dead of night

Sleep my precious.

travel

Despite being on the road this week, I decided that my "travel" picture would come from the archives. Taken on a trip of people on their own trip. I suspect the elephant moves faster than some interstate traffic.

strength

I thought this might inspire me to come up with a good strength-related axiom, like "the plunger is mightier than the . . . " I don't know. And if only it were true.

I used an extra grainy development process that creates the illusion of a dirty floor.

silence

the city

This is my response to the photo friday challenge of "the city." I realize that it would be more appropriate for "the town," or "this particular town," but here it is in all its touched-up splendor. Around the corner the birds were perched tail out, waiting for the townspeople to try and pass unscathed. The one here was showing a little mercy, or maybe just playing sentry.

web master

Here's the latest addition to my collection.

real life

I went out the other day looking for pictures of real life, and I really couldn't find anything that was all that real, except for maybe reality. I mean, really. I decided that sometimes real life means having to cheat a little. So here it is, real life as I imagine it.

my middle name

Someone has asked me to use the letters of my middle name to list facts about myself. To which I replied, "damn it." But having given it a little more thought, it follows forthwith. In the photo, by the way, Hypocrisy and Vanity refer to my dogs' middle names.

Morning. There is a quote from Thoreau - "morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn within me" - which I wish to amend with "following a period to include at least one entire cup of coffee and a whole host of bodily functions."

Acrostics. This listing with the letters of a word is acrostics. I once wrote a very bad seminar paper in acrostics, and had the good fortune (or was it knowledge) to take a professor who didn't read these papers.

Tull. I've recently been getting back in touch with my progressive/folk rock roots thanks in part to youtube.

Tonsils. Still got 'em.

Haberdasher. I've often thought that if I ever opened a retail business, it should trade in something I can use.

Epicurean. The more I've read about Epicurus the more I think I must be one too. Plus, I've had some coffee called the "epicurean blend" - see "morning" above.

Wiggly. I keep getting distracted by this dog under my feet. Shame on you Wiggly Vanity!

I believe I've covered it, but I'm sure someone will let me know if I've skipped a letter.

voyeurs

It's not paranoia if you're actually being watched. I discovered a couple of spies recently, and though they live on opposite sides of the house I was tempted to introduce them to each other. But I've left them alone thinking they can't possibly be very interested in me.

comfort

Comfort is what's on the inside. The cup, that is. Still, it's nice to have a good vessel, and I like this one. The maker of the cup also has a website.

It's good I got such a large mug, because I tend to be a "glass 20 percent empty" kind of person.

the beach

Here's a picture of the Cliff House facing out over the Pacific. It's a place where you can listen to the waves crash, take in the sea air, look out over snow-capped . . . oh wait, that's bird shit.

fantasy

The fantasy here consists of 1) the thing being written, 2) that it might one day be finished (not likely), 3) that it might amount to something upon being finished (see #2), and 4) people will wash my feet with their tears at how beautiful it is.

I'm pretty sure that if someone had direct access to my stream of consiousness they would alternate between long periods of tedium (over things like fantasies about lunch) and occasional outbursts of horror (over things like fantasies about eating humans for lunch). My theory is that the written page, or photos of the written page, or any such thing, keeps that stream of consciousness from interrupting real life too abruptly.

owl redux

I put this picture up about a year ago. The other day I saw a grown-up version and wondered if this kid had moved back to the neighborhood, now about three times the size. It didn't seem to recognize me and wouldn't let me get close enough for an updated picture. But as long as there are rats to eat, the owl is welcome to stick around.

purple

Also green.

scarhip

This was a traumatic week for the above pet. Out of a sense of decorum I didn't provide a close-up of the shaved rear leg, but it was opened up a couple of days ago to remove some kind of tumor that had prevented her from walking on it. Fortunately for the dog the surgery wasn't any more expensive than euthanasia (just kidding!!). She appears to be fine (considering she had her leg cut open) and can take a joke. If she's in any pain, she doesn't appear to know it.

insignificant

I decided to post a picture of the thing that's been causing me the most grief lately (that is, the non-human that's been causing me the most grief). It even refused to be photographed properly. But I posted it to remind myself that this grief is of a fairly insignificant nature compared to other kinds.

old

Three generations of my shoes. The youngest are actually middle aged. The middle ones are old, and the oldest have started decomposing. Too bad there's no olfactory function on this blog.

oddity

This lime has lips. Chapped lips at that. Well, okay, maybe that's not so odd, but then you should have heard what it said to me.

wet

These trees are normally out of the water. That should give an idea of the amount of flooding we've had this summer.

loud

I find that the best way to attain a zen-like feel in my yard is to employ a very loud chainsaw from time to time.

vacation

Another picture from my summer vacation, taken from the dock of the bay. About the time I took this a kid yelled out "one man's trash is another man's treasure." I don't know if this was a comment on my choice of subject or the birds' taste in abandoned food.

b.a.p. part two

Here are a few more pictures of my Summer vacation, Now With Captions!

