Halloween and NaNoWriMo eve

Tonight marks two distinct, but not wholly dissimilar, events. Grito and Lucky Pete (as he calls himself these days) have been outside waiting since this afternoon but trick or treaters didn't appear until after dark.




After the children are gone and the streets are completely given over to the spirits of the underworld the second phase of the night begins. Then my friend Susan and I are going to meet at a nearby casino coffee shop to await the final stroke of midnight. Then the dead return to the nether regions. Then the mad soul of NaNoWriMo rises in the infernal dark. Then the writing begins.

Halloween

Beginning's end

nanowrimo deadline

Bunny's letter

Pinky gets a letter!

Pinky (finally) got a letter from Bunny and is she ever happy. She's been showing it to everybody. She even persuaded me to post the news here at the language barrier which the whole troupe heartily endorsed as they're getting a little tired of hearing about it. They are a pretty cynical bunch but happy for her. I don't know about this Bunny fellow though, if his friend Slippo is any indication. And what's up with that banana? Well, at least he didn't suggest they meet in a bar.

Bunny's bad company

Roy mentioned that perhaps Bunny, who is nearly illiterate, turned to Uncle Monkey for help answering Pinky's letter o' love. Roy doesn't trust Uncle Monkey and thinks that's why she still hasn't received a reply. I don't completely trust Uncle Monkey either but I don't get the feeling he's malicious. Clearly he's indolent and full of bull but I think he's basically a harmless guy. I could be wrong. Anyway, I looked into it. As it turns out, Roy was on to something. Bunny has been hanging out with some shady characters but not Uncle Monkey or Ugly Bear. He's hanging out with Mr. Lee and that crazy monkey guy who wears a mask and cape and screams when he flys. Flipo. I managed to sneak some undercover photos of what's going on over in their "office". Poor Bunny. The guy's a total innocent in some definitely baaaaaaaaaad dude company.

The photos confirm that he got Pinky's letter. In them you can clearly see that he's holding her heart-shaped check box reply form. But obviously Bunny's not going to be getting help filling it out any time soon. Seems the main order of the day over there is spanking the local librarians who aren't keeping Mr. Lee supplied with fantasy books fast enough.

Pinky's string of blue Tuesdays

Pinky's got the blues. She's been waiting for a letter from Bunny for a couple of months but he hasn't sent a word. Admittedly Bunny's a bit of a goof but Pinky is head over heels for him. She wrote him a letter a while ago asking if he would like to meet her but, you know, zip. She's been sitting in the letterbox waiting to hear back from him ever since. She even sent him a pink, heart shaped answer card with yes or no check boxes to make it easier for him to reply. He's nearly illiterate. I don't know what's worse, a rejection or being completely ignored. Rejection is certainly painful but at least you get an answer, a little recognition. And I hate to even mention this but the brazen Mdme. Rollo may be after Bunny and, being a hot cabaret dancer, she has no problem asserting, flaunting, herself. She expects to get what, and who, she wants. I hope she hasn't made a move on Bunny. He'd be no match for her. I feel helpless watching this sad little drama. They say that true love wins in the end but does it?

Autumn Equinox

Summer's End

Happy Autumn!

Uncle Monkey and Ugly Bear in Otherland

I haven't got time tonight to write a scintillating revelation or grind out a scorching rant. We're going to watch a movie in about 15 minutes. I just have time to finish pounding out quick update about what's been going around the office today.

I hate to say it because he's a nice guy, very likable, but Uncle Monkey is, well, sometimes full of shit. No, I take that back. He's a story teller, not a liar. Anyway, he loves telling Ugly Bear all kinds of wild ass stories and the poor guy believes every word he says. But no harm, I suppose. They enjoy each other's company and don't get into any trouble. Well, much trouble.

I managed to snap a candid shot of them this afternoon when they thought I was out of the room. I don't know what crazy yarn Uncle Monkey was spinning but Ugly Bear was transfixed. Looks like it had something to do with the book but we'll never know. As soon as they heard the click of my camera they looked up and Uncle Monkey became veeeery quiet.

