Out My Window

The Internet Saves Lives

2012-01-18T10:33:00.000-08:00

Three friends I met over the Net, via our mutual love of creating art, just MAY have saved my life.

One, during a visit f2f, shared a non-narcotic medication with me that actually seemed to make a difference in my miserable pain levels. I mentioned the drug to another friend who lives in Canada, and she shared the fact that it's OTC up there (I only live a couple of hours away) and then turned around and helped me even further in a way I shall not mention this public place. And while I was waiting to get some of the drug in hand to see if it really DID work as well as it seemed to during the aforementioned visit, I dropped into a very dark place and couldn't seem to find my way out...until another friend took the time and love to talk with me about all the issues and fears and pain that have been ravaging me for over a decade. And then, and then...yesterday the Methocarbomal arrived...just in time for another round of extreme pain. And I took a half of one of the "Extra Strength Muscle & Back Pain Relief" pills, and waited to see what, if any effect they would have. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in longer than I can recount, I had a full night's sleep without waking from pain whenever I shifted! So absent was the pain, I woke with a start when I *didn't* have a sharp pang when turning to my side. I lay there for a very brief time in the dark, thinking about how habitualised the pain and my acceptance of it had become, and about what kind of difference it might make in my life to be pain-free for the first time in over fifteen years. This morning, I awoke with the slightest tickle of pain on the horizon, and found myself almost relieved, saying inwardly "ah...there's my old friend." And hearing THAT in my head alarmed me more than anything! To be so acclimatized to pain that it is missed as an "old friend"!?! The decent into madness is apparently complete.

But the good news? At the bottom of the dry well was a welcome surprise. You see, I took another half pill this morning, and as I write this, I am fully pain free! I keep checking, feeling for it like a sore tooth, but there's sunshine and a deliciously scented breeze in this old house instead of the cobwebs and mold of a mere day ago...I could get used to this.

So thank you, Odd, Ang, and Hawkie...each of you has made a real difference in this womans' life.

Beautiful Decay

2012-01-05T12:10:00.000-08:00

First post of the New Year, and it's ALL about decay...or as I prefer to see it, impermanence.

I am about to begin a new Moleskine rotation project (Take 8 artists, each with their own Moleskin Japanese Accordian-fold Journal and their select theme, send in an seven month rotation, each journal visiting each artist once, and end up with a glorious array of art in your moley at the end of the project), this one at illustrated ATCs. I have chosen as my subject Beautiful Decay. Here is the description I wrote in an effort to assist the project's artists:

All life is transitory.

I see rusting rivets, peeling paint on weathered buildings , an ancient man or woman, and I see beauty. Mountains worn down by time into softened crags, or worn completely away into canyons, presenting fresh vistas, exposing cake-like layers.

Everything and everyone around us is in a state of change, a state of beautiful decay. Perhaps it's a sign of my own aging, or maybe the product of seeing places such as Pompeii at a VERY early age, but I have long been fascinated by decay.

From close up or from a distance, in the ancient world or the modern, a place or a living entity, a vessel, building or something else; I'm interested in a taste of your vision and expression of beautiful decay. Note: the titles below each photo link to a page of that subject's photographs.

Urban Decay

Beautiful "Old" People

Ancient Ruins

Rusty Vehicles and Vessels

Textures and Close Ups

And finally, the amazing Library of Dust project from David Maisel. Library of Dust depicts individual copper canisters, each containing the cremated remains of patient from a state-run psychiatric hospital. The patients died at the hospital between 1883 (the year the facility opened, when it was called the Oregon State Insane Asylum) and the 1970’s; their bodies have remained unclaimed by their families.

What to Cook for Christmas?

2011-12-22T14:33:00.000-08:00

First of all, we're not really celebrating Christmas in this house. Aside from taping bows to things like the front door, the electric meter, the water tap, the car's gas tank door...you know, the places where our money HAS to go right now. Don't get me wrong! I am extremely grateful there's money enough for those things! I have plenty of "stuff," so I really don't need much of anything, though of course there're always plenty of "wants." I have a a set of three packages from an artist friend to open, and have snagged some items over the past year from various places that are wrapped and ready to give to V, but there's no tree, no ornaments, no Who-pudding, no Who-roast beast. Still, it's a special day, and as such deserves a special meal. So I'm going to make a nice brunch, and a couple of yummy deserts, plus some savory muffins just to munch on...what'd'ya think?

Cheesy Cajun Bacon And Andouille Strata

5 cups non-sourdough French bread
12 eggs
2 1/4 cups milk
3 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 14 to 16 ounce package smoked Andouille sausage, sliced
1 pound bacon, diced
5 green onions, sliced thin
1/2 cup chopped bell pepper (I often use a blend of green, red, and yellow for the added colour in the final dish)
1 1/2 teaspoon Cajun seasoning (I create my own: recipe follows)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 2 quart (preferably glass) baking dish.
Saute sausage, half of the onions, and green peppers until the sausage is lightly browned and the peppers are tender.
Cook bacon until crisp, drain and blot to remove grease
Mix cooked sausage and pepper with the bread
Mix remaining onions, cheese, and bacon with the bread/sausage mixture; pour into buttered baking dish and level.
In a large bowl, beat the eggs. Add the milk and beat until blended, then pour over bread mixture.
Let sit for about ten minutes to give the bread time to soak up the liquid, pressing gently on the bread to assist the process.
Drizzle with the melted butter, cover with foil
Bake at 350 for about 45 minutes or until set in the middle (check with a butter knife or skewer. It shouldn’t come out with any loose dripping mixture on it.) and nicely browned.
Let rest for about 5 minutes before cutting.

Cajun seasoning, blend together:
1 Tbls salt
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dry mustard
1 tsp cayenne
1/2 tsp white pepper
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp dried thyme leaves
1/2 tsp dried oregano leaves
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

Broccoli-Spinach Casserole

2 bags fresh spinach, washed and thoroughly dried
3 pounds of broccoli florets, cut into bite-sized pieces (You can use frozen veggies if you like, just make sure to defrost and drain them thoroughly. Plan on two boxes/one bag each chopped spinach and chopped broccoli.)
16 ounces sour cream
1 package French Onion Soup Mix
1 cup grated cheddar
grated cheddar for topping

If using fresh veggies, parboil them until the spinach is soft and the broccoli is bright green, then chop coarsely.
If using frozen veggies, cook, drain, and squeeze excess liquid out.
Mix veggies with the sour cream, onion soup mix, and one cup of cheddar. Top with the rest of the cheddar cheese and bake at 350°F for about 40 minutes until hot, bubbly, and the cheese is toasted.

Savory Breakfast Muffins

2 cups whole-wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 1/3 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 cup thinly sliced scallions (about 1 bunch)
3/4 cup diced Canadian bacon (3 ounces)
1/2 cup grated Cheddar cheese
1/2 cup finely diced red bell pepper

1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Coat 12 muffin cups with cooking spray.
2. Combine whole-wheat flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, pepper and salt in a large bowl.
3. Whisk eggs, buttermilk, oil and butter in a medium bowl. Fold in scallions, bacon, cheese and bell pepper. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Add the wet ingredients and mix with a rubber spatula until just moistened. Scoop the batter into the prepared pan (the cups will be very full).
4. Bake the muffins until the tops are golden brown, 20 to 22 minutes. Let cool in the pan for 5 minutes. Loosen the edges and turn the muffins out onto a wire rack to cool slightly before serving.
Reheat & Run
Bake muffins on weekends and enjoy the leftovers for grab-and-go weekday breakfasts. Wrap leftover muffins individually in plastic wrap, place in a plastic storage container or ziplock bag and freeze for up to 1 month. To thaw, remove plastic wrap, wrap in a paper towel and microwave on High for 30 to 60 seconds.

Bacon and Bourbon Brownies

1/2 lb bacon
8 oz butter
10 oz baking chocolate
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
5 large eggs
Freshly-ground black pepper
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 tsp smoked salt
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup chopped pecans
Bourbon

Preheat the oven to 350F.

Cook the bacon until it is very crisp, drain off the grease and set aside. Pat the bacon dry with paper towels, crumble into tiny pieces, chopping in food processor if possible. Set aside.

Place the pecans in a bowl and just cover with bourbon. When roughly half of the bourbon has been absorbed, scoop out the pecans with a slotted spoon, arrange them in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake until nearly toasted. Reserve one teaspoon of the bourbon, pour the remainder over the pecans, and let them finish toasting. Remove them from the oven and set aside.

In a double boiler, over simmering water, combine the butter and chocolate. When the mixture is nearly melted, remove it from the heat and stir together until blended. Pour the mixture into a medium-sized bowl and let it cool to room temperature.

Once the chocolate mixture is cool, add the granulated sugar, brown sugar, several grinds of black pepper, smoked salt, eggs and reserved bourbon and whisk well to combine.

Add the cocoa powder and stir until thoroughly incorporated. Then stir in the flour 1/2 cup at a time, making sure it is thoroughly incorporated before adding the next portion. Stir in the bacon and pecans.

Use the reserved bacon grease to lightly coat an 8x8 baking pan, and pour in the batter. Bake 25-30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted near the edge comes out dry, but inserted near the center, comes out lightly coated in batter. Let the brownies cool, and cut into squares to serve.

Apple and Cranberry Tart

A single pie crust
3 medium tart apples, peeled
1/2 cup whole berry cranberry sauce
1/4 c sugar mixed with 1/4 tsp. each grnd cinnamon and nutmeg
1Tbls butter, cut into small pieces
Powdered sugar

Heat oven to 425F
Directly on baking sheet, roll out crust to approx. 12" round, edges will likely be uneven
Cut each apple in half, remove core, turn halves cut sides down and slice crosswise into thin slices
Leaving a 2" border, arrange apple in a circle on the crust, overlapping slightly. Pile remaining apples in center.
Dot with cranberry sauce in 7 or 8 places
Sprinkle apple with sugar-spice mixture, dot with butter
Fold pastry corners over apples
Bake 15 min., then turn oven down to 375 and bake an additional 15 min., or until apples are tender and pastry is golden.
Cool completely on sheet atop a wire rack or slide off sheet onto a serving plate if not rewarming.
To warm before serving, heat tart in a 400F oven, 5-8min. Dust with powdered sugar.

Tart can be baked up to a day ahead. Cool completely, cover, and refrigerate on baking sheet if rewarming to serve.

2011-12-16T15:43:00.000-08:00

I'm in a mood this morning, and it's time for a rant. This one is about GOD. I'm tired of people choking their god down my throat! I don't care what they believe or don't believe in, they're WELcome to their beliefs, just stop trying to make ME believe that way. And don't bloody asSUME I believe in god, either! I tell ya, I've started to feel really bullied by all these Christians walking around, spewing evangelism. Reminds me of the early 70s, when what we then called "Jesus Freaks" would prowl the streets, accosting people with "Have you been saved?" or "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour?" Nothing drives me faster or further from religion than that kind of behaviour.

No other religion prosthletyzes the way Christian's do. Oh sure, there are Muslim extremists who have made themselves noticed in a big way the past ten-plus years, and wack-job extreme extremists (I'm thinking of the followers of Aum Shinrinko who released the Sarin gas in the Tokyo subway back in 1995), but they're not the norm. Most people, including a lot of Christians, follow their beliefs without talking about them. Unfortunately, it has become some badge of pride to declare one's belief in God, and worse for those of us who don't want to hear it, in Jesus Christ.

Time Tebow Praying Before/After/During

Just last weekend, I watched a report on one of the Big Three Network Newscasts about the Quarterback for the Denver Broncos, Tim Tebow. His religious beliefs are being given credit by a LOT of Christians for his winning streak. "Prayer WORKS!" one of them declared in his best "Thank you JEsus" voice. "God loves the Broncos," said another with absolute sincerity. What, so god DOESN'T love all those other teams? Come ON.

And if prayer to that invisible white guy in the clouds (don't even get me started on THAT imagery) works so well, why are so many children hungry and/or in terrible pain? And if prayer works to cause the Broncos to win, why on EARTH aren't you praying for more important matters? Drives me NUTS.

George Carlin, whose voice I miss more and more as the days go by in these Mad Times, spoke for me in HIS beautiful, perfect, spot-on rant about religion and God when he said:

You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci. Joe Pesci. Two reasons; first of all, I think he's a good actor. Okay. To me, that counts. Second; he looks like a guy who can get things done. Joe Pesci doesn't fuck around. Doesn't fuck around. In fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having trouble with. For years I asked God to do something about my noisy neighbor with the barking dog. Joe Pesci straightened that cock-sucker out with one visit.

I noticed that of all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers that I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50 percent rate. Half the time I get what I want. Half the time I don't. Same as God 50-50. Same as the four leaf clover, the horse shoe, the rabbit's foot, and the wishing well. Same as the mojo man. Same as the voodoo lady who tells your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles. It's all the same; 50-50. So just pick your superstitions, sit back, make a wish and enjoy yourself.
And for those of you that look to the Bible for it's literary qualities and moral lessons; I got a couple other stories I might like to recommend for you. You might enjoy The Three Little Pigs. That's a good one. It has a nice happy ending. Then there's Little Red Riding Hood. Although it does have that one X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother. Which I didn't care for, by the way. And finally, I've always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from Humpty Dumpty. The part I liked best: "and all the king's horses, and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again." That's because there is no Humpty Dumpty, and there is no God. None. Not one. Never was. No God.

I realise that few people reading this share my (dis)belief, and I have zero problem with that. What I have a problem with is YOU being unhappy about MY beliefs, and constantly trying to change them. Pray all you want. Pray for me - maybe it'll make a difference somehow. But don't go on and on and on about how glorious is your "Blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ." I'm glad you've found the key to coping with this unjust and erratic existence, really I am. Just keep that to yourself, okay?

2011-12-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

Feeling really vulnerable to Cosmic Truths today, and this made me cry. If you know me, you know that I simply don't believe in absolute truth. But after so many years of saying that, I realised while watching this "happening" that I do; I believe in the absolute truth of LOVE. We MUST stop hating and get back to loving one another. Christian or Muslim, Black or White, Straight or Gay, Rich or Poor, Human or Animal, Individually and Collectively, love is the key to our survival.

2011-11-21T17:11:00.001-08:00

Do you like chai? I sure do, but I don't like either the cost of premade, or the ingredients and/or taste of some commercial brands. So I make my own. It's easy, takes about 40 minutes, and tastes yummy!

So here's my basic recipe, followed by some shortcuts and variations. This recipe can be doubled or even trebled without negative effect.

Combine in cook pot:
3 cups water
1/2 tsp whole cloves
1/2 tsp whole peppercorns
2 small sticks of cinnamon
8 cardamon pods, broken open
ground ginger to taste

Cover, bring to boil, then simmer on low, 30 min.
Add 1 black tea bag & simmer another 3-5 min.
Strain, then return liquid to pot.
Add to liquid:
     1 Tbls. maple syrup
   1/2 cup milk
   Brown sugar to taste

Bring just to boil, then remove from heat. Serve immediately.

When I triple this recipe, I start with 10 cups of water, a Tbls. of cloves and peppercorn, and 3 long cinnamon sticks, broken into three parts each. Sometimes I use fresh ginger instead of powdered, and I break the cardamon up in a mortar and pestle, throwing both the seeds AND the pods into the water.

I'm pretty loosy-goosy about the time factor, especially after I've added the tea bags. Sometimes I use 2 Chai tea bags and 2 black tea, but if using just black, I stick with 3 bags for the triple recipe instead of four.

I haven't had any maple syrup in the house for awhile, so instead, I make my own dark brown sugar by combining pale brown sugar and dark (blackstrap) molasses, and I add it until I like the taste. I don't add milk at all, preferring to put that in when I'm ready to drink the chai.

The ratio of chai to milk is 1:1, so I fill a cup half full of chai, top it off with milk, then heat the whole thing in the microwave or on the stove until hot. And SOMEtimes I throw a marshmallow in, too!

Pot Luck?

2011-06-26T10:57:00.001-07:00

Not my Mac&Chz, but the closest picture I could find to how mine looks fresh from the oven.

Last night's "pot-luck" turned out to be a sit down dinner for ten, complete with crystal and silver! My mac & cheese was most welcome, and aside from a turkey breast someone brought, was the only "real" food on the sideboard. A LARGE casserole was completely consumed and highly praised by all the men and two of the women, and what cook can ask for more than that? It was an interesting group, and the most intellectual fun I've had in a very long time. V and I enjoyed a lengthy postmortem over breakfast and our usual card playing (gin rummy). This is a funny town. V likes to say it's full of human flotsam, in that so many of the residents are from far and (world)wide, landing here after many adventures and often a wild and varied life. Certainly that describes the two of us. There's a high degree of educated intellect in this town, which is essential to my social contentment, and V's, too. And after five years of making zero dents in the closed armour of the town various cliques, it seems some doors are finally creaking open and we're being invited in. cowabunga...

Of course, the initial contact with people is entirely attributed to V's racing and work as a Master Rigger (and for 20+ years as a Sailmaker), but given a chance, I have a lot to offer any intellectually curious group. Dolts and dunderheads need not apply, as we seldom get along.

I always worry about talking too much or seeming like a know-it-all, but I feel mostly okay about last night's performance. It makes SUCH a difference to be amongst others who have traveled as extensively and are apparently as intellectually voracious as me. Nice to be amongst my tribe...a very unusual experience for me.

