Morning musings

An “actual” dove just dropped by the Bird Park. I say “actual” because, although pigeons are actually doves, Mr. Lee is given to calling them flying rats, as though rats and, by comparison pigeons, are somehow nasty. There are varieties of doves, just like there are varieties of people and yet we are all still people. Right? Cretin racists need not respond to this point. Racists do not deserve "equal time" because they do not represent a legitimate “other point of view". Anyway, pigeons are doves but, what people generally think of as a dove, showed up this morning and that's pretty cool.

What was I talking about? Oh yes. Bananas. I am having my breakfast at the moment, oatmeal with bananas, banana, and every time I open a banana I think of monkeys. And my Irish mother. How could she possibly have been an expert on the best way to peel a banana? But when we were kids we didn't question it. She taught us most of those little life skill things, but guess what? Peeling a banana from the stem down really doesn’t work as well as peeling one from the top down, not from the stem up. Which is how I do it now. However, every time I peel a banana I wonder about two things.

Click for tutorial

How much other childhood misinformation I still hold dear and how do monkeys open bananas? After all, they are the experts. I am always on the lookout for a monkey opening a banana whenever we're in Central America. So far no such luck so this morning I did a a little research. Thanks internet. I believe I finally have an answer.

If it weren't for good luck....

Okay, here's a video to go with your morning or whenever coffee.

Second shift and One-Legged Pete

Grackles and the one-legged magpie

The grackles were late for breakfast again today. Competition is fierce here at the Bird Park and five or ten minutes late can mean the difference between eating or not especially since the starlings have started showing up. Their specialty is muscling up to the trough. Anyway, I refill things during the brief break after the magpies leave so there was still food when they arrived although there are always a few lingering from the first shift. Notice the magpie drinking water. That's One-legged Pete. He does pretty good.

Harp Seal in my backyard

Last night's storm left a Harp Seal in my backyard.

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.

Happy 2011 everybody

While I'm waiting for the magpies to finish their breakfast of kibbles, nuts, cheese, soy chips and apples I want to wish everyone happy new year. So happy new year. May all your dreams come true. Dream wisely. Gotta go. Time to restock the buffet for the shift change. The grackles arrive about 7:30. Today they will be getting rice with oil along with kibbles, nuts, grapes and apples all served with a generous helping of guilt as the birds in the Bird Park are enjoying a better new year's breakfast than many people in the world. Life is strange. I hope you feed some birds today too or someone who is hungry. Here's a little something you can do in flick of the wrist magic. Just click the pretty purple icon below and feed a hungry shelter animal.

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Postscript

:( The grackles didn't come today. Too bad. I like them. They have very cool songs. But the little birds are here filling the trees and the starlings came plus, of course, the hip to everything magpies came back for seconds. I swear, they have a sentry posted in one of the trees keeping an eye on the place all day. They don't miss a thing. Oh, and the one-legged magpie came for breakfast this morning. That was nice.


Postpostscript

The grackles just showed up but they are an hour late and the place is totally picked over. It's snowing like crazy and there are lots of birds rummaging in the mounting drifts. At some point, someone will get startled and they'll all fly off for a few minutes and then I'll sweep off the table and restock it with goodies.

Postpostpostscript

It just occurred to me why there are so many birds today. It's not just because of the snow. There are NO CATS. The bastards are staying inside this morning because of the snow.

Cheers

Today I checked all the links in the sidebar and updated or deleted wherever needed doing. New year's cleanup. My office is still in shambles and I haven't unpacked my suitcase yet since getting home on Tuesday but I do feel a wee bit better. There are so many things on my To Do list at the moment but at least I am picking at if from the edges. It's a start. I can't think about it too much or I will sag back into inertia so here's to baby steps and re-beginnings. Cheers.

