High Plains Business Loop

2007-02-16T17:15:00.000-08:00

weekends rule YOU DON'T GOTTA DO SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOATSE AZTECS

2005-09-25T12:32:00.000-07:00

It just occured to me that the URL for the official SDSU Aztecs athletics website, goaztecs.com, is somewhat similar to the domain of the legendary yet recently-castrated webspace http://goat.cx.

Somewhat. I mean, at least if you pronounced them out loud.

CREAM OF WHAT

2005-09-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

Antique postcard of the Cream of Wheat Building, downtown Minneapolis. Cream of Wheat Building!

The interview I had on Friday went well, but the HEAD GUY who directed the interview was a douche royale who decided to eat a fucking donut while he interviewed me. It was the last interview of the afternoon, I guess he was resigned to not even attempting to give the appearance of professional consideration. I also got home to find he had left me a phone message two hours prior asking if I wouldn't mind coming in two hours earlier for convenience's sake, but he was difficult to understand because his voice sounded all mumbled and detatched, leading me to wonder if this guy has a nasty habit of stuffing his mouth with donuts every time he's trying to make formal contact with strangers. Anyway, fuck the City of San Diego and their lucrative, worthwhile "jobs." Oh, I'm just bitter.

ILE asks, "What is the most rubbish U.S. state?" I voted for Florida, but would have also voted for Indiana, might also vote for South Carolina if I had a better idea of it, wished to stick up for poor Alabama and Mississippi, and didn't feel it was right to pick on the Dakotas.

Finally found what has to be the most interesting confluence visit at the Degree Confluence Project. This one's in the Himalayas, and two dudes had to literally freeze their lips off to get there. It was worth it, though, cause they got to have yak meat and yak butter tea for breakfast every day.

THE REST OF YOUR POST-NEARLY HALF-REALIZED BIRDLIKE THOUGHTS

2005-09-12T20:46:00.000-07:00

Twilight Cat Dreaming of Flames by David Tibet

Passage from the book I'm reading currently, Women of the Forest by Yolanda and Robert Murphy, based on a 1952 ethnography of the Mundurucu people of the Tapajos river, Brazilian lowlands.

The majesty and mystery of [the Amazon basin's] raw nature are conveyed in stories told among both Brazilians and Indians of dark, bottom-less areas in the river where dwells the cobra grande, an anaconda as large as a steamboat with eyes that have a fiery glow. And the forests are populated by strange and dangerous creatures that must either be avoided or placated if man is to maintain his delicate balance with nature. The Indians have a keen sense of the tenuous quality of the relationship between human culture and the natural environment. One Mundurucu myth tells of a young man named Perisuat, who left his home and traveled through the forest for years, having remarkable encounters with the animal kingdom along the way. At the end, he returns to his village covered with insect bites and bee stings, really more animal than human, and dies shortly thereafter. There is an allegory here of man's regression from his delicately contrived cultures, of the irreversability of his progress from the natural to the human state, of the death that lies within nature. But it is an attractive regression that appeals to the atavistic tendencies in all of us. The jungle exercises a pull to enter more deeply, to penetrate beyond man into unknown wildernesses, to become unfolded in the great forests. Seemingly an impulse to set out, it is really a call to return -- back into nature, back into ourselves and our origins. It provides the realization of what, to most of urban mankind, is fantasy, and it is not adventitious that twenty years later it appears to us in retrospect as a dream.

REAL-LIFE CAREER-TYPE activity detected happening today. I talked to a lady today (on the phone) from the City of San Diego Development Services Department who wants to interview me for a paid student internship position assisting their senior environmental planners. PERFECTO! Will summon all my spirit animals for Friday morning at 9:30 AM and take them into the elevator with me to the fifth floor, where I will exit the elevator with the spirit animals and approach the desk of Tony Something Or Other, who will interview me (guided by invisible, empowering spirit animals). Little does he know that I, with the help of my excellence-granting spirit animals, will totally shred his interview to pieces and eat it for breakfast -- a good thing for me!

So I guess our president has now made the transition from awful president to total media illusion, have you heard about this? Hundreds of volunteer firefighters converged on Atlanta, and after awaiting instructions on how they would be dispatched into New Orleans to do some actual physical direct good, they finally, finally get their assignment: be used as a backdrop against which the president can make a speech. FEMA ordered them to be used as "community relations specialists," relating a mindless, useless sense of security and, I don't know, sense of purpose? to the public eye. FEMA, of course, the same organization that wasn't capable of ordering their own workers to a large dome filled with evacuees when it actually, you know, mattered.

THERE'S TROUBLE IN THE HALL AND TROUBLE UP THE STAIRS

2005-08-31T23:05:00.000-07:00

AND TROUBLE IN THE TROUBLE THAT'S TROUBLING THE AIR

Cabin at Devil's Den State Park, Arkansas (courtesy of Arkansas.com photo gallery)

My last semester as an undergraduate begins tomorrow morning. Here are the four classes I'm taking for the last time in California.

PA200 (The Urban Scene) Key issues in public administration, social policy, and city planning. Emphasis on government structure and public decision-making process, organizational behavior, effectiveness of criminal justice policies, zoning, and land use considerations.

GEOG312 (Culture Worlds) Geographical characteristics and development of major cultural realms of the world. Spatial components of contemporary conflict within and between these regions.

GEOG573 (Population and the Environment) Population distribution, growth, and characteristics as they relate to environmental degradation, both as causes and consequences. Roles of women, sustainable development, carrying capacity, optimum population, and policy initiatives in relationships between population and environment.

ANTH442 (Cultures of South America) Indian cultures in terms of origins, migration, relation to habitat, cultural variation and relevance to contemporary trends. Development of Inca civilization, the effects of the Spanish conquest and its aftermath.

TANGLEWOOD NUMBERS HERE IS WHAT I BELIEVE ABOUT YOU

2005-08-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Tanglewood Numbers, the forthcoming new record from my most favorite rock band ever, the Silver Jews, has been leaked onto the internet and is now being discussed, criticized, analyzed, made sense of by my peers. Like them, I too posess an opinion on this new collection of first-rate music songs.

The first four records David Berman made seemed to be rooted in the very precious atmospheres of the world-famous Slacker Nineties that of course Pavement was such a big advocate of and helped to cast the Silver Jews in the image they would come to be known as. But this record, for the first time, is truly different in that the music, the attitude, the approach, everything involved with making the record short of a completely new band is totally different.

There are new dimensions in Berman's singing voice all over this record that started in Bright Flight but just now are becoming truly realized. The first time I heard "Time Will Break The World" on BF I was taken aback at the grizzly, mush-mouthed, physically uncomfortable croak of Berman's on some of the lines in that song (especially "sun-shattered... HAIR") that sounded to me like pretty solid evidence that the song was recorded on the floor of the studio with Berman splayed out, fiending, vomit in his hair, twitching a little maybe. A real wreck. The song was not a hit of sunshine. But of course on side two there was hints of something a bit more uplifting, ie "Let's Not and Say We Did." Basically there started to be more modes of expression than just the same old detatched monotone of all the first couple records. David began to let his freak flag fly a little bit, it seemed.

And then on Tanglewood Numbers it seems like now he's moved from being not ashamed of it to being proud of it and what it represents about himself and all the wastoid garbage he took himself through. It sounds to me like he's gotten out of it and is now on the right "path" (whatever you want to make of that) with priorities besides being an impressive genius who must hold himself back with stunting drug abuse and a continual four-year kegger at the crack house or however he'd best describe it.

And of course there's all the music on the album, too, and what all that sounds like. "K-Hole" sounds like a entirely different band, a modern rock one with outer spacescapes and genuine "bite" (sharp angles where clumsy weathered edges would have appeared in records previous) in the context of the Silver Jews slow country blues history. "Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed" is a real honest-to-goodness rave-up that reinforces the long-lost feeling of happiness and excitement with sturdy, simplified bars of banjo and piano accentuated guitar rock. "The Farmer's Hotel" is an Edgar Allan Poe verse about an ominous stay in a ghastly hotel, almost Biblical in its lengthy wisdom. In this standout track, Berman has taken his time to allow the moral to slowly roll down to us at the end of the song, the literate devices used inside exactly as tasteful as we've come to expect from him. There are somber moments on the record but there are flippant ones too. In "Sleeping is the Only Love" Berman tells us a tiny bit about his old friend "Marc with a C" and in "I'm Getting Back (Into Getting Back Into You)" the apologetic husband re-introduces himself this time as coming equipped with a brand new point of view, "like a brown bird nesting in a Texaco sign."

