anima

If I were a girl I'd like to be named after a flower, like Rose or Iris or Spiderwort.

a thrill a minute

I've been watching the show "24." So far in this season's 24 hour time frame, there have been 32 terrorist attacks thwarted by the same guy, a hostage crisis involving the president whose husband is in the hospital for something everyone's forgotten about because it happened 7 hours ago, commercials featuring the former president who was assassinated around season four, and a whole lotta torture goin on. Also, Jon Voigt has become Dr. Evil.

So here's the plot line I'm proposing for next season, inspired by real events in a 24 hour period. Sleeping, guarding the food bowl with your sleeping body, eating, going outside between meals and naps, and more sleeping. Sometimes intense displays of frenzied happiness. The dramatic tension will be built by standing in front of the door waiting for someone to open it. Will it be opened in time? Stay tuned.

frolicking on a spring day . . .

. . . like a filthy rodent.

join the cause

I set for myself the task of taking a picture of a shrug and trying to make it slightly interesting. The challenges included using a model whose face diminished the aesthetics of the picture, and the fact that the model wore a hoody, so that a wide shot made it look more like a picture of someone performing the Eucharist. So I'm left with a picture needing an explanation, and the hope that most people viewing like orange.

But the task was in support of a much more urgent action. Lately I've noticed people putting the gesture above into a printed utterance: meh. At first I thought it was idiosyncratic of a friend, then another friend. But now I see it is ubiquitous, the canonical spelling of a sound people make as shorthand for "whatever" or "I will now stop thinking about this particular problem that only marginally concerns me" or "it is out of my hands and I surrender to greater powers." Or whatever.

Since the first time I saw the word in print I was convinced that it represented no sound that people actually make. If it does, then it is the sound Jack Lemon made in The Odd Couple when he had to clear his sinus passages. Hilarious, by the way. But not a sound someone would make casually, which means it shouldn't be associated with a shrug.

Therefore, I call upon all phonetically responsible people to join me in rejecting this growing threat, and heretofore adopt as standard and correct a new spelling, accurate, clear, and universal:

Ehnngh.

Whatever. I will now google the newest word in the language.

campus life

This poster advertises some on-campus apartments where I work. Since I've seen that same look walking into my class ten minutes late, I'm inclined to rewrite the ad as "lazy ass? no worries! nobody gives a damn!"

The school is frequently updating its slogans. The one I've always been tempted to suggest is a line from a Frank Zappa song: "Be a loyal plastic robot for a world that doesn't care."

self-portrait as character in a john cassavetes movie

I really like and respect John Cassavetes. Unfortunately, I think age is making it harder for me to deal with the emotional demands his movies can sometimes make. Just to prepare for this picture, for instance, I had to talk a lot, cry, laugh, roll around on the floor, talk about why I did it, cry, scream, get slapped, take a sedative, pout, cry, laugh maniacally, get rejected, try to tear someone's hair out, take sedatives with whiskey, almost die, get hugged by someone who doesn't really love me, and then sit pensively as if accepting the inevitable pain that life has to offer. Then I took a few pictures and went off to work, where I generally end up repeating the process.

rat patrol

If I could domesticate these it would solve some rodent problems, though I think they've had their eye on the dogs. The picture below was taken before I could figure out a setting for the camera, and eventually they each flew away.

weeds

This picture is actually about a year old, though we're beginning to see them coming up now (amazing how that works).

the crash of '09

During the last few days I spent around five hours getting tech support people from the other side of the world to talk me through my latest computer catastrophe. At one point they had me wait about 30 minutes for my new operating system to load, so I went outside to get away from it. The picture below was taken while I was waiting. I used to identify this as a red-headed woodpecker, but have since learned that it is a ladder-backed woodpecker. And I'll throw in a Chickadee picture for good measure.

Oh, you thought I meant that crash of '09.

2/5/14

No, it's not a federal holiday just yet, but on hearing that yesterday was the birthday of William Burroughs I decided to dig into the archives for this little homage.

experiment

Today I took my dogs for a walk. I walk, and they alternate between excited spasticity and contemplative sniffing of remnants from previous sojourners. During this process, it is not unusual for them to wander far in front of me, or to stray into the prickly pear patch, or saunter into the middle of the road. I decided to see whether they would come to me if I whistled a particular tune, which is presented below. They did not. It is important to note that this was no short whistle, was not lacking in passion, and included improvisational flurries inspired by the version in the video. Still, no response. I concluded that the dogs do not care for big band music.

