Bloom and Rot

LONG NIGHTS MOON

2011-12-28T07:21:00.000-08:00

POCKING IS SERIOUS WORK

2011-12-16T09:40:00.000-08:00

NOT A PROMISE, REALLY.

2011-12-13T06:52:00.001-08:00

WHEN THE SUN STOOD STILL

2011-10-25T06:32:00.001-07:00

The autumn equinox is past, but once upon a time, the days were very, very long and we walked up a little hill to watch the sunset on the longest day of the year. The trees in the city were green then, and the grasses were green. And there was still a little bit of snow in the mountains, though there is more now. Matt still lived here, and we all looked golden, and our shadows were very long. There were a lot of people up there in the hills that night.

TYPEWRITER: SCOOT.

2011-09-20T22:23:00.000-07:00

It was the middle of June when I hosted my first official Salt Lake dinner party. I moved my desk/table on to the porch. I prepared an asparagus and salmon salad. Some potatoes and baked polenta and salted caramel ice cream. Matt, Rachel, David, and Catie came over.

Rachel demonstrated her double-jointed shoulders.

David escaped the porch for Rachel's demonstration.

Caite brought a game, which Rachel was remarkably good at.

And then there was some (nearly treeless) hiking with Matt and Lisa.

EEYORE TAKES A WALK

2011-08-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

Sometime after we wished Matt farewell, Matt, David, Rachel and I went camping. On the way there I determined that a milkshake would really hit the spot, and bingo! There was the Dairy Keen with perfect milkshakes for all. I am a milkshake conjurer!

I was not quite as good at the instant conjuring of the perfect campsite. It took us a while, bumping over dirt roads in Telemachus, Rachel and David's Volvo wagon, to find it. First there was the site in the state park that was over-civilized. Then there was the perfect spot, five miles up a bumpy dirt track, but it was occupied by about 200 Mormons, reenacting the pioneer experience. We had to turn around.

And then we found a lovely campsite beside the creek.

David, scout leader extraordinaire, built a leaf-stick boat.

It was a swift little ship, but it tipped over.

I call this my Winnie-the-Pooh shot.

The next day we looked for a good hike, but found a lot of watercress and a brief paved trail through some strangely terraced wetlands.

Such a lovely time, though.

And on our way back to town we saw the pioneers again. I took this one out the window as we drove past. The kids looked miserable, but one of the adults even waved at us. Handcarts away!

ONCE, THERE WERE POPPIES

2011-08-21T08:35:00.000-07:00

In June, there were poppies.

I was broke, and had time to go to the park with Esther and Catie.

And they had time, too. Even Kaylana had time.

And Rachel thought it was a good idea to have a goodbye party for herself and Matt, even though they weren't officially abandoning us until August. I made my very first batch of funeral potatoes. They were a tremendous hit (my not-so-secret-ingredient: green chiles). I passed the first test on my trajectory to successful Mormon housewife...

Rachel and I tried to look mean.

And for some reason I no longer recall, other than the memory of childhood blanket forts, I thought it was a good idea for Rachel and Matt to get under the table. They were quite amenable. I didn't have to work hard to convince them, and they stayed there for at least an hour.

Catie even joined them at some point

So long ago! They have moved away now, to Missouri and Georgia. Good thing my blog is two months behind my life.

PERCEIVING PATTERNS IN PROXIMITY

2011-07-30T19:36:00.000-07:00

Michael was working on a photo project. He wanted to recreate Avedon's Chicago Seven.

But in Salt Lake. And with us. I haven't seen the finished photos yet.

But the photo studio was like our private clubhouse.

I may have gotten a little carried away, having a new camera and all.

And because even the trash was interesting 'round there.

Barbara and Raphael got married! They hadn't quite tied the knot yet at this point, so Michael took a couple of engagement shots for them.

And then I discovered the loupe.

WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS, QUARKS WITHIN ATOMS

2011-07-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

And then, probably because I went to a baseball game and ate a hotdog, it was summer. One day I came home from the library and found a package waiting for me. It was a loaner camera, from TaraShea, Jerritt, and Ellie. This photo was on the memory card:

Also on my porch that day were two other packages. One, from my parents, was a set of jumper cables for the car I have been the lucky caretaker for this summer. The other was a book I had ordered. And then, while I was eating dinner, two handsome men with accents wandered onto my porch and stopped to chat before going to visit my neighbor. It was like Christmas.

So, a camera! I had lost the habit. I pointed it at a few things around my apartment, just to see how it saw...

And then, a couple of days later, another package arrived! It was another camera! From my parents! And so it seemed that people were suggesting I resume my old habit. (Thank you, TS, Jerritt, and Ellie. Thank you, Mom and Dad.)

I went for brunch with Esther and Rachel and Matt.

I went to my favorite new bar, where one can eat fried funeral potato nuggets and look out at the beautiful oil refinery. It's like having a beer on the moon.

Robert and I went hiking and discovered that the creeks were very, very full, and that the snow might never melt.

Catie sold things at the Salty Streets Flea Market, and I helped her.

And Raphael and Barbara have been sighted all over town on their motorcycle.

THE SUN IS A BRILLIANT ERROR

2011-07-07T17:37:00.008-07:00

Mom and Dad came for a visit. It was such a rainy (and snowy) May, but during a break in the rain we went to Red Butte Gardens and posed with the moose sculpture.

With the added incentive of visitors and rain, I finally made it to the UMFA Robert Smithson exhibit, where, besides seeing all kinds of interesting and less interesting Smithson inspired work, I read this:

The camera is an entropic machine for recording the gradual loss of light. No matter how dazzling the sun, there is always something to hide it, therefore to cause it to be desired. One tends to forget this, when firing the flashbulb in the shadows. As Paul Valéry pointed out, "the sun is a brilliant error.” And I should like to add that the camera records the results of that “error.” (Robert Smithson)

And then the rain stopped for a day. We went to the Bingham Canyon Mine, which is the deepest open pit mine in the world, as deep as four Sears' Towers stacked on top of each other, and they are still digging.