TN is different; what it sounds like to me is Berman no longer hanging his head and feeling sorry for himself. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean before this record I for once certainly didn't think there was anything wrong with it. The previous formula is/was seriously sonic manna to self-defeating indie hipsters who LOVE to wallow in the angst to music that doesn't try as hard as it could.

But listening to this record a few dozen times proves that David has a new perspective on this record. He has wrangled his inner contempt and finally, finally, for the benefit of himself and all his admirers, directed it away from the self and onto external forces, be they political, cultural, whatever. He's standing up for himself. It's all over the lyrics, too:

"We've got no good will, no good will to give
to those who try to take away what we need to live"

"I saw God's shadow on this world
I could not love the world entire
There grew a desert in my mind
I took a hammer to it all"

Some people on some messageboard were comparing the new record to Stephen Malkmus's new record Face the Truth (yes he really called the record that) and asking which was better. I reasoned that Face the Truth is alright because it has "Mama" on it and I understand that Stephen Malkmus sort of apologizes in a very covert manner for being such a sarcastic twit for so many years (which is totally hilarious in a I almost feel sorry for the guy kind of way).

But Tangledwood Numerals is a superior recording to me just because I like a Berman more than a Malkmus. Malkmus looks into a lot of mirrors behind of the scenes of Truth, and this time for the purposes of serious self-evaluation and not for admiring his devastatingly handsome facial structure. And that's cool and everything, but I just prefer the way Berman looks at his in the dive bar bathroom after a long night of plugging toxins into his essence, and can't stand himself so much to the point that he has to clench his fist and strike at the mirror with a barn brawl rage, shattering the thing into spiderwebbed cracks ala comb-overed John Malkovich near the end of Being John Malkovich (which was also better than Face the Truth despite "Baby C'mon" being pretty good too).

FAKE FOOD

2005-07-23T22:03:00.000-07:00

Website with lots of fake foods you can order and not eat.

SUPPER REVIEW: RED LOBSTER

I was feeling a bit bourgeois this evening so my ladywoman and I decided to dine at the world-famous LE RED LOBSTERE in La Mesa Towne. She ordered the "seafood gumbo," which turned out to be boiled chicken in some sort of dirt gravy. The gumbo was described in the laminated menu as including andouille sausage in it, but I guess their cuisine is so fancy that they employ techniques of "subtlety," because there was a singular little slice of sausage placed on top of the soup, no larger than a wild mushroom cap.

Obviously, we were left with no choice but to spit in our server's face and burn the restraunt to the ground. The blood-curdling screams of the other diners did get quite intense near the end of the horrible inferno, but I feel good having stuck up for the principle of the thing.

I ordered the Admiral's Feast, which is an assortment of various batter-fried sea meats served with a pathetic little pile of reheated vegetables (baby carrots and sauteed squash) that I could only imagine were unhappily ladled onto my plate from some neglected, lonely bucket in some stainless steel corner of the cook's quarters.

As expected, the bounty of deepfried shrimp and scallops were exquisite for the first three minutes, before suddenly becoming inexplicably disgusting.

The biscuits, however, were hot and fresh. Biscuits, you get an A+.

SMOKING CATS CASH THEIR FIRST NEW PAYCHECK AND GO BUY A WIRELESS ROUTER THAT WAS ON SALE FOR ONLY $65.00 -- HEY, THAT'S A PRETTY GOOD DEAL!

2005-07-23T15:01:00.000-07:00

Hi so I'm posting on my blog, High Plains Business Loop, again so that means I found a job. The job I found is as a recruiter for a La Jolla market research firm. They are paying me $9/hour to call folks from their consumer database and screen them to see if they qualify for focus groups. I ask them questions like, "do you wear contact lenses?" and if they do I ask them "okay, and are you a male between the ages of 18 and 29?" and if they say they are I say "alright, and do you regularily participate in outdoor sports or exercise activities?" and if they tell me they do I respond with "I see, and how many hours per week do you estimate you participate in these activities" and so on and so forth until, hopefully, I've booked several of them for the study and mail them out a postcard with directions to our office and then maybe go take a break in the breakroom or do some data entry or call moms about organic baby food brands they prefer or talk to people who have a total annual household income of $40,000-$65,000 if they purchase fruit-blended smoothie beverages from speciality shops or pre-made ones from grocery stores more often and if the former option, could they please tell me which.

They have me working 4o hours a week and I get paid lunches and breaks, so the money is adequate. The 60+-minute commute from my parents' Caucasian Palace at the Homeowner's Association Ranch to the swanky white-collar glitz of UTC is a real fly in my Pellegrino Sparkling Water (that is an obtuse analogy for an unpleasant facet of my new job) but I needed the money and now I have the money, so I'm not complaining, even though I just did.

And like I said, I went to Fry's this A.M. and purchased a great new wireless router for my Cyberwebbery. I'm typing this on my lap-top in the living room and preparing to transmit to the Cyberweb wirelessly. INCREDIBLE. Like McDonalds, I'm lovin' it.

There is also new and cool stuff to talk about, like the new Silver Jews album or the free passes to a waterpark in Irvine Melissa scored for us, and things like that or not at all like that, but I will discuss it later because my computer battery is all like "help me I am dying please save work immediately" so bye

SMOKING CATS STUB OUT THEIR CIGARETTE BUTTS AND PICK UP A COPY OF THE CLASSIFIEDS SECTION

2005-07-11T12:16:00.000-07:00

Hi friends. I'm not going to post in this blog any longer until I can find a job. My worker's comp checks finally dried up last week, and though I've been looking for real income (the kind that isn't simply a pleasant surprise every two weeks) for a while now, NOW now is the time to really get moving on that so I don't ruin my life and the lives of everyone around me. So, nose the grindstone. Seriously. I didn't even put a nice picture up to accompany this entry, so into that grindstone my nose is.

CATS SMOKING

2005-06-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

TURBOT: SHELLFISH, WATERCHESTNUTS, HYACINTH VAPOR

2005-06-28T12:40:00.000-07:00

Have a look at some pictures of the relentless string of hypermodernist cuisine from Chicago's Alinea restaurant opening.

Here's the 28-course meal that was served:

1. PB+J grape, peanut, bread
2. SOUR CREAM smoked salmon, sorrel, star anise
3. DUNGENESS CRAB raw parsnip, young coconut, cashews
4. HEART OF PALM in five sections
5. ASPARAGUS caramelized dairy, egg, bonito
6. TURBOT shellfish, waterchestnuts, hyacinth vapor
7. EGGPLANT cobia, crystaline florettes, radish pods
8. FRIED BREAD chocolate, adjukura, oregano
9. FROG LEGS spring lettuces, paprika, morels
10. BEEF flavors of A-1
11. HAZELNUT PUREE capsule of savory granola, curry
12. PROSCIUTTO passionfruit, zuta levana
13. FINGER LIMES olive oil, dissolving eucalyptus
14. MELON gelled rose water, horseradish
15. ENGLISH PEAS frozen lemon, yogurt, shiso
16. FOIE GRAS rhubarb, sweet onion, walnut
17. BURNT ORANGE avocado, picholine olives
18. BROCCOLI STEM grapefruit, wild steelhead roe
19. SNAPPER yuba, heavily toasted sesame, cucumber
20. LAMB NECK sunflower seeds, kola nu, porcinis
21. ARTICHOKE fonds d'artichauts cussy #3970
22. BISON beets, blueberries, smoking cinnamon
23. BACON butterscotch, apple, thyme
24. PINEAPPLE angelica branch, iranian pistachios
25. SASSAFRAS CREAM encapsulated in mandarin ice
26. STRAWBERRIES argan, lemon verbenna
27. LIQUID CHOCOLATE milk, black licorice, banana
28. SPONGE CAKE tonka bean, vanilla fragrance

NEW NEIL HAMBURGER JOKE

2005-06-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

Q: Why did Robert Redford stick his cock in a jar of Newman’s Own spaghetti sauce?

A: Because Robert Redford and Paul Newman have been friends for 40 years. He’d never use a competitor’s product.

THOU SHALT HEREFORTH BE KNOWN AS NOODLES JEFFERSON

2005-06-16T16:03:00.000-07:00

Sandow Birk, Heart Attack from Leading Causes of Death in America, etching, 2005. More here.