Lost, one mind

I can't get going. The only thing I did today was cruise the thrift shops for a new old low to the ground plastic lawn chair for my office, for morning offline writing sessions. Oh and buy some apples for the birds. My head is still out on the road somewhere between Florida's gulf coast, Costa Rica, Montana, San Francisco, Southern Oregon and Portland. Probably it's in Portland. In spite of the rain and Baby Thea dominating the landscape as she dashes headlong on her new bright red Christmas tricycle into the terrible-twos with all the drama and aplomb of a natural born vaudeville trooper, I am comfortable and very much at home in Portland.

Local news at 10:33

Today marks the end a three month period during which we've been gone more than we've been home. At the moment I don't feel like I live anywhere in particular but the 7 o'clock magpie will be happy to find the peanuts I scattered around the Bird Park this evening. She is faithful. It will take the others a few days to catch on. Until then, she will have them all to herself.

Merry Christmas

2010 Dec 25 7:58 UTC Christmas eve

Hello from the shadow.

Happy Winter Solstice

And if you live in the Western Hemisphere, don't miss tomorrow's winter solstice (7:22 p.m. EST ) full moon eclipse which will reach totality at (2:41 a.m. EST - 11:41 p.m. PST). It's a very rare event. The last time these three events occurred simultaneously was over four centuries ago.

See You on the Moon

Winter solstice - full moon - full lunar eclipse - Monday, Dec. 21, 2010. Lucky us! The last time this happened was nearly four centuries ago, on December 21, 1638.

Lunar eclipse over Budapest, 2008.

The eclipse will be visible in the Western Hemisphere. The first definitive change in the moon's appearance will come on the moon's upper left edge. At 1:33 a.m. EST (10:33 p.m. PST), the partial phase of the eclipse will begin as the Earth's dark shadow – called the umbra – starts to slowly creep over the face of the full moon.


At 2:41 a.m. EST (11:41 p.m. PST) the eclipse will reach totality, but sunlight bent by our atmosphere around the curvature of the Earth should produce a coppery glow on the moon.


At this time, the moon, if viewed with binoculars or a small telescope, will present the illusion of seemingly glowing from within by its own light.


At 3:18 a.m. EST (12:18 a.m. PST), the sun, Earth and moon will be almost exactly in line and the light of the moon – assuming clear skies – will appear at its dimmest.


Totality ends at 3:53 a.m. EST (12:53 a.m. PST) and the moon will completely emerge from the umbra at 5:01 a.m. EST (2:01 a.m. PST). About 15 or 20 minutes later, the last vestige of the fainter penumbral shadow will disappear from the moon's upper right edge and it will return to its normal brilliance.

Source

And this excerpt from an email on the solstice that I got this morning from a friend, more chatter about 2012, the Mayan calendar, harmonic convergence and all that for your entertainment.

It seems that some interesting astrological things are happening on the Winter's Solstice and also something else. The Sirius is sending a "test pulse" on that day, as a forerunner to the 2012 harmonic completion on the Winter's Solstice of that year. It should be something gentle and a fairly usual day, entering through the crown chakra, more easily felt if we are receptive at 3rd eye and heart. It is to help the Earth move into more balance so that the latter date will have smoother transition. Depending on what ripples happen on Earth, other test pulses may be happening at key astrological junctures. It is to help balance the five elements. Nothing to worry about.

Naturally all this fits into my personal cosmology but that's a subject for a different time. For now, suffice it to say...

Happy upcoming Solstice!

Exact moment of solstice (sun stop):
7:22 p.m. EST - December 21, 2010

Baby Gaga

What was I thinking? Here I am picking out youtube videos of kittens, puppies, elephants and giraffes for Baby Thea but she likes to watch Lady Gaga concerts. Silly me.

Morning walk

I've been in Portland for the last week, hanging out with the indomitable Ms. Thea Bella and family. Man oh man... toddlers.

Prostitute Mickey 3

It has come to my attention that a friend at the other end of the rainfuckingbow is having a bad day. Cheer up. It just got worse. Shuffle on over to the morgue and see why...


