Full moon night at the Invisible Theatre

Full moon night at the Invisible Theatre - photo by me

Behind the scenes

Harry and Max have both been Invisible Theatre cast members for quite a while now but only recently, actually over the New Year's weekend, became new best friends. It's kind of nice as they are both, well, odd. Max was a total loner and Harry's only other friend until now has been Clown Girl and then awhile ago she started hanging out with the gorilla.

As for me, I re-shuffled shelving around in my office this morning. Everything is much more accessible now and the light is better. Plus I finally dragged myself to the gym. Woo-hoo.The new year is off to a roaring start.

Baby Watch 10, the time has come

The time has come

It is now two weeks past the due date so tomorrow, unless the baby comes today, they are going to induce labor.

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.

Saturday musings

Today's Daily Thea really knocked me out.

Spring is a great time to be born,
with the entire summer ahead
to kick back and take it all in.

Seems everywhere I look,

babies are doing their thing.

Even the Invisible Theatre has a new little one,

Buug and Hawgwahr.
(long o as in true blue)

Lucky for Buug,
Trusty Hawgwahr is there by his side

Buug, Hawgwahr and Rat Woman

keeping an eye on things. After all...

Buug, Hawgwahr and Rat Woman

you never know who you're going to meet along the way.

Baby Thea at the park

Plus having a special friendmakes every adventure a whole lot more fun.

Baby T

Uncle Monkey, Baby T, Sweet William, Ugly Bear

Today Uncle Monkey proudly introduced Baby T to the troupe here at the Invisible Theatre. Everyone made a huge fuss over her. They were smitten.

New Year, 2009

Meet Sweet William, the newest member of the troupe. His origin is shrouded in mystery. All we know is that he crossed the snow-covered mountains of Montana and the vast desert region of the Great Basin to join us, a gift from my son and his lovely wife. No doubt about it. Sweet William is a charmer. Heartbreakingly sweet. Everyone loved him instantly, but tricky old Uncle Monkey had an apple up his sleeve and claimed the honors.

So...
here's to a saner, healthier,
more peaceful future for all
inhabitants of planet Earth
from all of us here at the
Language Barrier & Invisible Theatre.

Come on. Visualize Peace.

Local news at 5

Jimmy Chooey


I don't know what's up, but I'm about ready to scrap this blog and start fresh. The damn thing takes forever to load and I've wasted most of this fine Sunday afternoon trying to figure out why, with no success. Haloscan and YouTube are definitely slowing it down and I want to say right now, so there is no misunderstanding, I HATE HALOSCAN. When it first came out I thought it was really great but it slows the page load down, mine anyway, and you can not uninstall the fucking script. Fuck you, Haloscan. But right now the Blogger page elements take the longest, many minutes. Crazy. It has been gradually getting slower for a while now but today it's totally hung. "Waiting for Blogger". What a drag.

Sorry to waste space complaining like this. I think I'm pretty mellow, life on life's terms and all that, but crap like this throws me into a heart stopping rage. In frustration, I went out and pruned a bunch of dead wood out in the yard. It just happened to be the neighbor's tree. Somebody needed to do it. The guy whose tree it is sits in his garage smoking cigars and drinking most of the day. He's a great guy but has been undergoing chemo treatment on and off for last year or so and is really run down. Unfortunately, I went about things in my usual backwards fashion. After I snipped off a few egregious branches, I asked him if he'd like me to prune the thing. He said no. Said he'd do it later. We had the same conversation last year, after I pruned his the same tree. Does this mean I'm a bad person?

In other news, Jack's back. He's a sweet little dog who has lived at the shelter for over a year now then last Saturday we thought his angel had finally arrived. A guy from Tahoe met and adopted him, all in the same day. I heard this was in the works and went out the next day to say good-bye but Jack had already moved into his new, 4,000 sq. ft. home on the lake. Unfortunately, it proved to be too much, too soon. Two days later Jack was back. It's hard adjusting to life on the outside. Ask anyone who's been incarcerated. Next time, the shelter is going to make sure that Jack and his potential adopters spend time getting to know one another before taking the plunge. Makes sense. I wish they'd thought of it earlier.

We had a canine guest ourselves last week, alias Jimmy. He was dropped off at the shelter on Memorial Day but, officially it was closed. Luckily, a few of us volunteers were there walking the residents. I was elected to take Jimmy home for the night. I think he had a great time... at least he ate lots of cookies, slept on a soft rug. We took two long walks and he slept right next to me on the floor that night. In fact, at one point, I woke up because he was standing with his head on the mattress watching me. A really sweet fellow. When I took him in to the shelter the next day, the receptionist recognized him right away as Chooey, a previous shelter resident, and called the owner. The idiot hadn't bothered to give the poor, old guy an ID tag. I don't know what people think. Apparently nothing.