Interview with Maria Schnieder, who you know as The Onion's Herbert Kornfeld and Jean Teasdale.

One of the Jean Teasdale's columns, "With Friends Like These" stood apart from the rest for me, simply because she came the closest to identifying herself as the object of satire. She befriends these pop-culture savvy and sarcastic college students and then she's mortified when she realizes that they are documenting her life in order to make fun of her. Was that a moment of guilt or self-parody?
I came up with these two columns about how Jean meets these really sarcastic college students with a postmodern sensibility, completely mocking Jean behind her back, getting kitschy pleasure out of her columns, and she completely misinterprets that. I guess I wrote it because even though I stick it to Jean a lot, I'm a little bit protective of her. I wanted to make fun of the people who make of fun of Jean. I know that's a bit schizophrenic. Directed toward the type of audience that is attracted to her column, I wanted to point out, "Hey, they're kind of jerks, too."

!!!!!!!

In other news, picnic a success!

YOU'RE NOT REALLY A COAL MINER

2005-06-10T09:14:00.000-07:00

Antique Creek Chub fishing lure.

Insults for Will Oldham, from I Love Music.

"More like Bonnie 'Princess' Billie!"
"Look, everyone, the Continental Fop!"
"I liked one of your albums, though, for reals: Ease On Down the Choad."
Pale-Ass Brothers!
There Is No One What Will LISTEN to you!
I See A DORKness.
I see the Darkness and they're miles in front of me in musical ability and songwriting form
"you will miss my cash when I burn copies of your CD instead of buying them!"
Hey Will Oldham, you smell like OLD HAM!
poor mumbling dumdum. you should be eating oatmeal in the woods
sometimes you fuck the mountain, sometimes the mountain fucks you.
Way to sing, no-hair.
Hey, sweet trucker cap, ponch.
you wish you were a cinematographer
Agnes is the Queen of Sorrow because she had to listen to one of your fucking records, huh?
EVERYONE has loved your sister Lisa most of all.
You're not really a coal miner!
Oh, the Joya pressing stop when one of your songs comes on.
Hey Will! The Civil War called. Yeah, they want their visual meme back.

MILTON FRIEDMAN SEZ 'STAY HIGH TIL U DIE LOL'

2005-06-04T12:11:00.000-07:00

Mr. Friedman, high as fuck.

Forbes Magazine reports: Milton Friedman leads a list of more than 500 economists from around the U.S. who today will publicly endorse a Harvard University economist's report on the costs of marijuana prohibition and the potential revenue gains from the U.S. government instead legalizing it and taxing its sale. Ending prohibition enforcement would save $7.7 billion in combined state and federal spending, the report says, while taxation would yield up to $6.2 billion a year.

The report, "The Budgetary Implications of Marijuana Prohibition," (available at prohibitioncosts.org) was written by Jeffrey A. Miron, a professor at Harvard , and largely paid for by the Marijuana Policy Project (MPP), a Washington, D.C., group advocating the review and liberalization of marijuana laws.

"There is no logical basis for the prohibition of marijuana," the economist says, "$7.7 billion is a lot of money, but that is one of the lesser evils. Our failure to successfully enforce these laws is responsible for the deaths of thousands of people in Colombia. I haven't even included the harm to young people. It's absolutely disgraceful to think of picking up a 22-year-old for smoking pot. More disgraceful is the denial of marijuana for medical purposes."

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL IS A TRAIN

2005-06-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

From an interview with Unwound's Justin Trosper regarding what he considered to be the most miserable show in the band's touring history.

The first national tour was in the fall of 91. Maybe the most weirdest show was in Naperville, Ill (next to Aurora, home of Wayne's World). I knew from setting it up that it was potentially dodgy from the slurred rambling phone interactions I had. We met the guy who set up the show (I cant even use the term "promoter" loosely here) at a convenience store parking lot so they could get some beer, then proceeded to the place of the show ("venue"), which was a rambler-style house in a cul-de-sac. So far everything is fine. Then we loaded the equipment into the basement which was a smelly carpeted disgusting punk rock hovel. We began to worry that no one would come after the guy started to call his friends to tell them about the show. He was pretty sure some of them were coming, but if not, it would be cool to just jam out and drink beer. Immediately I began to think of anybody I might know in Chicago that could save us. I asked if I could use the phone and ventured upstairs to a chorus of yapping vicious chihuahuas and his strung out pregnant sister. I couldn't get a hold of anyone. We gathered downstairs on one couch while the guy and a couple of his friends sat on another. He warned us "Oh yeah, probably don't sit there cuz that's where Dougie puked." Then added, "Do you guys want a bong hit?" I couldn't decide if it was scarier to stay in the basement or go back upstairs to use the phone. His band was called Pen and they were set to play first. I don't recall what they sounded like but could confidently guess that it fell under the category of "shit-punk." Although we knew they wouldn't care for us much we also sensed that they would be polite enough to not beat us up afterwards so we played our hearts out. We really won them over after playing Flipper and Black Flag covers. They bought tons of merchandise and we probably made more money there than some of the other shows even though there were only four or five guys in attendance. I finally got a hold of somebody in Chicago so that we could go stay somewhere other than Naperville. I think they were a little lonely, "Are you sure you don't want to stay here? There's plenty of room here in the basement, and I can fix you some SHIT up in the morning!"

SKUNK UNDER MY HOUSE!

2005-06-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

Not long after I hopped onto the sidewalk to take my evening stroll tonight, I spied two SKUNKS! engaged in some sort of social face-off between my house and our neighbors'. Immediately, I ran inside to grab my flashlight and the camera, and when I came back outside I witnessed them escape to an opening on the side of the house that led under the floorboards. I then stood guard outside it, flashlight and camera in hand, waiting like a maniac for the SKUNKS! to pop their SKUNK! heads out so I could take a picture. Ten minutes later I found myself face-to-face with the treacherous beast. I managed to snap this photograph before the awful creature leaped up into the air and struck me down, as the other SKUNK emerged from its lair. They worked together for what seemed an eternity, clawing my face to shreds and feasting on my insides.

FRESH BREAST MILK EXTINGUISHES FLAMING AMPUTEE VETERAN ON CONEY ISLAND BUS, PUNK YOUTHS TO BLAME

2005-05-28T11:08:00.000-07:00

Hans Hoffman, Cascade, 1960

America, I kiss your fucking weird face.

A real-life supermom used a bottle of breast milk to douse an amputee yesterday after his wheelchair was set ablaze by punks on a Staten Island bus, cops said.
The nursing mother's fast actions helped save Vietnam vet Francis Abrams, 57, from becoming a human torch, and stopped the fire from engulfing the S-54 bus, police and the victim said.
"It was put out with breast milk," said a police source, who was awed by the bizarre incident that happened just after 11 a.m.
Abrams, who lost his left leg in Vietnam, said he was minding his own business as he rode the city bus to the Staten Island Mall to buy a video of "The Exorcist."
Just after he boarded the bus, three teens playing hooky from Tottenville High School pulled a cruel prank, cops said.
"They set my chair on fire," an angry Abrams said last night, refusing to allow photographers to take pictures of his face. "They thought it was a joke."
Cops said the teens used a cigarette lighter to ignite a plastic bag hanging from the back of Abrams' motorized wheelchair.
The flames quickly engulfed the bag, containing the Greek classics "Odyssey" and "Iliad."
As the fire spread to Abrams' jacket, he screamed: "Water!"
As her baby looked on, the new mom and a friend sprang into the action, dousing the fire with a freshly pumped bottle of breast milk and another bottle of water, authorities said.
The back of Abrams' wheelchair was slightly melted by the fire, but he was not harmed thanks to the nursing mother.
"I said, 'Thank you,'" Abrams said.
Asked about the fire being extinguished with breast milk, Abrams bristled, "I don't care. It doesn't bother me."

The Hot Snakes website -- now updated with a mighty pleasing Australian/European tour map. Great band, too! As Yan from Yan Can Cook might remark about a carmelized pork loin with ginger and watercress, "look how beautiful."

MEMORIALIZE EVERYTHING AND ENJOY A MEMORABLE WORLD

2005-05-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

A bald eagle being force-fed through a feeding tube

My sister emailed me this article from the Daily Koz: One Hundred Names You Won't Hear This Memorial Day.