The All-Star Game Blimp.

A church done in the mission style.

It took a whole lot of trying just to get up that hill.

I wanted to get a symbol of occult superstition, but the tarot sign got in the way.

Sausalito Marina.

bay area photos

I have identified the precise thirteen stages one goes through while travelling. They are, in order:

1. anticipation
2. anxiety
3. annoyance
4. frustration
5. fatigue
6. odor detection
7. claustrophobia
8. rage
9. turret syndrome
10. diarrhea
11. faith
12. halitosis
13. relief

After that you're where you want to be, and the fun begins. Here are a few pictures of said fun.

gray

To paraphrase Karen Carpenter: rainy days and mushrooms aaaaalways get me-ee down. Except for the mushrooms. And rainy days in July aren't such a bad thing either, relatively speaking.

Here are other people's pictures of gray.

man versus nature

Before:

After:

In your face, nature!

dream

This should be fairly self-explanatory.

oh, possom

"When threatened or harmed, they will 'play possum', mimicking the appearance and smell of a sick or dead animal. The lips are drawn back, teeth are bared, saliva foams around the mouth, and a foul-smelling fluid is secreted from the anal glands."

I know just how they feel.

axioms

"A watched pot never boils," is how the saying goes. This afternoon I put that to the test. Of course, I gave up watching eventually because it's so painfully boring, but I do believe that an empirical study of the claim would yield it a clear falsehood. Therefore, I submit that the saying be changed to the following:

"Waiting for water to boil is time misspent, unless you're into that kind of thing, in which case 'whatever floats your boat,' figuratively speaking. Such activity may also be considered fruitful in the service of scientific inquiry."

My water did eventually boil, and here's a little of what came as a result:

It's tortellini, by the way, and despite appearances, worth waiting for the water to boil.

purity

This is my first tomato of the year. It may not seem like much of an accomplishment, but considering the competition I have with various rodents, I'm very pleased with it. I should say "was" pleased, since this photo is pre-consumption.

Here are other people's pictures depicting purity.

how I see myself

This photo assignment was almost as painful for me to realize as it is for you to look at. If someone asks me how I see myself, the answer's going to depend on what day it is. Today, I felt like a problem child.

memory

There's a mnemonic phrase to help identify poisonous snakes, but like many of these phrases, I can never remember how it goes. "Black and yellow . . . " Then what? "Don't worry about it?" "It will kill you?" I think it's supposed to rhyme, and that the last word is "fellow," but that didn't inspire enough confidence to befriend this one.

Research tells me this is a black-neck garter snake and harmless. Black and yellow, and I still have no inclination to touch it.

large

Large is relative. For example, compared to someone who eats this every day, I might not be large.


P.S. I feel compelled to report that I shared some with the dogs.

phasmatodia

I've only just discovered that there's another name for walking sticks. This one, apparently doing a Mick Jagger impersonation, came along just about when Spring did. The screen door stays dirty for all four seasons.

amber

I made this beer pose for far too long.

More pictures of amber.

smoke

I found this picture during a fit of house cleaning. I think I took it about twenty years ago in the house I grew up in, shortly after one of my dad's poker games. True, there's not a lot of smoke in the picture, but if it were scratch-n-sniff you'd know what the air quality was like. Plus, dig those funky ashtrays.

relaxation

This is a contribution for photo friday. It is a reenactment of relaxation. Actual relaxation does not involve hopping in and out of a hammock between clicks of the shutter.

It was even harder trying to reenact relaxing in the hot tub. Not only did I fail to get a decent picture, I also had too much of some chemical. I won't go into detail except to say, "ouch."

But when I do relax, it might look like the above photo. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.

the country

During my most recent drive through the country, the most interesting thing I encountered was this llama trying to join the herd.

Of course, this time of year there are always wildflowers to be seen.

the blues

This photo of a mural has been "blued up" a little. Here are more pictures of the blues.

Here's where to find the blues.

life in the civilized world

Since my photo uploading capabilities are currently compromised, I’m left with nothing but to tell this story about an event from yesterday that I was intimately involved with. Certain parts of the story can be characterized as “dramatization.”

I was walking in the park as I often do on a nice day. A man approached me from down the trail. We exchanged greetings. I nodded and said “hello.” His words came out as “hi-do.” I believe he intended something more along the lines of “how-do,” an awkward enough expression, but balked, stumbling instead into this mutant greeting.