Louie Louie

Louie
Went for a walk in the desert with Louie today. He's a chow/husky mix out at the shelter. Another sweetie. And then Dixie and I went for a stroll. She's an older dog and noted as shy but likes women. Does she ever. She wiggled right up onto my lap and licked my face. But I'm worried about Capt. Jack. He's terribly, terribly thin. He's a great dog but been at the shelter for a year now. I don't get it. Perhaps people think he's sick. Maybe he is. I put a note on dry erase board about it but next time I went out there it had been erased. However, a decision was recently made to up his food to two bowls a day. Two bowls? WTF?! So dogs should only get hungry once a day? Do you only eat once or twice a day? How many Americans go long enough between meals to even get hungry? Arg.

Desert walk

Yesterday a friend and I went out to the local, very cool, no-kill animal shelter and walked a couple of the dogs. The place is located near the dump and recycling center so a lot of junk blows out of trucks headed for the place. Marie's like me. Can't stand seeing trash in nature so along the way we picked a couple of bags out the sage and managed to stuff them until they were overflowing with garbage. Very satisfying.

Garbage houndsBob is a great sport and enjoyed picking up trash every bit as much as we did.

Link and I examine an abandoned but very handy construction.
What is it? A combined hitching post/wilderness bench/hay storage?

Desert spring

Mo's happy ending

After two years at the shelter, and a lot of love and work, Mo finally got adopted yesterday by one of the volunteers at DAWG, the animal shelter  where I also enjoy the privilege of taking walks in the desert with some of the four-legged residents and enjoying their soothing company. It was a happy ending for a poor fellow who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, doing what pit bulls do so well, fighting to the finish.

A few years ago Mo and Joe found themselves in some serious trouble but, thanks to a network of compassionate people, neither were put down. Instead Joe went to the Reno shelter and Mo lived at the no-kill shelter here. Ironically, most people in America who make mistakes end up in the human "justice" system that humiliates, undermines and better prepares them for more of the same. By their release, many are more desperate and angry than when they came in. Not so for Mo. DAWG volunteers and trainers help animals change their attitude and outlook for the better so Sunday, after a big farewell party at the shelter, Mo began his new life with people who love and know how to provide a safe, sane environment for a pit. For the better part of two years, volunteers simply sat in Mo's cage and read out loud to him. In the beginning, he ran outside as huddled at the far end of his run but the reader kept reading. No one tried to touch him. No one raised their voice to him. They read as Mo huddled and gradually he shortened the distance until, finally, he stood listening at the door. And still the reading went on, with an occasional, "Hello, Mo. Whose a good boy?"

It was a long time yet before Mo would let anyone touch him but finally he did and those few people were finally able to take him for walks in the yard. And so it went. Love and patience won. Today, Mo went home with his new family to his new, forever home.

It seemed to me that Mo was more eager to get out the door and on with it than party, but we humans are a sentimental lot. People that worked with him over the last two years needed "closure" so Mo dutifully sniffed his gifts and pretended to be interested as his humans opened them for him. And he gulped a few treats while people laughed and downed cup cakes and ice cream. Then, finally, Mo when home.






This morning, Mo's family emailed everyone photos from the party and a detailed account of his first day. If you aren't already saturated with cloying sweetness, give it a read. Sounds like Mo is one grateful, happy pooch.

Saying good-bye to the girl at the front desk

Letter from Mo and Family.

Just wanted to thank everyone that came today for Mo's send off and also anyone that wasn't able to attend that has love in their heart for him. I was overwhelmed with all the gifts. Mo and all of us thank you soooooo much. He has been so good. He had his nose right up to the air conditioner almost the whole trip home. (I think he prefers my Honda to ride in as it's easier for him to see out of.) As soon as I got him home Ron's youngest son, Jake and I got him into the shower and started to get him clean. He was being very good so I ran to get the camera and when I got back there was water all over the floor and there he was wagging his tail so hard against the wall that the tip of his tail was bleeding a little. We got him back in and rinsed off. Jake walked him around for awhile then I got him and we laid on the floor together for awhile (of course with all kinds of kisses from him) I think I'll have to invest in a plug in air freshener as he is very prone to gas. He paid little attention to the birds so maybe when we are home he can be in the living room with them (as long as they are in their cages as I don't want to take a chance). Then Mo spent some time in his pen with Ron working on the doggie door. I went out to take him for a pottie break and he didn't want to stay out long and dragged me back inside the house. I had him on the leash and sat on the couch and he jumped up and was rubbing on the couch putting his nose between the cushions and had a great big grin on his face. Ron sat down and Mo went back and forth between us almost standing on his head at times he was being so crazy and happy. Then all at once he stopped and immediately fell asleep. He kept hogging all the couch so I finally sat on the floor. He looked so happy and contented. Well that's it for now. It was such a great day. Thanks again. Nancy

Life in the desert

Here are a few photos from my recent walk with a couple of shelter dogs. This next disheveled place was perhaps once a lean-to someone built for themselves. Sadly, they violated the first rule of home making. Even birds know it. I realize the details are not very clear but can you guess what the rule is? Here's a hint. That blue in the corner is not fallen pieces of sky.