And here's some stats from this month's Harper's Index:

Annual cost of all sixteen U.N. peacekeeping missions currently underway : $3,870,000,000
Monthly cost of the U.S. occupation of Iraq : $4,100,000,000
Revenue from Iraqi oil sales that the CPA could not account for, according to a 2005 audit : $8,800,000,000
Estimated number of U.S. intelligence reports on Iraq that were based on a single defector : 100
Number of times the defector had ever been interviewed by U.S. intelligence agents : 0
Minimum number of newspapers in which Denmark posted ads this year seeking antiterrorist spies : 3
Percentage of Iceland residents who took out an ad this winter apologizing for Icelandic support of the Iraq war : 1.5
Number of books published last year in Iceland and the United States, respectively, per 100,000 residents : 212, 63
Number of books registered at BookCrossing.com, so the books can be left in public places and found by others : 1,935,000
Number of the books left behind that have been from the Left Behind series : 2,047
Rank, on the Turkish bestseller list in March, of a thriller depicting a U.S. invasion of Turkey : 1
Rank of Mein Kampf : 2
Chance that a resident of the former East Germany wants the Berlin Wall back : 1 in 8
Number of lines that Italy's largest cellular operator has set aside for government eavesdropping : 5,000
Number of these that were in use in March : 5,000
Chance that a Russian scientist says he or she would consider working for North Korea : 1 in 7
Year by which every U.S. nuclear weapon will have reached the end of its original design life : 2014 (see page 56)
Number of merit badges in Safety awarded to Boy Scouts since 2001 : 15,417
Number in Shotgun Shooting : 65,249
Percentage of the world's Anglican bishops that have condemned the U.S. Episcopal Church's ordination of a gay bishop : 34
Number of U.S. Episcopal churches that are now affiliated with dioceses in Rwanda or Uganda : 38
Number of federal benefits in the United States that are tied directly to marriage : 1,138
Factor by which the average viral load in "socially inhibited" HIV+ men exceeds that in "outgoing" men, in a UCLA study : 8
Average percentage by which the power of the male heart declines between the ages of 18 and 75 : 20
Average percentage by which the female heart does : 0
Ratio of women to men killed in last December's tsunami, in a survey of eight Indonesian villages : 3:1
Number of times that major U.S. newspapers have used the term "feeding tube" since January : 647
Number of times they had used the term in the previous five years : 483
Years after Bob Marley's death that the BBC, in April, requested an interview with him : 24
Average number of hours it takes to read a weekday Washington Post out loud : 28
Projected year by which U.S. Treasury bonds will sink to junk status, on current fiscal policy : 2026 (see page 39)
Amount for which George W. Bush successfully sued Enterprise Rent-A-Car in 1999 : $2,500
Percentage of Americans who say that driving a fuel-efficient car is an act of patriotism : 66
Percentage of NASCAR fans who say this : 67
Portion of the world's motor vehicles that are in China : 1/17
Portion of the world's annual traffic fatalities that are : 115
Percentage change since 1994 in treatment for male infertility and erectile dysfunction in Shanghai : +l00
Amount a Chinese online gamer made last year by selling a virtual sword he had borrowed from a friend : $850
Months later that the friend retaliated by stabbing him to death with a real knife : 6

THE WILD & DOMESTICATED DESERT DOG THAT STANDS TO FACE THE SUNSET

2005-05-23T12:25:00.000-07:00

Hike review: San Elijo Lagoon, Solana Beach, CA. 5/21/05.

Went out Saturday morning for a refreshing jaunt into coastal California with my friend Steven. The trail begins at a roadside clearing in Rancho Santa Fe and meanders westward to the Pacific Ocean through a muddy eucalyptus grove, parallel to a marsh, under Interstate 5, over some wooden planks, and across some concrete rocks, all the while passing toyon bushes, dry yellow grasses, mustard plants, reeds, sedges, those little rattler pod plants I can't identify, those strange brown bushes that grow plastic orange angel hair pasta on the top, a singular bristlecone pine living in thick beach sand, alligator lizards, bleached white egrets, heard-but-not-seen owls, and snail trails making a reflective silver garland on the bunches of miner's lettuce that sprange up from last month's rains, which we picked and took a few bites of.

Later on that day we had a BBQ at Steven's house, where we cooked us some marinated porkchops topped with a mango, onion, and jalapeno compote, mushrooms sauteed in butter, lemon, and lime, grilled green onions, and bell peppers -- both red and green. Also, beer.

MY ART SUPPLIER WROTE "RANDOM RULES"

2005-05-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

I just found out that David Berman from the Silver Jews is mailing me one of the 15 rejected 12x12 cover art paintings that Steve Keene gave to him for The Arizona Record in 1993, exactly 15 minutes before both of them blasted into super-stardom. One of the many, many, many perks of being an obsessive net stalker to indie rock hot shots.

All I know about the painting is that it's a western scene, it will arrive to me in a cardboard tube, Berman himself posted notice of his sale on the Jews Bulletin Board, and I supplied the Drag City recording artist with $10 for shipping and handling.

THE ZOOMQUILT

2005-05-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

Talking Trees by J. Lha

In the continuing effort to bring you only the finest in dreamlike, hallucinatory, psychedelic arts, specifically of the Flash movie variety that you can either pretend to be on LSD while you watch or simply be on LSD while you watch, here is a very interesting art project called THE ZOOMQUILT that some people (Austrians?) put together. You will see the result is a stitchless tunnel that unfolds like a Mobius Strip rollercoaster that you infinitely zoom into. 100% free, no obligation to buy. Comes with complimentary "cubist light-rail transit through spooky woods" theme.

LIST FEVER!

2005-05-12T23:55:00.000-07:00

Recently Appointed US Ambassador to the UN, John Bolton

Too much relevance and coherence and interestingnessity on HPBL lately. Mitigative measures required. E! TV and USA Today knows what a good idea would be. After all, it's SWEEPS WEEK. They know that a smart technique would be lists. So here are lists.

Grocery Items I Bought Tonight

apples
mangoes
bok choy
a white onion
mushrooms
smoked turkey sausage
pork chorizo
imitation crabmeat
pulparindo
mexican ice cream bars
dole spring mix salad bags (3)
corn tostada shells
donuts
frozen vegetable lasagna
2% milk
frosted mini-wheats
canned black olives
pepperocinis
orange juice
12 pack milwaukee-style beer
small bag wasabi funyons (wasabi funyons!)

Names of The Two Felt Chicks and Small Plastic Frog and Plastic Octopus That Sit Atop My Bookcase

Butter
Rainbow
Leopold
Uno

Celebrities and/or Fictional Characters Recent Appointed US Ambassador to the UN John Bolton Kinda Looks Like

Fred Goldman
Rollie Fingers
Ron Burgundy
Bernie

DATURA SIGHTING!

2005-05-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

Hark! For I have finally spied a datura meteloides, the plant about which I had been talking on Sunday's post. It was the subsequent Monday that I spied it. The datura was growing on a roadside embankment and creek bed near the confluence of Mt. Acadia Road and the private driveway leading to the Tecolote Canyon golf course in the Clairemont/Bay Park/Linda Vista neighborhood of San Diego. I was out doing GPS mapping for my internship with the Parks and Recreation Department and performed a classic double-take upon my spying it. "Eureka!" I exclaimed, and leaned in for an introductory whiff of the plant I have been hoping to stumble upon for years now. The flower's fragrance, unfortunately, was not the rotten and foul one I had been led to believe it posessed but instead was devoid of any scent characteristics at all.

That is, besides the sweet smell of victory, for I have finally spied the datura stramonium in its natural habitat. Trip report detailing the mystical psychoactive journey I embarked upon after injesting its roots forthcoming.

IN OTHER NEWS it's finals week and that's my excuse for not posting as frequently as usual. What's that? You hadn't even noticed? I'm making a big deal out of nothing? Yes, you're probably right. Finals week always makes me so paranoid.

LEARNIN' ABOUT THE TOLOACHE CULT OF NATIVE CALIFORNIANS AT HIGH PLAINS BUSINESS LOOP (HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY)

2005-05-08T14:19:00.000-07:00

Kumeyaay people, native to San Diego county.

Ranging from just below the San Francisco Bay Area south to the Mexican border, the Toloache Cult was the least complex ritually and represented primarily a social commitment to disciplining and initiating the young. Its named is derived from the hallucinogenic drug, datura metaloides, called toloache by the Spanish. Datura was abundant throughout the region and, actually, it occurs widely in North America. Virtually every portion of the datura plant was hallucinogenic and it could be ingested by eating it, smoking it, or drinking a tea made from it. However, the plant's toxicity is so great, being a member of the Deadly Nightshade family, that great caution was required and the dose could be controlled more accurately by making a tea from the plant's roots.

