you have lots of acquaintances but, when you need someone to talk to, there is no one you are willing to call because you'd have to catch them up first, or you'd have to leave parts out, or you just don't call because, well, really it isn't that bad yet, is it? What do you do? Wait it out? This too shall pass? What the hell is the matter with me?

I have friends who would get mad, or worse, hurt if they read this. What could I say to them? Oh, I didn't mean you, or feelings aren't facts, or I just needed to vent? I should have called you. That's all true so what is true? I'm not alone. I have a wonderful family. I know I'm wallowing. I know everything but how to get through this gracefully.

02/11/2009

Message in a bottle


View from inside the front door


I really feel trapped at Casa Lunatic today. The woman who runs the place is kind of sweet and tough but falls into these long monologues about herself. We have heard her whole life story, plus the litany of daily woes, but that doesn't stop her from reciting them again, or trying to. This morning I had to hide in our room to get away from it and, while I was up there taking my "nap", everyone went out, taking all the keys with them. That turned this place into a virtual prison.

Most houses around here are like small fortresses or prisons, depending on how you look at things. I say prisons. I derive little comfort from bars. They are surrounded by towering, spiked iron fences, often topped with razor wire, and/or barbed wire, and/or electric wire, and/or a narrow roof discouraging would-be intruders from getting in and me from getting out. When all the doors and padlocks in this house are locked, it takes three or four keys, depending which combination of gates you choose, to reach the street. It's bad enough that I'm already stir crazy. I only recently started talking little walks around the block, but today there was nothing I wanted to do more. At least there's this.