Sun, 2 Oct 2011, 10:29 AM (-06:00)
A breeze blew over the bed early this morning. We woke up and scooted closer together to stay warm. The 100+ days and 90+ nights are evidently finally gone, just in time for October.
The Cowpen Daisies are blooming and filled with bees. A volunteer Morning Glory that I’ve been nurturing thru the parched summer (a cultivated variety of some sort that looked more like a potato at first and not so much like the invasive variety that I’m doing battle with in the backyard) has climbed into the branches of the Lacey Oak and opened its first blossom. A hawk just swooped thru the Live Oaks and Cedar Elms on the other side of the street, leading to much flapping and mayhem among the perches Bluejays and White Winged Doves. And a young squirrel sat in the front yard, uncaring of my presence, and meticulously shelled three green pecans and buried two of them in the front yards of our neighbors after finding the perfect spot for the first under Trudy’s Skullcap.
An old man I’ve seen before just walked by across the street. Beyond our clump of blooming daisies, on the sidewalk in front of Bill’s house, he limped slowly, concentrating intently on each step. His white dog pulled on the long leash well ahead of him, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, happy to be out in the cool, sunny day.
A long term forecast came out last week. What we’ve been thru for the past year might be only the beginning of a longer term drought lasting up to 2020. But let’s put that aside…
The temperatures have dropped. The sky is blue. The daisies are humming with bees. The Goldfinches are singing from their hidden perches on the treetops to houses away. And the old man and his dog have ventured outside again.
That’s good enough for me for now. I gotta go buy some seeds before I get in trouble.
Sun, 2 Oct 2011, 07:23 AM (-06:00)
1. Painting
I helped when I could, but frankly that wasn’t very often. He did all the work—taping the drywall joints, applying layer after thin layer of mud, sanding and rubbing and checking the surface closely with his hands.
He talked about his family—about his daughters, about his wife’s late night shifts at the drug store, about his mother and father years ago, about the brother he works with and his youngest brother who died tragically years ago. He talked about working in a machine shop in California. He talked about looking for work in Alaska when he was 20. And he talked about working with his father when he was young.
“My brother and I barely get half as much painting a house today as we did with my father more than twenty years ago.”
And that’s in absolute dollars no adjustment for inflation. Twenty years ago, they could make a living at it but not today. He’s looking for other work.
The bottom has fallen out.
2. Powder
Actually, the bottom has been falling for a while. But now that the middle class and white collar workers are beginning to feel the pain, the story is gaining a little more traction. Meanwhile the elites in the corridors of power and finance strategize and make their plans, oblivious to the despair about them.
Did you know that there have been protests on Wall Street in New York City, for almost two weeks? The Occupy Wall Street protesters don’t have an organized agenda or at least no clear list of concrete demands, but they are mighty angry. They, like the Tea Party, are a consequence of this despair.
They might not be well organized. They might not have leadership executing a plan, but does it ever really work that way? It might not be a powder keg, but there’s clearly a lot more powder out there than most people realize.
Sat, 24 Sep 2011, 04:50 PM (-06:00)
I stopped using Facebook regularly just a short time after I created my account. I have a philosophical problem with Facebook: it’s a walled garden that seeks to suck the remake the Internet and indeed our every social interaction into business assets.
They say that if you’re not paying for it, you are the product. But more and more, it’s not we who are the product but our every online move. Still, in spite of this low-grade whining, for a long time I have kept my account active and periodically check up on friends and family.
No more. With their latest move, I’ve had enough. I’m done.
hat tips: inessential/Brent Simmons, scripting.com/Dave Winer
Wed, 21 Sep 2011, 09:41 PM (-06:00)
We’re sitting here far back from the stage in the chairs-allowed zone. We’re waiting for Cee Lo and for Stevie after that.
But here’s the thing… Skattex. Scabex. Shrillex. Who are these guys? Over there on another stage more than a football field away, a band is playing: Skrillex. They’re way over there, yet the ground right here is throbbing and the air around us is being rent apart by their noise.
I know, I know. I have a bad attitude. I’m a grouch. An Eeyore. A dinosaur. I’m a cynical, old man who has no business being here if I’m going to act like this. But this is bad. And it’s really, really loud. And I know they don’t sound like what I’m hearing—I’ve heard their stuff online. And I can see the throngs of fans in front of the stage waving their hands in ecstasy.