The datura plant. Grows naturally along riverbanks in rural areas. Flowers produce a rotten, foul odor.

Shamans of this region used datura as their principal path into trance-like hallucinogenic experiences; hence, shamans developed considerable expertise in preparing dosages. When boys (or girls) were prepared for their initiation experiences, the shaman harvested datura roots and prepared teas that allowed for a wide variety of factors that could affect the hallucinogenic potency. Among these factors were the weight of the child, the size and location of the plant, and the particular micro-climate environment. The object, in any ingestion of datura, was to take enough to reach a definite state of hallucination while remaining on the safe side of comma or death.

The initiation as a whole was organized, as were all religious practices in California, by a collection of men close to the chief and recognized for their leadership. They were called paxa? in several of the tribes of Southern California. Like priests, they were specially charged with maintaining continuity from generation-to-generation by passing on the essential elements of culture to the young. However, in the Toloache Cult, this seems to have been the limit of their activities. Since the central emphasis of initiation was an introduction to the spirit world and, in some respects, a bonding with it, perhaps, even with a spirit host, or helper, the shaman's role as spiritual mediator was essential.

Generally, the initiation leaders identified the boys who had come of age and began a program of training that was progressively intense. At the culmination of this training, the boys were secluded and led through a number of initiating experiences, including tests of courage and endurance, culminating in the datura ingestion. The datura was usually administered after fasting and the boys were forced to dance until that passed out of consciousness. As they recovered physically, they passed through the hallucination on their way to re-awakening; both the shaman and the leaders acted as guides through this often terrifying passage. The hoped-for result was identification of a spirit-helper that was either obvious to the boy within the hallucination or that could be brought out by later interpretation when the conscious boy recounted the experience. For days afterward, the boys continued under the teaching of the leaders, becoming socialized into the tribelet under their new identities as men. Girls received a similar, though less taxing, initiation in most of these cultures.

HOW CAN SOMETHING SO OLD BE SO WRONG

2005-05-06T22:52:00.000-07:00

The most merciful thing in the world is man's inability to correlate all of his mind's contents. But the sciences one day -- some say it is already upon us -- will eventually open up such terrifying vistas of reality that we will either go mad from the revelation or flee into blissful sleep, peace and safety of another new dark age. - H.P. Lovecraft

Kodak R3 facsimile map of Lake Carnegie in western Australia. From Library of Congress exhibition, "Earth as Art: A Landsat Perspective."

Evolution is going on trial in Kansas.

Eighty years after a famed courtroom battle in Tennessee pitted religious beliefs about the origins of life against the theories of British scientist Charles Darwin, Kansas is holding its own hearings on what school children should be taught about how life on Earth began.

The Kansas Board of Education has scheduled six days of courtroom-style hearings to begin on Thursday in the capitol Topeka. More than two dozen witnesses will give testimony and be subject to cross-examination, with the majority expected to argue against teaching evolution.

Many prominent U.S. scientific groups have denounced the debate as founded on fallacy and have promised to boycott the hearings, which opponents say are part of a larger nationwide effort by religious interests to gain control over government.

"I feel like I'm in a time warp here," said Topeka attorney Pedro Irigonegaray who has agreed to defend evolution as valid science. "To debate evolution is similar to debating whether the Earth is round. It is an absurd proposition."

Irigonegaray's opponent will be attorney John Calvert, managing director of the Intelligent Design Network, a Kansas organization that argues the Earth was created through intentional design rather than random organism evolution.

The group is one of many that have been formed over the last several years to challenge the validity of evolutionary concepts and seek to open the schoolroom door to ideas that humans and other living creatures are too intricately designed to have come about randomly.

While many call themselves creationists, who believe that God was the ultimate designer of all life, they are stopping short of saying creationism should be taught in schools.

"We're not against evolution," said Calvert. "But there is a lot of evidence that suggests that life is the product of intelligence. I think it is inappropriate for the state to prejudge the question whether we are the product of design or just an occurrence."

IOWAN WRITING STUDENTS LOVE AND RESPECT MR. FRANK CONROY

2005-05-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

Eyeshot.net has published some letters to the late Iowa Writers Workshop Director Frank Conroy from his students. Here is one.

When my first story was up for workshop, Frank told me, in his sort of rascally, indignant way, that I was drunk on the English language. “Pour yourself another glass of champagne!” he crowed, tossing my story down on the table with a dramatic flourish. I don’t think I remember much else from that afternoon, just the unutterable humiliation of hearing my worst, most indulgent and convoluted sentences read aloud. Over the course of the hour, I sank lower and lower in my seat, shuddering as Frank lilted his way through a bevy of saccharine, overwrought phrases (crammed with words I once considered superlative—vespertine! crenellation!—words which now sounded unbelievably sloppy and inelegant). I was dismayed, inconsolable. Not because he was so cutting, but because he was so right. How could I have been so transparent? So publicly intoxicated? Here I was, at the most sophisticated school of writing in America, and I’d been exposed as nothing more than a blithering literary lush! I lay prostrate in bed for about a week afterwards, refusing to stir for even a round of beers at the Foxhead. Then, one morning, I snapped out of it. I threw off the covers, sat down at my desk, and started writing. The well of melancholia and self-pity had dried up, and in its place was nothing more than a fervent, consuming desire to work. I never wanted so much to be a better writer.

More enthusastic appreciations from young Iowans here.

KAREL APPEL "THE DISCOVERY"

2005-05-04T22:32:00.000-07:00

Karel Appel, The Discovery, 1986, oil on canvas, 95 1/2 x 77 1/2 inches. Collection of the Arizona State University Art Museum.

R2D2'S INTERNAL PORNOGRAPHY

2005-05-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

From the Dust Congress:

"Diminutive Star Wars actor Kenny Baker stopped complaining about his discomfort inside robot R2DT during filming for the sci-fi saga's final episode - because the film crew plastered its interior with pictures of naked models.

"The 70-year-old star dreaded filming the first five Star Wars films because the awkward metal outfit was unbearable, but his work on the sixth installment, Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith was more tolerable because he shared the costume with pornographic images.

"He explains, 'The lads surprised me one day by sticking a load of Page Three pictures inside R2D2's head. I got inside and wondered what the heck was going on.'

"'I got cross-eyed looking at everything in front of me. But it was rather nice. It made it a lot more bearable.'"

Over the weekend, I spent some time volunteering at the Earth Day Fair at Balboa Park. I spent four hours on Sunday with Melissa at the I Love a Clean San Diego booth. The fair looked fun. The kids certainly seemed to enjoy it (sans distracting politicization), and there was no shortage of sights and sounds. In fact, several times I felt precariously near to becoming dangerously overstimulated.

But oh! The ugliness the wandering gang of Christian fundamentalists brought to the park. Let me tell you. Directly to the left of us ILACSDers lay the temporary headquarters for the local Islamic Peace Front -- something to that effect. They were Islam and represented themselves as such. Along comes a three-tiered gang of Christian derelects hoisting enormously-sized signs, some painted to cardboard, some affixed to wooden full-body suits, some towering tens of thousand feet into the air (with the pole secured in one man's crotch-area belt sling for extra support). Painted onto the signs were terrifying Pro-Jesus slogans. You know the type. "HEATHENS, CONVERT!" "JUDGEMENT IS NIGH!" "LIARS, SODOMITES, WITCHES, JEWISHES, EVOLUTIONISTS, BUREAUCRATS: TURN OR BURN!!!"

So the team of zealots spy the Muslims and lean in for an unwelcome fight. From the little I could overhear, their tactic was to strike at the Holy literature. Something about "no, no, the Koran is so full of lies it's ridiculous." One older Christian really got into it. All a-huffing and a-puffing and wild gesticulations, stamping his feet, arching his brow, stray flecks of spittle exploding from his mouth, big fat belly puffing out, big fat red face swelling under the warm California sun, armpit moisture rapidly accumulating on his white, long-sleeved cotton custom hot rod dertailers t-shirt. "You don't know what you're talking about!" "You're wrong!" "My religion is right and yours is wrong!! You should be my religion instead of being yours because mine is right!!!" I couldn't help but walk right up to the guy and offer him one of the brochures on where to take used motor oil for recycling. He wasn't interested.