I'll end by giving you my - or rather my grandmother's recipe for Macaroni & Cheese. Thanks, Ida Adelle Whipple Canaday, for this and apple pie and so much more!

No White Sauce Mac & Cheese

Ingredients
Small elbow macaroni, cooked until al dente
A brick of cheddar - longhorn if you can get it, but a Tillamook Baby Loaf will do nicely - cut into slices 1/8 - 1/4 inch thick
Salt, Pepper
Butter
Milk
Cracker/Bread crumbs or potato or tortilla chip leavings (the crumbs at the bottom of the bag)

Butter (not Pam) a large - 2 or 3 qt - baking dish
put a layer of cooked mac noodles in the dish - enough to cover with no dish showing through.
Atop the noodles, place a single layer of cheese, cutting to fit as though it was a mosaic
Salt and pepper the layer, and put two or three dabs of butter equillaterially spaced
Repeat the noodle, cheese, and spices/butter steps as many times as required to fill the dish.
Pour enough milk to come up the dish a third of the way...sorry, I do it by eyeball and have no real feel for how much that is.
Melt a couple of tablespoons of butter in a skillet, add enough bread/cracker crumbs to make it a thick crumble - this is the final layer for the top, so make it however wet/dry, thick/thin you want, and use whatever you think would taste good or have a texture you like. I occasionally use potato or tortilla chips; V likes the tortilla chips, I like the potato, but we agree the bread/cracker are really good, too. You can just forego this step altogether if you wish, it makes no real difference except for adding crunchy top layer.
Cover with a lid or foil and place in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes. At the 40 minute mark, remove the lid/foil and allow the whole thing to crisp up a tad.

This is good cold for picnics, too, something my mother used to serve along with cold fried chicken. Hey, in the days before microwaves, a LOT of food was served cold. I think cold food is sadly overlooked these days as a good option.

And that's it. I've experimented with the addition of ham or fowl or tomatoes, but none of seems to be as good as the very basic comfort food that Mac & Cheese is for so many of us.

Random Thoughts

2011-06-25T13:50:00.003-07:00

Good News On the health front, I have been diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis. The bad news is that IC is a mystery disease, without a clear (or even hazy, as far as I can tell) idea of what causes it, and thus how to eliminate it. But I HAVE moved from Idiopathic pain to a "functional somatic syndrome," meaning a condition with no known medical cause. I figure knowing what the condition IS, even without knowing the cause, is better than not even knowing what the condition itself is. Much like fibromyalgia and irritable bowel, it's an uphill battle with the Medical Establishment to gain understanding and acceptance, and because of that, it's an even bigger battle to gain official disability approval from the various Governmental Departments/Administrations. Experiential wisdom says keeping a daily journal is extremely useful in the hearings that always ensue, so I'm doing that.

News of the Weird I have suddenly begun growing my nails out, keeping them manicured, complete with coloured enamel! Bizarre, given how thoroughly they get in my way when I'm working on any of my projects, but seeing lady fingers at the ends of my hands gives me some strange thrill. Who knew I'd take such pleasure in being so girlie?

Old News Revisited You'd think, as I did, that after so much good health news (no cancer, no polyps, no nothing that has dire consequences), I'd be chipper and happy and reenergized. But that's not the case, at least today (and yesterday, and the day before). Today The Black Dog is back for his dark visit, and with his presence, my vision has dimmed and my view, narrowed. I watched two films this morning, back to back, You've Got Mail and The Color Purple. You've got mail always gets me when the scene in which Meg Ryan's character is leaving her lovely little shop for the last time, and looks back to envision she and her mother twirling as the music swells. Today I realised as I watched that I have absolutely zero memories of my mother and I playing like that. None. Dad, absolutely, but I only remember my mother being angry and/or dangerous. And that, my dears, is very very sad. The Color Purple, on the other hand, causes me to cry at the end because of all the terrible heartbreak that went before for all the characters, and which never had to be except for the misery of the human pattern. I may not care much overall for my own species, but I grieve for the pain we carry and repeatedly deliver one another. Just tears me up.

The photo at the top of this post was taken by my computer a minute ago. Tonight I'm off to a pot-luck for V's sailing buds. I loath these gatherings, always have, always will, but sometimes you have to step and support the one you love. So the yummy, gooey dish of macaroni and cheese is cooked, I'm all cleaned up (the miracle of a good scrubbing, the right clothes, a little curling of the hair and light application of make-up still works! Hallelujah!) and ready when V is. He's not a fan of these affairs, either, so he's dragging his heels.

Haiku

2011-06-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

I'm a big fan of Haiku. The elegance of the form pleases my esthetic; the three lines with 5/7/5 syllables are the most efficient and elegant means of communicating the natural poetry and daily details of life all around. And once I start to write haiku, I can't seem to stop. This glorious sunny morning, for example, two haiku emerged fairly effortlessly:

Garage sale Sunday
Strangers picking at the piles
Discarded treasures

Dancing on the Bay
Diamonds sparkle, glittering
Sun and Water wed

So how about it? Look around you, write some haiku, and post it in the comments section here. I'm most eager to have such a perfect view of your life today.

The Future Has Arrived

2011-03-06T19:40:00.000-08:00

You know how one animated movie or another always seems to insist that their film takes animation into the next era, but when you see the thing it's either too dark (Beowulf and Polar Express spring readily to mind) or stiff and unrealistic, pulling you out of the story over and over (the two I just mentioned are examples of this flaw, too)?

Well folks, I have SEEN the future and it is RANGO. From Industrial Light and Magic, the studio owned by George Lucas that changed special effects with Star Wars), comes a Spaghetti Western with a touch of Hunter Thompson, Chinatown thrown in, the storyline is just okay (SPOILER: a weak stranger comes to town, becomes town sheriff through lies, gets found out and leaves, comes back, saves the town and gets the girl), but the animation is breathtaking. Just glorious, and this is from an old computer graphics nrrd grrl who knows her good vs bad when it comes to animation.

It's important to note that this is NOT a film for children (MANY jokes they simply won't get, and some imagery that scared the bejeesus out of all the kids around me - from 5ish - 10ish), but rather for those of you who are real movie aficionados. I kept hearing Johnny Depp (who voices Rango) channeling George Clooney's O Brother Where Art Thou? character, but go see for yourself. I recommend the late showings so there are fewer children, and oh, if you speak some Spanish, there are some laughs, too. For whatever reason, get yourself to a theater and see this. I doubt it'll be around long, because of the target audience, so GO. NOW. And let me know what you think.

Guilt Trip

2011-01-06T18:55:00.000-08:00

I rather enjoy resolutions of the New Year ilk, and look forward to making new ones each year in a constant struggle for self-improvement. I've had pretty good fortune with past resolutions, perhaps the result of not over-reaching my goals rather than innate good character. I never had to stop smoking (never started) or stop lying (not one of my faults), so things like "exercise once a week" or "find something to smile about every day" have been fully possible. But this year, I haven't made but a single resolution yet.

That resolution I shan't tell you, as it is inTENSEly private, but I will tell you that I broke my inner vow within 24 hours of making it, and, in spite of a series of stern talks with myself, have continued to break it almost every day. I tell you, I despair of ever improving that one, small thing within me. I say "small," but it feels monstrous humongous to my inner critic. The Greek Chorus that likes to serenade me in the dark of the night with Tales of Great Ulysses (sorry, fell down a lyric hole there)...but the voices that haunt me, taunt me...they say I am bad, bad, BAD. Unloveable and a miserable excuse for a human being because I cannot seem to stop doing this one thing.

Now then. I'm really not going to share my flaw with you, but I will give you a bit of background, and perhaps that will ease your undeniable itch to know.

My mother set me on this path when I was eleven. She set my sister and niece on the same path, by the way. And she knew she had sewn the seeds, for I reminded her frequently. See? Told you I had no talent with lying. Worse, I often insist on telling the truth when the kind thing would be to simply smile and walk away. Ah well...that's a fault I'll have to tackle in my next life.

I have had two or three periods in my life where this fault lay dormant within me. I say "dormant" because of course it erupted again and again over the years. My 30s and 40s were largely fault free, but then I fell over the precipice and my sleeping Madness came roaring back to life.

Now before you ask, let me assure you that it's probably nothing you're considering. Oh sure, I had a period of drinking (thursday nights, always thursday...fridays were murder at work *groan*), and a brief attachment to the errant stimulant or other, but I was on guard against anything that even whispered "addictive," cutting it cleanly from my life with a surgeon's skill. Well, anything but this one little thing.

A therapist once told me that I wanted people to know, and I spent a good long while considering the veracity of her claims. But I tell you most sincerely, she was wrong. I want nothing more than to live a happy life, free of the strife this malady causes me. And I do NOT want to people to know!

So what to do, what to do? I suppose I will take each day as it comes, step by step, and do my best not to step over the boundaries I find must be set anew on a daily basis. Being human is SO bloody difficult, isn't it?

Marching Toward the Abyss

2011-01-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

Gerry Rafferty in 2003

There is music that I consider the Soundtrack of My Life; almost anything by the Beatles or Joni Mitchell, one album by Bob Seger, a couple from Stan Getz, a Mills Brother's album, and others. Of these, there is a slim set that when played, result in me feeling stronger, braver, more alive somehow.

Gerry Rafferty's City To City album (yes, album...it was originally released on vinyl) is one of those. With perfect pitch and a rich voice, Gerry reaches in, fills my soul, and singing along to his music always results in feeling better.

So when I read of Rafferty's death this morning, it was with a genuine sense of loss overlaid with sincere gratitude for having made his music. Gerry battled demons and it would seem the demons ultimately won (you can read more at the Guardian), but he left behind what I consider a nearly perfect disc. Only 11 days younger than my first husband (Rafferty was born April 16, 1947), I find Rafferty's death also serves to remind me that my generation is now within easy sight of the end. But not yet, not today, not for me, not for many others...maybe tomorrow.

My Blackberry Isn't Working

2011-01-04T12:50:00.000-08:00

Enjoy this brilliantly written piece from the BBC (where ELSE?)...

Let's Be Safe Out There

2010-12-31T08:42:00.000-08:00

Starting Saturday, if you don't move over or slow down when you see police or emergency workers pulled over on the side of the road, you could pay a hefty fine.

Under the law, the fine will double if you are speeding or fail to move over when passing through the emergency zone.

WSP says there were still 80 collisions in which passing vehicles hit trooper vehicles parked along the highway between 2006 and 2009.

The purpose of the law is to prevent incidents like in this video

Stunning footage, no? I was taught to slow down and either crawl past or, if an emergency vehicle was in motion, to pull over and wait for it to be well past before pulling back out. I have seen a number of people ignore both laws, but I never fully understood just how stupid and dangerous ignoring what seems obvious to everyone's safety until I watched these videos. So let's slow down a little and give our safety officers a little more regard, okay? Oh, and have a Safe and Happy New Year!

Home Again From the Sea

2010-12-27T18:34:00.000-08:00

Hobuck Beach with Cape Flattery in the background -

the Northwestern most point in the Continental U.S.

After a lovely weekend at the beach, walking under intermittent rainy skies and by wind-tossed seas, we are home again. The cats pressed baleful glares and outraged meows against the window as we came up the walk, and the house was cold, cold, COLD after two days of no heat. We lit the tree, turned on heat, made some hot cider to sit and sip as we ministered to the felines, and all was soon forgiven.

Our happy little tree from the Olympic

National Forest in all her holiday finery.

V and I gave one another gifts we knew each would love. One of my gifts to him was Jane Austen's Persuasion, unabridged on cd - he's a big fan of Austen, and was delighted with the gift. And two of his gifts to me were a giant rolling toolbox (which I will be using as a household mobile studio), and a Makita cordless screwdriver (I've been ogling the Dremel Stylus for use in my bookbinding endeavors). How wonderful to be so happily secure in ourselves that we were each pleased as can be with what would often be perceived by our culture as girl or boy gifts! I just love it!

"Hey V! How d'ya like getting a box of socks for Christmas!?!"

Christmas is for the Children

2010-12-24T10:34:00.001-08:00

Precious New Zealand Children act out the Christmas Story

More from the St Paul's kids down under

Some American kids explain Christmas

With a song in her heart

Kids talk about Christmas

"

Oh Santa

2010-12-23T17:06:00.000-08:00

Flash Mob Messiah

2010-12-22T21:24:00.000-08:00

My sweet fella, V is a tender hearted guy...though he'd not have you know that about him. Pfftt! I showed this video of a Flash Mob surprising a food court crowd with a lovely performance of the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah to V this evening, knowing Messiah is his favourite piece of music - bar none. I didn't expect his emotional response, but I fully agreed. There's something about seeing "normal" (quotes because I loath the concept of normal) people sing such an incredibly celebratory piece of music so beautiful, whilst surrounded by other "normal" (ie; non-performing) people enjoying the moment of magic - possibly for the first time - that enriches the soul and fills listeners with wonder. If I've made some sense, watch and listen, and see if you don't agree with us...

The Ghost In This Machine

2010-12-21T10:58:00.000-08:00

Me, circa 1975, Seattle, Washington

Photo Marc Sterling

Ball of Seduction

Feminine grace, electric groove, where time passes by in slow motion.

Sometimes drifting, other times removed. The fantasy of flesh, the rhythm of love, the taste, the touch and the twists of fate.

The rise of the new day with the one you love. Timeless wonder. Time to make love -- electric love, the sighs, the moans, the lust, the love, rolled up in a ball of seduction.

Rock me gentle, rock me smooth.

On a whim, I occasionally look for old friends with whom I've long lost touch. Today I used Facebook to search for a few, and happily made contact with a gentle man who once took a lot of photographs of me and weathered the madness I endured in my 20s.

I was so lost then. Even more than I am now. har.

I've often thought of Marc Sterling over the years, wondering where and what and who, but before the advent of the Net, finding him would have necessitated a trek back to the Pacific Northwest. And I was busy living large in Texas, so Marc and many others slipped to the back of my mind. Of course, with the gazillions (that's a technical term) of people connected via the Net, I frequently take a few moments and search for one name or another (Michael Harder of Pacific Grove and Central Point, where ARE you!?!). This morning, I reconnected with Marc Sterling.

When I knew Marc, he worked a gig at Kaye/Smith Studios, the premier recording venue in Seattle of that era, and was building a photographic business on the side. Marc continued photographing the world around him, and has created many beautiful images over the years.

And, I'm pleased to report, Marc has returned to his music, too. When we connected via Facebook, one of his first questions was to ask if his use of an image of me from the dark and distant days of my youth as accompaniment to some music he'd written was copacetic with me. Not merely copacetic, but very groovy indeed. The piece of music is tasty, and the photo suits it well. Seeing that beautiful young woman makes me more than a little sad, for I can see from this aged vantage just how MUCH she had, and I know how little she understood her own value.

Makes me wonder what my future self will have to say about me.

Anyway. Here's the Ball of Seduction track from the cd he made with James Walker Jones, Welcome To Shark Park. The guitar and arrangement sound a bit like Jeff Beck's Blow By Blow album - one of my favourites. Trust me, it's worth a listen, and your purchase, too.

Am I a Phoenix?

2010-12-06T07:51:00.000-08:00

A phoenix is a good symbol to represent me, it seems. I keep crashing and burning, and then I inevitably reemerge from the ashes, despair burned away and wearing a fresh layer of hope all shiny and new.

I had a massive - and I mean MASSIVE - meltdown on Thursday night whilst at the grocery, standing in front of a box of Scooby-Doo Mac 'n Cheese. Yes, that's a real product...here's a picture of the ridiculousness...

As I stood in front of dozens of Scooby-Doos grinning at me, my eye fell to the price. $1.37 One dollar and thirty seven cents. One hundred and thirty seven pennies. That's it. Not even the price of a cup of decent coffee. And I couldn't afford to buy even a single box. Not one.

Struck/slapped/crushed by the sudden, absolute realization of precisely how utterly broke I am, I fell off my tenuous perch and fell without net or parachute of any kind, deep, deep into the void. I walked out of the store and into the parking lot, got in V's car, and crashed. I didn't sob, I made not a single noise, I just sat there with the tears rolling down my face, quietly, definitely dying. At one point, my mouth opened and a strangled wail of pure despair issued forth. After that, I couldn't move or speak...I was barely breathing. Somehow, I got home, where I sat silently in my chair...no sound penetrating from within or without. I felt DEAD.

When I was 18, my parents and I went through a Christmas without money. I remember it well, and how depressing the shops with their dazzling array of treasure were. As poor as I was, I had the good sense to step back and really look at what was important about Christmas. As I was absolutely not a Christian (at the time I was practicing Witchcraft - with a decidedly dark bent), I knew it wasn't about their religious portion of the holiday. And I knew that the crass commericalism in ready evidence wasn't what moved me, either. And as I moved through the days of that bleak Christmastime, I finally figured out what was important to me: the lights, the music, the greenery, and the food. Sure, presents are WONderful...I aDORE them, even have a piece of my personality named for its feeling for gifts "The Present Whore," but after that Christmas, I knew they weren't essential for a happy yule, but food and music and pretty lights were.

And here I was, forty years later, unable to buy food. Total, complete, absolute despair set in.

Now it's important that I take a wee break here and defend dear sweet V. He funds our lives at the moment, and he does it very well. But without my financial contribution, we run a mere $20 excess per month. So when we exceed that amount, the only place that can give is the food budget. So, dear reader, I'm trying to make you understand that the onus is not on V to improve this situation, tis decidedly and forthrightly smack atop my shoulders.

