also...

i almost forgot. what the hell was a brick of fruitcake doing on the hostess rack in october? october. the amount of preservative must be staggering.

victuals...

walked to the mercantile (that's the name of the store. i'm not being cute. 'tis the ol' west. shucks.) to buy an over priced bottle of vanilla extract. upon entering we espied the hostess baked goods rack. i turned my attention to the task at hand. someone nudged me. it was the sister. "put out your hand," she says. "what? why?" "put out your hand. set that stuff down. are you ready?" "i guess." (putting out paw.) i saw that she was putting what appeared to be a hostess product into my palm. it should have been cake weight. but no. incongruous. "what is this?" but then i saw the embedded food-dyed nuggets. fruitcake. a hostess ingot of fruit cake. sure, i know, it's been said before. fruitcake is hard. dense. the butt of yuletide jokes. fruitcake in and of itself is no cause for astonishment. but i shake my head, hostess. for shame. anyway, i can't imagine that someone would a) actively seek out a loaf of fruitcake and b) would give first consideration to a convenience store. for that matter, i can't think why anybody would give last consideration to a convenience store when searching for fruitcake. after a hard day's fruitcaking he finds his prize in the least likely of places. no. or maybe this is hostess' shady endeavor to pedal weaponry. a fruitcake cudgel. i don't know.

in other news...

i've read today that british folk use "cheeselog" as another word for pillbug. which begs the question, what manner of cheeselogs have those poor people been consuming? if cheeselogs in britain bear any resemblence to pillbugs the state of british cuisine is far worse than i had previously suspected.

i gotta get this harmony right...

my friend gave me a mates of state album a while back. i should have inquired which. i like song 8 a lot. i like all of them a lot. but eight is great.

tired on arrivals...i've lasted longer...after this i'm over spent on the breaks....

crystallized ginger cookies still warm. and these new wavish kids. nice.

sugar to the third power...

bjork is crooning. stick around for joy. it isn't my favorite cubes album but i do like it a lot. hit. this wasn't supposed to happen....

* * *

we used to play with those ten cent scuba guys and ten cent paratroopers. the paratroopers were my favorite. diaphanous chutes. you throw them into the air and wait until they come down. in the meantime you do a lot of standing. that's how today feels. lots of standing. it's not nearly as fun standing on the ground as it is falling to the ground, i imagine. and i can't make the tea or walk around the block until the trooper lands.

* * *

my friend should be coming home from iraq soon. he may already have arrived, actually. i really want the slaughtering of folks to stop. it makes me rabid about the election. it makes me snap at my friends and family and strangers (everybody, really) in an effort to get them to vote. i don't especially enjoy the idea of a two party system. i think it's silly. but in this instance kerry is looking pretty good.

* * *

now bjork's singing about a poor nurse. great and soft. she can squirt a long way. i've never met a nurse that couldn't. i'm making that up. i don't even know what i'm saying.

* * *

rainbow(s)...

just now on the walk to buy a newsrag there was a double rainbow. if i step out the back door the sky is quite sunny. if i step out the front door i become quite moist. and there's a rainbow overhead. two. one very vivid and one arched above it that is fainter. i took a photo. if i'm feeling especially ambitious later i might post it. whooot.

i'm very cold now. my coat is damp and smells the way wool smells when dampness gets to it. a little doggy. a little mapley. my hair is soggy. you are welcome for the update.

hmm. another worldwide deluge averted. thanks, big guy.

trying it on...

cut the red-black sorghum
a bed of blonde cane

like blood-flecked afters
like the wall behind
the dog kicks her ear

fields the color in nosebleed
blunting your nails on a side stone
the itch gallops away

* * *
#2

heads of sugar
massacre blacked in

shadow rows run
dainty over pulse and root

the fault is how far
the odor moves

you pedaled wound

* * *

gah!

i see everything is aligned left. grrrr. i tried.

a few lines...

some creeley:

The Conspiracy

You send me your poems,
I'll send you mine.

Things tend to awaken
even through random communication.

Let us suddenly
proclaim spring. And jeer

at the others,
all the others.

I will send a picture too
if you will send me one of you.

* * *

The Wife

I know two women
and the one
is tangible substance,
flesh and bone.

THe other in my mind
occurs.
She keeps her strict
proportion there.

But how should I
propose to live
with two such creatures
in my bed--

or how shall he
who has a wife
yield two to one
and watch the other die.

* * *

Here

Little earth, water
walking on, sun
singing what's

to come. A
spell, a song,
things seeing,

stone? Or any
one, here, listens,
hears, as one.