Anyway, the planet survived, and these hot-headed clowns came within another few weeks of cardiac arrest. Meanwhile, I handed out free ILACSD license plate frames.

MOTEL REVIEW: THE PARRY LODGE, KANAB, UTAH

2005-04-29T13:43:00.000-07:00

By Maggie Behle, for The Believer.

The Parry Lodge, known as the place “Where the Stars Stay,” is located in Kanab, Utah, about 300 miles south of Salt Lake City. Kanab is a small town, isolated in Utah’s red rock desert country. Surrounding this quaint town are Zion and Bryce national parks and the largest hole in America, the Grand Canyon. Kanab was originally inhabited by the Anasazi, then the Paiute and Navajo Indians. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints moved in around the 1870s. Brigham Young sent the Mormon settler Levi Stewart down south to set up a Mormon settlement to spread the good word and raise livestock. With a current booming population of 3,289, Kanab has grown tremendously in the past years. A few years ago locals marveled at the insertion of a stoplight, and the increasing growth of fast food chains in their small, unique town.

One of the modern highlights in Kanab is the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, which houses 1,500 animals, making the town’s human-to-animal ratio 2 to 1. The sanctuary is a temporary home to mostly homeless cats and dogs, but also houses horses, burros, various birds, rabbits, goats, and many other friendly creatures. One of the most famous animals at the sanctuary is a donkey named One-Eyed Jack, whose original parents let him live in a trailer. At Best Friends, they assure us that although he only has one eye, he is one of the loudest animals on the premises. The sanctuary has over 20,000 visitors a year, with the honorable goal of ending animal homelessness by the year 2005. Kanab is not only rich with historic, scenic, and needy pet beauty, it has been a hot spot for western movie-making since 1927. Kanab being a small town, there was one motel the western stars stayed in, the Parry Lodge.

The motel was built in 1929, and has been host to a variety of old movie stars, specifically Hollywood cowboys and western harlots. The Parry advertises the ability to stay in rooms that have housed “adventure,” “glamour,” and even “romance,” played out by stars such as Ava Gardner, Glen Ford, Charlton Heston, and the ever-so-popular John Wayne. Many of the rooms have plaques with the name of the specific star that may have slept in your bed, cleaned up in your shower, and simply relaxed at the pool after a hard day’s work. The lodge has a dining room for old-fashioned home-cooked breakfasts and dinners, a swimming pool to beat the desert heat, and even a gift shop. Surrounded by the towering red plateaus and high elevation desert foliage, it’s no wonder it became a Hollywood hot spot.

If simple imagination is not enough for your visit, there is The Old Barn Playhouse located on the property of the Parry Lodge. The show put on is the perfect melodrama, where viewers are encouraged to laugh and cry along with the heroes, heroines, and villains, and even, at times, participate. The Barn was originally used, as barns are, to house animals. When the stars came to town it became a storage facility for the camera gear and props and animals used in the films. This is where John Wayne stabled his horses, and Victor Mature kept his camels tied up here. Although the full story can only be revealed upon a visit to the Old Barn Playhouse, apparently Glen Ford once had a tooth pulled here once.

WHAT KIND OF A HOUSE YOU CAN BUY FOR $165,000 IN NORTHWEST ARKANSAS

2005-04-29T10:26:00.000-07:00

For $165,000, you can get yourself a nice one. Here is a 3 bed, 1 bath in Fayetteville, U of A's host city, population 60,000, situated right at the brink of the Ozarks. Look at those trees, that deck, that living room large enough to entertain the entire feline and pachyderm wings of the Ringling Brothers' Barnum and Bailey Travelling Circus's Live Animal Department. I mean, that is a spacious room! I want a house with that kind of living room. You could literally have a baby and then lose it somewhere within that space and never find it again, despite its constant crying. You would be like, "Oh fuck fuck fuck, WHERE IS MY BABY!! WHERE IS MY NEWBORN CHILD? I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND IT -- THIS GODDAMN LIVING ROOM IS TOO LARGE!"

Anyway, I'm trying to move to Fayetteville with my girlfriend for grad school. We're planning to substitute teach for income in the meantime and rent a downtown apartment to live in. It is completely reasonable that we would wish to hang around and buy property there. What. Am I expected to do that here in San Diego? Ha. Stop it. Knock that off. You are making me laugh laughs out of mouth.

Songs I am feeling right now (I mean now).

Unwound "Below the Salt" Leaves Turn Inside You [Dischord; 1999]
Silkworm "Don't Look Back" It'll Be Cool [Touch and Go; 2004]
Hot Snakes "Let it Come" Automatic Midnight [Swami; 2000]
Six Finger Satellite "Sea of Tranquility Pts 1 & 2" Law of Ruins [Sub Pop; 1998]

THE LEGEND OF SASQUATCH MOUNTAIN

2005-04-27T20:12:00.000-07:00

Here's a powerful new flash movie from Larry Carlson. It's called The Legend of Sasquatch Mountain. It's supposed to be the equivalent of taking LSD, but I dunno... I've taken LSD a couple of times and it wasn't anywhere near as colorful or as fun!

SURPRISE!

2005-04-25T10:27:00.000-07:00

San Diego mayor Richard "Dick" Murphy has just announced, not five minutes ago, that he will be resigning as of June 15th. The low-quality Republican politician, who is a devoted husband and father, was recently included in a recent TIME magazine feature entitled "The Three Worst Big-City Mayors," and will be replaced by ex-Van Halen singer and tequila advocate, Sammy Hagar.

Mayor Hagar.

In last week's TIME article, Dick was included with Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick (responsible for cutting 3,000 city positions and ending 24-hour bus service while maintaining his 21-person security detail and the city paid nearly $25,000 to lease a sport utility vehicle for his wife) and Philadelphia Mayor John Street (making the list because of "naked shakedown for donations to Street's 2003 re-election campaign" by one of the mayor's close friends and fundraisers).

LEON HENDRIX & THE BAND OF GYPS

2005-04-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

Jimi Hendrix's little brother, Leon Hendrix, 56, begins guitar lessons and records his debut album after he claims Jimi's sprit ghost came to him as a purple flame one night in bed.

From The New York Times:

"I could see Jimi up there, beckoning," he recalled. "He was saying, 'Come on, baby brother. It's time. You're ready.' Since then, I feel like he's sanctioned me to carry on his musical legacy."

"Sometimes if I'm playing, I'll ask Jimi to help me," he said. "I'll say, 'What do I do now?' And he tells me, 'Reach for it.' "

"Here's how it all started," he explained during a recent interview in New York. "I was laying in bed, and a purple flame came out of the sky and set the whole room buzzing. My whole body started shaking, and I had an old guitar in the corner that some lady traded me for some dope. The flame knocked all the dust off the strings and I just reached over and grabbed it, and ever since I've been playing like a madman possessed."

He says he summoned his brother's spirit and is now booking club gigs, teaming with the drummer Buddy Miles, who played in Jimi Hendrix's Band of Gypsies. ... Mr. Hendrix admits that he has none of his brother's technical wizardry, although he adds that he is constantly improving.

"When I'm onstage, I see all these people looking at me expecting another Jimi, but I won't play none of his tunes," he said. ..."They offered me 20 grand a night to play Vegas, but they want 'Purple Haze' and 'Foxy Lady,' " he said. "I just can't play that stuff."

And after a lifetime of living the blues - including foster homes, drug addiction and other hardships - Mr. Hendrix, 56, says he finally has a reason to sing them: he was recently cut out of his brother's $80 million estate.

SUPPORT OUR RIBBONS

2005-04-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

"THE WHITE OLIPHAUNTS" BY TOBIAS SEAMON

2005-04-22T00:04:00.000-07:00

Looking back upon that summer, through the haze of chauffeurs and carriages and ostrich-plumed hats along the drive of my neighbor the Meister's house, many of the goings-on and those that did the going seemed indistinguishable at first, like eminent clots within a monied and fabulous amoeba. But finding my notes, jotted in the overly conscientious script of a post-midnight inebriate, I recalled again the many memorable parties within that, the grandest party of them all.

There was J.B. Stitchum who made his fortune in flypaper and was the first man ever seen wearing yellow-tinted sun shades, and Sinclair Straits who smashed his yacht "The Spanking New" into a lock along the Champlain canal when he heard Harding got the nomination.