Next, Capt. Jack and I came across this interesting skeleton, perhaps the remains of a coyote complete with what may well be it's dying crap. It seems there's a theme developing here but it's not my intention to gross you out. I simply want to share the walk with you.

Eva (aka Mama) enjoying a moment in the sun away from her puppies but she didn't want to leave them for long. I have developed a new appreciation for pit bulls and pit mixes since I started volunteering at the shelter. Mama is absolutely as sweet as they come.

Edible art

Recently I started volunteering at the local (no-kill) animal shelter and naturally I bring my camera along whenever I'm walking with one of the dogs. Last Friday Cookie and I explored this stripped down, shot up, long abandoned jalopy. It's full of nests, one where the engine used to be, two or three on the floor inside, a small one tucked away in the glove box, and big ones under both rear fenders. Cookie ate an old spine she found in one of the nests. Big treat.

Found sculpture

Found art

Another view.

Up close, where the nests are, were. I doubt
the jalopy is a safe place to raise one's young
since humans moved into the neighborhood.

The jalopy smiles.

Not a good getaway car.

Cookie finds a spine.

Edible art. Crunch time.

LA downtown and beyond

4.32 billion human years = 1 day of Brahma

The photos from our January trip to LA are finally up. It took me awhile but then what's three weeks in a day of Brahma? If you'd like to see them, just scroll down and start with January 15th, or view pages individually. It begins with "Notes on the fly".

Downtown LA

Worlds within worlds and poets under glass

Okay.



Santee Alley and Chinatown



two days rolled into one, with a passing glance at the tar pits.



We started at Santee Alley, which proved to be a great fun maze



like markets in Mexico





merged with a Hollywood





madhouse







a jumbled, swirling



temporary escape



from corporate



America





After the market we went to Chinatown, had lunch at Yang Chow's



and walked around



taking in the sights.



One morning, two worlds
then we went on to LACMA with hopes of also visiting the La Brea excavations going on next door.

Unfortunately, we just didn't have time to visit the tar pits. LACMA is just so huge. By the time we

were done, we were done but I did get a glimpse of the mammoth family at the pond. I've written about them here before. They haunt me. There they are, right on Wilshire Blvd, locked in a life or death drama. I know a guy here in Nevada who grew up in the La Brea area and remembers when giant fossilized skulls still protruded from the tarry sludge, mouths open, tusks thrust skyward, unchanged since the animals sank into the tar thousands of years ago. Now the bones, and so many more, have been excavated and this diorama stands in place as a memorial. The mother's feet are stuck in the gooey tar bottom of the pond and her mate and their baby, wild with fear and grief, watch helplessly from the shore as she tries to free herself. It's heartbreaking. The way the baby is stretching his trunk out to her, I can nearly hear his screams. It's as though the three of them have been struggling for the last 20,000 years to save her from an almost certain death.

We thought we might visit them and the excavation at Pit 91 after LACMA but as it turned out the museum was more than enough. M. Lee and I have been there before but still it was incredible and overwhelming. Along with everything else, the museum is currently showing Southern California Art of the 1960s and 70s and included were excepts from Semina, a "hand-printed, free-form, loose-leaf art and poetry journal privately published and distributed to a handful of friends and sympathizers" by Wallace Berman between 1955 to 1964, considered a "brilliant compendium of the most interesting artists and poets of its time."

The pages are displayed under a glass case. I looked for something from my uncle, not that I expected to find anything. Insanity and alcoholism scrambled him well before death finished the job. But I always check when there's anything about poets from the Beat era. I was just ready to move on and, to be honest, totally self-absorbed. Pointless. Why bother? Blah. Blah. Kathy found him. That's M. Lee's mom. She noticed that there was a poem by John Chance in the collection. She knew him in North Beach in the 50's, heard him read in the bars. Knew him from the scene. Mother of Beat Baby, don't ya know. She's a very cool lady. Bob Kaufman asked her to be godmother to one of his children, back in the day. In fact, it's her treat that we're in LA this week. She'd be in China now but her Chinese friend and traveling companion/interpreter had to opt out due to health reasons so the three of us came here instead. She found him ... Uncle John ... at the tar pit ... under glass.

The Security wouldn't let me photograph his poem. Museum rules. So I copied it and one more near by.

Talking Buddhism With My Lawyer


Every idea we took was carried to a point,
where it disappeared
into the infinity of possibility.

So there we sat.
There was something humorous
About charging out to the edge of the infinite

Only to find ourselves in that moment
Looking blankly across the table at one another
Locked in the same little room.

The ticker-tape clicking ignorant staccato
Outside the glass like a Zen Master.


~ John Chance


Excerpt from Pantopon Rose


Stay away from the Queen's Plaza, son ... Evil spot fuzz haunted by dicks scream for dope fiend lover ... too many lives ... heat flares out from the broom closet high on ammonia ... like burning lions ... fall on poor old lush workers scare her veins right down to the bone her skin pop a week or do that five-twenty-nine kick handed out free and gratis by NYC to jostling junkies ... So Fag, Beagle, Irish, Sailor, beware ...


~ William S. Burroughs

RIP Uncle John.

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