Note to self

I've been home for a few days and the birds are just now beginning to return to the Bird Park, one or two here and there, although the ever faithful 7 o'clock magpie was right on it, gobbled up the kibble the minute I returned. She doesn't miss a beat. But it's lonely here without them all, even the quail have disappeared, and it's especially lonely since we cut down the big cottonwood tree that stood majestically over it, giving shelter to all, predator and prey. The park feels really exposed and vulnerable without it. We didn't want to cut it down but Dick's widow wanted to do it and, after all, it was just over the property line on her side so it was her call. It shocked us all. It was a great tree, really defined our little enclave but she wanted it gone and anything to keep the widow happy I guess. The rest of us neighbors thought of it as Dick's tree and were amazed she wanted to cut it down. Old Dick is barely cold in the ground. Anyway, the birds are slow to return, the weeds are high and Ratfink is still cavorting around Thailand which leaves me simultaneously jealous, lonely, insecure and grateful. The jealous part is self-explanatory I suppose, as is the lonely part. I am grateful because, in his absence, I finally made it to the Bay Area and connected with the poetry scene there. I was always waiting for him to go with me. Lame. I have to go back. Must not forget that. It is so easy to get lulled by our everyday life when he's home. Note to self: Must remember. Must go back, with or without him.

Woman in the Wall

So here I am on what I promised would be an Epic American Road Trip (implying, of course, that I would be sure to post the adventures here) and nary a word. Of course you understand that I was being ironic. I have no money so that severely limits my options along the way but the universe compensated. Thanks universe. I've got your back. Anyway here's a quick update for the record.

As the fates would have it, I hooked up with an old friend while I was in Ashland. She was on the loose and up for an adventure and, in a happy synchronicity, her dad called and offered the use of his garage apartment for first two weeks in June. So here we are. Richmond, CA. In the hood. Other than someone squeezing off several rapid fire rounds yesterday it's been really quiet. At night the stranded earth out the window becomes a streetlight lit savanna for the neighborhood cats; in the day it returns to a sad parcel of earth defined by opposing chain link fences. The cats don't mind. Neither does the earth who watches it all come and go.

I read poetry at an open mic in Berkeley the other day. The group's host said he'd like to invite me back to be a featured reader sometime next winter. Great, though from here winter seems a long way off. We went to a Thai place afterward for dinner. Terrific. My new friends. Tonight I am hoping to read at another open mic in Berkeley. This is, after all, the point.

PETA protest

Christina, as the snake

It was a cold and windy night afternoon but PETA was in town yesterday so I joined in the fun. We were protesting the killing of snakes for their skins and our nearly nude snake, Christina Cho, gallantly shivered her way through the hour. Nothing new for her. She's one of many PETA volunteers who travel the world over promoting animal welfare willingly enduring bad weather, bad attitudes and occasionally being tossed in jail along the way.

In general, people in Reno were pretty friendly but in the last five minutes the cops showed up. Seems someone complained about a woman being inappropriately (un)dressed in public. What's wrong with pasties? Some people....

Brian, photographer and very excellent body paint artist

Afterward, the four of us had a a great vegetarian lunch at the Pneumatic Diner.

Ashley (organizer & driver) and Christina (snake)

Local news at 7:07

I took lots of photos of Thea during my recent trip to Portland but was too busy to post them at the time. In fact, they are still on the camera, which has a dead battery because the minute I got home I had to throw myself into the newsletter and now that I'm finished with that I have to clean this wreck of an office. My daughter wisely copies whatever she wants before I leave because I seldom get around to sending photos back to people after the fact. While I prefer to think of chaos as a subtle form of order, it has its drawbacks. Anyway, I am home and today I have to tackle my lair. The chaos here has reached critical mass one more time. Mr. Lee is threatening intervention again (let him try) but it's even too much for me. That's bad.

I am thinking about doing an Odyssey American Road Trip next month, the kind where you throw a mattress in the back of the wagon and go. Mr. Lee is going to China for the month which leaves me at loose ends. Well, it wouldn't be that much of an odyssey I suppose but I could go to Seattle for a week or two, base at my brother's house, and knock around the town for awhile, maybe read at an open mic or two, then head down to Portland and visit Baby Thea again. She is growing up way too fast.

On the other hand, I've been to Seattle and Portland recently but I generally fly. I am not much of a long distance driver. I could go west instead, to Sacramento and the Bay Area. It's way closer. Some Canadian friends we first met in Nicaragua are doing their own Odyssey American Road Trip next month and have been planning to visit us here in Nevada but, lately we've been talking about meeting along the way. If I stay closer to home, I could show them some of the wonders in our little corner of the world and the rest of the month, do esoteric things like make poetry videos that I'll never post. Well, off to wrestle chaos.