But how did it come to this? I mean, having FAR more than enough money is still a vivid memory of my life not that long ago. But then, so is my terrible fall into the abyss, and therein lies the full tale. It's hard to grow when you're hemmoraghing, you know? I spent fifteen plus years bleeding out, in critical care, every day renewing my intent to live. I may even have died some of those days. But now I'm mostly alive again, and ready to LIVE, but. BUT.

*deep sigh*

There's no conclusion to all this. I don't KNOW from where or what the answers are, but I'm wide-freakin' OPEN to all the possibilities. So come on, life, bring it on! I'm ready to participate again, if you'll have me back.

Who Knows Where the Time Goes

2010-11-30T15:04:00.000-08:00

John Lennon would've been 70 this year, Tom Jones is 70, and Tina Turner just turned 71. Yep, time flies whether you're having fun or not.

God I love this woman...

Cold and Grey Means Play!

2010-11-29T11:32:00.001-08:00

My girl is the red one on the left, a Chesapeake Light Craft. V built his Pygmy Coho HS last winter. Aren't they a cute couple?

Last week we were snowed in. This week it's all gone, replaced by grey skies and a cold, blustery, positively dreary vista outside. There are whitecaps all over the bay, or as V would say in his Aussie accent "There are sheep in the pasture!" Yep, and I'm glad Vixen is on the hard (out of the water and in the boatyard) for the season, so we're not tempted to "herd the sheep." I long for clear skies and windless water so I can launch my kayak and paddle around the many inlets of the local coastline, but that's not on the agenda anytime soon.

Today I plan to start anew on learning how to use my new rigid heddle loom. I warped it last week, but SOMEthing didn't quite work, so I did a bit more research (someone remind me, how DID we survive without the Internet and YouTube?), removed the error-ridden warp and now I'm ready to start again. Funny to be having so much trouble with this loom, as I chose it due to its ease of use factor. I've used a number of looms, nail-board, tapestry, and 8-shaft table looms, but never a rigid heddle version.

When I was 13, I was awarded a summer-long weaving workshop with Mary Brashear, and there I learned to love weaving. I used the aforementioned 8-shaft loom there, and knew I wanted to try some other ideas on one in the future. That future has taken a long while to arrive.

Last year I was invited to join an artist's exchange of amulet bags. The media used was wide open, and after knitting and crocheting a few bags, I decided to create a nail loom just to see what I could make. And I suddenly regained my former joy in weaving. I loved creating the little bags, and made one after another. Here are a few examples (use your view image function for a larger version):

Wool and Japanese Exotic Handspun Silk Fibre

Handspun Wool with Hand Carved Bone Beads from South Africa

Wool with Skull and Bat Beads

Handspun Japanese Exotic Fibre, Handspun Wool, and Glass Beads

Acrylic Fibre, Abalone, Kevlar Line (unraveled and rebraided)

I couldn't get enough of my newfound love of weaving, and I kept hitting every yarn store I encountered, looking for scraps of yarn or any fibre that moved my soul. On a trip to Vancouver Island, I stopped in Knotty By Nature on Government Street in Victoria, and there I fell instantly in love. With the Ashford Knitter's Loom, a rigid heddle loom that allows the transport of a project in process, meaning I could take my weaving project with me camping, on the boat, or just while I was on the road! After I got home, I began doing some research and discovered I could obtain one in the States for far less than in Canada, and I began saving my pennies. And then a lovely thing happened...dear Vincent gave me one on my birthday, two months later!

Now I know you're reading this on the next to the last day of November, which is more than two months AFTER my birthday, but a bunch of things transpired in the interim to conspire against me using my precious new toy. So only now do I find I have time to focus on learning to use this loom. And a cold grey miserable day is the perfect time to do so! Once I've gotten adept with this loom, I know I shall start longing for a larger loom that will allow me to create more intricate patterns, but I've enough on my plate for now.

And the second a little warmer weather arrives, I have some work to do on my kayak to make sure she's ready for a long season of water camping!

The grey hatch covers on my boat are in the process of being replaced by lovely wood ones.

Pity Party Wallow

2010-10-06T20:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I fell again a few minutes ago. A small fall, resulting in what will no doubt be some ugly bruising on my arm and knee. The good news is each fall has been smaller than the one before. The bad news is I continue to fall. More good news, I still bounce and bruise rather than break. More bad news, I hurt a LOT more than I used to.

This fall was a mere nothing. I was on my knees - yes, knees, apparently you can fall from a kneeling position, too - having just scooped the cat box, which requires me to be on my knees, since it's tucked into the ONLY available corner of the house behind the bathroom door. Fine. Odious job done, bag of used litter in hand, I reached up and leaned my OTHER elbow on the sink edge for leverage in getting up. But it slipped off and bang! I fell over, hitting my upper arm and knee on the way. More good news - the cat litter stayed in the bag and the bag didn't break, either. I pulled myself together, got up, hurting a LOT, and then the sheer, desperate, hopelessness of the whole thing hit me - aGAIN. I don't know how to fix this, how to get back to my old self, who was strong and powerful and could overcome any obstacle. I suddenly feel old and frail and scared. I ask myself, "Only old people fall...am I truly old enough for this to be a normal thing, all this falling? this lack of control? this feeling of power lost?" And if it is, if I truly AM in a real decline, not just some temporary one, what. is. the. point.? What frakking value do I serve by continuing to consume the resources of this planet? How, to use my father's best-remembered maxim, am I making the world a better place because I'm here?

I'm just indulging in a solid wallow in self-pity, partially because of the above, and partially because V suggested I wasn't thinking about where I was putting my feet or what I was doing when I was getting up. After feeling incredible frustration over his words, I screamed "This is NOT my FAULT!" and then told him to leave me the hell alone. I mean, come ON... If I have to expect 20 years ahead of me of needing to actually focus on and THINK about where my foot/hand/etc. is going in the next second and the next and the next, then I have HAD it this round. Check, please.

Slowly Slogging Back Into the Light

2010-10-05T09:12:00.001-07:00

Falling Through Fractals (2009)

Jesse Hotchkiss

I've been absent from view for awhile now, mostly due to some monumental incidents and changes in my life. Sloooowly, I am making my way back.

I suppose an explanation is in order, in spite of my preference for simply moving on and not lingering over the miserable moments of my life.

It all started in July, when I fell from V's sailboat. Well, actually, I took a flying swan dive off the boat and onto the quite large metal cleat on the raised-edge dock we were rapidly sliding into. My intent was to jump nimbly onto the dock, rope in hand to secure Vixen. Which, of course, I could easily have done in my twenties or even my thirties. Apparently, my fifties aren't my most nubile decade. Well, duh. You see, when I look in the mirror these days, I find I'm always surprised by the face I see, as I still feel like the beautiful young woman of a couple decades ago. No matter (she said with a dismissive wave of her hand).

Transcending Form (2009)

Jesse Hotchkiss

As Vixen slid into place, I jumped toward the dock, tripping over the toe rail in the process, changing my trajectory in the process to one of impending doom. I managed to land - HARD - on my left chest, then slide backward, grabbing the dock rail as I did. A young man who works with V happened to be right there on the dock, and he grabbed me as I slid backward, so between us, I didn't drop completely into the water. As I dangled there and he tried unsuccessfully to hoist me up, seven tons of unmoveable fiberglass continued to move toward the dock. Yeah, not a good scenario for my relatively fragile body. The good news in all this is that V is a master of docking (and all other sailing bits), and he managed to fend Vixen off and keep me from being crushed. Meanwhile, the dockside lad and I worked together to get my body hauled up onto the dock. Fast forward an hour and you'd find me in the hospital in terrible pain, getting scans and other tests. It turned out "all" I did was to bruise ribs, lungs, and spleen, and after a number of hours they sent me home with massive painkillers.

Fear of Falling

For about a week, I couldn't move without screaming in pain, but eventually I started getting a bit better. After three weeks, I finally felt good enough to attempt to paddle around a bit in a kayak. Still in some pain, the twisting motion particularly exacerbated the injury, so I headed back in and waited for V while he paddled about for awhile longer. As I sat on the log, the tide started coming in and lifted my kayak too much for my comfort, so I decided to go pull it in a bit. Standing on a log, I pulled the kayak up further onto the beach, but when I stopped pulling my screwy balance and the sand between my feet and the log caused me to fall backward between the logs. My body hit sand, not log,s and I thought I had gotten incredibly lucky. Nope. The very next second the back of my head hit the adjacent log so hard a fellow standing next to his car some thirty feet away thought someone had set off a firecracker, but realised rapidly that I had fallen and rushed over to help. I was in trouble, and I just lay there and cried. V finally returned from his kayaking sojourn, and once again I found myself in the hospital.

Now you'd think that was enough to make me far, far more careful, right? And you'd be right. But you'd be wrong if you thought those two near catastrophes were the end of the story. For, you see, I have continued to fall. The last fall was a couple of weeks ago, when I slipped descending the stairs in the companionway of Vixen, badly bruising my back and arm.

Three Ways, Two Fall (2009)

Jesse Hotchkiss

I have mostly recovered from the first two falls, which took a toll that forced me to withdraw from the computer entirely, my volunteer work, my beloved art, and on and on.

But there's a second part to my absence. In August, I changed residences, and my studio was packed into boxes and put into storage without my knowledge of the what or where of everything. So now, as energy allows, I dig out a little more. I know where my Copic markers and my watercolours are, some of my paper has been unearthed, and of course my wonderful yarns never left my side. Hey, I had to do SOMEthing while on the mend or I would've gone mad.

My favourite news in all this is that my mind is intact, something that was of some concern for a very brief while. My body's given me fair warning that it's changing, and I need to both work it a little harder in order to gain strength and better balance, and be more intentional in my movements. Through all this I keep in mind that I am my father's daughter, so the strength is within me to tap, I just have to be more focused in my efforts.

So now it's Fall, and I hope my last fall is behind me. Not my last Fall, you understand, but the last time I fall. Convoluted. But you get my drift. :-)

Geek-Gasm Alert!

2010-07-09T13:27:00.000-07:00

Ah'm in the throes of a full-blown geekgasm (my word, btw) here. Just saw the following new stills from Tron Legacy (aka Tron 2) and I am JAZZED! Bring. It. On. NOW.

And YES, that IS Jeff Bridges *sigh* in a Flynn redux. Can life GET better?

Here, share the chills with me as you watch the trailer:

Com'ON December 17...

Com'ON December 17th...

Timelapse As A Window On Our Lives

2010-04-20T13:53:00.000-07:00

As most people, I suspect, I have long been fascinated with time lapse photography. As a student, I remember watching films of seeds emerge from soil and evolve into plants; water droplets splash into beautiful geometric patterns, clouds run across the sky as day and night blended into one magical vista. But the advent of putting technology into the individual's hands has allowed the growth of new ways of expressing time through photography. The film I offer today, for example, shows not just a year's follicle growth on the man's face, but the changes the life experiences made on his visage as well. I find herein an expression of beauty that I have only found in fictional accounts previously. For me, there's a richness of texture and feeling to this film that transcends mere documentation and moves into the realm of poetry.

Gaga for GaGa..and for the parodies, too

2010-04-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

Now you have to know I find Lady GaGa undeniably interesting, and I look forward to each new glimpse of the eye candy she wraps (whoops, typed warps instead of wraps...almost left it as it fits!) herself, so I find her Bad Romance (featured here a few posts ago) and her Telephone vids delightful.

And the "real" Telephone video:

Thai Wednesday

2010-04-07T11:10:00.000-07:00

Buddha Bless

It should be said up front that I am a comPLETE sucker for eye candy, especially that which incorporates massively strange slants. That said, I hereby offer a tasty diversion from Thailand for Hump Day, guaranteed to get you through the rest of the week with a smile.

First up is Buddha Bless, a "reggae-dancehall" group..perhaps the only one in existence.

Next is Maitai Chaitawan, a hitmaker in Thailand at the moment. Hey, you gotta love the costume, right? Reminds me in some odd way of the English Schoolboy's gear that Angus Young of AC/DC wears while maniacally wailing on his guitar.

There. You feeling happier now? I hope so. I really do.

THE Muscle Car

2010-03-29T16:33:00.000-07:00

Heard that Donald N. Frey, the engineer who spearheaded the design and development of the iconic muscle car of the 60s, the Mustang, died March 5 in Evanston, Ill. In thinking about the car that represented so much of what was fun about my youth, I couldn't help but think about Steve McQueen and Bullitt. As much as that car made me pant, Mr. McQueen trumped that reaction with his clear blue-eyed no-bullshit visage, but it was close. Very close. Not long ago, I watched Bullitt with Vincent, who'd not seen it before (hey, he grew up in Oz, hitting his teen years in the 70s), and both McQueen and the car were still smokin' hot. If for no other reason than its role in Bullitt, I offer my sincere gratitude to Mr. Frey, for his project made my world a little better place.

Lady Gaga and Her Eye Candy

2010-03-03T14:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, listen, I have tried hard not to like Lady Gaga. Really, really hard. But I just can't help myself, I love the eye candy she presents. So instead of filling you in on all the amazing, wonderful, impossibly perfect moments currently transpiring in my formerly dreary life, I give you...drum roll, please...LADY GAGA!

Sunday Uplift - Listen

2010-01-28T14:14:00.001-08:00

Because I'll be camping this week, I thought I'd throw the Uplift out there a little early. Take time to stop and listen, folks...

"A soundscape is any collection of sounds, almost like a painting is a collection of visual attractions," says composer R. Murray Schafer. "When you listen carefully to the soundscape it becomes quite miraculous." David New's portrait of the renowned composer becomes a lesson unto itself, gracing viewers (and listeners) with a singular moment of interactive subjectivity. This film was produced for the 2009 Governor General's Performing Arts Award. By David New,
2009, 6 min 21 sec

The Rooted Heart

2010-01-24T23:51:00.000-08:00

The Rooted Heart, Fort Worden, WA 2010

For twenty-five years, I have worn one form of the winged heart or another, most of them in broach form, all representing my own restless heart. I always forcibly clipped my wings in order to stay in a single place with a single man, but that never worked for long. I stayed, but only until my flight feathers had grown back and I could move on with my restless winged heart.

A great deal lately has seemingly conspired to offer me that last Great Love I have so long begged the Cosmos to give me, and as hard as I twist and turn, I find myself increasingly enmeshed in an undeniable increase of emotion towards this gentle fellow who has so unexpectedly come into my life. Coldly put, eh? That's just my Gate Guardians doing their best to protect my fragile corpus.

For the first time in my life, I am being prudent, careful, taking time to know this man, to check the fit of our puzzle pieces, to discover everything I can before allowing my gates to open and grant him full access. So we walk, we talk, we sit, we talk some more, and we walk some more. Knowing mine is a heart so-ready to take flight at the slightest hint of danger, you can but imagine my surprise when, during the first of our lovely walks, I encountered a graffitied winged heart on a wall of an old building. And I took a photograph.

Weeks later I happened across the photograph again, and it suddenly struck me that this was not just a winged heart. It was a winged heart that had grown roots!

Could it be that I was growing roots as I walked over the needle-softened ground and down the rock-strewn beaches with this comfortable person, or were the roots there, just waiting for him to nurture them? With every step I grow stronger and healthier, more sure-footed and alive. Every time his arms go around me, I settle a little more into them. His smell is becoming a part of me, and I miss it when he's not near. Parts of me I thought long dead are coming to life like plants in Frances Hodgson Burnett's Secret Garden. The possibility of love - solid, honest love - is real again, and much to both his and my own absolute pleasure, we are caught in an amazing whirlwind of pleasure.

Will this last? Will the roots grow deep and healthy? Will my wings only be used for flights of fancy from now on? The only answer I have for that are the words of Willy Wonka, "The suspense is killing me..I hope it lasts!"

Sunday Uplift - Come Again In Spring

2010-01-24T23:48:00.000-08:00

For this cold Sunday in January, a lovely piece of animation - Belinda Olford's "Come Again In Spring" (again from the Canadian National treasure, NFOC).

This gentle tale about mortality works in subliminal ways. When an old man is visited by Death at his home in the meadows, he has to delve deep to secure more time for himself. Does he have the strength to find the answers he needs? Can we negotiate our time on earth? How do we reconcile our mortal fate? A lyrical look at a reality as old as humanity, yet as young as today. Based on a story by Richard Kennedy.

A Delicate Balance

2010-01-21T01:04:00.000-08:00

When embarking on a journey, whatever that journey may be, it is wise to take a set of useful tools/supplies. Without some modicum of preparation, journeys can become ordeals rather than pleasure trips. But deciding what is best taken to make the journey a good one can be most difficult.

For instance, I have begun a journey with a new friend, and just a short distance from the start I already find myself wishing for a muzzle or at least some form of light sedative that would allow me to shut the hell UP.

I've said it before, I'll say it again...when I'm nervous, I chatter. Oh, it's a terrible thing, my mindless prattling, and I am apparently powerless to stop the witless twit that's conducting the cacophony of squawks and blasts issuing forth from my too-stupid-to-shut-UP mouth. I'd say brain, but that part of me doesn't really seem to be engaged during these rambling rants. I'm SO good at talking when I should be silent that sometimes I just sink into a pit of despair. Annie Lennox sang for me as my marriage was ending with "Why?"