There was Dulcimer Flutonius, a scion of the Byzantine line touring the Continent billed as "Mistress of the Harmonium," and the philosopher-novelist Gretchen Fortune, whose mellifluous voice and silver sandals kept the illuminati a-buzz all summer.

There was Little Mickey the horse jockey, crop in hand, turning the glasshouse into a rose-choked orgy, and Toothpick Jake, a farmer cum guitarist whose rag "The Broken Tractor Walk" became the anthem of August.

There was Rutherford Sampson the pig-iron magnate advocating use of the hula-hoop at all fraternal orders, and Leonine Scrimpens, universally accepted as a calamitous lunatic despite her turning the Daily Picayune into the leading organ of the masses.

There were the white Oliphaunts and the black Oliphaunts, endlessly feuding until the Duchess Bleuvin, fresh from a sunken ocean liner, instilled such a fear in both sets that they ceased their wayward bickering and headed en masse to the hills.

There was the gossip columnist Miss Airedale, with her companion Miss Longstroke, daring to mention Jimmy the Slant's ear horn in the Wednesday Supplement, causing both to be banished from the head table.

There was Tory Chanteuse the ladies' table tennis champion, Magruder Pickett, self-styled "Last of the Copperheads," and Billy Steadfast, the Okie oil millionaire, miraculously building a horseshoe pit at the bottom of the pool.

There was Talisman Jackson the occultist séance queen who dyed her champagne orange, and Jeremiah Sansjoye, gunslinging son of the Cincinnati produce dealer Jehovah Sansjoye, blasting the glass off Miss. Jackson's perfectly round head.

There was Lilith Griffin, a beauty of such striking physique and grey eyes, wearing beaded, see-through dresses fashioned entirely of opals, that she received thirty confirmed marriage proposals by Independence Day.

There was Lipscombe Burdock, a violent maestro able to play all of Chopin's nocturnes on solo bassoon, and the Highland Tinsels, Glendon and Serena, who gave fly-casting lessons from the expanse of the Meister's family mausoleum.

There was Sanderson F. Sand, the eminent Roman historian, carrying an hourglass at all times in order to blunt his own prolonged monologues, and Theodosia Baal, arriving not once but twice bare-breasted in a litter sedan carried by her similarly unclad maid staff.

There was Z. Krakow the expatriate Polish poet who wept openly whenever the subject of ponds came up, and the recently-knighted explorer L. Scott Absconde, claiming he'd ascertained the secret of the Trojan ruins while passed out in his mother-in-law's Channel Island water closet.

There was the psychiatrist Gustav Mandrake, a serpentine pervert and the only person ever asked to leave the grounds, and Robert "The Great" Rouncival, escape artist extraordinaire infuriating many during his performance on the tower balcony with a scotch cask and wristwatch.

There was Chenowith Redeemer the temperance organizer growing so riled by the courtside antics that she bared her bottom to the howling, tennis-whited throng, and Muley Haas, strongman of the Five Points, bending quarters with his toes alone.

There was Lucky Corcoran, barred from every poker table that side of the Ohio except the Meister's, and Beulah Finch, the hair pomade heiress who took to a canopied guest bed with the irrevocable decision to lie there and die.

Finally, all the time, there was myself, in flannels and a borrowed belt, waiting until summer's end to propose to Lilith Griffin, her answer making me realize why there are stars in the night.

All these people were seen on the Meister's lawn in summer.

FRIENDLY ANIMAL

2005-04-20T10:02:00.000-07:00

THEY PUT PROPOFOL IN MY BLOODS

2005-04-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

i slowly type this post with my left hand to let you know my right one is snug inside a plaster cast and nestled into a sling. yesterday i had surgery on the flexor tendon in my right middle finger to sew up the laceration i accidentally gave myself at work on the first of the month (i'm a framer at an art gallery and i had a 36" x 30" sheet of uv conservation clear glass break under my paw). since then, i haven't been able to use my middle finger, rendering my hand no more useful than a toddler's when it comes to gripping operations.

had the pleasure of experiencing anasthesia (time travel) yesterday for the first time and that was a big treat. the cast, though, is a total drag. despite being heavy and cumbersome and a bitch to take into the shower or sleep with, it's going to put a damper on my posting for the next two weeks.

luckily for me though, i can use my left hand to dial a telephone with great ease, which i will be doing later to order me up some temporary disability benefit checks.

ADOBE FALLS

2005-04-18T00:51:00.000-07:00

Just north of I-8, at the foot of the single-family home Del Cerro neighborhood, across from the SDSU campus lies Adobe Falls, a currently undeveloped piece of land owned by the Cal State Board of Supervisors and proposed for development into a graduate student/retired faculty housing complex for the school's 2020 master plan revision. I've been to public meetings to hear the community opposition to development and I'm doing a site assessment on the area for my land use analysis class. So, today, I went out to Adobe Falls site during the "magic hour" tonight to take some pictures for my report.

Once you cross the gate at a cul-de-sac at the end of Mill Creek Road, you've got to cross a stream to get up to the higher ground that slopes uphill to the south. Here, you can see a patch of wild mustard plants in the foreground, and the SDSU chemical science lab and a parking structure amidst construction in the background.

As you walk to the east to the falls, you can look to the north to see the palm trees and giant reed plants that grow along the streambank and some of the upper-class Del Cerro houses. These are the residents most vehemently opposed to the development, which is understandable given that development would replace this point of view with a three-story dormitory.

Once you get up to the top of the slope, you've got to climb down some rocks to get a close up view of the Falls itself. As you can see, it's not exactly a scenic tourist attraction, as the water source is a storm drain runoff collector that empties into the San Diego River near Mission Valley. Many of the rocks are covered with graffiti and the water is thick with algea growth. On this particular visit, I observed bottles, cans, plastic detergent containers, shopping carts, and even a rat scurrying around the rocks.

I did, however, see a lone beautiful white sage plant all by itself not far from the trail on the way down. And I took one more shot from Mill Peak road driving back that overlooks the south end of the site that buts up against I-8, the freeway that seperates Adobe Falls' undeveloped land from the rest of the developed campus.

TO HIS CREDIT, SCALIA DID HAVE SOME GOOD IDEAS

2005-04-15T23:11:00.000-07:00

Pat Sajak's personal website! Though the guy's clearly an enormous douche who most likely verbally assaults his tennis opponents after too many singapore slings at his Beverly Hills compound and sleeps in a waterbed with a stereo built into the headboard that repeatedly plays "Eye in the Sky" by the Alan Parsons Project (to paraphrase David Berman), I must admit I'm in love with the fact his personal website is designed with the Miami Vice motif. One of the most graceful transitions from 1987 to the Internet that I've ever seen.

What's on Pat's mind? A glance at his blog, "Sajak Says," provides excellent insight to his psyche. And in that psyche lies a deep hatred of liberals. Here's some of The PuzzleMaster's musings from an entry entitled, "Arguing with liberals, and why I've stopped."

Every time I argue with a Liberal, I’m reminded of quarrels I used to have with my parents. The battles never seemed fair because my folks decided what the rules were and what was out of bounds. In addition, because they were parents, they could threaten me in ways I couldn’t threaten them, and they could say things I could never say.

Recently, for example, I was discussing the United Sates Supreme Court with on [sic] of my many Liberal friends out in Los Angeles when she said, without any discernable embarrassment, that Justice Anton Scalia was “worse than Hitler”. Realizing she wasn’t alive during World War II and perhaps she may have been absent on those days when her schoolmates were studying Nazism, I reminded her of some of Hitler’s more egregious crimes against humanity, suggesting she may have overstated the case. She had not; Scalia was worse. As I often did when my parents threatened to send me to my room, I let the conversation die.

CAVE SENTRY OWL DUO

2005-04-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

I watched about twenty minutes of The Mask starring Cher this morning and I had trouble remembering whether or not that kid actually looked like that or if it was in fact a cosmetic enhancement. I also sat through Spanglish yesterday afternoon and it was a total piece of shit, save the two OK characters: Alcoholic Grandma, and Mexican Guy Washing His Car Without a Shirt.