Local news at 6:45

The magpies had to fight the wind to land in the Bird Park this morning. A storm is blowing in. Mr. Lee is ecstatic but he's a ski bum. The birds are not happy. At the moment one just jumped into the middle of the yarrow bush and tucked a tasty nugget there. Hope she remembers. The wind is blowing with such force, she is having trouble navigating even on the ground. Carson Valley is famous for its wind anyway. It blasts over the Sierra with such force that, even on sunny summer days, the currents offer world class conditions for glider planes. It's not so good for cyclists, runners, riders, hikers or anyone else in it. Makes even a walk to the mailbox an uphill trek both ways.

The magpies are still busy stashing food for the upcoming storm. I have been feeding them cheap small dog kibble lately. They seem to like it okay and I like it because it's cheaper than peanuts and not messy. Peanuts are problematic. It's the shells. I go in cycles. Sometimes I shell them, sometimes the birds do. When I toss out whole peanuts these days, I do less. That way, competition remains high and the birds fly off to guard their treasure, thus shelling them, you know, elsewhere. Does that make me a horrible person?

Just got back from Tonopah. Great weekend but I didn't take many photos this trip but I will post some soon.

Cruel world but there's always NaNoWriMo if you don't feel bad enough already

I had laugh at the photo my daughter emailed me yesterday. So much for the new toy I sent Owen the dog. I guess it lasted about a day. Cruel world. The santa bear I gave him for Christmas lasted a week.

The big news around here is that the other day I finally printed out the manuscript I wrote a few years ago during NaNoWriMo. I finished it a day or two before the Nov. 30th deadline, or more accurately I belly crawled past the required 50,000 word finish line, called it good, encrypted it and emailed it to the NaNo word counter bot who counted it in about two seconds then shot back my NaNoWriMo "winner" badge, sort of like receiving a gold metal in the "special" Olympics. I then filed the manuscript and that was that. I never read it and tried not to think about it.

However, I thought I might have lost it during a recent computer upgrade so the other day, out of curiosity, I went looking. The shame over writing such total crap has kind of faded. Time heals. And there it was. It seemed harmless enough so I released it from it's digital limbo. It lives incarnate in the world as black ink on white paper. It looks impressive, especially printed out in 12 pt. Courier, double spaced with 1" margins, 197 pages of .... well ... words. I started reading it and kind of like some of it, although it is shamelessly about nothing. Uncle Monkey, Ugly Bear and Clarence are dubious.


Other than that, I'm headed up to the lake this morning. Some writer friends, also NaNoWriMo gold medalists, put together a weekend retreat. I planned on going last night but got to the base of the Sierra and was turned back by the flashing red CHAINS REQUIRED sign. I'm sure most people forged on, chains or no, but I did not. Okay. Gotta go.

Local news at 6:23 PM

Rainy day. Even the birds stayed away today. I'm going out tonight to spend a little time with some poet friends of mine, Ash Canyon Poets. To their credit, they still meet every Friday night, even now, after Cowee died. Bill. I miss that guy. Anyway, the way I felt all day, I'd rather go to bed and pull the covers over my head but that's no way to live. Plus, I have a poem for the critique.

Seems I lost a directory full of photos and other miscellany during a recent computer upgrade. Shit. Found this one though. I so know that place.

The examined life

Portland. I am here to take care of Baby Thea while my daughter and her husband move back into their home but the move has been delayed since Monday and we are yet uncertain if the floor is dry enough to put furniture on it. If anything can go wrong ... so we wait and, other than the fact that I can't indulge my coffee habit, it's not so bad. We are staying at his parents' house. They are very gracious people, mellow, smart, educated, animal lovers, gardeners ie. all around nice, easy to get along with. And it doesn't hurt that they have a very comfortable home. Unfortunately, the time I have to help is running out. I return to Nevada next Tuesday, but that is no reason to rush things. The newly refinished floors will be good for 50 years so a day or two delay is worth the wait. Plus, who wants to look at a gouge or claw mark on the floor forever thinking, "God! If we'd only waited another two days!"

And because of the delay, I got to spend a night at my friend judybluesky's house. That was a treat. I haven't done an overnight at a girl friend's house since I don't know when. We should plan a getaway weekend. They're great. Remind me.

Other than that, this has been a time of much inner reflection. It has been prompted as much by the season, internal winter, a time of reflection, a time to recalibrate, the dreaming seed preparing for the coming light, as it is a natural response to being at loose ends. I am reminded that an inventory of what is, and is not, working in my life is due. One can run on automatic only so long before an overhaul is required. But it's work. All the pieces are on the table for a closer look. Some things have to go. Some priorities need to be bumped up, re-grouped, re-listed, de-listed, some set aside for an even closer look. Not particularly fun but you know what they say about the unexamined life.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Local news 7:02 AM

Just wanted to say ... I have fallen in love with Costa Rica. I will attempt to explain why later but right now I have to find some breakfast. I am famished.

Costa Rica countdown

Five days. I only have five days now to pack. Five days to do all the things I could have done five days ago. Should have done ten days ago. And so it goes. And yesterday, what did I do with yesterday? Burned the whole day ... out ... when I should have been home, preparing flash drives and backup flash drives, sorting through clothes and pencils. Damn.