tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-94920132024-03-19T21:03:49.029-07:00John Burridgemystery
BEGUILEMENT
portents
WONDER
awe
CONNECTION
majesty
SURPRISEJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.comBlogger2372125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-43731954404691112272024-03-19T21:02:00.000-07:002024-03-19T21:02:52.664-07:00Agates, Crossbills, and the Oregon Coast<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMnUba2y_VuLeAv3Xumht2F8z045oDIlEbhyphenhyphenipkjonlwJ5P2SpP_ku-6R8r7TvO1t8bEPrAHR1OCsjw5oya4k2Z241NiI58MsFit81B3kcHf1WyrAsc43k8Ned8ZDHb7ixC_6QLqUSx5o9Oia4WrqfZ3w0moCS_obBsAqnu0pW-KD_7QclNbY/s4608/DSCN8718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Aoife, a Pit Bull Terrier, wearing a kerchief with green shamrocks on it." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMnUba2y_VuLeAv3Xumht2F8z045oDIlEbhyphenhyphenipkjonlwJ5P2SpP_ku-6R8r7TvO1t8bEPrAHR1OCsjw5oya4k2Z241NiI58MsFit81B3kcHf1WyrAsc43k8Ned8ZDHb7ixC_6QLqUSx5o9Oia4WrqfZ3w0moCS_obBsAqnu0pW-KD_7QclNbY/w150-h200/DSCN8718.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Over the weekend we went to the coast. It seemed to me that it had been a while since we had left the house, although Mark reminded me that we had entertained some friends the week before. I guess last week's craziness with car keys and some not-quite-awake-yet bus rides have skewed my memory of successful ventures from the house.<p></p><p>Aoife came with us. We managed to actually leave before dawn and thus reached the Muriel O. Ponsler Beach about 8:30. This meant that there were virtually no other dogs there, and we could let Aoife be off-leash (there were also no birds or marine life, either). I had brought my camera, but was only slightly tempted to take Yet Another WPA Concrete Bridge In The Mist shot. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3pXgv5wRECMUSYHH4ZJDEMk1aSc9zMYar3epAOm7vNQlTo4oSU34_3iGjcocnuVfNQ7ceMFFhr4f5zTsmVplPniu5lgUNjIg-LJqi3bwayvjRpnZA3mqhpcz5YLD3gQwmRNAsB6nOpwGtQf1YaMbqKJHM8i1UnnIq6vz3k8uiHQjwSVKicHS/s4608/DSCN8709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="A flock of red and yellow Crossbill finches in a small stream." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3pXgv5wRECMUSYHH4ZJDEMk1aSc9zMYar3epAOm7vNQlTo4oSU34_3iGjcocnuVfNQ7ceMFFhr4f5zTsmVplPniu5lgUNjIg-LJqi3bwayvjRpnZA3mqhpcz5YLD3gQwmRNAsB6nOpwGtQf1YaMbqKJHM8i1UnnIq6vz3k8uiHQjwSVKicHS/w200-h150/DSCN8709.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>High tide was about two hours before our arrival, so we hunted for agates. The weekend was sunny and clear, calm, and warm for a March Oregon Coast day: 65F. The day before had been a high surf advisory; the waves when we were there seemed normal, although a little erratic. <p></p><p>Mark is very good at finding all sorts of interesting and unusual rocks in the surf. This time around there was a lot of large, plain basalt; bright red jasper; banded rocks; quartz; and small-to-medium-sized agates. Mark did find a mouse-sized agate. At first I only found jasper, but later on I hung out at the end of a peninsula of basalt where the retreating tide would tumble all sorts of rocks and my agate count went up.</p><p>I'd forgotten the Chuck-It. Mark and I had to take turns throwing a ball for Aoife. For about two hours.