Later I tried to get their attention by calling their names, clapping my hands loudly, yelling familiar commands, and screaming obscenities. Currently, my test results are in limbo.

1/20/09

I thought the above photo might work as a symbolic commemoration of a momentous day. I should confess though, if it's not already obvious, that I've come down with a case of telephotoitis. I hereby resolve, in the spirit of new beginnings, to try and contain myself. But not until after showing a couple more squirrel close-ups. Some things never change.

transquirrelification

This squirrel appears to be having a nut-induced vision.

I will now google the word "transquirrelification." It's apparently not in the blogger spellcheck.

the jungle in winter

Except for the bathing dove, all these pictures were taken the same morning, and include mourning dove, titmouse, house finch, goldfinch, chicadee, and cardinal. That's an inca dove taking a bath. The cardinal looks like it's spilling seed in shock.

2008

Here's a highlight of the year - visiting lake Tahoe. There were others, like seeing some family and friends I hadn't seen in a while. Still, here's hoping the new year is a good one all around. Most of us could use it.

hill country views

Above, a view with Inks Lake in the background. Below, proof that the grass is always greener on the other side of the lake.

avocado

For reasons that are no longer clear to me, I named this picture "Past, Present, Future."

closest moon of the year

Fortunately for you, I was there. Unfortunately though, I stepped on a pebble, cursed God, and the following happened. Sorry about that.

thanksgiving

It's becoming a tradition to take a sunset picture on Thanksgiving day. This one, though, is different because it features a hardcore fisherboy. There was a surprising amount of Fall color, and a scarcity of decent pictures of the color.

on squirrels and mortality

I have knowingly had direct involvement in the deaths of two squirrels. “Knowingly” is not the same as “intentionally,” but “direct involvement in the deaths of” is the same as “killed.” The first time was a blur, just sudden road-kill in my rearview mirror. I remember telling a class about it that day, and thereafter I was routinely called squirrel-killer.

That is many years past. A few months ago it happened again. I drove down a hill and hit the brakes as one darted in front of me, then I slowed again for a second, managing to avoid each (or vice-versa). I came to a complete stop when a third one ran out, but not before hearing a thud. For days I was angry at the squirrel for having put me in a position of having to kill him.

More recently I woke up in the middle of the night and listened to an anguished squeal. I knew something outside was hurting, but couldn’t tell what it was. When it stopped I heard an owl hoot while a squirrel chirped in defiance. While the evidence is limited, the image I formed was similar to the Mexican flag, except instead of an eagle and a snake it was an owl taking off with a squirrel. (In my version of the flag, the squirrel would be grasping one of my tomato plants.)

This last weekend I walked toward the edge of my yard where there is a sudden drop of about 40 feet. A squirrel fell from a tree in front of me. I chuckled at first at its apparent spasticity, but stopped when I got close to the edge and could see the ground. It looked as if the squirrel had impaled itself on a fallen branch. All I could see was a lifeless furry lump with a large bloody gash. I would have needed a closer look to know with certainty what happened, but there are limits to my curiosity.

So I find myself wondering why a shameless carnivore, one who has experienced much of the nuisance these creatures can provide a homeowner, would react with such visceral lament to their deaths. Well, I suppose they can be cute and entertaining, but I think there’s more to it than that. I think it illustrates how everyone and everything is perched at the edge of a flimsy branch and we don’t know what’s down there. We all have to cross some thoroughfare sooner or later, but the oncoming traffic doesn’t care where we need to get to.

Last winter I saw a nest slide through some branches and land on the ground, then saw a squirrel scamper off with what I assumed to be a baby bird. It was horrifying to think that my backyard had spawned some new race of hunter squirrels. When it returned for another, I ran to chastise it for its betrayal of its own instincts, but saw that it wasn’t a bird in its mouth, it was a baby squirrel being carried away to a new nest. So this is the slightly happy ending to my squirrel meditation: we’ll never run out of squirrels, no matter how often or with what creativity they abuse themselves.