30 Jul 2006, 9:03pm
General
Comments Off on Corvette Memories

Corvette Memories

You never forget your first love. For that special one there was that body

Looking back, my memory has remoulded the fibreglass into a year that never was. Modern eye sees the ergonomics and mechanics as problematic; it’s a gas guzzler extraordinaire with that V8. Still from the 50’s to 80s, Corvettes from porsche-like to Dodge muscle car look to more womanly than TransAm lines to modern tine of refined…ahhh.

Since there was a die-cast toy Corvette since 1968, I suppose I’d seen the shape around but seeing it nose-to-nose, full scale…it was better than the magazine pictures I’d torn out, better than the boxcar one I won in a dinky-car race, better than the Corvette model I built, better than the remote control one I drove…I’ve never met a Corvette model year that I didn’t like, but that one’s special. You can’t pick your first loves but you can look back with fondness.

30 Jul 2006, 8:33pm
Housekeeping FYIs
9 comments

An Announcement

Come celebrate with me! I’ve got a new blog launched — Eaten Up: For those of you who like a food blogs without any non-food chatter.

Do go on over and check out the new place.

Do you have any input on whether this blog should continue to have a menu listing here as well?

Glad Game: In WordPress the dashboard look can be changed(!!) :-) It’s /wp-admin/wp-admin.css that you need to change. Bye-bye behind-the-scenes blues.

Big Thanks To: WordPress Theme Browser from which I modified the coffee cup template. That I found via Emily Robbins. It takes a whole world to make one blog go round!

29 Jul 2006, 5:06pm
Photos
9 comments

Quiet Moments

How fast and red the garden grows.


The hot peppers are hopping. It’s starting to look at little daunting to use that much abundance but then, I can let it go to seed if wish be.


The first to ripen variety is still coming in spades.


The sweet basil is starting to come to a head of white blossoms, stalks lengthen like blue thistles without the prickles.

Glad Game: The joy of saying no and go placidly away opting out.

Glad to have a mid-afternoon alone for a half hour, perhaps an hour, with no music, no obligation to visit or entertain, no construction noise, no party or street, fire truck or ambulance noise, no one else breathing and moving about. It’s a respite that permits the abating of a craving for mid-forest solitude.

Glad to set the pace of puttering.

Glad to locate those perfect round toothpicks for getting rid of all the gunk in cracks around the stove.

To have the condiment and soap bottle all wiped down so there is no residue of ick.

Glad for the quiet darkness of a windowless room, (as in under stars alone). In the openness of dark one can unclench, senses and attention without so much competition.

To go slowly and let time, and self, expand.

Glad to feel the burn of muscles after weight-lifting.

Thought: I go stir-crazy without contact, needing social contact for energy but I go plain crazy without solitude to restock my other tank of energies.

Blog Link: Got a good recipe or cover art to contribute to the World of Bloggers Cookbook?

On YouTube: boh3m3/ Ben is back.

Science Link: oxytocin the cuddle hormone , one of my favorite hormones to read about.

french toastMenu: Inspired by the French toast at Vernicious Knids it uses eggs and chai soy milk, sugar, cardamom and cinnamon around yesterday’s bread.

Featured Quote: “No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.” ~ Poet Sara Teasdale at QuotationsBook

28 Jul 2006, 2:49pm
Memes or Quizzes
12 comments

Need a Mindless Break?

I’m grateful to live this moment, but even still, TGIF.

Glad Game: To have mailed off a dozen envelopes, including a belated birthday. As Max Smart says (snapping fingers) “Missed it by that much Chief!” (hear it thanks to download from the delightful wavsource)

Glad that I stock up on belated birthday cards for this eventuality.

Glad to get a couple party invites.

Glad to realize that I probably should have lunch since it’s after 2.

Glad to have a night out to see Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man [It was very good. It’s one of the few movies where almost nobody left until the end of the credits. Packed house too.] (See my top-rated movies)

Ok, one more peek at my obituatary. Why whatever did I do last night? — fate changed before my very eyes:


QuizGalaxy!
‘What will your obituary say?’ at QuizGalaxy.com

Logical Fallacies: The Slippery slope (reductio as absurdum) is a popular curbside debating tool. How many times have you heard we can’t let gays marry or people will be marrying their twin puppies and giving them the vote!. Some people are under the mistaken impression that this is a logical valid argument. Or, to use the argument from the book — eating Ben and Jerry’s ice cream will cause you to put on weight. Putting on weight will make you overweight. Soon you will be over 300 pounds and die of a heart attack. Therefore Ben and Jerry’s (or McDonalds) is death. No.