* * *

Water (2)

Water drips,
a fissure of leaking
moisture spills
itself unnoticed.

What
was I looking at,
not to see
that wetness spread.

* * *

and some h.d. too:

Pear Tree

Silver dust
lifted from the earth,
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted,
O silver,
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;

no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf,
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;

O white pear,
your flower-tufts
thick on the branch
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.

* * *

Lethe

Nor skin nor hide nor fleece
Shall cover you,
Nor curtain of crimson nor fine
Shelter of cedar-wood be over you,
Nor the fir-tree
Nor the pine.

Nor sight of whin nor gorse
Nor river yew,
Nor fragrance of flowering bush,
Nor wailing of reed-bird to waken you,
Nor of linnet,
Nor of thrush.

Nor word nor touch nor sight
Of lover, you
Shall long through the night but for this:
The roll of the full tide to cover you
Without question
Without kiss.

* * *

i'm incredibly sleepy now. i hope the line breaks publish okay. it's such a feat to get anything to align correctly with blogger. gah.

btw, creeley is dreamy, i think.

news...

i just read that john peel has passed away. sad news. peel rocked.

dreamt...

there was a figure under a blanket, reclining on a sofa. i walked across the room. lifted the end of the blanket. burrowed up under it next to this figure. he was invisible. we were crying. the blanket was over our heads. it was dark. then somehow i saw him. translucent. church candle-ish. all of the features painted and back lit from somewhere inside. then he went back to being invisible. then he attached himself to my neck in a really rather nice way. afterward i went outside. rather, i found myself outside. spring. coldish. it was raining. just spitting really. barely rain. but evidence suggests i missed a downpour. the trees dripped. the moss oozed. the invisible man was speaking to me. i couldn't see him. i was getting frustrated. i wanted to sit. there was no place to sit. i walked instead. he gave directions. go this way. go that way. step over that puddle. i'm right over here. still i couldn't find him. i said, "damn this tropical weather!" which didn't make sense. dismay. it was cold rain. shy of tropic. and i woke up up before the invisible man could be found again.

it was a very vivid dream. the sort you aren't happy about leaving. the sort one isn't happy about leaving.

........

.......i just like them. that's why.

***** and these are pretty cool too. like stars. or baboon bottoms. you decide.

stop whispering, stop shouting...

tonight's musical program is all about radiohead. from pablo honey up. nobody else likes radiohead. they'd all be pleased if i'd stop listening. but it's been a while since i gave the fellas a listen. the radiohead fellas not the household ones.

enjoying elizabeth bishop. some japanese pine stuff burns. i drink sencha. feel the mercury drop outside through the window glass.

once more with feeling...

i'll try not to harp on it again. bear with me.

she said she was neutral. i can understand being undecided. that makes perfect sense. for example, not being pleased with either candidate. yes. i can see that. i'm frequently undecided. uncertain. but neutral means something else. being neutral about the consistency of peanut butter. the color of knickers. if one never eats another pb&j then it's only natural to have no strong opinion regarding nut paste. if one doesn't patronize the knicker industry that's all well and good too. who cares what color they make underpants in that case. but a democratic republic is not the same as a gooey sandwich or an undergarment. i could be wrong but i think it's apples and oranges. i can live in the u.s. without eating nut paste or wearing undies (woo!). but if i live here as a citizen then i can't live here in a perpetual state of neutrality. i am the government to some extent. and no matter who governs, consequences follow that i can't avoid. maybe she was thinking that, no matter what, things are going to be shitty down the line. why bother? maybe that's what she was thinking. i think that one's called apathy, though. but believing that the shit is coming indicates opinion not neutrality. i have no preference as to the consistency of peanut butter but suppose i have issue with the consistency of shit. i'd like to point out my druthers no matter how it comes out. i have to live with that shit.

oh, maybe she is just unhappy with the u.s. in general. sometimes i'm unhappy with us too. in that case, think of the other countries that are touched by our bloated administration and its machinations. do something nice for them. vote already.

i won't complain anymore. scout's honor.

golden compass...

"there are some themes, some subjects, too large for adult fiction; they can only be dealt with adequately in a children's book." --phillip pullman

the bohr...