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4i4x0Lm2khl5S9umorzw4cPRpNAo7qISwnsLBZuklCzX4NZnKqnojiLvFGm7xfoZpdKeahM2fcp6tFmqTgq8F06kYIurBDqjnHRA2KV1a7KOafIFMu6k40Lwa4JT8-v9YIyJkEMvHKRaFY4F4wsBPw8GuIzo5r_q_yNLevGkgo1DyQvOVx9c/s2517/DSCN8730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A Pit Bull Terrier rolls on its back and looks at the camera." border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="2517" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4i4x0Lm2khl5S9umorzw4cPRpNAo7qISwnsLBZuklCzX4NZnKqnojiLvFGm7xfoZpdKeahM2fcp6tFmqTgq8F06kYIurBDqjnHRA2KV1a7KOafIFMu6k40Lwa4JT8-v9YIyJkEMvHKRaFY4F4wsBPw8GuIzo5r_q_yNLevGkgo1DyQvOVx9c/w200-h150/DSCN8730.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Afterward, we went north to Depot Bay in the hope of seeing migrating whales. But we saw neither whales, nor pelicans, nor seal lions, nor coastal eagles. We did see some Crossbills, which we didn't know were Crossbills until we got home and zoomed in on photos I took and saw their crossed beaks (used to extract seeds from pine cones). In addition to wild fauna, I got some photos of Aoife as an "Irish Pit Bull." <p></p><p><br /></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-69333881290847285382024-03-18T20:31:00.000-07:002024-03-18T20:31:58.609-07:00Pre-Lockdown Throwback<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YI9DRrpAsL-NATUZ5oKFDU-4eOUhEqeTz-wC_aZQ7lA9alWhyOjnCx82xKG36-Tq8c_Q6RVIUqNSw-TsWUqfLKWZcdjs7W-TS_OkY92XgVLyiueZe80jENhkTnutGN8DC5-q1t-I-1wp1zrm7JILa9wJ0Zb-Ho0J_aPeg24bX9h3Oa0cM_th/s3088/IMG_0594.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YI9DRrpAsL-NATUZ5oKFDU-4eOUhEqeTz-wC_aZQ7lA9alWhyOjnCx82xKG36-Tq8c_Q6RVIUqNSw-TsWUqfLKWZcdjs7W-TS_OkY92XgVLyiueZe80jENhkTnutGN8DC5-q1t-I-1wp1zrm7JILa9wJ0Zb-Ho0J_aPeg24bX9h3Oa0cM_th/s320/IMG_0594.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br />Huh. Four years ago today I shared a joke photo with my co-workers showing a supposed toilet paper roll made out of unmatched socks. <p></p><p>It seems like a lifetime ago.<br /></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-14525609026175863912024-03-16T15:46:00.000-07:002024-03-16T15:46:15.304-07:00Conjunctions and a Rough Week<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Heloe6AGSjUQ7kAgi50stBOLOrwjbNfg2a9khiS4beKkZQqfv9p4_4CIxgnZarrRsDkdwdSbY9ZY6cWhyphenhyphenVA3SkGL32BiuYKd6oVJkiJoOST7F7sTWj6xrHiyfWODE4tdeCp7JAR_iWSBNAa-Zh4dK3wGe7agenQEfdjnOTZCYmnrEmJr45XB/s4608/DSCN8616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Waxing crescent moon in a dark sky." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Heloe6AGSjUQ7kAgi50stBOLOrwjbNfg2a9khiS4beKkZQqfv9p4_4CIxgnZarrRsDkdwdSbY9ZY6cWhyphenhyphenVA3SkGL32BiuYKd6oVJkiJoOST7F7sTWj6xrHiyfWODE4tdeCp7JAR_iWSBNAa-Zh4dK3wGe7agenQEfdjnOTZCYmnrEmJr45XB/w200-h150/DSCN8616.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I should start out this post stating how much of a pain switching from standard time to daylight savings time has been this year. Even though I've (mostly) gone to bed between 9 PM and 10 PM, I've pretty much been bedridden until 7 AM all week. I've also been tired, cranky, depressed, and filled with ennui, which Mark is blaming on the time change. It could also be other things, like new moon, and the Very Grey Weather we've had since about the 8th.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVH3puTKbA2S5r117pJSTsEKAHMW9zajCpdkWbt8yVYZExj16YwN3WNQtzCF5MvqgPELVpg8eE8gIoDAn0JnVkOZVgQaC8kU2CDlrE4jtvQav7euzV2O1WgatlLzUZWxfbelfCiEPnYZOWBn0Wgm4bF9on5hfx74C2pxpnXfKgaK57BFBRCTvW/s4608/DSCN8528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Jupiter and some of its moons in a dark sky." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVH3puTKbA2S5r117pJSTsEKAHMW9zajCpdkWbt8yVYZExj16YwN3WNQtzCF5MvqgPELVpg8eE8gIoDAn0JnVkOZVgQaC8kU2CDlrE4jtvQav7euzV2O1WgatlLzUZWxfbelfCiEPnYZOWBn0Wgm4bF9on5hfx74C2pxpnXfKgaK57BFBRCTvW/w200-h150/DSCN8528.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Thursday morning, I'd actually managed to haul myself out of bed at 5:50 AM, shower, hard boil eggs, get dressed, and pack for a day of working remotely in Corvallis. As I reached into the closet for the car keys at 6:30, I saw that the nail I usually hang them from had fallen out and the keys were nowhere in sight. I felt around the To Go Bag on the closet floor and found the nail, but no keys. I moved shoes and bags out of the closet. I got a flashlight and looked around the closet. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzytv7yoG7Afn7MgT3Np6xhwxYgCObfnU8xUIczOef9eKXWwekuDozBKn62bXKKR-7Bfq2laVCQhsgw8SBEQGILkqi9Qz5mq46Z_IHJMGEn90EVDJzdocMkfH3DlNcXLlLfxAAASSALGDYEXDdYqbyqAMCPnE4YXA1ib8WYUEQ0YmyTkAs1n3/s4608/DSCN8548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Jupiter (lower left) and the Moon (upper right)." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzytv7yoG7Afn7MgT3Np6xhwxYgCObfnU8xUIczOef9eKXWwekuDozBKn62bXKKR-7Bfq2laVCQhsgw8SBEQGILkqi9Qz5mq46Z_IHJMGEn90EVDJzdocMkfH3DlNcXLlLfxAAASSALGDYEXDdYqbyqAMCPnE4YXA1ib8WYUEQ0YmyTkAs1n3/w150-h200/DSCN8548.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Mark got in on the search. There was a discussion of alternate places the keys might be, even though they should be living on their nail. I went through all of the jackets and coats I had worn in the last week. I checked under a table. Mark looked behind the boot bench. I went through my day pack. The tracking device on the key wasn't showing up on either of our phones, and there was speculation that battery was dead. Mark went through the battery basket. I looked under the couch. Mark checked under an entryway chair. I looked under the kitchen table. I emptied out my day pack. I took a flashlight, because the flashlight can help me to consciously look at things instead of glossing over them, and shone it under the TV, and by the computer monitor, and under the couch again, and into the closet, and under the front door's lamp. I took off the couch cover and looked under the couch cushions. Mark looked under the computer desk. I took off the cushions under the Stickly Chair. Mark swept under the rolling cabinet of wicker baskets. I looked in the mail basket, and the winter glove basket, and the dog toy basket. I looked at the guest room desk. Mark went through my day pack. I wandered around the living room, checking the mantle for the third time. After about forty minutes of turning the house upside down and still not finding the key, I cancelled the trip to Corvallis and remote-worked from home.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixj9bl4Vc39TigEXu_b7sgHXEsRfXplt36-7RW1FlDkktBXLQXSVG7TUWzRjVDVyhMKB92rEbqvfqFar52j56YiA_O02_raAVRq-9oOwnlBaHm6OzL_PpmZ-AF9CoKhVEDiAS0hhA9hdsq5hBJ4cAJnLhkmYwKD054JER1mq-njJCxQwGSnKqU/s4608/DSCN8581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="The Pleiades (faint, center) and the Moon (right)" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixj9bl4Vc39TigEXu_b7sgHXEsRfXplt36-7RW1FlDkktBXLQXSVG7TUWzRjVDVyhMKB92rEbqvfqFar52j56YiA_O02_raAVRq-9oOwnlBaHm6OzL_PpmZ-AF9CoKhVEDiAS0hhA9hdsq5hBJ4cAJnLhkmYwKD054JER1mq-njJCxQwGSnKqU/w200-h150/DSCN8581.