(Note: If you haven't met Prostitute Mickey, it's better to watch parts 1 & 2 first.)

Prostitute Mickey 3

Local news at 11:49

Got home last week and leaving again on Monday. I am totally dazed but no matter. I must do it. Must get to Portland to visit Baby T before she leaves for college which, at the rate she's growing, is coming up waaaaaaaaaaaay too fast.

But the birds in the Bird Park are none to happy about my travels. I've been gone most of the time since September but the 7 o'clock Magpie faithfully continued checking in. She's been doing it for years now. The gulp of magpies only figure out that I am home several days after my return. Until then, she pretty much has the place to herself although no one seems to be suffering without me. Even the one legged magpie is fat. They all have stomachs somewhere between the size of a large navel orange and a small (okay very small) grapefruit.


The latest Bird Park sensation has been blobs of sugar free cherry jam. Yum. And leftover oatmeal. Not so yum but gone by noon. Oh and apples. Everyone likes the apples. Magpies hog them so I have to put several out to keep everyone happy. As is their fashion, the quail share. Seems the Bird Park has settled into being their wintering ground and spring hook-up scene, the quail version of Maui at spring break. The evil neighborhood fat cats make it a less than hospitable place to bring the family, at least when the kids are still the size of golf balls. The cats eat them like popcorn. I should put a sign on the fence like the ones you see at carnivals. You know the kind only it would read... YOU MUST BE AS TALL AS AN APPLE TO ENTER.

And so

Hexagram 58
THE IMAGE

Lakes resting one on the other:
The image of THE JOYOUS.
Thus the superior man joins with his friends
For discussion and practice.

Along came a spider

Little Miss Muffet got it all wrong.



The spider was just a happy little dude checking out the world.

Prostitute Mickey

Prostitute Mickey 1

OMFG...a part of me just died but I can't stop laughing. WTF?
And, as though I'm not already curled up in a ball weeping, I immediately watched

Prostitute Mickey 2

My tree

I spent most of the day in Ashland today, my old home town and place I raised my children. It rained and even the melancholy of the rain was comforting. After lunch with a friend, I got coffee at Bloomsbury Books and waited until it was time to pick up another friend and take him to Fight Night at my in-laws... pizza, cake, ice cream and boxing. It's a tradition, Fight Night.

My tree today

I also visited my tree today. To some degree I measure my life by this tree, or at least my life since that Easter Sunday some 25 years ago when I sat under it and and experienced a "moment of truth". My tree lives in Lithia Park and, at the time, was just big enough to sit under and shelter me from the passing world from which I felt so estranged. Ever since that day, and even though we moved to Nevada, I visit it occasionally to see how it's doing. At this point, it is one of my oldest friends.

Unfortunately, my tree stands at the edge of a playground so its early years were especially hard. Kids can be brutal to young trees, grabbing and breaking branches but, in spite of all that, it is a lucky tree. It also grows close to Lithia Creek and the sloping bank has, for the most part, protected it from the children. Otherwise, I think they would have mauled it to death by now or at least mutilated and dwarfed it.

For several years it looked so sickly I was afraid it would die. Perhaps it took awhile for the roots to reach the creek. And one year I discovered that the top of its trunk had somehow broken over and died. It hung down black and bare into the lower branches. That was a desperate time. I was afraid the gardeners might cut the tree down but, like I said, it is a very lucky tree. Instead they have pruned it back to health. These days, it is looking really good, even with the new forked top. It seems shorter and bushier than normal but it is still growing upward. That's the important thing. Today I saw that the gardeners have pruned away some of its lower branches, the ones facing the playground. I am guessing that is so people can more easily sit in its shelter. It is a very accommodating tree.

Lithia Park's official photo

(That's my tree on the left peeking through
the autumn leaves from the other side of the bridge.)