Nice book though, wouldn't you say? I got it for 13 cents at the second hand store this weekend. I was already reading the crappy paperback version with tiny print that was hard to read to the end of the inside line when I found this one. In case you're wondering why I got it for such an insanely low price it's because Saturday was Half Price Day.






otherland uncle monkey ugly bear

Madame Rolla

As I have now done four political rants in a row, it seemed time to give the few, rare people who manage to make their way to the language barrier a break so, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you ...


Madame Rolla, dancer extraordinare

Lucky Pierre arrives at last

Lucky Pierre arrived today. Actually Roy kindly mailed him to me weeks ago (thank you again, Roy) but, because of my recent knee surgery, I have yet to make it to the post office. Mr. Lee went there today for me.

After living under Roy's house for who knows how long I must say, Lucky Pierre is in great shape ... physically. But he's despondent. I couldn't get him to look at the camera. I understand. He's embarrassed to be seen in public dressed in a Santa clown suit. You must understand, Lucky Pierre is actually an artist, a Parisian and a very proud fellow. God knows what brought him down so low but better times are ahead.

Perhaps it was the nipping of the wormwood, the absinthe, as was so popular among the surrealists when he was still known as Lucky Pierre. Perhaps he had too many Pernod Fils too many times at the dark and smoky bistros. Something sent him on his downward spiral. To gig as a Santa? Ah, Pierre. But now you are found, my friend. It will be slow. Everything around here happens on ashatime but things are looking up my friend. Things are looking up.

Driftwork and Lucky Pierre update

I got the contributor issues of Driftwork off in the mail today. I forgot to mention to them that they can get extra copies at cost. I was over focused, I guess. I get like that a lot. I also finally filled an order made by the Special Collections Library at the University of Wisconsin. They wanted another copy of Reddog Review #5. They ordered it before I had the knee surgery but I didn't get around to sending it until now. It was out of print so I had to make more copies. Plus Driftwork had be finished. Susan wanted to take it to a writer's conference this weekend. First things first.

I still haven't had a chance to get to my PO box. Unless something went terribly wrong, Lucky Pierre is there waiting for me. Roy of  "Why I Blog" found him under his house, a once proud little fellow fallen on hard times, gigging as a Santa doll. Roy kindly mailed him to me and when he arrives, Lucky Pierre not Roy, I will clean him up and he can join my puppet theatre. There's hope for everyone.

July morning , the jaguar and the crow stone

Mr. Lee and I went out briefly this morning and visited with some friends. I'm not complaining about having to lay low while me knee heals. Perhaps I am enjoying it too much so it was definitely good for me to get of the house for a bit. It's been almost 2 weeks since the surgery and in that time, spring has been very busy pushing everything out and up. Might as well push me too. A time lapse view of the most ordinary place always amazes me.

One thing I've really missed is the lavender explosion. On summer solstice eve I first noticed some of the flowers were going to open in the morning but I missed it all. I had surgery and the bees got everything. I'm happy for them. Imagine all the lovely lavender honey they're socking away. Mr. Lee tells me they are positively, face down drunk in the flowers. I'll have to get a photo but everything is such a big deal on crutches, or perhaps I am just terribly lazy. Mr. Lee tells me I am perhaps the laziest person he has ever met in his entire life. Of course that's not true. I am merely very selective about how and where I direct the fulcrum of my raw, to some terrifying, energy. Today, I photographed the crow stone and the jaguar and converted the July Early Morning AVI into an MPEG for your viewing pleasure. Yes, yes, it's under 30 seconds.


But before the film, a bit of background on the jaguar. Mr. Lee bought him for me last fall when we were in the Yucatan. We were kind of hijacked into spending the night with a Mayan family who lived in the jungle along the road to Bonampak, a fabulous but once extremely bloody Mayan pyramid and city. I say hijacked because their hospitality was mainly a way to hold customers hostage for the night. It was really awkward because the adults just wouldn't let up. They kept bring out more and more stuff for us to buy. We bought a lot. The kids were great, especially the beautiful Leonardo. He was about five and really wanted to communicate with me. He and I stood by the jeep for hours making signs and faces, talking with our hands, drawing pictures for each other and trying out our few words and finding and reading them from my handy, pock-size translation book. He did somersaults for me and climbed up and picked oranges for us to share and I gave him one of my favorite pens and notebook and all the other kids who were standing around staring at me, energy bars.