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>That evening, the search continued. I went into the guest room to tear apart the bed. I picked up my day pack, and saw the car keys, sitting just below the zipper along the top of the main compartment. Mercury isn't retrograde, but I'm blaming other supernatural forces for hiding the keys. Mark suggested that I get a hammer and pound the nail back into the closet wall. Which I did. A lot.<p></p><p>The skies have cleared up around the 13th, just in time for a conjunction of the Moon with Jupiter, and then a very close pass of the Moon by the Pleiades the next day. "I thought you said they were going to be next to each other," Mark said Thursday night. </p><p>"Well, I thought they were," I said. "I guess Earthsky led me on. They're still about as close as they're going to be on this pass."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0XMDuUoE3j2lXZk30AmUUX7N2eArpIPxQ4lyKGql6TN82J9vCVl32uYGqfe4JAqsEnbyKq9GYA0CHG0KywZV8gbXzG_bHuuHgFVDyZD5UfyKJD96NxoqvEd20T18eJj912lx8xOMXxw3ELs3_xi-c7VkWlV4tvqYjPOauozdVD103593quUe/s4608/DSCN8637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Pleiades (faint, center) and the Moon (right)." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0XMDuUoE3j2lXZk30AmUUX7N2eArpIPxQ4lyKGql6TN82J9vCVl32uYGqfe4JAqsEnbyKq9GYA0CHG0KywZV8gbXzG_bHuuHgFVDyZD5UfyKJD96NxoqvEd20T18eJj912lx8xOMXxw3ELs3_xi-c7VkWlV4tvqYjPOauozdVD103593quUe/w200-h150/DSCN8637.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The next night the Moon was right next to the Pleiades, and I was lucky enough to get some images of them during twilight, when the sky was still bright enough to even out the washing-out effect of an almost-quarter moon. "I thought you said you could see the Moon next to the Pleiades," Mark said when the sky was much darker.<p></p><p>"Well," I said, "it is. If you put your thumb over the Moon, you can see the Pleiades right over it." Mark likes to be a contrarian when I say that the Moon is next to Jupiter, and Thursday night we had a loud conversation on the deck about how <i>apparently</i> close planets and stars are to each other, how I think it's neat when celestial objects are in conjunction (because it looks cool and doesn't happen every day), and how Mark thinks this is like religion. I suppose on one level it is like religion, in that photographing the sky makes me feel like I'm participating in something larger than myself.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-3PzkkHM25y-eIBHxd7h0WflI2ByamRYPtoINiQg8lYau4NtLwjZow5gCIuVjBhTPFtwZjvbPtz3jVW8awSL79frobj-9rDt2HhdC5A84aBrWNqhyphenhyphen-gQs127zsK4d9D36PvTzRE5v3whXGCTWBy7chyphenhyphen_ePNyrS5AC7RcHB7QR6nIKtUB-bDA/s4608/DSCN8661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Orion (faint, left), Aldebaran (faint, center), and the Moon (upper right)" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-3PzkkHM25y-eIBHxd7h0WflI2ByamRYPtoINiQg8lYau4NtLwjZow5gCIuVjBhTPFtwZjvbPtz3jVW8awSL79frobj-9rDt2HhdC5A84aBrWNqhyphenhyphen-gQs127zsK4d9D36PvTzRE5v3whXGCTWBy7chyphenhyphen_ePNyrS5AC7RcHB7QR6nIKtUB-bDA/w200-h150/DSCN8661.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The best thing about the conjunction was that I realized that since we're close enough to the Spring Equinox for me to easily compute the sun's and moon's position on my Portable Stonehenge, I could mark the Pleiades position on the Holes, which, unsurprisingly, is near Aldebaran's position. So I did.