And then, after a lunch stop, during which my folks ate their first Funeral Potatoes (an absolutely delicious Utah culinary specialty--I'm not being sarcastic here), we drove across the causeway to Antelope Island, which sits in the middle of the Great Salty Lake and is infested with brine shrimp, bison, and biting gnats.

The gnats bit us. And bit us and bit us.

And then (yes, such a full day) we went to see the Bees play. There were a lot of babies and kids at the game. A lot. And the Bees lost, but we had fun anyway.

The next day it rained again, but the rain seemed to make the flowers in the square even prettier. Everything looked suspiciously Northwestern, although we're missing all those giant, dark green conifers.

(Thanks for visiting, Mom and Dad. Come back soon!)

THE CULT OF RONALD REAGAN

2011-06-24T12:05:00.004-07:00

Now that I've finally resumed posting on Bloom and Rot, I'm going to temporarily make the blog secure, which means, I think, that you'll have to email me for the password if you would like to keep reading. This is not to track you, dear readers, but is because I am taking Spanish class, and for my class I must keep a Blog En Español, which I am sure will be riveting and complicated based on my level of complexity and advanced expression when using the Spanish language. And because I am using my google account, Bloom and Rot will appear alongside my new Blog En Español in my profile, and while I imagine I will adore all my new classmates, I have decided to keep Bloom and Rot under cover for the next two months. Soon you can be part of a top-secret club...

Once upon a time, in a month long since past (aka May), I bought some seedlings at a plant sale and lined them up on my mantle for a photo. Some of the plants then traveled to Esther's community garden plot where they are hopefully growing tall and strong, to someday gift us with tomatillos and thai eggplant and stripey tigerella tomatoes. Two plants stayed on my porch, where one died (the basil), and the other is growing into a giant tomato tree.

Then Tasha had a birthday, so of course she also had a party, which took place at Nate's house even though he and Michelle were out of town. Nate's famous mallard shirt served as an excellent blindfold for the piñata smashing.

Ames brought her bird, Kiwi, who was rather fond of the piñata shreds.

Matt, the responsible housesitter, collected the things that fell out of the piñata that were not snatched up by party guests, so the dogs would not eat them. Apparently people were more interesting in smashing the piñata, or in witnessing the smashing, than they were in collecting the goodies that fell out.

Tasha had stuffed the piñata with custom treasures, like Ronald Reagan and George W. condoms.

NOT YET THE ANGLE OF TOTALITY

2011-06-14T11:31:00.002-07:00

In May it rained and snowed and rained some more. Still, there was this one afternoon when Matt and Robert and I walked in the hills above my neighborhood. I've been up there a few times since and it is green, and full of yellow flowers and mud.

WORDS OF WARNING

2011-06-07T09:36:00.006-07:00

Matt and I took the TRAX to the antique mall to shop for birthday presents for Tasha and Catie. (And we were so successful. Matt got Tasha a picnic basket and a stoneware mug that reads "Some Girls are Ox-eyed. Some are Peroxide." I got her a picnic blanket. And for Catie, something silver and pounded (for rice), and glasses with astrological wisdom of the cataloging variety.)

Dawn passed her exams and Tim successfully defended his dissertation, a book of poems called The Goodbye Town, so they had a celebratory barbecue.

ONIONEATER, ONIONEATER

2011-06-03T15:06:00.009-07:00

A few more backlogged projects from the visual poetry class...First, this book of and about onions. And for the record, some of the text here is stolen from the interwebs. And some of it I wrote from research.

And then there was the Sunday I spent walking from my house to the Languages and Communications building on campus, trailing yarn and making notes about my journey, which are now attached to the yarn ball, which you can see here in two pieces. It is 1.1 miles from my house to LNCO, which is 4.5 skeins of yarn, a little more than you'd need to knit a child's sweater.

GROCERY INTERVENTIONS

2011-06-03T14:33:00.003-07:00

My friend Raphael asked for help with one of his projects for our visual poetry class, and I was more than happy to assist.

LESTER AND KRISTINE WERE CODEPENDENT

2011-05-02T12:42:00.009-07:00

(Click each photo to enlarge. Apparently pink chalk does not photograph well. Not well at all.)

FESTIVE ROASTED PESTS IN ACTION

2011-05-02T07:01:00.007-07:00

A few miscellaneous words, and some chalkers in action...

THE GHOST OF MARGARET

2011-05-01T20:42:00.006-07:00

(Click each photo to enlarge.)

ACCOSTED BY SLEEPLESSNESS

2011-05-01T20:07:00.012-07:00

AN UNSTABLE ATMOSPHERE

2011-05-01T19:23:00.018-07:00

ELIZABETH WAS AN ANGSTY CHILD

2011-05-01T10:27:00.018-07:00

NO MORE THAN A PAUSE IN THE BARKING

2011-03-06T20:51:00.002-08:00

I still have not gotten my camera fixed. I still plan to do so. In the meantime, I have been reading some John Berger for class and despite its being far too long for blog reading, I think this passage is worth a few minutes of your time. It is from "The Second Life of Lucie Cabrol" in Pig Earth. A whole life in two pages...

Jean!

Again she said my name as she had said it forty years before and again it separated me, marked me out from all other men. In the mountains the past is never behind, it’s always to the side. You come down from the forest at dusk and a dog is barking in a hamlet. A century ago in the same spot at the same time of day a dog, when it heard a man coming down through the forest, was barking, and the interval between the two occasions is no more than a pause in the barking.