And my tree was there when I released the remains of my uncle, John Chance, into the snow melt rage of Lithia Creek. The shocking wild flash of ashes turned the creek suddenly white, lingered a moment in the flow as though they didn't want to go, then vanished. My tree holds the memory for me. It's what friends do.

From Beatitude Magazine

Midnight notes along the way

Blue lantern on San Pablo Ave.

After the memorial last Sunday we stayed in the Bay Area a couple more days so Monday night I read poetry at an open mic in Berkeley. It's a weekly event hosted by Poetry Express at the Priya restaurant. I read there last spring. They are a good bunch of friendly, open-minded dedicated writers and it was nice to be back even though I didn't talk to anyone, just read and when it was over, left. I dedicated my reading to Philip. We're in Oregon now. We were going to return to Nevada in the morning but a new storm changed our plans. Looks like we'll be here until at least Sunday.

Philip John Chance, RIP

He died on Halloween and his memorial was on a blue moon and that seems about right.

source

We went to my cousin Philip's memorial in Lafayette today. He was recuperating from a cycling accident in August then died from a blunt force trauma to the head in the nursing home. He was 53. Police are investigating.

The program from the memorial reads...

"Thank you for coming to remember Philip, the good, the living on the edge, and that he had the courage to even survive as long as he did. We ask that you awaken and practice moments of kindness."

He was brilliant, alcoholic, often homeless (unless you accept the fact that the forest was his home) and apparently lost (unless you accept that he followed his drummer through the Arizona mountains for last 30 years of his life on his bicycle because wanting to and having to were the same thing). I just don't believe it has to cost you your life.

When words slip away

In the course of dying from a rare affliction which will first rob him of language, art critic and artist Tom Lubbock recently published excerpts from his memoir of the experience in the Guardian. It is well worth reading and, especially, I think, if you are a writer. Over the course of his disease he reverts to pure poetry, the first and last link, the voice of the soul.

Postscript:
Tom Lubbock died 9 January 2011. His obituary was published in the Guardian UK. If you do nothing else, read the end, Tom's final words.

Navel Gazing and Rambling at 8:38

Okay. I don't really want to be doing this but water has to go somewhere and we know it seeks the lowest level which, at this moment, translates into me slouched in my chair staring at the monitor, palms of my hands resting on keyboard, typing whatever comes into my head, the sounds of the house in background ... the squeaking of Mr. Lee's chair in the next room, the tapping of his keyboard, the whir of the fans in the laptop to my right and the quieter fans in the tower under my desk. There is also a low level hum in the walls. I don't know what it is. The heat's not on. Just a hum. Can you hear electricity in the walls? I sometimes think I can. Maybe it's just the tower. And then there's the infernal ringing in my right ear. When we were in Costa Rica recently, I realized that the ringing in my ears sounds exactly like the high pitched toneless buzzing of insects in the jungle. I don't know which insect, maybe some kind of jungle cricket, but the sounds are identical. That is some comfort actually because I like the sound of insects in the jungle and really don't like the ringing in my ear. I do my best to not obsess about it. Obsessing about it is definitely not a good thing so when I discovered the similarity between the buzzing in the jungle and the ringing in my ear, it was a relief. But enough about the ringing. Like I say, I don't want to obsess about it. I have that tendency. I am listening to the buzzing jungle.

Gustavo didn't seem to mind

So on to better things. What else grabs my attention this evening? I am too full, too hot and tired but it's too early early to sleep. I am too hot because the house is too cold so I have too many clothes on to stay warm. But now I'm hot. Which brings me to the thought that there must be a lot of people in the world who, in spite of the ringing in my ears, would be grateful to change places with me. People who are starving or cold or both. God. Life is fucked up. And this brings me to Catholic Guilt. I'm not a catholic anymore but seems most of us Xs never get free of the damn guilt. Which reminds me of my patron saint. You might wonder why I have a patron saint being an X catholic. Aren't saints basically a catholic thing? Actually, I'm an X everything. These days I don't trust any dogma. However, when we were in Oaxaca a few years ago I found a saint I can do business with. My son was in the military at the time and overseas on a peace keeping mission. The entire time he was gone I lived in an undertow of deep unrest but sitting with Gustavo in the corner of that old stone church gave me some comfort. I didn't use the kneeler. Gustavo isn't that kind a saint. I sat in the chair.