<p></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-54487988641382996052024-03-12T20:17:00.000-07:002024-03-12T20:17:37.673-07:00Graphics and Dreams<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXp0x3FXFjUzCdKTpcP8e2-beSrmwGDBx96C_TxxNmfVA0X9EdJUN-oArYZFImBusdw75IWh2lncMaee8I_Gig3g-vz8mgD5hiAWKb7YbY2FnCZRy7l_cwqqxGFWVV6pNal-8WcYNoE5f4YWUyXA2hEFui6tJN-GwAvov3CNg0XBXVm8YDf5v/s2418/Mamluck6-9StarInterweave.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Interweaved pattern in blue hues forming arrangements of five pointed stars." border="0" data-original-height="2418" data-original-width="1560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXp0x3FXFjUzCdKTpcP8e2-beSrmwGDBx96C_TxxNmfVA0X9EdJUN-oArYZFImBusdw75IWh2lncMaee8I_Gig3g-vz8mgD5hiAWKb7YbY2FnCZRy7l_cwqqxGFWVV6pNal-8WcYNoE5f4YWUyXA2hEFui6tJN-GwAvov3CNg0XBXVm8YDf5v/w206-h320/Mamluck6-9StarInterweave.png" width="206" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-HQuduukkX_29gHM9Q0KUgcZfyClGjv3dUYVwMzIDirPNoDCNXAp5JdzJDIC2jhofASerEC2EhWMWQvT3pgyidLOnQCYYD5Y4s3aLYV9tVALTMa4FkuCuzqkiggzzxANRVcjL0NWxhLeIZbmhu71r3FjBd8CAOY62HXfJwUQ9qxsRFo3o09p/s938/Mamluck6-9StarGrid.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Red, mostly five pointed stars arranged along a hexagonal pattern of grey and black right-triangles." border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="605" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-HQuduukkX_29gHM9Q0KUgcZfyClGjv3dUYVwMzIDirPNoDCNXAp5JdzJDIC2jhofASerEC2EhWMWQvT3pgyidLOnQCYYD5Y4s3aLYV9tVALTMa4FkuCuzqkiggzzxANRVcjL0NWxhLeIZbmhu71r3FjBd8CAOY62HXfJwUQ9qxsRFo3o09p/w206-h320/Mamluck6-9StarGrid.png" width="206" /></a>
<p>The other week I finished up an interweave pattern using the 9-6-9 star pattern from last month. It refreshing to work with stars using a pattern other than a ten-fold one. I held back on my urge to use strongly contrasting colors and managed to come up with a combination that's energetic, but not spastic. </p><p>On the dream front I've been having unpleasant dreams over the last week that have me examining issues of trust, duty, authority, power, and artifice. I'm not quite sure what children damaging a wooden play structure with dried out lion's fingers means, but I'm pretty sure that the army of assassin-geishas has something to do with my ambiguous feelings toward drag queens. At the very least, I suppose that it generates some interesting exchanges with ChatGPT. </p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-42208668225311744132024-03-05T19:18:00.000-08:002024-03-05T19:18:41.809-08:00Writing Progress<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH88VMB3BSMp5QaoBcLXg2I9hfel5206re97pBPVp0mLAzM8_Q15C0ajZOqMEl6G6WNb0VL0tX9KbeAoB1EUwGU35P6KeZl52ta8KKJ_fPrgIeMDw8oPuYb-FIuB0sx_KoZ649XXNK8sKM8PgOCeDU1evkyCA8V2vz2S_09FDcSWTjISfx8i1q/s3088/IMG_4672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A man with long grey hair looks perplexedly at a paperback in his hand. Stacks of books in the foreground." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH88VMB3BSMp5QaoBcLXg2I9hfel5206re97pBPVp0mLAzM8_Q15C0ajZOqMEl6G6WNb0VL0tX9KbeAoB1EUwGU35P6KeZl52ta8KKJ_fPrgIeMDw8oPuYb-FIuB0sx_KoZ649XXNK8sKM8PgOCeDU1evkyCA8V2vz2S_09FDcSWTjISfx8i1q/w150-h200/IMG_4672.