In the pause between her twice saying my name in the same way, I saw myself as the young boy I had once been, encouraged by Masson to believe that I was more than usually intelligent, I saw myself as a young man without prospects, because I was the youngest, but with great ambitions, my first departure for Paris which so impressed me as the centre, the capital of the globe, that I was determined to take one of the roads from l’Etoile across the world, the last good-byes to my family, my mother imploring me not to go all the time that I harnessed the horse and my father put my bag in the cart. It is the Land of the Dead, she said. The voyage by the boat on which each day I dreamt of how I would return to the village, honoured and rich with presents for my mother, I saw myself on the quayside where I did not understand a single word of what was being said, and the great boulevards and the obelisk, the grandeur of the packing plants which I tried to describe in a letter to my father, for whom the selling of one cow for meat was the subject of a month’s discussion, the news of my father’s death, the noise of the trains through the window of the room where I lodged for five years, Carmen’s tantrums and her plans to open a bar of her own, her black hair the color of the coal I shoveled, the epidemic in the shanty town, the land of straight railways so flat and going on forever; I saw myself in the train going south to Río Gallegos in Patagonia, sheep-shearing and a wind that, like my home-sickness, never stopped, I saw my wedding in Mar del Plata with all seventy-three members of Ursula’s family, the birth of Gabriel six months later, the birth of Basil eighteen months afterwards and my fight with her family to christen him Basil, Ursula’s dressmaking, her mother’s debts, my friendship with Gilles and the pleasure of speaking my own language again, I saw Gilles’ death, Ursula refusing to go to his funeral or to let the boys go, the flight to Montreal, the boys learning English which I could never speak, the news of my mother’s death, the news of Ursula’s death, the fire in the bar, the police investigations, I saw myself working as a night-watchman, my Sundays in the forest, they buying of my ticket home, I saw forty whole years compressed with the pause.

What separated me this time from all other men called Jean or Théophile or Francois was not desire, which is stronger than words, it was a sense of loss, an anguish deeper than any understanding. When she said my name the first time in the chalet in the alpage, she offered another life to the one I was about to live. Looking back I saw, now, the hope in the other life she offered and the hopelessness of the one I chose. Saying my name the second time, it was as if she had only paused a moment and then repeated the offer; yet the hope had gone. Our lives had dissolved it. I hated her. I would gladly have killed her. She made me see my life as wasted. She stood there and everything I saw—her wrinkled cider-apple of a face, her stiff swollen hands which grabbed and rooted the region like a boar’s tusks, placed now with their palms to her breast as if in supplication, the frail veil, the morsel of cigarette-paper stuck to her lip were all proof of the dissolution of the offer. Yet I was forced—for the first and last time in this life—to speak to her tenderly.

Give me time to think, Lucie!

MUD, SALT CRYSTALS, ROCKS, WATER.

2010-11-29T19:30:00.012-08:00

Once upon a time, on a hot, dry October day, four friends went to see the Spiral Jetty.

They took one wrong turn. They drove over many ruts and rocks in the road. They brought some snacks.

First things first: they picnicked on the Jetty.

The snacks were as salty as the lake: olives, salami, sardines...

One of them cut to the center of the Jetty. One ran out across the salt flats. One walked the spiral like a meditation labyrinth, thinking of time and digression, but did not digress much. One digressed hither and yon.

One soaked up the sun.

One looked closely at icy looking salt.

One walked the trough, while another walked the bevel.

The one that had run out across the salt flats found a dead, salty pelican and ran back to tell the others.

And so they all went to see the dead thing.

And the sticks that looked like sculpture.

And it was very, very quiet.

and very, very bright.

Two took off their shoes and waded into the water. The salt crystals stabbed their feet.

They plucked gigantic cubes of salt from the water.

Cubes within cubes within cubes.

One forgot to wear sunscreen.

The brine shrimp swam and died and turned the water pink.

They rested.

One sang songs from Les Miserables and danced while another ran out to see the other jetty, the jetty that had to do with oil, the jetty that must have come second.

And then they drove away, the car kicking up dust, the friends licking salt from their lips. But the Jetty stayed behind, like it always does, underwater, overwater, far from water, slowly crumbling and tumbling apart.

GLITTER DOWNWINDER

2010-11-10T22:35:00.006-08:00

Perhaps I knocked my camera against something at the Halloween party. It refuses to focus. But there's a bit of backlog in which I can put off getting it fixed. Maybe I should shoot with film for awhile? but in the meantime...

The Undead Emily Dicknson and Edgar Allen Poe were a striking duo. Poe carried a bloody mess of feathers and googly eyes in a ziploc, sharpied with the word RAVEN.

Mama Grizzly was mighty patriotic.

Emily tried to devour the moon.

Certainly my favorite part of Halloween is thinking up a million costume ideas, and then envisioning the one I've chosen, perfectly executed. The reality never quite measures up to the vision. The party, while fun, comes in second to the imaginings and constructings...I was a mushroom cloud, but the kinetic-detonate (inflate) on the spot aspect failed. I had these CO2 cartridges and a bike pump and a conglomerate shape of mylar, and a silver sheath dress with a cloudy cotton base--the dress, thanks to my friend Rachel, was some strange, Bjork style fantasy. That part was great. But no one really knew what I was, a permanently inflated mushroom cloud. And the eyelashes were a bit itchy, but they stayed put.

Catie's Moon costume, though...I think she realized it perfectly. She looked just like the inspiration.
Erin channeled Amelia.

Robert was very disappointed in the general lack of Chinese-vampire knowledge.

A perfect Warhol.

Esther and Michael were Selleck Waterfall Sandwich, here pictured as Waterfall-sandwich Selleck.
A perfect Joan.

Rachel was the Human Tiger Hot Tub Alliance. The HTHTA has all the dance moves, by the way.