All I know is this. In four more minutes, the agony will end.
Tue, 20 Sep 2011, 08:14 PM (-06:00)
At precisely the time when Black Dub was supposed to start, the guy in front of me moved stood up. He looked down at his girlfriend and up at the stage and started hooting, “Come on, guys! It’s time to start!” And at that very moment, the band came out.
They began playing and singing, and the deep bass boomed out of the speakers and thudded against my chest and made the ground rumble. I had chosen my seat well, as I was off and to the right of the stage, out of the way of the subsonic pulses.
“May be my last time, I don’t know,” they sang.
And then Trudy texted me to say she was on the way. And then I texted her that I was in front of the stage. And then I texted that I just downhill from the rock island. And then I texted that I was just off to the right. And then I texted her to say I was wearing a blue shirt and my leather hat.
A few minutes later, she walked up to where I was standing in that sea of people. She found me amidst the bobbing fans. She told me it was my hat, and we kissed and then sat and listened for a while.
It was frankly then that the festival started in earnest.
Mon, 19 Sep 2011, 10:59 PM (-06:00)
An airplane is flying overhead pulling a banner advertising a Snowball Fest in Colorado in March. The two women standing in front of me are now sitting down studying tomorrows festival lineup. Some people to my left are standing next to me in a circle laughing and talking and drinking beers. There are lines at the porta-potties under the trees in the distance to my left.
There are banners flying in the crowd: poles with all sorts of flags and shapes to make it easier for friends to find friends in this sea of people. There’s a frog and a ghost and an American flag. There are inflatable cacti and skulls and crossbones and a St. Andrew’s cross. There are balloons and streamers and when darkness comes, some of the poles will be festooned with slights.
And Young the Giant is on the stage playing their final song as the crowd is on their feet and jumping and waving and singing along.
The day has only just begun.
Mon, 19 Sep 2011, 09:45 PM (-06:00)
So I set up my chair when I get to ACL. I set up my chair far back from the AMD stage, where I can sit in middle-aged comfort and look around and take out my notebook and jot a few notes while I wait for the music to start.
And then the skies darken. And rain starts falling from the sky. And the throngs of people all over Zilker Park hold their hands up and cheer.
Because of the rain, they start cheering. Or … maybe it’s because it’s 2:00 and Young the Giant is coming on stage. No … it must be the rain. It hasn’t rained here forever, and the skies are black, and we’re all soaking wet. And all of the people around me feel that way. Or maybe they’re all cheering the band. It’s either one or the other.
Wed, 14 Sep 2011, 10:11 PM (-06:00)
I saw you walking in the dark with your dog.
I walked beside a fence with the baying neighborhood hound on the other side, and I was sure that you would hear the howling and turn to catch me following you.
I saw you walking in the orange glow of the mercury vapor lamps at the elementary school with that little black dash trotting by your side on his leash.
I followed in the darkness. And when you turned the corner, I walked thru the orange glow. Then I came to the corner where you turned, and I peered around and whistled.
You looked, but I was hidden, and you went about your business, but the dog heard that familiar sound and came running back to the corner.
And I saw your smiling face as he came. And I saw his wagging tail when he found me. And the wind blew hot nighttime air in our faces.
Tue, 13 Sep 2011, 09:12 PM (-06:00)
“So … are those special rocks?” James asked after we had been talking a while.
Trudy laughed. I smiled and looked down at my hands that were holding five rocks roughly half the size of a baseball each.
It’s a funny thing about the soccer fields, I explained. The rocks just come up out of the ground. It’s been that way ever since I’ve been here. One season the fields will be smooth with no sign of anything, and then comes summer, and the dirt dries up, and fissures open as the sun bakes down from the sky, and the rocks start appearing on the ground as if they’ve been boiling up from a simmering soup.
We stood there talking a while, James, Trudy and I, and then the dog got antsy. So we said good night to James, and began walking up the street.
“You want one of the rocks?” I asked, holding out my hand as I turned back to James.
“No thanks,” he chuckled.
I was relieved. They were special rocks, after all.