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Mark has taken a look at my latest manuscript and he agrees with the folks who gave me feedback: it's boring because the stakes aren't high and there's a lot of dialog. <p></p><p>Sigh. This is what happens when I focus on cool ideas and world-building. Back to the drawing board. I suppose that it counts as writing practice. </p><p>Slightly related, I rearranged the paperbacks in my library. I did find a few duplicates and also some hardbacks that I very likely will never read again. Dislodged from the paperbacks were the old blank notebooks I've been filling since 1995. There's fewer than one would think, as it usually takes me about three years to fill one completely. They're interesting as a record of story ideas or of questions I was working through, but I think I would have to index them or at least put their dates on their spines for them to be useful. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-43485186711669327432024-02-20T21:11:00.000-08:002024-02-20T21:11:47.419-08:00Be A Writer, It'll Be Fun<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_O6wg4LA_dIOgpdiNRDDbrPDKEN5VQlplq1-NWEtSLaNAwxy2BAejXjCoDakgN1JjsZZiknkZCV7ppiXV6DDRgY2CVONYQMTvYpfD1Xphh2pWHkdnVsiTMQ6FaClnztrOv49bx3fuGabbDP83GuPy4mOr9lQyBRo3m2ZjucvYpjoQJdaUzAi/s4608/DSCN8279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Green hummingbird at a fountain's edge." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_O6wg4LA_dIOgpdiNRDDbrPDKEN5VQlplq1-NWEtSLaNAwxy2BAejXjCoDakgN1JjsZZiknkZCV7ppiXV6DDRgY2CVONYQMTvYpfD1Xphh2pWHkdnVsiTMQ6FaClnztrOv49bx3fuGabbDP83GuPy4mOr9lQyBRo3m2ZjucvYpjoQJdaUzAi/w150-h200/DSCN8279.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Arg. Tuesday is my writing night and this particular writing night has been mildly unproductive. Or was that wildly unproductive. Part of the problem is that I seem to want to write vignettes (which are static dead-ends) or poetry (which I suppose counts as "art"). <br /><p></p><p>I guess I need to just force myself to write short stories based on a modular outline—what my friend Nina calls "roll-ups"—for the next few months just to get started and to have a story with an ending. I'll have to see if I can come up with something other than "quest" or "secret library" or "whiney hero" plots (or "eye-candy" non-plots). </p><p>Here; have a recent hummingbird photo.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-25909997903044899182024-02-18T21:57:00.000-08:002024-02-18T21:57:55.933-08:00Tiling Stars<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXnR6WAHpK0WZXI3NJQz4aq7Be8UR3DQDQekhgQKFOZxoCN_UDQloTk2vnHsYvfUR9DXVd-x8vFtUip_1SKdn8tDjgTKc5LfXwDJtbWDiLhht8a5tln1eInh1wBVNXqPzIszfhP7nbyPsp2dNNdrgeM4t4t61wwOuUA-WB0oAFPtGCJgFX4WU/s938/Mamluck6-9StarGrid.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Red stars, triangles, and kites arranged into nine-fold and six-fold arrays." border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="605" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXnR6WAHpK0WZXI3NJQz4aq7Be8UR3DQDQekhgQKFOZxoCN_UDQloTk2vnHsYvfUR9DXVd-x8vFtUip_1SKdn8tDjgTKc5LfXwDJtbWDiLhht8a5tln1eInh1wBVNXqPzIszfhP7nbyPsp2dNNdrgeM4t4t61wwOuUA-WB0oAFPtGCJgFX4WU/w206-h320/Mamluck6-9StarGrid.png" width="206" /></a></div>One of my hobbies is playing around with different types of tilings. Mostly I like to play around with Penrose Kites and Darts. I also like to try to fit stars into regular patterns. The most recent exploration that I've done comes from Daud Sutton's "Islamic Design," where he talks about making a grid out of right triangles, and then placing regular polygons and other shapes onto the edges and corners of the triangles. In the case that I was interested in, he used five-pointed stars. <p></p><p>Getting the stars down on the triangles was simple enough, but it took me a lot of wiggling to get the nine kite-shapes at the top and bottom of the design to look symmetric and not smooshed.