"Your Favorite Substitute Teacher" took a break from handing out lollypops.

Happy Birthday to Michelle.

GHOST GUESSED

2010-11-06T17:32:00.003-07:00

If my camera were not broken I would offer you a little movie, shot from my living room window. The scene is double framed--first by the window, then by the trees. The ground is covered with dark green ivy which is blanketed, mostly, with yellow leaves. The action of the film is falling leaves, drifting, spinning, plummeting. And then maybe a bonus shot of my feet, kicking through piles of browning leaves on the sidewalk. Shuffle, shuffle, crackle, scuff.

Then a still shot of the medical center across the street, the ivy crawling up the bricks, green at the base, then yellow into peach, orange, blushing red, redder, and back again to orange, yellow, green. The sky behind it so blue.

And then a few shots of aging jack-o-lanterns on porch steps. I love their withered mouths and punched eyes and sunken cheeks. How I love a half-rotten pumpkin face.

(But instead I give you this poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins. Maybe I've linked to it before, but it is worth a return.)

PERAMBULATING IN THE STREETLIGHTS

2010-10-24T10:07:00.006-07:00

Fall Break, sunny skies--where have you gone?

I ate at the Red Iguana twice.

Robert, Catie and I purchased clothing and a typewriter at Salty Streets Market.

No, we did not purchase the sunglasses.

Robert and I walked around the block and peeked in windows. It is a rather strange, and mostly abandoned block.

I did errands on my bicycle, but most of my errands were failures. Shops were closed or didn't have what I wanted. But diversions from the errands were successful, which might be better?

It was a quiet week?

LIKE A SAILOR IN A DEAD CALM SEA

2010-10-19T06:38:00.006-07:00

September meant peaches, plums, and pears falling off trees all over the neighborhood and slicking up the sidewalks. I picked these a few blocks from my house, off the littlest peach tree. I went back for more, but these people had responsibly harvested the entire tree. Anyway, they were delicious.

September also meant junk collection month. In my determination to glean something good, I found a mirror, which was actually meant to reside on my mantle, although Andy thought maybe it wanted to be discarded, that it might be tired of reflecting us in all our narcissism. It is a hard to be a mirror, he said.

Oh tired mirror, bounce the light around for me and I'll put nice things in your view. I'll wash you once in awhile.

The library got a new website and I couldn't find the button to have my book delivered to the Marriott Library instead of the medical library, so I took a field trip. The medical library was not what I expected. Not pale and contemporary. No glassy blue-green emptiness and high, arching city view floor-to-ceiling windows. Only old carpet and study carrels and a very long line to pick up a book. The requested books were on the smallest cart within arm's reach of the circulation clerk--there may have been fifty books waiting. It all felt tiny and very low-tech. But while waiting in line for my book, this glass case of brain anatomy models caught my eye.

Like broccoli or intricate tree trunks or lungs or coral.

Maybe these are Alzheimer examples?

Really, September blurred past. I barely took my camera out. But there were a couple of trips to the farmer's market.

And completely separate from junk pick-up month, someone put this tent out on the curb with a free sign, along with empty old fruit crates and a little dresser and a chair and all sorts of other junk. My new tent is only missing the rain fly, and it is so lightweight.

And St. Teresa's gas station got a new bit of paste paper.

I want that whole awning to be covered...

And then October arrived, and the nights instantly got cold, and I made the first soup of the season--red lentil--and ate it every night for almost a week, although this batch was really a bit too salty.

GREAT SKY UNSMUDGED, BONES EXPOSED

2010-10-12T11:48:00.002-07:00

TS came out for a visit and, with Catie, we drove south to Escalante. Since I've lived in Utah, I haven't gotten down to crazy landscapes of the south much, but in college I found myself there fairly often--a couple of spring breaks or long weekends, a training trip when I lead backpacking trips for kids. The last, and only, time I'd been to Escalante was for spring break of my senior year of college. I went with two friends. Apparently I laughed in my sleep on that trip.

The road to our chosen trail was washed out, but the ranger recommended another one, which was actually much closer.

We spent a lot of time looking for the trail, which kept disappearing. In the end, the river was the trail. We wore sandals the whole time, leaving our boots swinging from our packs. The water was mostly shallow, and not very cold.

We saw strange birds and a coyote, and lots of little footprints in the sand--maybe otter prints. We did not see any rattlesnakes. We were often surprised by patches of quicksand.

By far, the greatest challenge came in swarms of vicious mosquitoes.

We slept on an anthill-really, the entire hill was their home and all night we slid downhill. The "2-3 person" tent was really more of a 2.25 person tent. Catie was the hero, finally giving up and crawling out of the tent to wrap herself in the unused rainfly as defense against the insects. Maybe we all slept for a couple of hours after that. But I think we'd all do it again.

IN PYRRHA

2010-10-11T11:13:00.005-07:00

The day came when my travels took me to Pyrrha. As soon as I set foot there, everything I had imagined was forgotten; Pyrrha had become what is Pyrrha...This view, this light, this buzzing, this air in which a yellowish dust flies: obviously the name means this and could mean nothing but this.

...

My mind goes on containing a great number of cities I have never seen and will never see, names that bear with them a figure or a fragment or a glimmer of an imagined figure: Getullia, Odile, Euphrasia, Margara. The city high above the bay is also there still, with the square enclosing the well, but I can no longer call it by a name, nor remember how I could ever have given it a name that means something entirely different.

-Italo Calvino
Invisible Cities

OCCASIONS FOR DIRIMENT*

2010-10-06T17:07:00.005-07:00

Sadly, I still haven't hung many things on the walls, and some are still sitting exactly in this spot, where they were at the end of August. But it is fall break next week, and I am staying here, reading, writing, and hanging things on the walls.

It was so green then! Matt and I hiked up Grandeur Peak.