A ZEN MICRO 4 GIGA-BYTE MP-3 STYLE ELECTRONICAL MUSIC-PLAYING MECHANISM is now in my posession! Thanks aplenty to Melecita for her generosity. What have I fed to the magical box so far? I have fed it plenty of The Fall, Peter Brotzmann Trio, Smog, Unwound, Polvo, The Wipers (who I cherish as if they were my own), The Ponys, the new Arcade Fire everybody's talking about, the new Wilco nobody's talking about, Superchunk, Sly Stone, "Remember Me" by British Sea Power and none of their other wimpy crap, a Circle Jerks song, a Sparklehorse song, a Mekons song, some of the new Oneida album which is weirding me out a little and that is good I guess, lots of Guided by Voices' trademark magnificence, my buddies Silkworm, Trans Am, Hot Snakes, and the Buzzcocks. I resisted the urge to "spice up" my 4 gigs with Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, as I have been known to do.

"I THINK WE DESERVE A BIGGER NAME"

2005-04-12T11:27:00.000-07:00

From The Daily Pennsylvanian, regarding the University of Pennsylvania's decision to book Sonic Youth as the headliner for their Spring Fling campus concert, and the resulting outrage among the student body.

Sonic Youth -- an underground punk-rock band -- will headline this year's Spring Fling concert, Social Planning and Events Committee officials announced yesterday.

SPEC Concert directors say they are going for "a whole new feel" this year, as opposed to the hip-hop artists that have performed in the past few years.

"Who are they?" College freshman Elizabeth Jefferson asked. "I've never heard of them."

Wharton junior Lloyd Thomas said he feels "disappointed," especially considering what some other schools have performing this year.

For example, Snoop Dogg will be headlining Cornell's Slope Day concert and Ben Folds will be playing at Brown's Spring Weekend.

"I think we deserve a bigger name," Thomas said.

College sophomore Sheila Houser said that "it's great that the University is reaching out to bands that not many people have heard of," while noting that "twenty bucks is a lot to pay for a couple of bands that I don't really know that much about."

Oh! And check out of some of the student comments posted at the site:

sonic youth (kind of funny that a bunch of old losers still call themselves "youth") was in the midst of the grunge era but not nearly as influential as the other bands. they are, and will be remembered as a band that fit in with the times but didn't break much ground on their own, much like soundgarden and bush (who i wouldn't mind seeing). nirvana is very influential but just because they are, and sonic youth came out before them and they are relatively the same genre, you can't say that sonic youth is as influential as nirvana. that's blasphemy! also, you can't call sonic youth a real underground band. underground usually means that a band never was mainstream and doesn't strive to be. sonic youth on the other hand tried to market themselves as mainstream and failed, so their characterization as "underground" means "can't sell tickets because they are a bunch of losers".

and

This band fucking blows. They're a bunch of washed up losers. If SPEC was going to hire these clowns why didn't they just go and get the cast of the surreal life...they're just as washed up and just as bad. If they really wanted to get a good non hip-hop band what's wrong with Jimmy Eat World, Saves the Day, The Format, & Taking Back Sunday????

Personally you couldn't pay me to watch Sonic Youth. I'll definitely be going to the Jimmy Eat World/Taking Back Sunday/The Format show on 4/15 at the Tweeter Center in Camden.

WILLIAM EGGLESTON: VIEW FROM THE COURTHOUSE TOWER, MORRISTOWN, TENNESSEE

2005-04-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

A NECK STRUNG WITH BEADS OF APPLE CORAL

2005-04-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

Had dinner with the misses last night to celebrate our sixth month as a romantic entity. We decided the best way to celebrate the occasion was to get ourselves at a table at the Hash House and order some fine foods and drink (like the ones we see on TV) for once in our little lives. This meant a bottle of Baileyana 2002 Pinot Noir from San Luis Obispo with an appetizer of skewered chicken fritters with watermelon in a BBQ thai sauce. She had the all-blue crab cakes with butternut squash and barbequed vegetables in a chili mayo drizzle. I had to have the crispy Indiana-style hand-hammered pork tenderloin stuffed with griddled smoked mozzarella cheese, caramelized onions, fresh spinach, portabello mushroom and house charred tomato crowned with a BBQ cream sauce on a bed of horseradish mashed potatoes served with grilled corn on the cob. All dishes came garnished with a towering branch of rosemary. The plates were large enough to seat a six year old child, and the portions were so generous that despite our best efforts at eating a downright gluttonous load by even a trucker's standards, we were forced to slough off the excess into titanic doggy bags that hold tonight's equally sizeable dinner.

TEN SONGS WHOSE VIRTUES HAVE BEEN MADE VERY CLEAR TO ME LATELY

2005-04-08T15:08:00.000-07:00

Paul Westerberg "As Far As I Know"
Sonic Youth "Stones"
Husker Du "It's Not Funny Anymore"
The Ponys "Little Friends"
M Ward "Vincent O'Brien"
Wilco "Handshake Drugs"
The Dils "Class War"
The Jesus Lizard "Slave Ship"
Giant Haystacks "The War At Home"
Stephen Malkmus "Pencil Rot"

HI BLOG HOW R U

2005-04-08T14:47:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the delectable content and steady updatesmanship of my Silver Jews fan blog contemporaries The Dust Congress and In Oak, In Elm, I have noted the barometer, checked the seven-day forecast, tasted the air, consulted with my spiritual advisor and come to the conclusion that NOW IS THE TIME for me to launch my very first personal blog. It is my desire that the blog will be nestled up to like a Yuletide log by my friends and cowered from like a radioactive spill by my enemies.

Just kidding, I don't have enemies.

Well, maybe one. I don't think my boss at the art gallery/frame shop I'm a laborer for is my #1 fan since last Friday. I picked up a sheet of glass that broke in my clutches and stabbed the base of my middle finger with the resulting shard. In went the pointed end, out came some blood, and, depending on what the surgeon I'm scheduled to meet with this coming Friday tells me, the flexor tendon controlling the movement of the finger got either nicked or severed completely. Worker's comp has provided me with free medical appointments at the Occupational Medicine clinic, and complimentary surgery care of the gallery's insurance.

Anyway, the boss has put me on temporary leave despite my protests. I want to work; I did so the day immediately following the injury and was able to do quite a bit, too. Only thing I can't do is use the mat cutter, but there's plenty more chores I could be doing. But he insists I stay away from work and instead stay home and not get paid. Unfortunate, because getting paid is how I accumlate the precious lifesblood of today's modern economy: money. Need that money. Can't get it not working, and free surgery doesn't pay the bills. So we'll see what unfolds.

The blog is titled HIGH PLAINS BUSINESS LOOP after a poem I wrote a few years ago with the same title. Why don't I post it now:

High Plains Business Loop

The most automatic teller in the west
worked under a two karat guise of expired craftsmanship
with credentials from the continent house.

Minnesota Gas and Air came to reposess our breath,
working from the back seat of a true compression pick-up,
with minimal retaliation from the squad cars.

We were told to walk a metric mile
over polymer floors of phillips head allen wrenches.
We were perceived as snakes making oxbows in the flax fields.

At the clubhouse, I was ordered through
the dusty guantlet of minimum wage asphalt mix
before even contemplating calling shotgun.

I soaked my head in the Bay of Troubled Conquistador
where the skies operated like electric ovens
showcasing birds with Texas-sized wingspans.

You could feel the autoparks tremble like starched rayon
ironed into Indian clay as the chief of staff tore out a page
from his dog-eared copy of Sunset Magazine.

My well-being had become a conversational centerpiece
for a guest group of eagles and emigrants,
flanked by a trans-continental chamber of commerce.

Much of it made me think about Precambrian tennis matches
except with rattles mistaken for whistles
and a treaty declaring applause an Amazonian morse code.

It was the part of our minds reserved to study physics of
the feline lung, and verify the weeknight romances
constantly submerging beneath everyone's broken ideas.

These limited instances of casual health
diagrammed by the pectorals of an outdated mannequin
found floating in salted lakes and peppered oceans.

While Florida remains the soggy and stagnant denominator
conceded to the oversimplified fraction
that our ingrown union refuses to not become,

The golden numerator named California rises,
an effulgent nexus of charity nestled into
a blooming forest of surfboards and a bed of mestizo kelp.

So, there's a poem. I plan on sticking a few in this blog from time to time (mine or anyone else's I might find arresting enough). It'll be a revolving circus of music news and reviews and musings, current events and my complaints about them, criticisms and exaltations of the frightfully strange and dull world of mass media, art, clippings from the headlines of my personal life, stories, intoxicated observations, pictures of funny lookin' shit I come across, bold and beautiful things and reports of native or exotic plants I've spotted alongside the highway.