But really, all of this just brings me face to face with that most difficult of processes, self-forgiveness. I'm fairly adept at forgiving others (with the exception of my mother, of course, and even with her I've achieved some real strides in terms of forgiveness) their transgressions, perceived or genuine, but forgiving myself is nigh onto impossible.

A man once told me "You think too much" and I took offense, for thinking is at the core of me, but now I believe there might've been a solid grain of truth in that statement. One of my greatest talents is a huge capacity for worry, and what IS worry but thinking too much? I catch myself reciting a mantra in my head, over and over, "Let it go...let it go...let it go." The chant helps. A little. But still I worry, still the self-recriminations go on and on. Did I say too much? Too little? The wrong thing at the wrong time? The right thing at the wrong time? Did I blow it yet again with my verbose delivery?

At times of such self-doubt, I reach for an essential tool in my repertoire; the ability to trust. I trust myself. I trust the patterns of the Cosmos. I trust the Universe to care for me. So if my verbosity or mindless prattle closes a door, I trust that the door wasn't meant to be open in the first place.

There's a Joni Mitchell song that frequently sings within me, speaking my feelings and thoughts better than I am capable of doing. It's called "All I Want," and the first part of it goes like this:

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be
Oh I hate you some, I hate you some
I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me
I want to be strong I want to laugh along
I want to belong to the living
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some juke box dive
Do you want - do you want - do you want
To dance with me baby
Do you want to take a chance
On maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby
Well, come on...

So here's my question. If intent is at the core of everything we do, does my loving intent override my sharp tongue and blather? Maybe a better question to ask myself during moments of nervous chattering is "what IS your intent?" Wonder what kind of difference I might make in my delivery if I could break through my inner wall of sound with that question? Hmmm...I'll have to give it a try soon.

Thanks for listening. Sometimes it helps a lot just to talk it through with a stranger.

How Wings Are Attached To The Backs of Angels

2010-01-18T23:21:00.000-08:00

Once again, the National Film Board of Canada funds another exquisite animated piece. This one is "How Wings Are Attached To The Backs of Angels" made in 1996 by Craig Welch. In it, we meet a man obsessed with control; his intricate gadgets manipulate yet insulate, as his science dissects and reduces. The storyline is surreal to the point of being difficult to understand, but the artwork is stunning and well worth the 11 minute length of this piece.

The God by Konstantin Bronzit

2010-01-18T23:05:00.000-08:00

The God by Konstantin Bronzit Everyone’s got something that gets the best of them. Brilliant comic timing.

What is WRONG with these people?

2010-01-15T00:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the increasingly aged nutter, The 700 Club's Pat Robertson went off again on an insane rant, this one about Haiti. He said, and sadly, I quote: “Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about. [Haitians] were under the heel of the French...and they got together and swore a pact to the Devil. They said, ‘we will serve you if you’ll get us free from the French.’ True story. And the Devil said, ‘OK it’s a deal.’ Ever since, they have been cursed by one thing after another.”

But just when you thought Demented Pat couldn't be topped for the Batshit Award, Rush Limbaugh stepped in during his radio programmer with (and notice I quote) the following proFOUNDly insensitive and freakin' STUPID statement in response to a caller's question about where he could donate money to help with the tragic Haitan situation: ""We've already donated to Haiti,'' Limbaugh told the caller on his radio show. "It's called the U.S. income tax." But that's just the VERY tip of the hateful bile he spewed.

I encourage you to read the full transcript of the show, including such charming segments such as "Oh, this is what he (Obama) lives for. He lives for serving those in misery. Now, don’t misunderstand here, folks. I don’t have the whole press conference, but I wonder did he apologize for America before acknowledging we are the only people on earth that can possibly help ‘em out down there in any significant way? By the way, I’ve checked it out, Cuba has offered nothing. Venezuela has offered nothing. They have nothing to offer. (interruption) Venezuela is going to send 30 people? Well, they’re people who want to get out of there anyway because they’re having rolling blackouts in Venezuela, in Caracas, which is an oil-driven — it’s the most amazing thing. The vision of our future is right before our eyes in Venezuela. Socialist country, devalued the currency on purpose a couple days ago, putting people in jail if they raise prices as a result of this. We are devaluing our own currency, not as rapidly as Hugo Chavez did but we’re doing it with all of our deficit spending and borrowing. " You can find it posted here.

So, Heartless Rat Bastard Award of the week goes to Rush Limbaugh. An easy choice. The ONLY saving grace in all this is the relief I get by watching Jon Stewart and his brilliant associates give us this news with that mythical spoonful of sugar. See for yourself...

It's a Beautiful Life

2010-01-13T16:29:00.000-08:00

Remember that post about manifesting love that I made back in June? I talked about the deep chill over my house and how "I started taking stock and making myself ready for my love, who I feel certain is surely nearer me with every breath taken. Love, I am waiting..." Remember that? Well here's a miracle...I met a very nice, witty, smart, attractive man whilst standing in the post office queue, and tonight, a week later, we have talked, been to dinner, snogged (who knew THAT would ever happen again!?! It did and was amazingly delightful!), and tonight I'm taking dinner down to his place...a mere two blocks away - on the same street.

Is this lovely gentle man slated for more than where we currently stand? Who knows? We're both just enjoying this surprising turn of life for now, with no plans for more than each week as it comes. We plan to make a couple of treks to Seattle, so it's more like a week at a time than a day at a time.

Isn't it wonderful that life forever has the capacity to surprise and delight? Truly, my newfound motto of "Today is not tomorrow" is perfect. It's a beautiful life...

George and Rosemary

2010-01-13T00:04:00.001-08:00

This lovely animated piece from my beloved National Film Board of Canada made me smile today...perhaps it will make you smile, too. This animated romantic comedy about two golden-agers proves that passion is not exclusively for the young. With humour and empathy, it tells of George's affection for his female neighbour and the outcome of his decision to quit daydreaming and take action. George and Rosemary both certainly deserve love, don't you agree? Don't we all?

2010 - Imagine

2010-01-01T00:32:00.000-08:00

Tis my wish for the new year and fresh decade that the inhabitants of this world find a path to live The Middle Way, bringing tolerance and peace and compassion to one another; living in a state of love, of bliss.

Peace.

Once in a Blue Moon

2009-12-30T14:41:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, folks...it's a rare one, sporting a Blue Moon, a term that simply refers to the second full moon in a calendar month, something that hasn't happened on a New Year's Eve for nearly 20 years, NASA says.

"December 1990 ended with a blue moon, and many New Year's Eve parties were themed by the event," said Professor Philip Hiscock of the department of folklore at Memorial University of Newfoundland, in Canada.

Most months have just one full moon, because the 29.5-day cycle of the moon matches up pretty well with the length of calendar months. Occasionally, there will be two full moons in a month, something that happens about every 2½ years, NASA says.

But a blue moon on December 31 is rare.

And so, in keeping with the theme I offer you four very different versions of Rogers and Hart's wonderful old jazz standard, "Blue Moon."

1910 A Chrismas Carol

2009-12-24T21:36:00.000-08:00

Bailey The Unknown Reindeer

2009-12-23T19:10:00.000-08:00

As a special holiday treat, here's Harry Connick, Jr. accompanying Bailey, The Unknown Reindeer as he shows you how to REALLY enjoy being snowed in! Happy Christmas!

Sunday Uplift, Parts 2 & 3 - Crayons and Puppies

2009-12-20T12:51:00.000-08:00

I can't help myself...I just have to post these two videos. One fun song, and one VERY sweet puppy.

Sunday Uplift - Hedgehog In The Fog

2009-12-20T10:55:00.000-08:00

Feelings very much like a hedgehog in the fog this week, I thought this lovely animated film from 1975 Russia was the perfect uplift for this sunday morning. I hope you enjoy it, too.

Doing The Right Thing Makes Everyone's Life Better

2009-12-17T20:56:00.000-08:00

I just caught a tiny bit on ABC News in the segment they've been doing all week as a farewell to Anchor Charles Gibson, who's retiring after 35 years. The little piece I saw STILL has me in tears of awe.

Some years ago, Gibson was given the privilege of releasing a Bald Eagle that had been nursed back to health after being injured. He was told by the rehabilitationists, "The eagle will fly off, then circle over your head in a show of thanks, and will then fly away." "Yeah, right," Charlie thought, and then, to his utter astonishment and delight, the eagle did precisely that.

There's SO much more complexity in the minds of the life around us than we humans have the snap to recognise.

How people can be so cruel - to one another, to themselves, to the natural world? I just don't understand how they can be alive and not see how stunningly beautiful and immense and impossibly incredibly and inexorably connected we all are. Time and again, I see clear evidence of sentient behaviour in animal species that most humans consider "lesser forms of life." Things like the eagle predictably circling its "friends." How can anyone only see a dumb animal in that behaviour? What arrogance! What absolute rubbish!

Has my rant made any sense? I dunno...I'm far too serious these days, but then, I always have been.

Back in the 70s, when I was a fairly angry feminist, a guy once asked me why I seemed so humourless about sexism, and at first I felt a little ashamed. And then I realised the fellow was right; I AM humourless about injustice and cruelty and mindless behaviour. And honestly? I don't really care to find the humour therein, though I confess that I eventually relaxed a bit and managed to find some humour in the interplay between men and women. But then, I had no choice; I worked as an enginerd in the high tech industry...when I started there were MAYBE two other women in my department. :-/ Late in that career, I was informed during a performance appraisal that other managers had complained I was "intolerant of mediocrity," and I just guffawed. "If tolerance of mediocrity is required, I want OUT!" Now THAT was a pretty funny situation.

I don't suppose I will ever stop fighting the good fight for all my fellow creatures, and following Dylan Thomas' insistence that we must "rage, rage against the dying of the light."

So DO go gently into that good night, folks. Be kind. Be mindful of your words and deeds and thoughts. Do your ever-connected best to be good neighbors to the world around you, and remember, we've been given the great honour of being Stewards of this perfect world. Let's not screw it up another day/hour/minute/moment's worth. Please?

Animals Are So Much More Fun Than Humans

2009-11-28T14:01:00.000-08:00

Enough with the holiday blues! Time for what's important..shameless fun!

Lonely Holidays

2009-11-27T23:11:00.000-08:00

Holidays are so strange. It doesn't get much more lonely than the two or three days a year when 99% of the people around us are with friends and family. Fighting or laughing, they're together, in the warm embrace of a fantasy, anyway. It's weird not to have that in any fashion. It's weird to be alone on those days that are so devoted to the ideal of loving togetherness.

And you know, it's really the ideal that we all long for, not the harsh reality of the Holidays. I've shared plenty of holidays with my family that were less than ideal or loving. We all wanted that, we just couldn't seem to bring it off within the parameters of our sick, sad little group. I've been alone on Thanksgiving and Christmas more than once, too. The first time was the hardest, though I only remember the feelings, not much detail.

I'll be alone again this year, and I know I'll be sad and lonely. But honestly? There's not a lot of difference between being completely alone and having Peter in the next room. A little, but not a lot. We're like two objects in separate orbits that occasionally overlap, coming together to create a grocery list, or to put those groceries away. We seldom cook or eat together, or talk about our days. It doesn't get much lonelier than that, not really.

So I take a deep breath, straighten my back, plaster a knowledgeable smile of resignation on my face, and go forward. What choice is there?

Love 'em if ya got 'em, folks.

Feast for the Eyes

2009-11-25T15:59:00.001-08:00

You can ALWAYS tell when I'm in a good mood, for I reach for two things - music and colour...and where better to find them in glorious combination than BOLLYWOOD!?! And the always perfect Aishwarya Rai dancing Nimbooda - Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam is food enough to fill anyone's cup to overflowing! Enough talk, enjoy this feast for the eyes before you fill your belly tomorrow!

You say you want something a little more contemporary? Well then, try this blend of modern with the gorgeous stars of Bollywood:

Sunday Uplift - Allison Iraheta

2009-11-22T01:19:00.001-08:00

Last Year's American Idol was ALL about Adam Lambert and his glamrock power style, but I had my eye on the 16 year old rocker chicklet who came in fourth place, Ms. Allison Iraheta. I was certain that this little gal surely was destined for greatness, from her cute 'tude to her fearless performance style, so I was pretty pleased to encounter her kickin' first release "Friday I'll Be Over U" Get ready for one that's gonna stick in your head and make you wanna DANCE!

My Friends, Ravens and Crows

2009-11-21T11:23:00.000-08:00

I have loved crows and ravens forever, and defended them to people who think of them as pests; scavengers, carrion birds, and destructive creatures. Fortunately, since the general populace has begun turning more and more "green," scavengers are seen for the intuitive recyclers I've always known them to be, and more and more people are willing to share our bounty with the creatures of the wild with whom we are inextricably linked. I love vultures, too, but this is about how amazing and just plain old SMART my dark-feathered friends are. You may have seen some of the following videos, but they're worth watching, whether as a repeat or not.

My Mini-Show

2009-11-16T11:32:00.000-08:00

Mini-Show at the Library

Just after the first of the month, I was asked by the Port Townsend Library staff if I could pull together a display of my artwork for their case dedicated to such things. So I ran home and grabbed some pieces, and created a small show that includes Three Skull House (the skulls bob up and down when the handle is turned), the Today Is Not Tomorrow - Raven journal, the mica bound journal, a representative group of ATC/ACEOs, and one of my favourite dolls; Bill Witkowski, Vampire Accountant. Here are some photos of the various pieces...

Bill Witkowski, Vampire Accountant
(12" tall)

Bill and his vampire cat

Mountain Raven (3.5 x 2.5")

Safe Harbour (3.5 x 2.5")

Raven In the Snow (3.5 x 2.5")

Today Is Not Tomorrow journal (5 x 7")

The display I created was liked so much, I was asked if I could do one for December, too, so I am busy working on a Winter Solstice theme. Stay tuned!

Sunday Uplift, Redux - This Way Up

2009-11-15T16:33:00.000-08:00

I just decided we all needed more of a real lift on this gloomy November Sunday. This short is so wonderful, and just fills the bill of giving you glimpse into my mood.

This Way Up - Watch more amazing videos here

Sunday Uplift - Mars and Beyond

2009-11-15T10:54:00.000-08:00

In the midst of the dark chaos that was my uber-dysfunctional family, I ingested a wonderful diet of science and art, and ended up with a lobe dedicated to each discipline. Science was often presented in an artistic manner when I was a kid, especially by Disney. And so I would like to present a glimpse into an example of the type of animation that formed my strange mind via an ungainly post of multiple video parts. I hope you'll enjoy this, I know I did.

What is Art?

2009-11-01T17:29:00.001-08:00

Someone posted this in a forum I frequent, and I thought I'd post the questions - and my own answers - here. I'm interested in hearing from anyone who feels like stepping up to the microphone...er, comment section. The questions posed are in bold font.

What is art?

Art's a LOT like religion (for some of us it IS our religion) in that what works for one person doesn't necessarily work for another. Likewise the definition of same. For ME, art is that which moves my soul in a positive direction. Doesn't mean I'm all about bunnies and butterflies, though. I am particularly fond of strange oddities, said fondness often utterly confusing my "normal" friends. That said, I am also the first to call bullshit on what I call "Art School/Critic Crap-speak." Just because a guy CAN shit on a canvas in the middle of a crowd does NOT make it art because of its supposed avant-garde aroma (so to speak). Codswallop and rubbish I cry! But like religion, art is enourmously personal, so who am I really to say that act of defecation isn't art? It sure as shit isn't MY idea of art (pun intended), 'cause my soul isn't moved to anything but disgust, and so-called art that is repulsive doesn't make the cut for my inner gallery. Sadness I gladly incorporate, but not something that destroys the spirit rather than heals.

Why is art important?

One of the only things that makes humans worthwhile is our ability to express our feelings through art. Sure, elephants and apes paint, and maybe they're expressing their feelings through art, too. Hard to say since we currently have no metrics that allow us to measure their feelings with any degree of accuracy. Hell, we've JUST figured out that fish feel pain (well, DUH). In order to evolve as a species, we must grow as a society, and that requires the Individual to be aware of both others' and their own feelings. I wish I could report that human beings are good at being mindful of our emotions, either collectively or individually, but sadly we're not. And so art - music, film, sculpture, painting, textile, etc. etc. etc. becomes essential to our progress as a species.

Growing up as I did during the depth of the Cold War, I have been a fan of dystopian fiction usually involving a small group of humans trying to survive some terrible apocalypse. With almost no exceptions, the individuals chosen by writers, filmmakers, television honchos, etc. as essential members of their depicted band have all been useful in terms of their "hard" worth. That is, their ability to help their band survive via their expertise in some methodology involving machines or science, guns or foraging, and even the occasional leadership role (usually a former military man or a political figure). What is almost never factored in is the enourmous importance of art in the underlying health of the individual and social human psyche. Artists tell stories, we sing songs and play instruments, we bring colour and light and laughter to dark spaces...but even more importantly, we bring an extremely adept ability to think outside the box.

Akira Kurosawa said "Being an artist means never averting your eyes." I don't strictly agree with that statement, but I really get what he was saying. There's an inherent curiosity that artists are born with that causes us to examine that which others find unthinkable or repugnant. Because we don't avert our eyes; because we are deeply and undeniably curious, every artist I know of is capable of looking at almost any object or situation or problem and coming up with a dozen different ways to see and/or solve the situation. Artists are essential to the survival not just of our society, but of our core physical selves!

And why are YOU an artist, rather than anything else?