I used to love The Odyssey and now I love it more.

All around the neighborhood people piled their junk on the curbs for pickup. I had big gleaning plans, but most of it was truly junk. So Catie and I decided on some covert junk-pile art-making. She stenciled silver otters. I stenciled silver elephants.

Lauren had a birthday, so we ate sushi. For her birthday she got to kiss her beloved David. And I think he is blushing here, no?

And the studying began.

But we are easily distracted. These masks, or maybe just way this Esther-creature is standing, remind me of Ralph Eugene Meatyard and his dear, strange Lucybelle Crater.

*Dictionaries define "diriment" as a reason for annulling a marriage, but the art history website that came up when I googled Meatyard gave this more interesting, though apparently inaccurate definition (and it is this second meaning that I found exciting):

Diriment is a made-up word, a Lewis Carroll–like compound of "dire" and "merriment" that suggests a mood of high-spirited fun and hilarity fraught with anxious undertones.

Source: Ralph Eugene Meatyard: Occasion for Diriment (67.543.29) | Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

PUT ON YOUR SPURS, SWAGGER 'ROUND.

2010-10-01T09:50:00.004-07:00

In August I walked a lot. I walked and walked. To the store. To campus. To the bar. I walked just for the sake of it, and for transportation, and out of listlessness. For exercise. For meditation. To get to know my new neighborhood or because the distance was too short for biking. Or because biking was too fast.

I walked my bike to Jacob's to use his bikestand and his expertise, but walking means stopping in those strange places you drove past, or rode past, and wondered about.

I ate exactly one, delicious local cantaloupe (why didn't I get more of those?).

And I dropped the deer when hammering the nail in for her spot on the wall.

She has a few new scars, but mostly she looks alright again.

VENUS OF ORK

2010-09-28T22:35:00.004-07:00

Esther finally came home from California.

The effectiveness of crosswalk flags for crossing the street is debatable, but they make excellent design elements on a gray porch, and work well as substitute chairs, a little like the carpet squares we sat on in kindergarten.

And then Robert came back from his various travels--Amsterdam, Mexico, California, St. George, who knows where else...we went to the park

With sweet Kailana, Mike's dog.

My apartment is lovely, but gets so much less sun than last year's place. In the first two days I documented the traveling, glass-wavy sunshapes on the floor. There may have been a little desperation in this act. I'm still hoping to get a bit more morning light when the leaves fall from the front yard trees.

I pillaged some hens and chickens plants from somebody's yard.

Esther, Robert and I went to Ikea, which was fun for the first hour or so, in which we fit ourselves into this Mork Chair and played with fingerpuppets, but as usual it got completely overwhelming long before I reached the textiles, which was what I really meant to purchase.

But I'd say Robert definitely has what it takes to make it big as an Ikea model.

"CARIBBEAN OF THE ROCKIES"

2010-09-22T15:58:00.007-07:00

My apartment was empty. A bike, a few books, a lot of dust on the floors, walls in need of paint, an empty fridge. But Catie suggested I join her, Rachel, and David for an excursion to Bear Lake, up on the border of Idaho.

Culinary specialties of Utah include street tacos, fry sauce, and milkshakes, and it was raspberry festival weekend in Bear Lake. Not pictured: a fresh raspberry shake that required a spoon and at least two people to eat it.

The sand at the beach was more like dirt. The shoreline buzzed with jet skis and motor boats and we breathed their fumes. And in true western style, the "parking lot" was extremely convenient--you drove right to the spot where you'd shake out your towel. An endless line of pickup trucks and SUVs hemmed us in.

But the sun and the company were lovely.

On the way back I forced these kids to pose for me. Yes, forced them, but I have no regrets.

One of Salt Lake City's finest amenities is the friendship of this wonderful lady.

And while I was gone, the city acquired some new street art. I am particularly smitten with St. Teresa, who has taken up residence just a couple of blocks from my new place.

Another amenity is Catie's backyard, complete with hammock.

From the hammock, Catie and I both phoned our fathers for their birthdays, which turn out to be on the same day--August 11--ages ago already. The hammock days are so quickly waning...

KICK UP YOUR RED HEELS

2010-09-17T07:48:00.002-07:00

I came home from some place or other and found Bryce using his window reflection to lose the beard...(Mom and Dad, this is what happens when you leave us kids to dogsit.)

The summer was ending. Mom and Dad returned from their travels. Brig and Bryce packed their car like a Jenga game--seriously, their packing was a feat that deserves admiration.

While sorting through boxes of things in my parents' basement, I found my old sock monkey, the long lost brother monkey of Brigid's George. George has had many more adventures than his brother, and is skinnier, with longer legs and stretched out ears, but the resemblance between them is striking. They were happy to see each other, but soon had to say goodbye.

Then Brig, Bryce, George and Lucille Dog got in their car and drove back to Indiana. (It is hard to believe this was only five weeks ago.)

And Lucy and I packed up a rental car and drove that now familiar stretch of I-80, across southern Wyoming. (nothing like a little windshield photography while driving...) I drove in and out of storms all day.

WE ARE SO TENDERLY CUTANEOUS

2010-09-06T11:51:00.005-07:00

Brig and I met Maggie at Valley View Hot Springs for some soaking and camping.

Anni loved it there: so many smells, and deer walking through the woods, and dirt roads for running along. She was in full-on crazed beast mode.

Lu brought her own tent, the Sport Pet, which kept her slightly more calm during the thunderstorm that blew in that night.

Brig made Mags model her sock and sandals look. (Winnie there was more or less Miss Angel Dog of the weekend, except maybe that one moment when she was overcome by excitement and ran to meet a jack russel being walked by its nude owner, who picked it up and clutched it protectively to his chest, much more concerned about his dog than his own vulnerable skin...Personally, I determined that I would never walk a dog in the nude.)