</p><p>I'll have to see what sorts of patterns will result from right-triangles which form squares instead of hexagons. <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vfU55r0D0cS_zrcpY_gy3vrTQhr2V_WAhZeOf2Ulol9DdllTQ5jFAnrpg5cgGHlmFOkO9E4zOAsajcgBjWZ84doPJrMcBhxAsSPg9Z-Z4hNntNzZLw7yiHBTiPcdIqy5PwSoF4P_oxREH2-SQF_UZ7F2MEVzkJYHtuy4nOUAZDpLNoenWFmX/s5399/7StarInterweave.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5399" data-original-width="5385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vfU55r0D0cS_zrcpY_gy3vrTQhr2V_WAhZeOf2Ulol9DdllTQ5jFAnrpg5cgGHlmFOkO9E4zOAsajcgBjWZ84doPJrMcBhxAsSPg9Z-Z4hNntNzZLw7yiHBTiPcdIqy5PwSoF4P_oxREH2-SQF_UZ7F2MEVzkJYHtuy4nOUAZDpLNoenWFmX/s320/7StarInterweave.png" width="319" /></a></div>A couple of weeks ago, I read about a technique for putting odd-numbered polygons and stars together. Start with a figure, duplicate and reflect it, then make the two closest points touch. Skip a point on ether side of the touching point, and place a reflected duplicate there, too. This will make a repeating line, which you can put together into a mesh. I tried it with 5-, 7-, and 9-stars; the 7-stars were the most aesthetic, so I put together some interwoven 7-stars into a larger interwoven pattern.<p></p><p>Whats fun about this technique is that it allows one to break away from patterns that are hexagon- or square-based. <br /></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-7474934443519761532024-02-10T11:56:00.000-08:002024-02-17T12:55:14.059-08:00When In-laws Turn 90<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gYFDVTXhgCcsK_BWVUFVAVV2C8-tBVLxDR96K_FR9gj3oR3M_QIM2u0ZaGwqESqBC5nrsf8bHLLQdydP0AWGQi9_YNNPMP8cK75MDXzCNOuYCuo2gkuvyOatgCNXahHXh6F71h4xCPq5GZg1STNBwT3JRo0YZVYe3jk6YYeivdwQnWiM7CNk/s4032/IMG_4635.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A well dressed man at a formal dinning table holding up a fancy glass of water and ostensibly licking a fork." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gYFDVTXhgCcsK_BWVUFVAVV2C8-tBVLxDR96K_FR9gj3oR3M_QIM2u0ZaGwqESqBC5nrsf8bHLLQdydP0AWGQi9_YNNPMP8cK75MDXzCNOuYCuo2gkuvyOatgCNXahHXh6F71h4xCPq5GZg1STNBwT3JRo0YZVYe3jk6YYeivdwQnWiM7CNk/w150-h200/IMG_4635.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>The first week of February we flew to the east coast to celebrate Mark's Mother's 90th birthday. Mark is one of seven children, and his mother has thirteen grandchildren and fourteen great-grandchildren (of which The Child is the oldest). Almost everyone—including the Florida nephews and nieces—was able to come to the celebration, which lasted several days over the February 3 weekend; there were upwards of fifty people spanning four generations in the Suffern house. <p></p><p>Probably the best way to describe the gatherings in full force is "a frat party with lots of theatre people." Or possibly a slightly grittier version of backstage at The Muppet Show. </p><p>Since there were so many relatives scheduled to attend the fancy birthday lunch, there was a raffle to "sit at the captain's table" with the birthday girl. Since the instructions didn't specify a limit, Mark proceeded to fill out multiple tickets with his name on them. This sparked a loud discussion among his sisters about the interpretation of the rules and whether Mark