Thursday, December 20, 2012

Mixed nuts and other delights

Ate a snackbar my parents sent me for Christmas.

If only they knew that the nuts would get in my teeth where my tooth used to be they might reconsider what they send me (although in their defense the packaging did say from Santa).  Probably shouldn’t have opened it before Christmas anyway.  Damn I need to get my tooth fix. Why won’t someone publish my novel? What’s with all these gray hairs suddenly? On the right is a photo of Chaser biking home to get books on Thanksgiving. What I did was watch football and drink beer and when she arrived (our house is not far from the diner) I read books with her and waited for the Himalayan grill to open up at 5pm.

What happened after we ate the  lamb mixed grill I can tell you because it is in my notes:

“Passed out in the handicapped toilet of Liberal Arts. It’s our nearest loo and we don’t like to mingle (my officemate and I) with the plebes. The cause of the unconsciousness was some kind of gastronomical disorder.” 

To give you some context my officemate was not in there with me and this episode occurred the day after Thanksgiving. Perhaps this will be the extent of my holiday blogging this year. Would you look at this cabin? It is a fire lookout. It takes about two hours to climb to the top. Chase ran it and I had to go it alone. I thought the many ravens near the summit were circling her body. She thought I had been trampled by elk. We were glad when neither of these were true. The Grand Canyon was observed from the top.

Walking alone is tiring at first - the mind if full of junk and cougar attack paranoia, but after an hour or so and some mixed nuts you start to zone into the landscape and get rather philosophical about your place in the world. Below is the kind of shots you would often see in a John Ford movie. Do you have a favorite John Ford shot? Post them here and I'll pick a winner. Winners get a postcard with a short message.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012

Rediscovery of North America

Finally a window in which to read for pleasure. I am going to review Dave Graney’s album for Steve’s Doppler too in a minute. Will also read the first chunk of Nicky Kraft’s novel.

Barry Lopez's Rediscovery of North America contemplates the consequences of Columbus's barbaric new world pillaging.The most imaginatively ludicrous of fictions cannot comprehend the level of desecration they carried out on these cultures and a beautiful environment lush with hummingbirds, jaguars, etc. Went for a walk up by the observatory, making better friends with my friends the squirrels, while thinking about what Lopez said. It is hard to conceive how amazed the Spanish must have been in those first few years by the sight of crocodiles, hummingbirds and the roseate spoonbill, the anaconda and the jaguar...Lopez writes.

The lack of charity, the mega-violence, more recently the same behavior and attitude displayed from timber industry folk until someone realized that a lot of the trees wouldn't come back. Lopez would not approve of Hoover either, might I add - built to power two cities that are as artificial and unsuitable as they come. Chase said the only way I will accompany you there to stare into the abyss on your 40th is if we can canoe it too.

I'm reading The Fatal Shore next because Lopez said to do some good and plant a tree and the only tree I ever planted was in Australia when I became a citizen. Whether I was a productive citizen is hard to say — I was a good friend to many people. I am approaching the environment with greater sensitivity these days. Before school today I told Chase who was in a rush that I was taking a shower and she said didn’t you take three yesterday, I said no only one, never more than one and she was just upset because couldn't find the lids to her jam jars.

 Now to shift gears on a very different car. Fed a sony speaker box through the hall to the kitchen to augment a normal two speaker set-up in the lounge. Works fine. Bit disturbed that when I play Senator by the Jicks, Steve's solo is not heard – meaning that the solo is in stereo and only present in the other room, while I am in the kitchen preparing sweet potato, roast of choice, 49 cents/lb last time Chase looked. Begging the question, if a Stephen Malkmus guitar solo is not heard in the kitchen than did he really do it? I turned 40 in Boulder City, Nevada, canoeing on the Colorado, ate Himalayan Grill for Thanksgiving, passed out on the toilet the next day and went into ultra-gastro panicked shock, but I am a-okay.