You mean I have a choice? Believe me, I have tried to be something else, but I end up miserable, angry, and suicidal. My name may change, and has, but I am an artist no matter what. It's as simple as that.

Journalfest

2009-10-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

Da Bones Journal
made for use at Journalfest

October, 2009; the month of quantum acceleration in Els' creative brain.

After Glenny's Art & Soul in Portland at the beginning of the month, I wasn't quite satiated yet, but after another intense three days and nights at Teesha and Tracy Moore's Journalfest here in Port Townsend, I am done. Stick a fork in me.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I am THRILLED to have attended both events, and I already have plans to attend MORE next year, but for now I am full to overflowing with ideas for new work and changes to works in progress. My creative self feels much the same as my physical self does after Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. A little bloated, a little sleepy, but both with a BIG smile across my puss. And NOW is no time to go back to sleep!

Today is Not Tomorrow Journal
Made in Doris Arndt class at Journalfest

I have posted a number of photos of work done at Journalfest in the My Albums section of my website, with photos of the work done at Art & Soul to follow shortly, along with a few movies of the work made, as still shots do a sub-standard job of capturing the dimensional aspects of the pieces. I am very pleased with all that I learned, and have a clear idea of the next set of information needed on my journey.

Love Is the Key front cover

made in Stephanie Lee class at Journalfest

Now, the fog is clearing fast, so ONWARD!

Art as Life

2009-10-21T11:15:00.001-07:00

Look at this incredibly cool video of an incredibly intricate and wonderful piece of art!

Madness Reigns

2009-10-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

I really think the face masks add a little something to the routine, don't you?

Let's take stock of the month of October, shall we? Wednesday the 1st found me in Portland, attended the long awaited Art and Soul, or as I like to refer to it "A Gathering of The Tribe." The first couple of days are a bit of a blur, as I was sick, sick, SICK. I loaded up on heavy duty tylenol (thank you Faythe), drank grape juice fairly constantly, coughed down into my shirt, washed my hands obsessively, and did my level best to avoid contact with other people - not an easy task at an airport hotel filled with over a thousand artists from all over the globe. Yeah, well, I really did try not to infect anyone. Still, by Thursday night, I saw myself as radioactive. I seriously considered a trip to the ER that night, and ended up taking two baths in an attempt to get warm, but by Friday morning the terrible temp had broken and I felt almost human again. Almost. Enough that I actually remembered most of what was taught in my oh-so important automata class that day. I was still pretty funky by Sunday, when I boarded the train for home, and even now I am still working at getting over what I found out from my doctor after getting home was the dread Swine Flu...H1N1! The good news? I've had it, so worrying about whether or not to get the shot is off my plate.

Now here's my secret confession: I've always wanted to be Patient Zero in a plague scenario, and where better to do that than in the aforementioned crowded airport hotel! Score one and gimme that merit badge!That brings us to October 5. A week into the month. Full to bursting with renewed knowledge of my true path in life AND a map of how to get back on it, I signed up for JournalFest, another wonderful Gathering of the Tribe, but this time in my own back yard! Almost literally, as it's held at Fort Worden, and Fort Worden is two blocks from my house! How cool is THAT!? So now, before I've really fully unpacked, I'm ramping up for another set of classes with Mah Peeps.

Last night I attended a talk and demo of encaustic painting at Akamai Art Supply here in town. Very interesting, and quite possibly the process I've been looking for to use with my art dolls instead of the miserable wax dipping I've done in the past. Can hardly wait to try it out, but it will HAVE to, as I still have the following list to complete by month's end:

The Deck Project, a year-long weekly committment I haven't begun yet! Ack!
Handmade Miniature Books with Inchies This one I have well in mind, and partially begun, too. Three books are currently awaiting my find hand for stitching, etc. Lord how I love book binding!
The Mad Alchemist - an art doll that is well along in her construction, I just need to sit down with the soldering iron for a day and get her bones put together into a skeleton so I can begin constructing musculature, etc.
Photos of all of the above and more
Clean my studio from the mad press to get ready for Art and Soul, so that I can take people from JournalFest into my lair without fearing for their health.
Begin prototyping a new art doll design that incorporates automata
Finish binding an art journal that is currently sitting in multiple signature form
Create covers and design bindings for four other books that have guts but no real structure yet
Play with some of the new products and techniques learned at A&S
Get my etsy store restocked (ACK! MUST DO THIS NOW!)
Get some canvases done for the gallery's Winter Show

And I know there's more...

I need a clone, please.

Ta-DA!

2009-09-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

After a real brain slog, and FAR too many starts and stops and massive failures and roadblocks, I have FINALLY managed to get my Wolf Bird Studios website up and running! That's right, folks, my professional art site is LIVE!

I am most interested in hearing ANY comments or suggestions or critique. There are almost certainly ticks and wonky bits, and I need your help in seeking them out, so com'on folks, let's hear some feedback!

Oh, you need a link? Sheesh...why didn't I think of that? :-) Here y'go: Wolf Bird Studios

The Kitten and the Pea

2009-09-21T11:32:00.000-07:00

Remember The Princess and the Pea fairy tale? At my house that has now morphed into The Kitten and the Pea for the following (obvious) reason:Brady on a stack of clean dog blankets

There's a chair under there someplace. Cats are SUCH hedonists! Or as Margaret Benson said, "The cat is above all things, a dramatist."

And here's the sweetness I awoke to this morning. Th two brothers - by love, not blood.

Brady and Kramer cuddling at my feet

Meanwhile, His Grace, Big, sprawls across the entire width of the bed. Hey, I don't call him "Big" for nuthin'!

Note the "normal sized" cat on the far right (click for much larger look)

Isn't furry love just the best?

We the Sheeple

2009-09-20T00:12:00.000-07:00

Super Yank - aka Captain America

A European friend asked me a question today, and I thought I might share the question and my response with you. I'm interested to know if I make sense, if I've overlooked or misunderstood or misrepresented anything, so please leave me a comment if you are so moved.

"Give me a clue what is going on with your politics at the moment. From this side of the pond there appears to be some anti Obama backlash, which is really sad, since the man hasn’t been in the job long enough yet, plus I don’t understand the fears re health care reform? Surely everyone would prefer a system where everyone can get and afford healthcare?"

There's a lot of cultural psychology I could share that would explain the reason we became the way we are in the first place, but I'll save that for the sake of brevity and staying on point.

But here's what you need to understand about the USA populace as applied to the question of our currently political situation:

Since the turn of the Nineteenth Century, when American Capitalists had the reins of the world market firmly in hand, the Controlling Class has been eager to control the worker classes in order to maintain their own power. We the People have been pointedly sold a bill of goods that we are the best and brightest in the world, and that America is the most important and powerful nation on this planet.

Post WWII, when our "enemies" were largely crushed, and our friends (think Britain and France) were in dire straits, believing that the US won the war for the rest of the world, we then wrapped ourselves in the myth of Super Yank, and declared the people who fought the war "The Greatest Generation." The ruling class, seeing a grand opportunity to continue their controlling role with the populace, set about building an entire industry (Madison Avenue and Advertising) on perpetuating the impossible myth.

So for the next twenty years, we grew our belief that we're the most fabulous country on the planet. And the ruling class, fully appreciating how herd-like we are when we believe we're all that, put their full resources behind the effort to keep us in Fantasyland.

Meanwhile, the Boomer generation was growing up without fear of war or want, and we thought this idea of working really hard without questioning the reasons behind what we did was stupid and too blindly docile. So we Questioned Authority. Loudly. Although there was great value in Questioning Authority, there was also a downside: in doing so, we taught others how to do it, too. That part becomes important later on.

Now, the Government didn't like being questioned; they didn't appreciate the sheep looking up, so they studied the whole experience and learned how to quash such a thing in the future. And boy howdy did they ever crush any attempt at rebellion during the Reagan and Bush years!

The knew that had to give the sheeple SOMEthing to make them feel happy and thus be more easily placated and thus controlled, so the entertainment industry; television, movies, sports, gossip, etc., and media of all kinds began overtly feeding us the Conservative line of "We are the greatest nation in the world."

During Bush Junior's regime, the propaganda was taken to the extreme. Any footage of wars in which our troops are involved or flag drapped coffins arriving home were not allowed broadcast on television (seriously, it was illegal during his years), and ONLY "Bush friendlies" were allowed into any situation where the little weasel was speaking. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Absolute control of the media, and thus of general public awareness created an environment in which things replaced feelings; where how much you had was more important than how much you were loved. Things became love. And by gum, Americans had more stuff than anyone else in the world. And we just knew other people in the world were jealous of all our cool stuff, and wanted to take it all away from us.

We were ripe, nay - pregnant with fear.

Enter Rupert Murdoch into this fertile field with his insidious tyranny of disinformation. Fox News became the (very loud) voice of the conservative right in the arena of coverage, a voice that was welcomed by all those people who were afraid someone might take away their stuff or The American Way. I do hope it's not lost on you that the final catchphrase of that sentence comes from Superman. As in "Truth, Justice, and The American Way." Too many Americans believe that phrase originated in some Founders document. *sigh* I'm ratholing again, I know. There's just so much slight of hand and so many half truths that really need some light shined on them that once I start sweeping around with my floodlight, it's hard to know where to stop. My apologies.

All of this brings us to the events of 9/11. On that day and of lot afterward, pretty much everyone (including me) was in a trembling state of stark fear/terror. And at that point, the whole ugly snake's nest of greedy power brokers came together as one. Murdoch and Fox News ramped up their rhetoric, and practically overnight Bush & Co stripped away entirely new levels of rights and privacy - in the name of security. And We the People begged the government to protect us from the bad guys at any cost. Murdoch and Bush were in complete control of this so-called "strongest nation." The only "strength" being displayed was abject fear, and a blustering anger in the face of a threat to our status and stuff.

So to sum up:

1. Madison Avenue and the Government and the Media figured out how to control the US Populace and abused the privilege
2. The US Populace believed the b.s. they were fed about being the Greatest Nation, and when the rest of the world's disagreement with that stance began to make itself known, the People were immediately scared shitless that their "perfect" country and life was going to be taken away.
3. The Power Brokers figured out how to parlay that fear into more money/power for themselves. Yep, Greed is of COURSE at the core of all this. Rat bastards.

Right. So now let's look at where things currently stand.

This country is divided, and divided deeply. A lot of the anger being generated toward Mr. Obama is a direct result of intense racism, but mostly that's just a leverage point used to get into the psyche's of the Fox News Followers. I'm not alone in feeling very frustrated by the Conservative Right's use of precisely the things they lambasted the Liberal Left for using, but more than that, I'm frustrated and seriously disgusted by my Countrymens' apparent disinterest in using even the tiniest portion of their higher brain function.

The impossible political/cultural/economic balloon of "keep 'em scared and sedated so they'll keep making us money" burst shortly before Bush left office from the terrible pressure of the Greedy Bastards constant sucking whatever rights or monies or power they could access. This left a no-win situation for whoEVER took over the White House. I believe the Power Brokers did whatever they could to help Obama win, simply because they KNEW how easy that situation would be to manipulate via Fox News - bile and bilge outlet for the Country. Here's a reasonable analysis of Fox News and the Stoopid Sheeple (my term, not his): http://www.turnoffyourtv.com/networks/foxnews/foxnews.html

This country has been very purposedly made fat (and I mean that in every connotation of the word), and stupid, and docile as a measure of controlling us for anothers' gain.

The irony of what is happening in this country is that the Right Wing is using precisely what they learned to supress back in the 70s against the people who were doing it then; the Liberal Left! And because those of us in the Liberal Left believe fervently in Freedom of Speech and the Right to Assembly (both First Amendment rights), we allow the Conservatives to assemble and spew their poison and invective - no matter how illogical or factually inaccurate (DEATH PANELS? Come ON..Obama not a citizen? Give me a BREAK). Yep, we're caught between a rock and a hard spot, as my dad would say.

From The Guardian

I've been watching the health care issue with no small degree of interest, of course, as I am aging, have increasing health care needs, and currently have no insurance. I'm frankly alarmed by the idea of "requiring individuals to purchase insurance, and penalizing them if they don't." Frankly, that simply means those of who can't afford to purchase insurance will just not go to the doctor or hospital, period. We'll die, simply because we can neither afford insurance nor the penalty for having none. But let's extrapolate one more level. Let's say I DO go to the hospital without insurance and I get penalised. I can no more pay the penalty than the insurance premiums, and they're NOT going to deny my health care at the hospital (we do have protective laws about that), so after a few million unpaid penalties (folks who can't afford insurance when it's required any more than they can now, etc.) we're back to square one in terms of "affordable health care," as the defaulted monies have to be absorbed somewhere, and without a GOVERNMENT-RUN/FUNDED (aka more direct controls than are possible with private companies) option, the private insurance companies are GOing to pass those costs on to their consumers, precisely as they do now. Is Obama's plan a perfect solution? No, but it's a start, and we have to do SOMEthing to get this old machine rolling again.

The biggest single problem with the US Populace - and the problem is getting incrementally worse (just look at current television programming or the film industry's blockbusters) - is that we've been carefully taught NOT to think beyond satisfying our next immediate desire. Any thinking that requires more than one element - long division or multiplication are two ready examples - any thinking that requires real logic is apparently beyond the capacity of 90% of the individual American brain.

Sadly, We the Sheeple is a far more current and representative start to our Constitution's Preamble than the historic We the People. Time to wake and look up, folks.

I think it's appropriate to quote Rumi, a Sufi poet of the 13th Century. In case you don't already know, Sufism is the mystic heart of Islam.

“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you; Don't go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want; Don't go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don't go back to sleep.”

Mary

2009-09-17T22:38:00.000-07:00

Mary Travers and John Denver, ca. 1968

First of all, you have to know that I was the quintessential California girl in my teens. I lived in the Monterey/Carmel area in the mid-late 60s, hung out on the beach wearing a bikini and my hair long, blonde, and straight. On the beach, my friends and I played guitars and flutes and sang folk songs. My favourites were always the versions of songs done by Peter, Paul, and Mary. Great song selections, and they sang in the key where my voice is most comfortable, so I walked around singing their music a LOT of the time. When Mary split off and did her solo albums, I memorized those, too. I loved "The Song Is Love," "I Guess He'd Rather Be In Colorado," "Rhymes and Reasons," and "Follow Me." The last three were John Denver songs, another favourite artist. Mary Travers died today at age 72, and I've been taking it hard. For me, PP&M represent my youth, and losing Mary feels as another terrible reminder that my life is decidedly finite and and my tme ever more borrowed. I'm grateful though, that I will have Mary's voice and the memory of those lovely times with my frends, singing songs of freedom and love and peace to accompany the rest of my days.

So here are three favourites - Because All Men Are Brothers (Joe Glazer), The Rising Of The Moon (John Keegan “Leo” Casey (1846-70), the "Fenian Poet"), and In The Early Mornin' Rain (Gordon Lightfoot):

There's No Place Like the Internet, There's No Place...

2009-09-16T18:52:00.000-07:00

So last we spoke, my horrible-terrible-awful-birthday was in full strike. Another catastrophe struck in the form of THE worst brownie+frosting combo in human history. Seriously. I gave some to a coworker just to see if I was overly biased by the horrible, etc. day, and she ended up spitting out the bite and throwing the rest away. Who knew you could ruin chocolate or lemon frosting? It was so bad that Peter and were practically on the floor with our laughter at just how utterly doomed my birthday seems to be. When midnight struck we high-fived one another and went off to our beds relieved the beastly twenty-four hour period was behind us for another year.

The next day dawned GLORIOUSLY, with stunning Indian Summer weather here. I dressed and ran around town with many errands to accomplish by the afternoon, and everywhere I went I ran into people who were glad to see me. When I got home, there were cards in the mailbox from distant friends, and an e-mailbox full of greetings from dozens of friends. One friend in Scotland went so far as to start a special forum thread for my birthday greetings in the online group to which we both belong! I was so amazed anyone would go to that trouble for me, and so very pleased by everyone's kind words in the thread. Really means a lot to me.

Yesterday I was up at oh-dark-thirty taking Peter to the shuttle stop, and then running at top speed which didn't stop until I flopped into bed, comPLETEly whipped at 11pm, just in time to watch Jon Stewart and then pass out. I did a LOT yesterday, and I can feel it in my body today, but the sense of satisfaction at having gotten SO much done is just HUGE.

A bit of silliness

Today I did my volunteer stint at the library in the morning (I'm their a/v repair person), then trotted off to the post office for shipping, to the doctor for two months of thyroid - funded by the check received yesterday for my winning County Fair entries! - then treated myself to a couple of replacement boxes of my favourite incense. It's a cheap thrill, which is about all I can afford at the moment. I have figured out and done the first of about twenty steps toward creating an accordian inchie book that's in the works for a swap over on iATC. I've also got the doll armature wire pieces cut and prepped for soldering tomorrow. Once I have the skeleton built, I can start sewing the musculature into place, then the skin, and THEN I can attach the arm-hands, shin-feet, and neck-head that are finally finished to my satisfaction. The piece has gotten named, based entirely on the head; The Mad Alchemist. After I'd named her, I realised it may not be entirely appropriate, but only the person who has commissioned it can tell me if it crossing any lines it shouldn't. Mr. V?

Upon my return today, a VERY special treat awaited me, as that same amazing Scottish friend sent me a birthday present! My only actual present this year! I tell you, as the years go by, I continue to learn deeper and deeper appreciation for the gentle kindnesses of friends.