BIRDS OF GREAT GRACE

2010-08-31T08:01:00.010-07:00

At the end of July, Brigid and Bryce and the rest of Bryce's old band, Everything Absent or Distorted (now, in their shifting, intermittent form they are called the Soft Civil War) booked some time in the recording studio and invited me to join them.

Brig and Bryce and Trevor and I recorded a couple of songs in the mornings.

There were instruments and sound-making toys on shelves, leaned against walls, propped in every corner.

Brig took photos on her hipstamatic iphone.

Sandy was our sound engineer, wiping all my blunders from the record, thank God.

We stayed wired on some of the best coffee I've had in Denver, which was sold just up the block.

T.T. Rumble rambled through some classical...blurred into Radiohead..blurred into The National...blurred into Yann Tierson...

Apparently Brig plays her best accordion when dressed as a Russian poodle.

I played a little saw, some bells, and some vocals, all of which were rather nerve-wracking...your track singled out and such. There is really no hiding behind others. It was my first time in the studio, but I hope to find myself there again someday.

Lots and lots of hanging out--knitting, guitar, cigarettes, Nintendo, conversation...

Trevor's puppy, Townes van Trumble, was our muse.

Then Kuker's new son took a shift or two as muse.

And Brigid's crew of sock creatures made excellent groupies.

IN THE CITY OF THE PLAINS

2010-08-27T09:54:00.014-07:00

Woody and I had lunch together, and then he took a box of photos from the back of his truck and we had a show and tell on the sidewalk.

Years ago, I had a photo class with this interesting guy named Lachlan, who has since become a chef and owns a restaurant in Boulder. I hope to dine there some day, and I look forward to seeing Woody's photos on their walls, and on the walls of the pizzeria they are opening in the fall.

Lachlan commissioned Woody to gather photos in Naples.

Each one was my favorite.

Then there was a weekend of great Denver music and plenty of G & Ts, whisky, beer, photobooths, and hula hoops, streetfood and sunsets and such lovely people.

Anna Maria is so local she hasn't even recorded yet, but I can't wait to get my hands and ears on a recording...hurry up, Anna.

Hurry up, Kal Cahoone and the Dirty Pretty, too. Hurry, hurry.

And Bela Karoli played a little reunion show, which was packed with old and new fans, and was really, really lovely.

Oh blinding, beautiful Denver sun.

Andy, aka Banjo Willie, was in town to spend some time in the studio with E.A.O.D. He wandered into an antique shop and had a very interesting conversation with the proprietor, who was an old Russian lady. She had a lot to say about this particular judge. Strangely, Brigid met the same lady last month, when collecting old jars and bottles to use as vases at her wedding. The woman unlocked her warehouse, which was so full of goods they had to move things aside to get through the place. The woman warned Brigid against Leo men--dangerous in love, apparently, nevermind that my Dad's a Leo, and so is Brigid, although being a woman she is not dangerous, I guess. They struck a deal--$30 for the box of bottles--but Brig was 30 cents short...Finally the woman let her go. (Myles, this was on South Broadway, and yes, many of those bookstores are still there).

Bob Deejayed at Sputnik and Robin and Stubbs got their groove on.

They are quite a groovy pair.

Then Brig and Robin and Mandy discovered the hula hoops.

They were all surprisingly good at it, with very unique styles.

Really, Denver, you are too lovely.

DAYS AHEAD BECOME BEHIND

2010-08-24T09:56:00.004-07:00

I have been keeping this blog long enough to recognize that there is a pattern: I always get behind on postings in August. Mandy's birthday was ages ago, in another city, but Mandy did have a birthday. And Brigid made her dinner, complete with gluten-free birthday brownies.

Over which she wished very, very carefully.

Then, for a single day somewhere way back in July, I helped Tei Kobayashi construct this strange and lovely shelter at Platte Forum, but sadly, I never made it back to see the completed work.

GREASEWOOD AND RABBITBRUSH

2010-08-04T08:54:00.008-07:00

Brig and I drove to Crested Butte, but we couldn't find Tricia, so we slept in the meadow, which was a lovely logistical adjustment.

In the morning we found her and ate breakfast and went for a walk in the hills.

Trish la Dish and Britches met at summer camp when they were 11 and 12 years old.

Nowadays Tricia lives in Hawaii most of the time and Crested Butte the rest of the time.

The highlight of the day was swimming in this lake, which was just barely warm enough to stay in and perfectly look-at-my-very-white-toes-down-there clear.

Brigid's monkey George wanted a beer after the swim. We had to oblige.

When I was young my Dad always got excited about crossing the Continental Divide. Brig and I upheld the family tradition and got out of the car for a little hike, looking both ways at the top of the ridge, picturing the water running its different courses, down down down to the Pacific on one side (though I imagine most of it doesn't make it past Las Vegas nowadays) and down down down to the Gulf of Mexico on the other side.

I hadn't quite gotten the confirmation on my new apartment yet, so I considered buying this "livable camper."

George demanded we stop for photos in the San Luis valley, and again, we just couldn't say no.

MIXING UP THE MEDICINE

2010-08-04T07:46:00.005-07:00

My parents' basement is full of interesting discoveries. In particular there are the shelves full of therapy toys.

This is some pretty scary therapy.

QUE HONDA PANTALONES!

2010-07-30T06:47:00.005-07:00

I watched the final game of the World Cup (so, so long ago, I know) on the sidewalk outside a cafe with Brig, Bryce, Robin, Reji, Sonja and Woody. Cupcakes were eaten. Cofffee and tea were sipped. Jeans were patched. Brig knit a sock monkey sweater. I think we all avoided getting sunburned.

Lovely paper hats were folded. (Bon Voyage Woody and Sonja!)