"every sentence i utter must be understood not as an affirmation but as a question." ---niels bohr

mendelssohn...

looking through the trunk of the foredame's (is that a word? no matter. 'tis now.) sheet music and discovered a magazine. april 1923. quite a number of very cool patterns i'd give my incisors to mail away for now. oh, it was a needlework and householder's type magazine. lots o' advertisements for oatmeal, pears' soap, fels-naptha, freckle remover, underarm protectant shields, corsets and almond face powder. the. good. old. days. apparently, sarsparilla could save the world. and here i believed it would damage my internal organs. nach.

it's a long, long way to tipperary...

i wonder how many times she played that. or who she played for. who sang to the greatest girl i know...

i also wonder why little boys stopped wearing mary janes. somehow they became too girly. the shoes, i mean. how's that? i don't know.

the sister's beau liked the sheet music trunk. found some nice old books. mendelssohn and others.

i go.

tweedy...

we talked a lot about pedestal sinks. riveting. i'm not joking. who knew there was so much about the pedestal sink? i for one did not know. i've been educated. we had thai food and caught up. we haven't seen each other in a long time. it was good. after dinner there were peppermints and promises. don't let's have so much time pass between visits etc. etc.

i think i am an inattentive friend sometimes. their children will be grown by our next visit. i need to remedy.

knitted yet another watchcap. irish tweedy yarn that i bought from an old lady knitting circle that was cleaning out their stash. brownish. quite pretty actually.

father lent to me "letters from the earth: uncensored writings by mark twain." i think the letters consist of correspondence between satan in the hot brimstoney netherworld and michael and gabriel in the paradisical vaults of heaven. we shall see.

there's a hazy layer over town right now. woodsmoke. it's quite chilly out. i like it.

gregory peck is exceedingly handsome. i've always thought that. but tonight when i was preparing to go out the sister was watching roman holiday. gregory. he of the ever-arched eyebrow. constant look of curiousity. or i don't know. what is that eyebrow saying? dunno. i'm sexy. yup. maybe that's it. or maybe: i'm sexy? dunno. dunno.

over dinner we discussed what it means when someone says "i'm neutral" in regards to the upcoming election. i don't know what that means. but i think about the pool and marco! and polo! or a good dunking and someone says "i'm switzerland" and that is supposed to be that. but fucking hell. you are still wet, my dear. you are still wet and now someone's going to piss in the water too. (or has been pissing in the pool.) good luck with that. godspeed, switzerland.

i have nothing against switzerland. only people in pools with pretend repellent. oh, and the guy with the smirk and stammer micturating in the drink for my own good. i don't like him none either.

i'm not going to police my spelling etc. be merciful.

gah...

there's a song playing that sounds like coyotes but is actually modest mouse. huh? yes, that's what i said.

we watched rosemary's baby. i do like that movie. i'm not overly fond of the name guy, though. i feel silly calling people guy. unless it's said "ghee" in which case i feel sillier. like i'm calling them yak butter. but strangly i like the sound of "ghee" better than guy. but enough of that.

i've produced another watchcap. the envy of waldo. pom-pom topping and all. will i ever wear it? stay tuned.

someone called and asked for the lady of the house. that was classy. and strange. when i said no she wasn't home he clammed up and i hung up the phone.

clearly i'm fishing for things to blog about. i'm like that guy who went to sea and struggled to catch that mighty fish and then found when he got to shore he had a fine example of fish carcass. except i don't have a fish carcass to boast of and i'm not an old man. but i like green tea and now i'll go and drink some. hope you're as relieved as i am.

glossing...

after dark the wind picked up again. it started pouring. that was right after the sister's beau and the brother discussed heads and tails and gold and the ups and downs of six monkeys. laws of averages or something. i was knitting a new blue watchcap. i wasn't following. it was stir crazy time. we were all tired of being cooped. a walk! so my sister asked if she could wear my yoda coat. giggles. yes, you can wear my yoda coat, seeing as how i can no longer wear it without the running commentary. more giggles. i was going to throw the coat away or donate it to goodwill anyhow. it looks fetching on the sister, though. but regrouping, i can't wear the coat anymore because of the unfortunate way i have of laughing sometimes. if i attempt any sort of laughter stifling i sound just like yoda. it's true. well, yoda, and also a bit like betty rubble of the flintstones (i hate that cartoon). after i have a good yoda laugh the sister's beau begins glossing a la yoda and giggling too. which makes me laugh harder. which makes me stifle more. which...well, it's a progression i won't relate in its entirety. you get the gist. oh, the sister joins in, too. it's fabulous. so, we went for a walk in the storm. i donned another hooded coat which thus clad i cannot be accused of looking yoda-ish. the walk was nice. the water beaded. i could hear it thumping on the wool awnings over my ears. i liked that. branches were strewn all over the streets. i liked that also. the wind! it rocked. and now i'll have something hot to drink.