Light Link: The less you know, the more you believe” ~ One Line central

loaf of bread with small tomatoesMenu: Simple, simple: fresh bread, olive oil, sliced cheese, fresh picked basil and tomatoes. Cool and refreshing.

Word Chain: flub, dub, club, batter, fry, fish, a fine kettle of them, shot in a barrel by someone who needs to find something more constructive to do. Adieu.

Useful Link: The ins and outs of concentration.

28 Jul 2006, 2:44pm
General
Comments Off on Frost Heaves: Digging up Bones

Frost Heaves: Digging up Bones

A year ago this week what was on my mind was protection and aid to other primates: Chimp Haven.

Two years ago (end of that page) I was talking about chimp rights and Jane Goodall and the global food market, where all the food comes from and mused on “Vegetables: the pre-consumer compost fibre”.

There was something haikuesque worth carrying forward:

drip of the tap
a subjective clock

Going back further I see a full circle of sorts. 3 Years ago this week our house was for sale; now our condo is for sale.

I seemed to be more absorbed in corpus study and devouring poetry then. A lot of talk of and joy in flowers. The tone of 2003 seems lighter than 2004 or 2005.

I don’t have anything in particular I can tag to 2002. Was it a good vintage?

Before I knew what a blog was I was commenting on my own writing rates, which is the origin of this blog. I made 6 entries for all of 2002.


I’m looking back and see if it yields any bearing(s) on present.

As much as I write, there are so many gaps lefts unbridged. I can hardly bridge the entire delta and make a long covered boardwalk between every shore.

Still, shouldn’t memories be date-tagged somehow? (If I could blog my entire life, I suppose it could be.)

We say around here that the land’s best crop is stones. Besides the reason of thin sandy soil with poor yield, there is also the matter of new stones rising each spring.

stone fence via Kansas Geological Survey
[Photo is from Kansas Geological Survey but the lay of the land and stone fence look much like here.]

Bottles dropped on the lane to school by clusters of cousins in the 1940s got buried and are reappearing in what is now thick-trunked forest. Stumps of trees or fence posts cut off low and paved over are rediscovered over time as winter freeze and spring thaw cycles throw them through the earth and asphalt again.

Perhaps it’s a mental position based on the geography of place but it seems to have a rightness to it that things that get buried, don’t stay buried.

Editor’s Note: If you like thick data, here’s your place — you may like to skim.

If you don’t like long entries, I don’t want to hear about it.

I wonder about what lies where I can’t access off the top of my head. I can remember a few scenes from each of 1986-87, 1989-93, 1995, 1999, 2000 and 2001.

Are they characteristic memories or just emotionally loaded so make a deeper trench in the neurons, or frequently revisited to keep the trail blazed open (and therefore, more likely than not, drifting, with each visit). I like print for that reason. It doesn’t drift the same way. But it doesn’t carry its embedding context with it through time. Remnants fascinate and frustrate, intrigue and irritate.

Featured Quote: “The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there” ~ from the prologue of Leslie Poles Hartley’s novel, The Go-Between where the author talks of finding a diary.

I’ve written paper diaries (so far as I can find) since June 12, 1987. In the first entry I wrote of the “release” of finally sleeping solidly, and a poem:

The continents drift, apart
Just mylike our broken heart(s)
Drifting away, so far
You’re becoming, a star

There were pencil sketches (far better than I can do anymore), aphorisms, doodles. There are lists of who I danced with and who I wanted to dance with [but presumably didn’t ask or presume to ask, or I was too busy already dancing with the 10 people I did.].


You are a slow dancer

So maybe the club scene is not your thing. You prefer to slow dance (like you did in Jr. high). There is something very romantic about this and it is great as foreplay…

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Hm, glancing again, I notice the handwriting is different and it’s taped in from another earlier notebook. Given the names, it’s from maybe as much as 3 years earlier. One page is marked from 1984. Wonder what happened to those earlier notebooks?