Thank you all, your friendship means more than I can express in words. Thank you, everyone who took the time to write a few words of cheer and celebration. Thank you, old friends who haven't let our connection slip away, in spite of time and increasing distance. And thank you, all my new virtual friends, who have brought the kindness and acceptance into my life I have so long hoped for and sought. I love how technology allows such disparate souls to find one another and connect. I have gone from feeling alone to knowing there are a lot of sister and brother spirits out there, and I just wanted to give you all a great big virtual hug and thank you for continuing to pay your internet bills. Ha!

So as a small note of thinks (er, I mean thanks, but now that I say "thinks" I can see how it fits, too), here's a little funny for those of you in the know...(nudge nudge wink wink say no MORE)

Sunday Downburst - 20820 Days and Counting

2009-09-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

...whether you're having fun or not.

Have I mentioned how much I LOATH my birthday? Ever since I can remember, and I can with great clarity remember every one from my 4th birthday on, my birthday has been synonymous with a terrible, miserable, absolutely rotten day. Pets die, car crashes occur, terrible storms arrive, and anything else you can think of that constitutes a personal or communal catastrophe happens either ON the day or within a couple of days, either side. Remember eight years ago? We were all trembling in shock from the events of 9/11 as I turned 49 and NO ONE noticed. Well, one friend did...my sweet next door neighbor who had the rotten luck to celebrate HIS birthday on Sept 11. A year later, the neighbor son on the other side was born on the 12th. Yeah, counting his mother and sister and my friend/cohabitant Peter, there were SIX Virgos in three consecutive houses. Be afraid, be very, very afraid...

But this is about the crap day that always seems to be my birthday, no matter how good I feel or how fine a mood I'm in at the beginning of the day.

No, there will NOT be cake.

Today, as the newest example, I got up in the middle of the night for a drink and a stop in the bathroom, and reached for the glass of juice I always keep next to the bed. Yeah, you guessed it...3AM, half a glass of GRAPE juice spilled-all-over-the-carpet-and-my-precious-sketch-pad later, the lights are all on and I'm running to the kitchen for paper towels and spray cleanser. Half hour later, I'm back in bed, staring at the ceilng. Yup, must be my birthday.

This morning, I got up and sat down with my cup of eye opener while I waited for a wave of pain to pass. I opened the card and wee gift that awaited me by the coffee pot, then proceeded to have a crap time of getting breakfast together. You'd THINK toast would be pretty easy, huh? Not toDAY.

About twenty years ago, I actually realised there was some crummy cosmic pattern involving September 13th, so I decided to change the date I celebrated my birthday. I consulted a variety of oracles and after seeing a lovely biorhythm pattern of perfect peaks of physical, emotional, and intellectual cycles on that date for that year and the following two, I decided on October 2nd. Coincidentally, the first person I informed of the change was born on the 2nd of October...he thought I was joking! Stuff that makes you say "hmmm..."

Another step down my path

So I celebrated my birthday on October 2nd for five years running, having absolutely glorious days each time, and I figured I had broken the curse so I returned to celebrating on September 13 again. I actually had a pretty good birthday for a couple of years, and then back in the toilet the event went. I think I should really consider altering the date again, don't you?

For today, though, I'm just going to sit here, type, sew a little, watch some global disaster shows on The History Channel, and wait for another birthday to pass.

UPDATE - ONE HOUR LATER

Remember the middle of the night grape juice incident? That was NUTHIN' Peter and I have just spent the last half hour or so cleaning up a MUCH bigger spill of the same substance. THIS time I moved the same way I've moved a thousand times before, but this time a FULL - that's a 20oz glass - tumbler of grape juice got knocked over, spilling across my bedside chest (where I'd piled stuff the night before during the clean up), down through all three drawers, soaking a multitude of stuff that I haven't yet been able to face, and (thank GOD) soaking both the throw rug next to my bed and my (formerly) lovely yellow linen blouse. Purple and yellow make a particularly dreary shade of grey, btw. So NOW I have to clean everything from the drawers, then clean the room, and finally do a thorough vacuuming before moving the bedside chest and tackling the stain.

Anyone care to TRADE birthdays? Please?

Status Report

2009-09-12T21:44:00.001-07:00

I was always the world's worst when it came to logging my weekly status report with management back in my corporate life, so the title of this post is a bit of a joke, though I confess I'm beginning to need to keep status reports for mySELF! How miserably wretched is THAT?

I've been incredibly, phenomenally, profoundly busy the last month or so, and that's not going to stop being my daily truth until late November. And only then if I stop taking on new tasks, projects, and promising another slice of my time and attention to someone.

After weeks of coding/building the sucker, the last few days I've been really trying to take my Wolf Bird Studios website live, but continue to experience some FTP difficulties on that front. Setting her jaw and stamping her foot, she insisted "I WILL have this done before the Art and Soul Art Retreat the first week of October!" Determination R Us.

Right. So here's what I owe everyone - and if your request isn't reflected in the following list, you MIGHT want to ping me sometime soon...

Write public invitation for Sci-Fi Reading Group I've been asked to organise and lead. - due by 9/20/09
Magic wand for Teresa finished and shipped to Wisconsin - due asap
The Mad Alchemistart doll finished and shipped to Seattle - due asap
The Deck Project (iATC) - a new piece due weekly through 10/01/10
The Chakra Swap (A4A) - four atcs due 11/22/09
Miniature Book w/Inchies (iATC) - eighteen inchies mounted in a miniature handmade book due 01/11/09
Closet Swap (iATC) - atcs already on hand due in Canada on 10/10/09
Sock Symposium (weekend of Sept 18th) - learn to knit socks, stay two nights in Towanda the Wonder Bus on nearby property!
New web site finished - when? when? when it is DONE!
Art Retreat 9/29-10/04/09
Packages shipped - due by 09/20/09

I know there's more, but my brain is starting to liquify at this point in the evening after a very full day out and about at the Wooden Boat Festival here in Port Townsend.

Sunday Uplift - St. Olaf's Impromptu Joy

2009-09-06T00:05:00.000-07:00

On a visit to the Santa Barbara Mission in California, the choirmaster Dr. Armstrong called everyone into the chapel and had them sing one of the songs from their tour called "Sicut Cervus" by Palestrina. What a lovely impromptu moment. Don't you wish you'd been there? I certainly do.

International Bacon Day!

2009-09-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

The curious up-front truth is that meat really doesn't squeal my wheels, and every day I step further and further away from it. That said, if I could only eat one meat the rest of my life, as much as I adore fish, I would choose pork, and I'd even be willing to narrow THAT choice down to bacon/ham. I. Love. Bacon and Ham. YUM.

I do my level best to thank the hapless pig that gave its life so that I might savor the pleasures of its flesh and continue to life, but for someone as sensitive as I am to the plight of animals and our planet, loving pork as I do goes TOTALLY against the grain. So does my love of leather and fur, and I hope someday to come to terms with my cravings. Not today, though. And not tomorrow, for tomorrow is International Bacon Day!

In celebration of those incredibly delectable, crisp strips of fat and meat, I'm planning to make maple cupcakes with rich chocolate ganache, and topped with (drum roll, please) BACON!

Alas, I didn't make up such a wonderful idea, it came from the folks who started International Bacon Day; Tee & Cakes in Boulder, Colorado, USA. As logistically, I cannot possibly get to their shop tomorrow, I hope to replicate...or come close, anyway...their lovely bacon cupcake (shown at the top of the page). I'm considering two different recipes, though one is definitely in the lead as the other is from "Cooking Lite," and "Lite" just seems wrong somehow when celebrating bacon.

This is real...currently available in L.A.

Once I've created the cake, I have to address the dark chocolate ganache that will hold the bacon pieces on top. One recipe I have calls for instant coffee, the other for dark rum. Now believe me when I tell you that the coffee makes a frosting too rich to believe...and hey, coffee, maple, cream, and bacon? Obviously, this is breakfast in the making! So many choices, and only a single day of celebration. Oh well, there's always next year.

If I had some of this (available in Seattle), my choice of ganache would be easy.

So what d'you think? Which dose of death by maple, chocolate, and bacon should I choose? *sigh* So much sacrifice in the name of porcine glory.

Music I Love

2009-09-02T22:12:00.000-07:00

Working hard at trying to get everything done before the end of the month. In particular, busting my brain getting my website built so it can go live before I go south (literally, though perhaps figuratively in that I may crater - go south - before this month is over). Anyway, I thought I'd share some of what I'm listening to while I've got my head down, immersed in flash and html code. Enjoy.

Afro Celt Sound System feat. Sinead O'Connor - Release

Geeky Nrrd Grrl Plays With Her Brain

2009-09-01T19:06:00.000-07:00

After a couple of days of head-down, shoulder-to-the-wheel working, I decided to take a little break this afternoon and play with my brain. Okay, so there really was no decision involved, I just got sidelined/distracted by a fun link to an interesting blog, which led me to another and another and, well surely I can count on you to understand the fine art of surfing the Web. Inevitably, I landed on one of those "what kind of dog are you? quiz sites. The set of quizzes I decided to take were the following, with the answer received just after them:

How Many Colors Can You Name In Five Minutes? I ended up with 79...which doesn't seem like very many unless you include the requirement of typing. This wasn't so much a case of naming them as how fast I could type the words.

How Geeky Are You? I am very proud to announce that I am 97% geeky. And I don't know which answer lost the 3%. Good to have room for improvement, though.
How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take In A Fight? 23. No further explanation required beyond sharing the absolute that when pressed, I fight to win.

How Many 90 Year Olds Could You Take In A Fight? 27. See above.

There were many other quizzes, some I took, some I didn't, but really, where's the fun in letting you in on ALL my secrets? Here's the straight skinny, though...I am a geeky artist who can - and will kick both young and old butt , and whose body, at death, is currently worth (drum roll, please) a whopping 6,115 bucks! Must be the long hair...

Sunday Uplift - Bollywood Workout

2009-08-30T00:17:00.000-07:00

In keeping with yesterday's Bollywood post, I thought I'd continue in that vein, but today I'm focused on fitness. First, a terrific song and dance scene from Monsoon Wedding:

And now those moves I promised yesterday:

Let's start with an easy one, then build on those. As tired as all this makes me, I feel wonderful and glowing after these moves, and I think you will, too.

Now get up offa that thang and MOVE!

Dil Se (Inside Man), Revisted

2009-08-29T14:46:00.000-07:00

Some of you know that I am a long-time Bollywood fan. Enough that I have TWO boxed cd sets I like to listen to! I fell hard for Shahrukh Khan a bunch of years ago as I watched Dil Se, and started thinking earlier to day about two scenes I have never forgotten due to their powerful imagery, great music, wonderful direction and production. And so I reached out to the wonder that is this marvelous Web and found both. So, for your pleasure and mine, here are two of my favourite scenes from Dil Se:

Tomorrow's uplift will be some moves you can learn so you can dance along with your next Bollywood fix! Stay tuned...

Dreamy and Surreal Art for a Drowsy Summer Afternoon

2009-08-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

Sandman by Dave McKean

Some of you will know Dave McKean's artwork from the animated film Mirrormask, others from his collaborative efforts with Neil Gaiman and Ray Bradbury in book form, or literally dozens of other places. Distinctive, surreal, strangely compelling, McKean's work is certainly worth the minute, twenty seconds it takes to watch his lovely interpretation of Shakespeare's Sonnet 138.

When my love swears that she is made of truth,

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue,
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed:
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

Is It Just Me...

2009-08-26T23:39:00.000-07:00

...or is the new James Cameron sci-fi flick, Avatar (due out in December of this year) very, very tantalizing? Okay, okay, I'll admit that I adore most anything sci-fi, but this really looks good...except for all the grungy military crap, which VERY seldom enhances anything for me. But take a look...cool, huh?

Rest In Peace, You've Earned It

2009-08-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

Ted Kennedy, 1932-2009

Only Jean Kennedy Smith left now.

For those of us of a certain age, the Kennedys were always there, larger than life, leading us with their enduring hope for and political ideal of a better world. I remember the first time I heard someone spout something negative about the Kennedys; I was shocked, for I believed in their espoused values, and in their deeds toward making the world a better place for our having been here. Still do.

Kennedy's death brings up some very old and vivid memories. Of the bitterly cold Inauguration Day in 1961 with Eisenhower and Kennedy riding together in an open carriage in top hats and morning coats as I watched from a hotel lobby in NYC, of my sixth grade teacher crying on November 22, 1963, of that terribly long weekend with the funereal drums and clip clop of a riderless horse seemingly the only sounds in the world, and five years later, living in California, staying up to watch RFK win the primary there, only to be cut down like his brother by a zealot with a gun, turning my joy and hope into grief and hopelessness. My generation's innocence was diminished by these events, and destroyed by the duplicity shown by politicians who stepped in to fill the terrible vacuum left by the two brothers. When JFK was assasinated, even as an 11 year old, I understood that my world would never be the same; that if HE could be killed, no one was safe.

But Ted Kennedy endured his personal errors and family tragedies, and did indeed make the world a better place for having been here. His passing closes an era for me, and I suspect, for others, too. In our current world of instant access and opinion-driven government, politicians such as the Kennedys, fearless and steadfast in their opinions and positions, are unlikely to rise again. And that, my friend is our loss.

My Obsession With Recursive Thinking

2009-08-25T12:45:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, Benoit Mandelbrot (he of fractal fame) wrote a paper that examined a simple question, "How Long Is the Coast of Britain? Statistical Self-Similarity and Fractional Dimension".

Of course, Mandelbrot had a budding theory behind his question. A delicious theory that would eventually lead to his glorious work on fractals.

You see, no matter what figure is given for the length of Britain's coastline, it is not a definitive measurement, for, as Mandelbrot examines in his paper, the measured length of a stretch of coastline depends on the scale of measurement.

Empirical evidence suggests that the smaller the increment of measurement, the longer the measured length becomes. If you were to measure a stretch of coastline with a yardstick, you would get a shorter result than if you were to measure the same stretch with a small ruler. This is because you would be laying the ruler along a more curvilinear route than that followed by the yardstick. The empirical evidence suggests a rule which, if extrapolated, shows that the measured length increases without limit as the measurement scale decreases towards zero. All of that last bit comes directly from the Wiki entry on Mandelbrot's paper, btw.

Step 4 (of 14) fractal

Assuming your head aches when faced with words/concepts such as "curvilinear" and "empirical evidence" or even "extrapolated," consider this simple exercise. Using a map of the island of Britain, draw the simplest two-dimensional shape possible, a triangle, which surrounds the shape of the island as closely as possible, thus approximating the coastline measurement.

Obviously, this crude triangular shape is highly inaccurate. If you were next to carefully draw all the ins and outs of the coastline on your map, you'd have a different measurement entirely than the first, but equally inaccurate, as it's possible to continue getting closer and closer with your scrutiny of the coastline, down to drawing individual pebbles and even grains of sand. And even that degree of granularity would be inaccurate, for more levels of zoom are possible. There is no point at which one can say that a shape resolutely defines the coastline of Britain. After all, exactly circumscribing the coast of Britain would entail encircling every rock, every tide pool, every pebble which happens to lie on the edge of Britain. And let's not start a discussion about how to define "edge."
Some insist that Mandelbrot said the coastline of Britain is infinite in his paper, but he didn't. What he DID say was that it exhibited self-similarity over a wide range of measurement scales. Infinite length woud require a self-similarity over all measurement scales, which is impossible because matter is quantized.

The coastline of Britain is really being used as a metaphor; genuine fractals can't exist in the real world, because the real world is not infinitely divisible (as far as we know). Eventually you get down to the point where you are measuring around individual atoms; if you go farther, you have to go around each proton, etc., and we can't postulate the precise surface of protons, etc., so the recursion becomes impossible for our purposes at that point. Mandelbrot is actually talking about a fractal in a Euclidean space, where actual points exist and we can have line segments as small as we like. Basically, mathematical shapes are just not limited by the quantum nature of reality.

Mandelbrot also discusses the Koch Snowflake in his coastline paper, but that's a discussion for another time. To start your creative juices flowing, though, here's an animation of it:

All this fascinates me, for keeping the seemingly infinite recursive nature of everything around me in mind, it's a very rapid and intuitive leap to realise I cannot possible understand the truth of ANYthing around me, and that the very idea of "truth" or "normal" are absolute rubbish. And that, dear readers, has given ME seemingly infinite patience and humour to draw on in times of trouble. I'm far less patient with myself, for my perception of same is so much more accurate than of anyone or thing else, but sometimes I can even step back and joyously perceive the beautiful chaos that is Me.

I'm rambling a bit, I know, but I find it very hard, when examining recursion or chaos theory, to focus on a single point long enough to find the simplicity therein. Which, of course, is why I so revere people such as Mandelbrot. Building on other peoples work, he was able to focus on a single point long enough to grab the thread and follow it into the Rabbit Hole. Very, very cool in my book.

BTW, if you're interested in a visual understanding of the Mandelbrot fractal sequence, the full set can viewed here.Step 14 (of 14) fractal

No matter what you believe or value, isn't Life an amazing wonderland? Now get out there and see all those recursive physical and behavioural patterns in your world!

Sunday Uplift - Embrace Your Oddity

2009-08-23T15:33:00.000-07:00

When immersed in the most unusual circumstances, it's easy to believe no one else can possibly understand, and to withdraw from life. And then...well, just watch this to see what I'm talking about:

Red Rabbit from Egmont Mayer on Vimeo.