,,,,,, .....

ps- i've left some punctuation there for you, gentle reader(s). sprinkle liberally if the absence offends. maybe i should leave one or two of these as well ;;;;;;; all better.

lead...

my nephew's first language is mandarin. he speaks english fairly well for a six year old whose first language isn't english. but at home he is mostly exposed to mandarin. my brother (his father) was telling him in english about a fishing trip that he accompanied our grandpa on when he was a boy. my brother accidentally put a snell through the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. our grandfather cut the tip of the hook off and pulled it back through his hand. a week elapsed after my brother first told the story to my nephew. without prompting my nephew asked, "da, why'd grandpa stick that hook through your hand?" poor kid. he went an entire week thinking my grandfather was some wicked child-snelling weirdo. but when my brother told me the story on the phone this afternoon i laughed something fierce.

it's still raining. there was a break this evening and we went for a walk. smelled like spikenard on h street. then gingerbread. then very terrible cheap perfume. offends mine nostrils. but it was brief. i suppose smelling bad things briefly is really not so bad.

the sister purchased halloween lights. i'm over the moon about that. i like orange a lot. the lights are orange, you see. the unfortunate part is that the lights are covered in lead. at least the packaging tells us so. and really why would it lie? that would be a silly lie on its part. i'm covered in lead. (wink). to what purpose? i just don't know. they were all of $1.99. maybe for lead covered lights we scored a bargain. it really is hard to say. in any case so long as we don't lick the electrical cord we should be okay. i'm still not comfortable with them in the house but i promise not to put them in my mouth.

i'm going to try and sleep now. counting stitches in the duvet. it's not compulsive. it's a stratagem. she's very fond of stratagems.

pale rider...

last night i taught the sister's beau how to knit. he's a quick study. this evening he has completed nearly one quarter of a 2 by 2 ribbed scarf. i'm so proud. seriously. it's the cutest thing.

today we walked down the firebreak road again. it was cool outdoors. stormclouds on the horizon. on our return we passed a horse pasture. a man was breaking a palomino. i explained how i used to have an aversion to pale horses thanks to that apocalyptic church film my aunt made me watch when i was ten years old. we then started talking about the series of books entitled "left behind." the sister and her beau have actually seen a set of those books.

sister: what's the main character's name?
beau: oh, it's flash mc manly man.
sister: no, it's manly crash manstone.
beau: kirk cameron is supposed to play that guy in the movie.
me: ah, kirk cameron. he was known for his dimples.
sister: now he's known for his thick neck and wrathful stare.

well, i thought it was funny. no matter.

hmm. back to the knitting. i go. ah! it's raining! yay!

catch up...

it's quite astonishing what can happen in the course of a few days. lost my job...well...hmm. lost is perhaps not the word. i had already given notice at the very end of september. i said that i could work until the last week of october. plenty of time for my employer to find a replacement. and then i asked for a day off. (i've only done this one other time. i was sick. i called and said so. i had the day off.) anyway, two days total i've asked to spend doing things other than working. and this second time that i asked i was fired. nevermind that i spent the first month of my employment working double shifts to cover for someone else and didn't have a single day off during said month (and didn't gripe about it). grr. i'm whining. yes, i would like cheese with that whine, thanks ever so much.

but! the day i was fired i spent walking along the firebreak road. gorgeous. mare's tails. the sky so fucking blue! i think it was worth it. a hereford swung her udders into a clump of red poison oak. snowberries slumped along the barbed wire. old man's beard cascading out of the oaks. hen of the woods and turkey tail imbricating the trunks. empty milkweed boats. we decided a sip of the shine would have really added a bit of polish to the day. it was the sister and her beau and me. it was a good day.

the next day we went to see canyon and bought apples. mutsu and empire. the mutsu snap upon being bitten. i dig that. and they're tasty. tart.

i made pasties and we drank cider and watched the appendices for the lord of the rings. it was unanimously held, though verbal declarations were tacitly agreed taboo, that we are nerds. any doubts were vanquished when the next movie selection materialized: league of extraordinary gentleman. and further-- i continue saying, behold nautilus! sword of the sea! and elocuting like it's 1929. i know how to party.

tonight as we were climbing the hill next to the church, after passing a big mac wrapper in the road:

sister: did you hear that destiny's child is going to be the new mc donald's spokes...person?
me: i think i've already glimpsed their destiny.
in tandem: obesity! cardiac arrest!