Featured Quote: “I’m butting my head against a wall, and the wall is myself.” ~ Shelley Jackson

shut book

perusing spines

Another book overlaps with the 1987 one. Heh? Double books?

This one is much more linear, no illustrations. Too bad my handwriting wasn’t more legible. In 4 years I wrote as much as I’d write in a month now.

It’s record keeping, sporadically entering into a play-by-play by the hour, doing the haying and watching what on TV and with whom. Huh, my (lost) baptismal record is there. (It happened a couple years later than I had decided.)

flip, flip

Good lord, I put in explanatory footnotes in my diary. And I went back and cross-referenced a Feb 4 entry with a June 23rd entry. And explanatory square brackets and Nota Bene backgrounders. And a curious entry written mirrored, which I explained was written in ink then was “transferred from my leg”.

pause [aside]

Featured Quote: “Enthusiasm is the fever of reason” ~ Victor Hugo

Aside: Do you feel at all like you’re overhearing someone jabbering about a soap opera you’ve never seen? Photo albums next? 😉

I’m sure many bloggers wrote diaries before they discovered blogs and there’s resonance out there somewhere. Did yours ever have P.S., P.P.S., P.P.S.S., P.P.P.S.S. P.P.P.S.S.S.?

flip, flip

April 18, 90 “for 5 days this headache has persisted”. Thought that was something that joined my life stream around ’92.

flip

May 28, 90, more evidence that my personal narrative of historical self has drifted. I tend to think that I was more or less succeeding at celibacy of thought, word and deed from 1985-1991. And yet there’s several more pages of play by play fantasies. Maybe I gave myself more “venting” leeway than I remember?

flip

In 1988, I was debriefing myself after conversations and troubleshooting, oh, now I can see why she responded this way when I said- such-and-such here, missed that, should apologize for this. And noting the weather.
I shouldn’t be surprised that I was sentient and yet I am suprised.

flip

It’s like a story told by a sibling that I have no recollection of but the person swears in as good as affidavit that I was there.

close book

I was a lot more clear-eyed assessing and active and social than I gave myself accounting for since. I somehow, in the interim, framed myself back then as pacifist, passive, obedient and drifting. Whyever and whereever would I get that impression? I may be more intense now but that’s not to say I wasn’t then.

Yet, how representative is it? It’s not fiction but it had to be slanted and spun because everything is artefactual by nature.

Reading/skimming that, I feel am further ahead. These records are useful to me.

There is no one who has been at my side, even at monthly regularity, for my entire life path. A couple people have been around 20 years and 15 years respectively but they both are centred in their own lives (rightly so). I don’t need the complication of a obsessive fan who charts what I ate for breakfast decade by decade. lol. Well…? No, no, no I don’t.

I’m the closest to “constancy”. If I don’t note what’s happened in my life, there is no backup. I can trust my own handwriting, even if not the infallible completeness of my perceptions.

Records of photos and paper and digital media, may burn but biological memory is certain to disappear without a trace. It is extinct within a century guaranteed.

There are so many new experiences piling on constantly, obscuring and overwriting and displacing. One does not want to 1984 some key data that would bring sense to something present or still to come. It is a cultivation of a basis for understanding coupled with a choice to hold in a willing position.

And then there’s this that doesn’t fit in

A desire to understand and accept without resistance is like a gap in a stone wall. Through it you can enter a before-unnoticed garden.

There’s this feeling that washed through me. When seeing the futz, fuss, anger and bind of someone else, I didn’t enter that moment and empathize nor close off. Meeting a threat one can tense and not admit, one can explain, justify, argue, forebear, freeze in disorientation, confront and correct.

I heard the fear and the hurt behind all the words and body language and concepts and didn’t oppose. Some clarity came in me and a soothed feeling that this internal storm would pass rose. I didn’t reverberate in kind.

I breathed and visualized extending that bubble of safety and calm almost as if it were physical and felt the other person’s breathing come into calmer range.

Interesting.


That conclusion is not open to debate or dissent.

I don’t know why I should feel the need to apologize for saying that.

I’m such a private person that I guess I am feeling defensive for showing a bit more of myself.

I feel naked but probably look like I’m dressed. But I’m naked under all these clothes, really. lol.

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