Once we felt we had let the adults work us over enough, we thanked them profusely and got up into our tent like monkeys scampering up a tree. The tent is on the top of the jeep. We left before they could get at us in the morning. But I love the jaguar. One the adults carved it from balsa wood. Those are eyes on his body. He sits under my monitor and I think of them often, especially Leonardo who is so talented and so trapped. They didn't even realize that they are counted as Mexican citizens. They are Mayan but they have a giant satellite dish on the top on their home and love watching soap operas on television. I think, in certain ways we are more primitive then they are. At least we threw our tv away about 4 years ago so we have wrestled ourselves partially free from the state brain drain. I posted one of Mr. Lee's letters on my blog back then if you'd like to see a photo of Leonardo if you'd like to read more about it.

Now, on with show...

First off, the short I promised the other day. As you might guess, it's an early morning view from my window. (:30)

2nd of July...

And now
the moment you've all been waiting for

Ladies and Gentlemen
Girls and Boys
and
Children of all ages...

Now....

from the ancient, lost inland sea
and mysterious mountains of the Great Basin
The Invisible Theatre is proud to present
The Touchstone of the Gods
Seer and knower
of all secrets.

It puts to test
the heart and mind
of all who dare
to gaze upon it.

It has the power to
HEAL
or
DESTROY
whatever it touches.

Now...
...for a short time only...

on very limited loan from the
Crows

I give you
the One
the Only
the Magnificent....

CROW STONE!!!

mayan yucatan daily life crows july morning

Invisible Event, Hank speaks

New year's greeting

Happy New Year and Good Luck
~ from the staff at the Language Barrier~
Swami, Molly, Joe, Hank the Duck,
Louie-Guardian of the Bird Park,
Panda Dog and Uncle Monkey

Plopping calves and the Bag-Lady Party

Several big things to report today. Number one, baby calves are popping up around the valley. Well, not popping up, plopping out. This means the eagles will soon be arriving in Carson Valley. They love the tasty afterbirth and by February, when the majority of calves are born, the eagles will be here in great numbers to greet them and eat their placenta and eat them if they get the chance. Also this morning, I saw a small donkey contentedly scratching his ass on a tree. Being a vision of pure satisfaction, I thought it was worth passing along.

Now that the posters for the valentine's day reading are done, I'm on to the next pressing task of the weekend, preparing the Woman from Beaver Damn Wash for her trip to the surprise birthday party DB Pedlar is throwing for himself. Of course, the Woman from Beaver Damn Wash isn't personally attending. She likes Nevada and the party is in Pennsylvania. It's a bag-lady party and I have to prepare her avatar bag. It's too complicated to explain right now but suffice it to say that since the word got out, everyone around the Ashabot wants in. In fact, I have a near riot on my hands.

Now, I can understand why the Woman from Beaver Damn Wash is so excited. She used to live in the crotch of a old cottonwood tree in Beaver Damn Wash. That's such a remote and wild place, it's understandable she'd be in a tizzy about an invitation to a party. As for the rest of the crew, just mention the word "party" and you have trouble. The Dolls want to go. Pony wants to go. Queenie the Bee wants to go. So does the Lorax. The damn cockroaches have chimed in. I'm sure at this point, the dead shrimp would want to go, if they were still alive. The grumpy old Shipping Squirrel has showed an interest. Even the Swami has been asking about it and he carries a lot of weight around here, in his sweet and unassuming way. I had planned a quiet photo session today, just between me and the Woman from Beaver Damn Wash, but no. I'll at least have to do a couple of group shots to keep the peace. In fact, I don't know why I'm wasting valuable time writing this. The day's nearly over and I still have work to do. After all, they are the voices and I am but their humble servant.