also tonight, i carried willie through a weed patch, an acitivity i do not particularly relish. spaniels are notorious for periodontal problems and wicked bad corpse breath. willie is incredibly cute, however. we were cutting through the weeds to avoid being run over by some crazily weilded suv. someone had just squealed away from the closed liquor stop at incredibly rapid speed. i, too, become testy when i can't get a drop of shine at 10:30 in the evening on a monday. kidding. i get testy about other things. like nearly being run over.

hmm. i've just read over this post and i've decided i watch too much t.v. already. i was afeared of that. damn.

d--- i'm reading dead souls. i've read the collected short stories of gogol but not dead souls. i'm enjoying it thoroughly. weeeee!

i go.

dishpan hands...

i brought home monster mitts. i'm going to use them for dish washing purposes. it's an experiment. kind of like this post. i'm trying to recreate the post i just wrote which i've somehow managed to lose. but yes, monster mitts. though i was told they were reptilian reptile mitts and not monster hands. show me the reptile that has hands and i'll show you a monster. i'm just sayin'.

i'm sleepy. i'll sum up. brought home the wickerman. the horror film, not the album. the price: $3.99. and brand spankin' new, too. it is my favorite non-gore horror flick. young christopher lee and that sexy dance and hex number by ingrid pitt. lots o' jumping through fire and strange fiddle playin' hebridean hippies. weee! also, evil dead 2. groovy.

tomorrow night it's jamie lee curtis in the original halloween.

i'm going to go dream about bruce campbell now. hmm. not really.

noggin...

hmm. i had better stop cropping the top of my head in photos. suspicion. the postulations. no, i haven't got horns or an extra face or googly eyes up there. honour bright. i just have a crappy grasp of photography. errm. i didn't snap this photo of meeself. it was my ma or da. must be genetic.

me. only wee. 

princes...

last night while walking the corridor i saw something by my feet. stooped. scooped. a tiny frog! pacific chorus frog (formerly known as pacific tree frog). i couldn't leave it behind because he'd surely be waffled in a most unfriendly fashion. it was dark. the people behind me wouldn't stop in time. they were talking about something very engrossing. he sat very still in my hand. i carried him palm open. almost to the olive tree and he vaulted up and out of my paw and landed wetly. i was afraid to look. resilient little shit. he hopped into a dark corner and i kept on. he didn't even water my hand. thankfully.

myshkin is the one i keep thinking about. i did enjoy that one. it's a lot to think about.

he's playing (not myshkin) the untuned pye-anna in the other room. it sounds very spooky. like a haint house. suck my breath etc. etc. i do like the sound, though. this is probably the most appropriate month for such.

demo...

he asked why i had a nail through my hair. it could hurt somebody, if you know what i mean. but rewind to the morning and i had dispensed a few squ**zes without damage. i think it will be fine.

this evening the corpse of the chicken carried through. he said, dead man walking. i was amused, kid.

at noontime there were acorns by the one-mile-bridge. a jar of cold tea and paper bags. the weather took a turn and the cool dampness vanished. it was downright hot. doffed the sweater. he gave me a copy of that album. i noticed granite chips in the dry wash. tiny arroyo.

at moments i can only remember the b-movies and how big is god? what's your major? what's he sitting on?

the answers are demonstrations. learn by doing. or something.

heartburn. that's a medical condition.

heartache. that's a conditioner.

paging. pager. pagination. if you could draw. if you had a flipbook. if it relayed. love! love! love! and pyrotechnics. yeah!

turn out your pockets. another demonstration. if.

there was one tri-colored continent. the loved ones could make a single-celled decision.

split. if you know what i mean.

tra-la...

i woke up to rain this morning. very light rain. a tease. outdoors it smelled like damp asphalt. i like that. but i was a little sad when i realized that the dampness on the ground was all that could be wrung out of the clouds. disappointing. we're in a drought here. so, so dry.

found an album tonight that has haunted my wishlist for quite a while. two discs. antidote, jenny toomey. i found it in the used section (yay!) for a third of the price. victory is mine, quoth she.

a friend offered to make me a cd. woo-hoo! i do love that. it makes me so happy. compilation/mix discs are objects of fascination. why that song? why? why begin with that tune and end with this other one? hmm. i also get a kick out of fashioning comps. yup.

will now listen to beta band, jenny toomey, k, rachel's, desmond dekker, susanna and the magical band, mary timony, mice parade.... so on and so forth. it's a musical evening.