As a bonus, I offer this lovely piece of animation that's been around on the Net for awhile, but it's always worth watching if for no other reason than its sheer inventiveness:

Questioning Authority, or Fear Is The Mindkiller

2009-08-21T22:42:00.000-07:00

The past couple years, I've managed to reconnect with some very dear friends from my distant past. After 30+ intervening years, we have all changed a bit, but essentially we're much the same, and it's been truly wonderful to talk with each of them again. Except for two of us, who are childless, everyone I knew in their teens is a grandparent now. I find myself watching crowds, and zeroing in on the people with paunches and grey hair. Although I know those folks are my age, my insides are confused by that idea. And indeed, I don't look as old as a lot of my own generation, but that's due to a lucky role of the genetic dice, for the truth is, I AM an aging Boomer. One thing I like about my generation, at least around these parts, is how we've not cratered to the societal expectation of a more conservative style with hair and wardrobe. Both men and women wear their greying hair long. Gimmee a head with hair - long, beautiful hair! Shinin', gleamin',streamin', flaxen', waxen. Give me down to there hair, shoulder length or longer...

One gift my generation gave the world was "Question Authority." Of course, in keeping with my overall yin/yang view of life ("that which appears to be a cream puff frequently turns out to be a shit sandwich - and vice versa," or "that which is our strength is also our weakness"), I believe said gift is also a curse, for there is also much good to be had by not questioning authority. Had I questioned my father's insistence that I stay out of the street as a kid, for example, I might not be here to tell the tale. But don't misunderstand, I am Queen of Asking "Why?" In fact, some of the brutality visited on me as a kid came about as a direct result of asking my father "But WHY?" Poor parental units, they were SO not up to the task of a sharp little tyke like me...but that's a story for another day.

I have been watching all the hubbub over the proposed health care reform, and it occurred to me that what I'm seeing is my generation and the one before it at odds yet again. See, the generation before mine were the kids who went to high school under the Truman and Eisenhower Administration in the 50s...Bobby Soxers who towed the social line and seldom questioned authority. Obviously, a bunch of people from that generation ended up siding with my generation and questioning authority, but the majority didn't. And therein lies the real "Generation Gap," in my opinion.

When I see the people screaming and throwing tantrums over the proposed change in the status quo, I can't help but notice more often than not it's the Bobby Soxers vs the Boomers. Strikes me it's a way for people to voice their overall frustration with a life that simply never lived up to their expectations, but a discussion of the whats and whys of those expectations will have to saved for another day.

I have a lot of friends in their sixties, ten+ years older than me, and we are frequently at odds when discussing political and social mores (pronounced "MOHrays" it's a Latin term for societal norms, customs, virtues or values). More often than not, it all comes down to fear. In order to question authority, you either have to be terribly afraid (enough to overcome your socialized fear), or simply foolish or foolhardy enough to ask "why?" If the former, there's a natural aggressiveness that almost invariably cues a switch to fight (as in fight or flight) mode.

Now I could go on, talking about how my generation was so pampered and all powerful (due to our sheer numbers and the advent of our births immediately following a terrifying and fiercesome war), and thus never learned the value of fear, or about how the generations just before and after mine have a right to be angry, overshadowed as they are by the Boomers, but let's just stay focused on the matter at hand, shall we? And the matter at hand is health care for our citizenry.

I believe the majority of Americans can agree that the health care system in place simply doesn't work. A change of the status quo is required at this time. But what to do? If you look at Canada and Britain and Scandinavia for examples of socialized (stay with me, I know that word scares a lot of you) medicine, you will see ways in which those systems work very well and ways in which they don't. Still, the one thing that CAN be said is no one is without critical care in those countries, something that sadly cannot be said of this country's medical system.

Over the past two decades, due purely to financial woes, small towns across this nation have been forced to shut down their hospitals and clinics, doctors forced to leave those towns for a larger population base - aka more money. One of the things driving the increase in costs to the medical establishment is preventative measures. When was the last time you had anyone get near any of your body fluids (the mouth is DEFinitely included) without gloves? If you're old enough, you remember doctors and nurses washing their hands before and after treating you. Not any more. Now there's a separate trashcan emblazoned with a bio-hazard icon, and the omnipresent box of gloves. Every time a medical person enters a treatment room with the intent of touching you, a fresh pair of gloves is required. I used to worry about disposable diapers taking over the landfills of the world, now I worry about plastic bottles and latex gloves.

Let's say a doctor sees fifteen patients a day...and that's a conservative estimate in many modern practices. Let's further assume three separate trips into the room for treatment, with a pair of fresh gloves for both doctor and nurse each time. That's a total of 90 pairs of gloves a day! A box of 40 latex gloves runs about $30. So each day that's a cost of about $70, just in gloves, for each pair of doctor and nurse. Using the most common business estimate of 240 work days a year, you end up with a whopping $16,800 a year in GLOVES! For a single pairing of doctor and nurse in a quiet little practice.

But I fear I have rat holed a bit. The thing is, we Americans (others, too) have been carefully trained to believe our government and medical establishment is supremely competent, and will take care of us, absolutely. A very precise parent-child relationship between authority and the general populace has been crafted over the last 50-100 years, and it worked pretty well for most of that time. But neither our world nor our society can afford that relationship to continue.

We must now be encouraged in our pursuit of adulthood and the inevitable partnership it will bring. We must question Authority, not angrily, but for real answers and assistance in our pursuit of social adulthood. And that Authority must learn to calm its own fears, for we have no desire to do without them, we just want to be treated as partners rather than children. We can learn to take on some of the work that we rely too heavily on social systems to do for us, and in doing so take responsibility for ourselves again, rather than embracing our destructive sense of individual and sociological entitlement.

None of this is easy, but the potential rewards are great. If we can muster the wherewithal to step up and accept responsibility for ourselves, our descendants will have a far healthier society than the one in which we currently live. And isn't that what people insist their primary concern is for; "the kids"? So folks, let's stop throwing tantrums, take a few deep breaths, and start talking with one another in an effort to build a better world - for ourselves and for our children.

Compassion...Hmmmmm

2009-08-20T17:53:00.000-07:00

Ironic, no?

Nrrd Grrl Alert!

2009-08-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

I am PSYCHED, kids! You may remember my Oct. 26 '08 up the illicit footage of Tron 2 from last year's Comic-Con, so when I suddenly thought to look for what was released THIS year, you may have heard the shriek of total glee when I watched the following real-deal movie trailer. This is SO kewl...

Now go to YouTube and watch it full-screen in HD...it is a fun glimpse, with perennial hottie Jeff Bridges back in the same role he played in the 82' version.

Sunday Uplift - Blueberry Girl

2009-08-16T10:12:00.000-07:00

"I have seen landscapes...which, under a particular light, made me feel that at any moment a giant might raise his head over the next ridge.
Nature has that in her which compels us to invent giants; and only giants will do."

- C.S. Lewis

Here is a lovely animated version of the beautiful poem "Blueberry Girl," written by the always wonderful Neil Gaiman, and illustrated by the masterful Charles Vess. The entire book can be seen and read at Harper-Collins Children's Books.

Mr. Vess has illustrated another wonderful Gaiman poem, Instructions (on how to survive a fairy tale), due out in March 2010. A fantabulous preview of the illustrations, with a marvelous glimpse of his process can be seen on Vess's Greenman Press site.

Fair Trade

2009-08-15T14:36:00.001-07:00

Every year, the Jefferson County Fair is held just across the street from my house. Possibly because it's as handy as it is, I find myself entering my art each year. Years past, I've been very pleased to get blue ribbons on everything I entered, and I expected this year's entries would receive the same accolades.

I was wrong.

I entered three ATCs (Artist Trading Cards) and one of my art dolls. The ATCs won 1st Place Blue Ribbons and Honorable Mention, which was very exciting for me. But the real excitement was centered around the art doll.

His name is Yuri, and the piece is titled "Lunchtime." I see Yuri as the quiet son of immigrants, working steadfastly as an underling at his desk job, taking his lunch to the park every day and feeding the birds. He is so sweet and gentle that the birds have come to know and trust him.

In creating a doll, I start with the head, as the size and expression that emerges as I sculpt tells me who the character is, what size the rest of the body needs to be, etc. I usually know the character very well by the time I've finished sculpting a head, as they seem very pleased to have with whom someone to share their story, and I'm a good listener.

I start by selecting a set of dentures and eyeballs from my supply (I make dentures and eyes once a year or so), and around them I sculpt the head, arms and hands, legs and feet using my own unique polymer blend. Then I begin creating a body to fit the head and limbs. First I create a wire skeleton from wire, wrapping it to create the necessary "joints and bones." Next I sew batting in place over the wire, doing a crud musculature sculpting as I go. I follow that with a "skin" (nylon fabric), needle sculpting muscles and body features in place as I go. Finally, I attach the finished head and limbs. The clothes are entirely handsewn by from my own patterns (which differs from figure to figure, of course), his hair is Nutria fur (a tiny piece of an ancient coat), and the belt and shoes are made from old glove leather, with polymer soles.
But I know you're waiting to hear the judging results, right? Yuri got a 1st Place Blue Ribbon, but he ALSO got "Best of Class!" I am SUCH a proud artist today...and with the cash award, I just might have $20 to spend while at the Art & Soul Art Retreat in Portland late next month!

Curious Thoughts

2009-08-14T16:05:00.000-07:00

Forelius Ant

I read a TON of material, primarily scientific books and magazines, but my personal adage has long been "if it has text and doesn't move away from me, I'll read it." Now I'm not saying I reTAIN all the data I take in, though I very likely do; I just haven't figured out how to access all the files. Today, I was reading American Naturalist, and encountered the following information:

Scientists in Brazil have observed an unusual act of selflessness. When Forelius ants retire for the night, one or more workers remain outside the colony, kicking sand to seal the entrance. If that protects those within from predators or rain, it dooms the outside ants to die overnight of exposure. It's the first known case of "pre-emptive self-sacrifice" among insects.

Forelius Ant Colony Entrance Being Closed

After I read that, I just sat by the window, looking out, thinking. How do they choose who stays outside? DO they chose, or is it a case of last one home's a rotten egg? And do the sacrificial ants stay outside the entrance and die, or do they move away to remove any trace of lure for predators? If they stay, what happens to their little exoskeletons the next day? Do the inside ants move them away? Eat their hapless brothers? Just ignore them and crawl over and around them as they go about their antish business? Surely not the last, as there would be quite a pile of little bodies after just a few nights, and that would surely attract those pesky predators. And if they're capable of self-sacrific for the greater good of the colony, is there some modicum of sentience within those ants we are simply too large and bumbling to have discerned? Do ants mourn their losses? Does the fact that SOMEONE is gonna hafta stay outside and die cause them pause on any level? And if so, does that mean their tiny ant brains are convoluted enough that they think, and if they think, is evolution inevitable? And evolution to what end? A better system that allows all the ants to live? Or some Faith grown around the inevitability of death and self-sacrifice? For that matter, does the evidenced self-sacrifice represent sentience all by itself?

Life offers us such ponderous wonders to examine. In an ant's self-sacrifice, I find the same question every human has asked, "Why?" And the answer is as complex as all those questions above, and as simple as "because it must be done."

I suppose Mr. Spock said it best for me, “Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

RIP Les Paul

2009-08-13T16:24:00.000-07:00

I couldn't choose just one...Les Paul was one of my idols...watch, listen, learn

Death Is Weird

2009-08-12T20:49:00.000-07:00

My mother and me, 1998 - Negative energy in abundance on display

Late last week, my housemate's mother died in the south of Spain, so there's an air of inevitable sadness around here. Peter's gearing up for a trek to Spain and then on to Denmark to sort out matters relevant to her estate, and that's good because it gives him a place to focus and thus not just fall into a sad place. Peter and Lynn only saw one another every couple of years, though they spoke on the phone weekly, so her death is being felt differently than my dad's was for me. With dad, I spent either every day or every other day with him the last five years of his life, and when he was suddenly gone, I had a huge hole in my world I'm just now (almost four years later) beginning to really fill. There, now I've made myself cry again. I still miss him so much.

*deep shaky sigh*

Back when Peter and I were something other than two people living very separately under the same roof, Lynn wanted me to be her daughter in law; daughter to her, but that was never going to happen. I've had two mother in laws, one of whom was the mom my own mother never managed to be, so I simply had no desire to rebuild another relationship in that mold. Still, we corresponded via the postal system, and I occasionally spoke with Lynn on the phone. I knew she was failing when our telephone conversations were thick with what I call "Danspanglish." Lynn (and her son, Peter) are Danes, with English as their second language, and Spanish as their third. As Lynn's mind started to slip, she frequently forgot I didn't speak Danish, or forgot the English word or term needed, so she lapsed into Danish or occasionally Spanish. Fortunately, I understand Danish well enough to give her the appropriate feedback during our conversations so she could keep talking. Most of the time, anyway. When her mind really started to go, I could answer her in English (or Spanish), and she'd motor on, still speaking Danish.

It seems every time someone dies, I feel as though I've let them down, no matter how hard I worked at being whatever it was I perceived them as needing. Even with dad, who lived with me, and when that became dangerous/impossible, lived in an terrific Assisted Living facility, I felt like a failure. In spite of spending 2-8 hours every other day, I felt as as though I had let him down when I didn't happen to drive across town to be with him the day he died because I was "tired." I beat myself over that, silently shrieking "How DARE you allow yourself to be too tired to visit your father! If you had visited, he wouldn't have died!" The logical side of my psyche repeatedly insists I need to get a GRIP; to remember that he was 96 and had repeatedly and intensely espoused a desire to die.

And then there was Margie, my dear, sweet, wonderful mother in law, to whom I was fortunate enough to fully impart the depth of my affection, but at the end I still felt as though I should have somehow been there for her more than I had.

Me. Today. 56 Years Old and an Orphan

Having read Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, along with the Tibetan Book of the Dead and number of other psychological and spiritual texts and treatises on the subject of death and dying, and as a largely Buddhist-oriented person, I understand that death is part of the cycle of life. I have long done psychopomp work with both animals and humans, so it's not like I'm wary or afraid of death. Intellectually and even spiritually, I get the process and the cycle that both the living and the dead experience, but emotionally? I still ache, just like everyone else. I still experience those five stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Knowing that everyone goes through the loss of their loved ones at some point, and thus I'm not alone in my pain, helps a little, but all in all, grief is a solitary experience.

So both our bats are gone, and both our belfreys, too. Peter and I are both orphans now, and marching forward to stand at the front of the line, next to go. Death (and life) is weird, isn't it?.

Wish I'd Said That

2009-08-11T20:46:00.001-07:00

From Southern Belle comes this spot-on rant about the current Health-Care hullabaloo. Agree or not, it's very well written, and it certainly speaks for me. And before you go off on me, just remember how great it is that we can openly disagree. I'd go into the difference between the Bush Regime and the Obama Administration, but, well, you probably have a pretty good idea of my point of view by the two descriptive words I just chose for each man's Presidential term.

Life As An Observer

2009-08-10T23:21:00.000-07:00

Stephen Hickman's Dragon's Hoard

I have found through experience that whatever my weakness is, it's almost always also my strength. As just one example, because my mind is constantly working and whirring, I often spout ideas/thoughts that people either don't understand or find offensive. Fortunately, because my mind is constantly thinking, thinking, thinking, I often discern patterns and solve problems that others haven't. See what I mean? My weakness and my strength. The yin and the yang of me.

And so it is with my propensity for observation. I'm an observer, an Enneagram Type Five (with a very healthy Four wing and a somewhat less healthy Six wing), and a Myers-Briggs INTP/INFP (I wobble). All that classification jargon simply means I like to watch (why, yes I DO love Jerzy Kosinski's Being There). Makes me an uncomfortable mingler at parties, but if I'm allowed to sit on the sidelines and just watch, I'm happy to attend. The up side of being an observer is that it makes me a far, far better artist. I don't just see, I observe and examine, forming a relationship in the process with the subject of my focus.

By forming that relationship, feelings grow within me, and those feelings get applied to my artistic expression of the observed object or person. To put it another way, when I paint a tree, I don't just paint a brown trunk and branches and some green leaves. Rather, I paint a living entity that moves with the air around it, changes with the seasons, sees things in ways I will never be able to. And with my heart so full of what I've "seen," I create a tree from the inside, out.

That's cool, right? Well here's the downside: having formed a relationship with an item, I am now attached to it. Thus, I have a ton of stuff in my life to which I am attached due to a perceived relationship. I can pick up almost any item in my home and weave an entire tale of its existence in my life. Not so much memories as a recounting of our time together. Makes it REALLY hard to let go of things.

So it's brilliant being an observer because it increases my soul's breath in the process, and it rots because I'm like some great dark dragon, always watching from atop her hoard of "treasure."

Just burn the house down around me, will ya?

Random Thoughts and Questions - Part Two

2009-08-09T16:10:00.001-07:00

Niels Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, Wolfgang Pauli

From my journal, 2004 - Part Two:

"If, as many close friend have said, I truly do vibrate at a different frequency than other people, how does that effect my life? Where are the others who vibrate at a similar rate to that of mine? Do I even see the people who vibrate at the extreme other end of the spectrum from me? Again, can this "vibrational spectrum" be quantified and thus measured and mapped?