I actually missed the final and only goal of the World Cup because I had to catch that flight to SLC. Brig and I scanned radio stations, but didn't find a station with the game until the goal had been scored.

In SLC I was lucky enough to see Esther. She has created a little painting/music corner in her apartment, where I viewed her famous red accordion, which once belonged to her grandfather.

Esther helped me hunt and hunt for an apartment. I didn't pick this one, but it was probably second in the runnings.

Then Esther piled her things into her car and drove west, across the desert to San Francisco for a few weeks.

A SHORT TIME TO BE THERE

2010-07-28T19:36:00.009-07:00

A couple of summers ago Georgina met Shelly. One of their first dates involved a day of games, bars, and cafes...something along the lines of: meet at City O City for a round of Scrabble, bike to Sancho's for some airhockey, etc. And then they fell in love. And this year was the third such day of games, but these past couple of years they include pals in their date.

Requirements: eye protection. tube socks. an ID. all your inherent geekiness.

As is their tradition, air hockey was the first event.

Team U.S.Gay really got down on the sidelines.

George was a formidable opponent. In fact, while we were all winners (of course), George was the top winner of air hockey.

Brigid rediscovered her deep love of dancing to hippie music (and took the geekiness requirement very, very seriously).

Next stop: a new requirement. Everyone had to purchase a bomber to take to the park.

Next event: mini ping-pong with these weird whistle lips.

And some team photo ops.

The top winner of mini-ping pong eluded the referees. Teams mixed and matched. Rules were thrown out the window. But Brig and Christopher probably take the sassiness award, while Jenny and I for sure won the honors of best net-holding referees.

Next event: Zombie Run. Shelly's phone showed the zombies, who were faster than us even on the slowest, Night of the Living Dead setting. The digital zombies were the top winners.

Back at George and Shelly's we had sack races, and I don't mean to brag, but I discovered my truest talent. Top winner!

USED TO BE THE ASTRONAUTS

2010-07-25T08:27:00.005-07:00

It had rained and it was evening. I carried my bike up the many stairs.

Then I carried it down the other side.

I flew to Salt Lake. And then I flew back.

Yesterday I learned that the Denver airport and the SeaTac airport were designed by the same Denver architectural firm. I looked into the little models and saw places I once stood. There is the Border's, I thought. There is the Qdoba I usually ordered from. There is the place I watched the rain against the glass.

I got me me a copy of Anne Carson's Nox. Then I got me a gin and tonic.

EVERY SHAPE OF ANIMAL

2010-07-24T07:17:00.007-07:00

Brig and I met Jane at the Botanic Gardens.

Spending time with Jane is pretty much like this. You might be looking at flowers, but you are also talking constantly. And there are lots of oohs and ahhs. Not matter what you are doing.

This particular Henry Moore sculpture reminded me, somewhat strangely, of the weed cutter that used to chug across the bay we lived on when I was a youngster.

We walked barefoot along this swirling massage walkway.

And then I returned another garden--Maggie's, where I was housesitting. Tough gig, let me tell you.

I mean, I had to water all these veggies and sunflowers and aloes and such.

And hang out with this little Molly cat, and her sister Stuffies, and their wild miniature dachshund counterpart, Tulip.

When I grow up I really would be pleased to have even a garden like Mags'.

ON THE STAIRS I SMOKE A CIGARETTE ALONE

2010-07-20T16:29:00.000-07:00

The Fourth of July began like this.

I do love the way a Colorado storm blows in from one direction while the other direction is still bright and sunny.

We tried to play badminton despite the rain.

We hid under the trees.

It was actually pouring when I took this one.

Brigid's feathery hair accessory began to look like a dead bird.

It rained and rained.

So the Fourth of July ended like this, while the rain and hail dumped outside.

GRAYSCALE, GRAYSCALE

2010-07-19T20:28:00.002-07:00

Robin had an opening at Ironton Studios, which reminded me a little of Joe's Cafe in St. Louis, with its courtyard of surprises and firepits. I looked at Robin's work first and forgot to take photos, but her paintings are lovely and strange. My favorite was of a potato with its roots gone wild, a little like this one, but gleaming and gigantic.

Robin's brother Kagen has a studio space at Ironton, too. He was building this "puzzle desk" for Darren Aronofsky. When it is complete, you'll be able to play these recorder style organ pipes by pushing in the little drawers in the front of the desk.

Kagen played a pipe for us.

And then I found this garage when walking down an alleyway.

FROM THIS BOTTLE OF INK

2010-07-18T20:42:00.003-07:00

TURN THE COMPOST

2010-07-14T14:09:00.005-07:00

"That's what they're for, epitaphs, Andrew suddenly realized. So you can feel you've got some control over the death, you own it, you choose a name for it. The same with wanting to know all you can about how it happened."

From A Death in the Family, James Agee

THE PILLAR AND THE BEAM

2010-06-27T21:09:00.001-07:00

...

2010-06-20T08:04:00.001-07:00

GOING ON A SNIPE HUNT

2010-06-05T18:04:00.009-07:00

Truly, the month of May was a whirlwind from which I am just now, two weeks into June, recovering.

My camera contained the last mixed fragments from the wedding week in Colorado. Did I mention that the wedding happened on a sweet little CSA? It was the first wedding held there. We did the set up the day before and managed to avoid getting sunburned.

This photo was taken in the converted chicken coop.

For the days surrounding the wedding we stayed at Chautauqua, a historic village of cabins and a dining hall and theater, etc. where people used to gather to partake in intellectual conversations and hiking and such. It's a pretty amazing spot. My main associations with the place trace back to high school, when we occasionally went there to attend silent movie screenings, or to wander the trails in the dark while hunting for snipes.

Anni and Lucile loved it there.