Gustavo helped me sit with it

Actually, I'm not sure his name is Gustavo. There was a tombstone looking slab set into the floor or wall, I can't remember which, with the name Gustavo Santa Ana caved into it so I call him Gustavo. I spent a lot of time there. I even wrote a couple of poem based on the place and named them both Contact Language although one is subtitled letter 611. I've been thinking about Gustavo on and off these last few days. I wish I were in Oaxaca. I feel like sitting in the gloom with him. I googled Gustavo Santa Ana just now and, although I found nothing on my Gustavo, I came across an article in the Orange County Weekly Navel Gazing section by Gustavo Arellano announcing that Jesus Christ Himself will be at the Santa Ana Artists' Village tomorrow to join the protest against the God Hates Fags protest Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church are waging against the Artists' Village because the theater is staging The Laramie Project, a gay-rights themed play. Just sayin.

Tampa grass

Florida grass


Okay. Time to change the top post. I don't have the inclination to write something at the moment so here's a new photo for you instead. The red stayed true. I am please about that. I took it in Tampa.

I am still organizing the thousands of photos from the trip and will post more soon. I think I like photography because it's more about seeing than thinking. But either way, it's work.

My reply

tiredofthesameoldstuff:

Huffpo moderators censored my reply so, in answer to your question, here are my sources beginning with...


the comment you responded to:
“Here's a start. Go v3getarian. A recent United Nations report concluded that the meat industry causes almost 40% more greenhouse gas emissions than all the world’s transportation systems — that means all of the globe’s cars, trucks, planes and ships combined.”

Here is the page I am quoting from:
PlanetSave.com

Here is the 2010 UNEP report:

Here is a breakdown from that report:
"Agriculture, particularly meat and dairy products, accounts for 70% of global freshwater consumption, 38% of the total land use and 19% of the world's greenhouse gas emissions, says the report, which has been launched to coincide with UN World Environment day on Saturday."
guardian.co.uk

Here is a quote from Dr Rajendra Pachauri elaborating on that report. He is chair of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which last year earned a joint share of the Nobel Peace Prize. He recommends that people have one meat-free day a week to help tackle climate change and added that they should reduce their meat consumption even further.
guardian.co.uk

Love it or leave it

One dog's journey

Help the Humane Society win this cash grant and help fund their fight against dog fighting.

Sloth poo time

Potty training at the sloth orphanage in Costa Rica.

Aviarios del Caribe is in Cahuita. We passed the place a number of times when we were there but didn't visit. The Sanctuary doesn't release many back into the wild and, as I don't like zoos or prisons, plus the fact that we thought we be tripping over sloths in the jungle, we didn't go. You know how that turned out. We never laid eyes on one although I'm sure a lot of sloth eyes were on us in a dreamy sort of way. Monkey's are easy. They make lots of noise leaping around in the trees. But sloths? They don't do much of anything except look cute. Why would I want to see them?

Local news at 10:22 PM

I can't believe we are finally home. We've been bouncing around since the 18th when we left Puerto Viejo.... Florida, Nevada, Montana, Oregon, California, Oregon but tonight, finally, we are back in Nevada. Good to be home although that idea is pretty abstract at the moment.

Photo from the bus.
Lovely Costa Rica.
It looks idyllic but it's not.

In Montana we finally got to meet, cuddle and coo Baby Leo. He's now two months old but still young enough to be a real baby. They grow so fast I was worried I'd miss this part. He's a total sweetheart, very strong and cute as hell. Photos to follow of him and more of Costa Rica but not tonight. I have to sort though everything first.