Vibrational spectrum is not a direct indicator of higher or lower intelligence, except (possibly) as perceived by society, in that quicker pattern recognition (due to higher vibrational rates) results in faster reactions to a broad spectrum of stimuli: human-human, human-machine, human-animal, and human-situational interactions.

It seems I have chosen a path on which tests and measurements of the brain/psyche are important. To wit:

1a) The effect of walking labyrinths
1b) The effect of different patterns & placements
2a) Pattern recognition as a hallmark of evolved intelligence
2b) Pattern recognition across species
3a) Vibrational spectrums

****
Do I know what all that means? Actually, yes, but I suspect anyone else reading it may think I'm a whack job. And who knows, maybe I am. Or maybe I simply vibrate at a different frequency than you.

Which leads directly to my quote of choice for the day:

"We all agree that your theory is crazy. The question which divides us is whether it is crazy enough." - Niles Bohr to Wolfgang Pauli

Random Thoughts and Questions

2009-08-08T00:01:00.000-07:00

From my journal, 2004, Part One of some deep thoughts:

"Can everything be made to fit a given theorum? And if so, then can all philosophies/ideas/theories be distilled into/quantified as a single, pure formula?

Game theory would then apply directly, which means that all thought and action is fully predictable and therefore free will does not exist. Does game theory factor in "free will?" It must, or there can be no conclusive pattern recognition.

Is pattern recognition the key to higher (more evolved) intelligence?

How can testing be generated that will measure pattern recognition - within the human species, and across all life forms?"

Tomorrow, Part Two.

And here's the salient quote for the day: "The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible." - Einstein

Gorr'am Great Show - You Can't Take the Sky From Me

2009-08-05T13:43:00.000-07:00

If you've never seen Firefly, Joss Whedon's brilliant Space Western, I'm very sorry to inform you that your life is simply far less for the oversight. And oversight it must surely be, as no truly sentient being could possibly intentionally leave such a great experience out of their life! I keep expecting to grow tired of it, but after multiple viewings of both the show and the feature-length film that followed, I find I only hunger for more. The balance of humor and pathos with the delicious and oh-so-delightfully balanced assembly of characters is just perfect. Here's a video that offers but a small but lyrical glimpse of the heart of Firefly...

Random Thoughts and Questions - Mind the Gap

2009-08-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

Almost from birth, I've kept a journal consisting of thoughts, questions, and ideas in written and graphic form. I've been creating what many in the art world now refer to as "art journaling." I fell out of the habit in my late twenties, but picked it back up when I landed at IBM, and have simply carried on ever after. There's some pretty cool stuff contained in my shelf of hard-bound 8x10 volumes, so I thought I'd occasionally share a tidbit randomly selected by opening one book or another and dumping the contents of the page here. That said, here's ...one of my "what if" questions I ask the cosmos...

"Assuming the pundits are right and the world continues in its current education pattern, then if 2068 is statistically the last year a man will earn a BA, what will society be like my 2100? What is the socio-economic impact of a female-dominated world; a world in which women are the educated sect and men the physically adept? Would the division grow and the two sexes eventually divide into two different types (genus) of humans? Would the intellectual and economic power of women inevitably extend to genetic manipulation? Would this be a more peaceful world? Would physical labor suddenly become more valuable? Will childbearing change to a laboratory event and childrearing become largely a male endeavor, and if so, how will that shift the mindset of those children and eventually the balance of power in the world?

Just because females are more successful in their pursuit of the intellect, does it stand to reason that females will eventually control the world again?"

Mind the Gap

And because I collect quotes that move me, I'll close with one from Jean Houston; "People cannot stand the spiritual aridity and meaningless of living on the surface too long."

...And A Bag of Frozen Spinach On My Head

2009-08-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

For almost a full month now, Whatever is Wrong With me, or as I like to refer to it, "W3," has been in varying degrees of flare up, resulting in fairly constant iterations of second-guessing, internal sleuthing, and just plain old being tired and bored with myself (yeah, that WAS Bruce singing in the background). The usual suspects, painkillers that is, are doing what they do best, not touching the pain, but making me care less about being in pain. So I'm cycling through trying to figure out the source of W3, just sinking into miserable self-loathing, and occasionally deciding (aGAIN) that I'm doing my situation no good by giving in to the pain.

This morning I decided that since laying low hadn't made the pain go away or even abate in the least, it was time to tell the pain to fuck off and just get up, take a big dose of something strong, and DO something. I mean, come ON. I really like movies and computer games and reading, but it's summertime, the day outside is glorious, and I'm SICK of being down.

So I crabbed down the hall and into the kitchen to whip up the peach cobbler that I've been threatening to make since the peaches showed up in the bowl on the counter a week ago. I plugged Rod the Pod into my ears and queued up Cat Stevens. Hey babe, if you're looking for a hard-headed woman, here I am!

I peeled those peaches, slogged together the batter, melted butter in the baking dish and flung the assembly into the oven. In the process, the Demented One (the ancient weiner dog I inherited from my dad) had one of his increasingly and exhaustingly common "accidents" that required my immediate attention (what!? you need more details than THAT?! what're you, nuts?) in the next room.

As I pitched the paper towels into the bin, I noticed some trash on the floor instead of in the bag, so I kneeled down, grabbed it, and stood up. WHAM! went my head on the forgotten peninsula above me. I staggered backward from the blow, and almost managed to remain upright, but nope, down I went with a howl of pain.

Holding my head as I lay there, I felt just totally overwhelmed, so I let the tears flow. I just let it out as Peter, who'd heard the crash and thought I'd dropped something but came out to check ANYway, and uncharacteristicaly rubbed my shoulder in commiseration. After laying there, sobbing about how tired I was of being hurt, of being in pain; of how sick I am of every. single. day. being another challenge, I finally stopped. I got up, dizzy and with a massive headache building rapidly.

Peter opened the freezer and reached for an icepack for the rising goose egg on my skull. Of course all the icepacks never made it back in from the bus after the Fourth, so he grabbed a bag of frozen spinach and held it out to me. At the look on my face, in a completely guileless voice he asked "Would peas be better?" Rolling my eyes, I took the bag and flopped it onto the top of my head. After a few minutes, I realised that since I was going to thaw the spinach ANYway, I might as well make a casserole, so for dinner tonight we're having spinach and broccoli casserole to go with the short ribs leftover from last night, and a very nice peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream for desert.

Hey, when life gives you lemons; make lemonade, right?

Art Supply Addiction

2009-07-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

My addiction to interesting materials and supplies started by going with dad to the hardware store. Oooo...I still love a good hardware store! From wire and sheet metal it was an easy trip to art supplies, a magical land where I grew into a full-on addiction by the time I went to college and majored in art. Over the years, I have learned to narrow my focus a bit, ONLY encompassing all things related to working with textiles, watercolour and acrylic painting, drawing, anything needed for sculpting, woodcarving tools, and anything needed to create miniatures.

Caran d'Ache Neocolour II

Water soluable pastels

Both my parents were artists, so when they died, I inherited their tools and supplies, including my father's lapidary shop, wood and stone carving tools, and his fully equipped stained glass workshop. I've gotten rid of most of the stained glass items, simply because I have a history with glass that makes me uncomfortable around the nasty stuff. The lapidary tools and materials are still around, though I'm not sure for how much longer, as I'm making a real effort to shed Stuff these days. The wood and stone carving tools will stay with me, as will the watercolour and sumi brushes, inks, paints, stones, and paper from my mother's estate.

Textile Heavan, Sri Lanka

Textiles are the place my heart sings, though, and I have great difficulty passing up a beautiful piece of fabric or trim, or a cool new tool. My textile work includes needlework of every kind (seriously), beadwork, spinning/weaving, leather, fur, antique lace and trims, a veritable extravaganza of materials and tools for embellishments, and a fabric stash to make one weep with pleasure. I'm certain I must be leaving something out, but all this gives you some idea of the depth and breadth of my addiction.

For better or worse, the town in which I live is an Artist's Colony and tourist "Destination," and as such manages to support an absolutely amazing art supply. Akamai Art Supply just looks like a giant metal building as you come into town, and it took me a full six months to get around to stopping in. Now I get special treatment. That's another way of saying I'm a regular customer. Very regular. Used to be, if I had money left over, I'd buy books or textile-related items. Not any more. Now I trot immediately up to Akamai and plunk my money down. So do a number of friends who live a full two hours away in Seattle, as nothing on the Mainland compares to our marvelous supply.

It was through Akamai I became enamoured of Copic markers and pens, and now have a collection that cost in the region of six or seven hundred dollars. And Akamai is where I discovered Caran d'Ache wax pastels...their water soluable type. At approximately two bucks a crayon, I have about fifty dollars worth of THOSE. And now I have a new obsession; Daniel Smith Watercolour Sticks. Pure pigment in stick form, these Seattle-made lovelies can be sharpened and used directly on paper, wet or dry, applied to the brush, or used as traditional tube watercolours on a palette. But the lusciousness of the colour and flow! Akamai gave me a sample of one colour, and I was hooked. I'm dying to try other colours, but at thirteen dollars a stick, my thirst will not be slaked anytime soon. Still, I find myself weighing food vs art supplies, electriciy vs art supplies....hmmmm.... There's a wonderful series of videos created on the subject of these lovely sticks, so watch this one and just keep going. Oh, and feel free to send me any scraps or scrapings or broken sticks you have laying about...

Sunday Uplift - Acapella Rainstorm

2009-07-19T23:39:00.000-07:00

I'm a big fan of acapella singing, so when I watched the following video of the Perpetuum Jazille Choir singing Toto's "Africa," and heard their wonderfully artistic and accurate rainstorm at the beginning, I knew this was the Sunday Uplift for the week.

Art Is About Feeling

2009-07-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

Dark Goddess, E. Lorien Shaw, 2009

Sometimes I worry my art isn't good enough. Good enough. Whatever that means. Usually it means I'm comparing a single piece to some Master Artist or another. "Waaa...my sketch isn't as good as Leonardo's!" or *Snivel* My painting's not as good as Vincent's! or >Whine< "My sculpture's not as good as a Degas!" See, I almost never compare my work to Mary Jane's or Dave the gardener's, but rather to artists so well known they only require one name for instant identification by the masses. *sigh*

But the real issue is the act of comparing, since an accurate basis for said comparisons isn't even possible. Because art is all about evoking feeling. Of course, I could go on intellectualising, explaining how my art doesn't evoke the same dizziness as a painting by Picasso, the clarity of place and moment as an O'Keefe, the deep and inescapable sadness of Munch, or the sheer madness of a Dali, but that's really nonsense, for my work does evoke feeling when viewed. Even by me.

So let me leave you with some hope for my fellow artists and dreamers in the form of this video that loses nothing by being part of the crazyones.org commercial endeavor.

Just ONE reason I love Canada

2009-07-17T00:15:00.001-07:00

Saskatchewan Wheat Field

For decades, I have seriously and repeatedly considered moving to Canada. It's unlikely that I will at this stage of my life, but I continue to have an intellectual and emotional love affair with the place. One uplifting thing that comes out of Canada is a series of marvelous films from The National Film Board of Canada. If I watch a documentary or other beautifully paced, exquisite short film, almost invariably I discover it has come out of NFB of CA. I could offer dozens of examples, but instead I shall simply provide three, for you can dig through the films yourself at the National Film Board of Canada's site.

First up is a beautiful animated piece, 12 minutes in length, that quietly, beautifully captures a grandfather sharing a memory with his granddaughter.

Next, this 5 minute animation of ART, illustrating how people walk. Simply gorgeous, it earned Ryan Larkin an Oscar nomination (short animated film) in 1968.

And finally, a 29 minute triumph of film art from 1960 by Roman Kroitor and Colin Low, creating on the screen a vast, awe-inspiring picture of the universe as it would appear to a voyager through space. This film was among the sources used by Stanley Kubrick in his 2001: A Space Odyssey. Realistic animation takes you into far regions of space, beyond the reach of the strongest telescope, past Moon, Sun, and Milky Way into galaxies yet unfathomed.

Wolf Howling 101

2009-07-16T22:53:00.001-07:00

I just love this man and his canine friend...they really seem like two of kind, don't they? Simply beautiful wolves, both of them.

"Other Species and Ethnics"

2009-07-10T11:06:00.000-07:00

I generally try to avoid public discussions of a political or religious nature, but sometimes I just hafta speak up in an effort to illuminate the bugs and mold under the rock pile that is Fox News and their ilk. Sometimes even their own rabid rightwingers are stunned by the sheer ignorance of claims made. So without further explanation, I offer you the following inSANE piece of broadcast ignorance. Oh, please note the crew member off camera whistling "If I Only Had A Brain"(from the Wizard of Oz) at the end of Kilmeade's imbecilic rant:

An Embarrassment of Riches

2009-07-09T23:51:00.000-07:00

Goose by Lemay

I was born in the Year of the Dragon, so a certain degree of craven hoarding is to be expected, right? That's my rationale, and I'm stickin' to it. That disclaimer said, I want you to know that I really do aspire to grace, compassion, tolerance, and certainly NOT to greed. So for years now I have very carefully separated the intense part of me that craves ALL wonderful things, by giving her a title and allowing her to desire and want all she cares to. I call her The Present Whore (PW to my friends), and I do my level best to keep a tight rein on her greed and glittering desire, but at the FIRST sign of a gift, she is Large and In Charge.

Today's mail brought not one, but THREE gifts that were EACH so fabulous, PW's dancing and spinning and laughing great gales of glee. In short, she's VERY pleased with her life at the moment. *Sigh* A completely incorrigible brat, that PW, but it's hard to be stern with her utterly guileless, completely selfish pleasure.

First opened was a fabulous Crow ATC from Lemay in NJ - I am SUCH a fan of Elaine's artwork, and this card makes TWO from her private stash she's been generous enough to share with me. Like me, Elaine's style varies widely, but I haven't seen a single thing she's done I wouldn't be very pleased to include in my collection. She's really a fine artist, though I don't know if she really understands that about herself.
Next I opened the envelope from ArtandSoul in Oklahoma, and found a veritable treasure trove! Connie and I arranged to trade chunky pages with a Raven theme, and the page I received is truly a fantastic addition to my book. In addition to a beautifully hand painted raven on one of my favourite dark red backgrounds, there were three leather medicine pouches with secret contents, and a fairly breathtaking polymer Raven skull Connie created for the piece. I have a couple of Connie's pieces from swaps in which we both were players, and my appreciation for her work just grows and grows.

At this point, I had to sit down, as I was rapidly finding it hard to breath from the sheer awe and appreciation that threatened to overwhelm me.

And finally I turned to the package from VickiZ in MN. Now I always look forward to an envelope or package from Vicki, as she is MOST inventive with dimensions and movement with her cards, and she truly seems to get who I am and what would please my core soul.

And boy howdy, I was NOT disappointed in the least this time! Vicki had taken up my challenge to create an ATC depicting the place she lives, and I absolutely love the Minnesota she created! The only thing that I can see missing are those big honkin' mosquitos! 'Course, I might visit Minnesota more during the summertime if I thought there'd be no mosquitos to eat me alive! Beatuiful place, Minnesota, but insanely cold in the winter. Brrr!

But to be totally fair, the ATC was examined last, for the first thing that fell out of the package made me cry out and then tear up with joy. I AM a dragon, after all, so any jewelry proferred is ALWAYS greeted with a firey roar. But jewelry with a raven engraved? Could I be any happier? Not right this second, I couldn't. Know what else? Not a single bill was in the mailbox with all that treasure! What a great day, with a plethora of beauty and good juju...truly an embarrassment of riches from my Tribe.

Sunday Uplift - Glass Kabob

2009-07-05T23:31:00.000-07:00

Many lovely ideas and thoughts are often lost in time, including a number of wonderfully innovative approaches to music. Fortunately for you and me, one that has survived, though not exactly robustly. is the Armonica, an instrument invented by Benjamin Franklin in 1761. While in England, he attended a concert given on wine glasses, and the lovely sound apparently spurred Franklin's wonderful brain to invent the Armonica.

The Armonia is one of the group of musical instruments known as "idiophones," which is simply an instrument which creates sound primarily by way of the instrument vibrating itself, without the use of strings or membranes. The Armonica is a set of graduated bowls with holes and corks in the center, mounted on a horizontal spindle, rotated by a fly wheel and a foot pedal. Moistened fingers rub the edges to produce the haunting sound.

The Armonica quickly gained widespread acceptance amongst European royalty and the upper classes; Marie Antoinette had lessons as a child, and Dr. Mesmer, the famous hypnotist, used it to put his patients into a deeper trance. More than 100 composers composed works for the glass Armonica, including Mozart, Hasse, Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach, Beethoven, Donizetti, Richard Strauss. One of the best known pieces that was written for the Armonica is the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from Tchaikovsky's ballet The Nutcracker. His first draft called for "Glass Armonica," but he changed it to the newly-invented Celesta before the work's premiere performance in 1892. Saint-Saëns also used this percussive instrument in his "Carnaval des animaux" (in movements 7 and 14).

By the mid-1800's, it suddenly lost its popularity, and gradually vanished. Superstitious rumors ran wild. Armonicas were said to drive performers mad, and evoke spirits of the dead because of its eerie and haunting sound. There was a rebirth of interest in 1982 through the efforts of the late master glass blower named Gerhard Finkenbeiner, of Waltham, Massachusetts, and more recently, because of the increased accesibility of information via the Internet, the Armonica has reached into the 21st century.

If you'd like to try playing the Armonica there is a virtual version here.