Then I was back in Salt Lake to move out of my little apartment. Hopefully August will bring me and Ross lovely, more spacious digs...

In those few days Catie was pretty much my own personal saint, not to mention my chauffeur and wheeler-dealer. She even sold my bed to a craiglist buyer for more than the asking price while I was at the storage unit. I'm telling you people, this lady is amazing.

I got to sleep at Chateau Catiebear for the last night.

Little Christmas morning Catie there on the right...I love this photo.

It was raining when I reached the airport for the trip back to Seattle, where it was sunny.

And the Northwest Folklife festival was in full swing, which meant Ross was locked in an office all weekend, uploading and editing audio from the hundreds of shows taking place all weekend. One of my favorite parts of Folklife is walking around listening to the buskers, who are quite often bands or musicians who have official shows during the festival, too. There were a lot of jug band style groups this year...musical saws and washtub basses and banjos abounded. And some of them were kind of amazing. Tequila Mockingbird was a favorite of mine, and they're from Canada, which always means bonus points in my book.

And these guys were so startling and strange and beautiful.

And with that, the month of May ended.

SASS AND SPLENDOR

2010-05-27T06:11:00.005-07:00

I took almost no photos of Brigid's and Bryce's wedding, only getting my camera out for the dancing. The ceremony was beautiful and romantic and windy, with amazing music performed by friends and family. The food was delcious, prepared by my uncle. The cupcakes, baked by Maggie and Mandy, were gorgeous, and I wish I had been able to taste all of them. The flowers in their assorted old vases and jars, were arranged by Sara. But I didn't take photos of any of these things, except with the handmade pinhole cameras Brigid and I built last week. So my photo record of the wedding is a silly one. But there was plenty of silliness. We're talking about Brigid and Bryce and their friends and family, after all, who are beautiful and romantic, but are also very, very silly.

Thanks Brigid and Bryce for sharing your love with us, and for throwing such a great party.

THE SCATTERING SEEDS

2010-05-25T06:58:00.011-07:00

Brig has been making some interesting sock animals lately. I dubbed that little green guy the Udder Glove. Missing from this photo, though, is her triumphal creation, The Chicken Monkey, who went to a good owner, her friends' baby, who apparently really loves the thing.

Brig and Bryce are renting the coolest little Frida Kahlo painting of an apartment for their Denver summer.

My friend Cesar graduated last week with his degree in Electrical Engineering. Cesar is Kate's husband, so her parents were out from Wisconsin for the celebration at her uncle's house. Gerry and my dad go way back.

It's strange to see all these Wisconsin peeps in Denver now, but I sure like it.

Kate is mom to three! Diego is about 10 months old now, I think.

I took a couple of nice walks and runs through the old Suburbia Hell.

These trees used to hold a tree house and discarded soda and beer cans, but these days I think they are mostly the coyote den.

The coyotes ran across my path. Look closely...

THE EARTH IS WARMER WHEN YOU LAUGH

2010-05-19T08:49:00.008-07:00

Beautiful Maggie and Beautiful Pearl live in a beautiful house with a beautiful garden. Maggie and my Aunt Jane organized a bridal shower for Brigid. Caitlin and I helped, but really, Mags and Jane did almost everything.

Among other things, Jane brought a bunch of gorgeous flowers.

Brigid's friends are a pretty amazing bunch of women to spend an afternoon with. Brig likes this apron (from Maggie) so much that she is considering turning it into a dress instead of cooking in it.

George was there.

And Julie came between tutoring and touring with her band. I think she left the next morning for a show in SLC, and then came back to play in Denver, and then she sang a new song she wrote for Brig and Bryce in the wedding on Saturday.

Mandy Pod and Maggie baked cupcakes for the wedding. Lots and lots of delicious cupcakes.

And Reji was the charming, sweet, and funny officiant in the wedding.

My oldest friend in the world, dear Kate was there. We have known each other since I was 4 and she was 3, I think. We were neighbors in Wisconsin, and now she and her family live in Denver. Kate's mom was there, too, all the way from Wisconsin.

That saying about good things in small packages? Three great things, these lovelies.

I spent a day over at Brigid and Bryce's summer digs. Brig and I worked on building these complicated little pinhole cameras for the reception and Bryce cooked us dinner.

The week was a whirlwind, but this day was one of my favorites.

Despite the frustration of these camera templates that were a little off in their measurements, and that we spent hours and hours working on these cameras, and only completed three of them. I hope a few of the photos turned out...

The next day was my mom's birthday.

I made her cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

A SONG FOR SOMEONE WHO NEEDS SOMEWHERE TO LONG FOR

2010-05-15T07:56:00.004-07:00

Nate had a Cinco de Mayo bash. Paige and Roya are tireless ball players.

I wasn't quite done with my final papers yet...

I turned them in on Friday, and on Saturday I got in the car and drove and drove, off through Idaho and into Oregon.

The cats came along. Jackson spent most of the drive on my lap. Lucy found a little cave to hide in.

And then three lovely days in Seattle. The kitties were happy to find Ross at the end of their torture.

And now I am in Denver. Brigid and Bryce are gettin' hitched a week from today...

SEALED, AS IF WITH WAX OR LEAD

2010-05-04T19:22:00.003-07:00

All spring there has been a graffiti war going on in the lot next door, almost immediately below my window. Sometimes on the fence, sometimes on the concrete wall, they never paint anything good, and frankly, it has been a little disturbing. But this morning I found a stenciled polygamist family! I hope no one paints over this one. If they do, they better paint something equally good.

This week Halina became Dr. Halina. I joined her and some pals for a karaoke night. (No, I did not sing.)

What are these toys called? The ones with elastic joints? You know. Well, this one was our muse while writing final papers at the cafe.

This is approximately how my mind and my apartment feel right now, but really I left the window open and the wind blew in.