After we passed I felt certain of his shame and embarrassment. I know something about the regrets one can have upon an unexpected vocal or cognitive spasm. A grocery clerk says “thank you” and I reply “you too.” Or I respond to a greeting with an attempt to make a smile audible, which forces something from my nose. My psyche winces as I wish I could renegotiate that instance. The order of things is momentarily torn asunder.

But I handled yesterday’s exchange with poise and precision. You see, as a frequent walker, I’ve developed an impressive catalogue of greetings for passers-by. In a case like this, when there is well-defined eye-contact, a solid nod and clearly audible “hello” is most efficient. Sometimes, when the approaching party appears to anticipate my arrival over the course of, say, forty feet, I will offer a “how’s-it-going” or “you-doin’-alright?” In such a case, I allow myself room for improvisation. They may speak first – a potential problem, depending largely on the absurdity of their utterance, but less threatening now that I’ve garnered valuable experience.

Virtually every greeting includes head movement and a gentle wave. With joggers and cyclists this works best unaccompanied by sound. My right arm bends at the elbow, the palm of my hand is slightly exposed, and the two longer fingers extend more fully than the rest. Ask yourself how Jesus would wave. It communicates that I am unarmed, that I mean no harm, and that I, like them, am a meek traveler on this narrow path. I wish them well, and I welcome their well-wishes.

It also communicates that the hand I am showing them is what I will use to constrict their larynx should they turn out to be a hostile predator. I am also capable of the old knee to the groin should it come to that.

A greeting, then, should be the perfect balance of friendliness, caution, fearlessness, solitude, and single-mindedness. For the record, the perfect balance is 20% friendliness, 12% caution, 23% fearlessness, 32% solitude, and the rest single-mindedness.

I must confess at this point that I have heretofore withheld a crucial element to the story. There is, alas, a history behind the meeting I had with this stranger. It goes back as far as, oh, twenty minutes prior. At one point I was actually behind this man. I was moving along at my usual pace, one required for a decent workout, but not manic.

Ideally, everything on the trail moves in harmony. Joggers pass walkers, cyclists pass joggers, and nobody has to deal with anyone else for too long. Imagine walker A leaves point X at 1:00 PM. Walker B leaves point X at 1:15. Walker B should remain roughly 15 minutes behind walker A through the duration of the walk with only slight moderation in distance. Well, that gets ruined if walker A should turn out to be a lollygagger. If walker A is a dim-witted sloth and walker B happens to be a normal person, then walker B is going to have a perfectly fine walk ruined, and will engender feelings of rage toward walker A, that lazy slack-monkey.

As I was walking along yesterday, I saw that I was gradually approaching this man. I had to make up my mind whether to shuffle my feet and stay equidistant behind him, or pick up the pace a little so as to smooth the eventual passing, despite the discomfort of prolonged proximity it was bound to bring each of us.

My decision was facilitated when he pulled out his cell phone. I knew, first, that he wasn’t likely to speed up anytime soon, and second, that if I had to wait behind someone on a cell phone, I would be tempted to stone him. So I increased speed, moved to the left, and got my pass on. Since he was on the phone I did not interact with him. My only concession to his existence was the berth I gave him. I am, after all, decent.

I also listened to his conversation. He seemed to be bragging about some deal he had brokered earlier in the day. This is important to the story. He was apparently talking to some woman he would be with later. His wife, perhaps. They might celebrate, but neither seemed particularly hungry. Eventually, the whole sordid conversation faded behind me.

Minutes later, alone, I turned around at my “turnaround,” knowing that my trip back to point X would likely involve repeat encounters. Sure enough, here comes Mr. Dealbroker from around the corner, now with his shirt back on (thank God).

From a distance I think I recognize him as a long-time nemesis: The-Guy-Who-Never-Acknowledges-Me. When I’d passed from behind I hadn’t looked at his face and I hadn’t made that connection. But now it looks like him, the surly guy who behaves as if the intensity of his shuffling is too important to be interrupted by a simple act of humanity.

My eyes turn to the ground; my mind reviews proper procedure for administering the old knee to the groin.

But as I look up again I see it is not my nemesis after all. It is a friendly enough face, ruddy from a hard day of brokering, phone talking, and sauntering. He means no harm or disrespect.

“Hello.”
“Hi . . . do.”

Sure, I feel superior. Why wouldn’t I? But I feel compassion as well. I understand the wound this must have caused him and the lingering self-loathing. Perhaps he will unburden himself to an understanding wife. His shame might fade, and his embarrassment might be soothed by the relative comforts of his life. And perhaps someday there will come a chance for redemption.

waterfront property

Anyone who's been to my house has seen the dry creek bed in my back yard. Well, this is what it looked like a week ago when we were hit by flash flooding.

Coming soon: snow. You think I'm kidding? (I just have to get my camera to work again).