was stuffing the ballot or not. During this time, The Child (at least) wrote Mark's name on an extra ticket, and somebody else submitted a ticket labeled "Anyone BUT Mark." </p><p>When the tickets were drawn, Mark's name was drawn five times (six if you count "Anyone BUT Mark"), and after a consultation, Mark's Mother decreed Mark disqualified. </p><p>"I've been sent away!" said Mark, "Banished." Smeagol-like, at the fancy birthday lunch, he sat down at the captain's table and pretended to lick the forks. </p><p>The lunch was a hearty Italian meal, with several courses (I had salmon). The strangest aspect of the party was that it was the same venue as Mark's Mother's 70th birthday, but the room seemed smaller somehow. We couldn't figure out if the room had been painted a white back then and that the now red walls made the space seem closer, or if there had been some slight remodeling or additions. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-M10aWxRo-rgASFsreK8WE1qalbzifx0HKBNTN8hubVU91ZDX65-rGBsnFvxO6E8GkpHKb8kB2B8EnDZWeNRa15Kg6gtWzpa_mIDl3FD7H6rVu1Ab4aeotJsQQntSIRcTlYDK16LsIP3e2jGjpjTS1rQfmIoSSaF_UkIKSCHijQk1X2XY5wBc/s2926/IMG_20240203_151147075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two middle-aged men sitting on either side of a 90 year old woman." border="0" data-original-height="2203" data-original-width="2926" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-M10aWxRo-rgASFsreK8WE1qalbzifx0HKBNTN8hubVU91ZDX65-rGBsnFvxO6E8GkpHKb8kB2B8EnDZWeNRa15Kg6gtWzpa_mIDl3FD7H6rVu1Ab4aeotJsQQntSIRcTlYDK16LsIP3e2jGjpjTS1rQfmIoSSaF_UkIKSCHijQk1X2XY5wBc/w200-h151/IMG_20240203_151147075.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Afterwards, Mark and I took late-afternoon nap; the news of which alarmed one of the precocious young nieces, who firmly announced to her mother that she "did not take naps." We rejoined the family at the Suffern house, which by this time, through the piano magic of one of the nephew-in-laws, had turned into a kind of piano bar with sing-alongs—I don't know what happened, one moment I was chatting in the living room, and then next moment I had a solo singing "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina." The requests poured in—"This Land Is My Land," "Part of Your World," "Under the Sea," "Piano Man," "Bohemian Rhapsody," Scottish ballads— and folks were still singing when we left at midnight.<p></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-28567006764911984042024-01-29T11:53:00.000-08:002024-02-17T11:53:53.316-08:00Birthdays, Migraines, and Wildlife<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeW_X04F9cztraPJLOJzkqVTvAZ9Sx4Cf6rjJWJE2P4WvS-TutjxSCdgNdahjoCmXOV86z4bEi-7hkaGFaNSbduvz1x0Jbwxh37_d5Hmp6aj7F5VDUZGAFgllZk9EVs7TG1VND3eipH2mDRBWg9AU7qCuofQUhzBfqFmf2M_NKKdEFxE00e8wc/s4608/DSCN8349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A beaver chewing a twig in shallow water" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeW_X04F9cztraPJLOJzkqVTvAZ9Sx4Cf6rjJWJE2P4WvS-TutjxSCdgNdahjoCmXOV86z4bEi-7hkaGFaNSbduvz1x0Jbwxh37_d5Hmp6aj7F5VDUZGAFgllZk9EVs7TG1VND3eipH2mDRBWg9AU7qCuofQUhzBfqFmf2M_NKKdEFxE00e8wc/w200-h150/DSCN8349.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The last weekend was both busy and slow. Saturday we collected The Child and visited my folks to celebrate my Dad's birthday. He'll be 90 next year; when that happens, we'll have to plan a large celebration with fancy food and champagne and maybe a Mozart Quartet... Or something. This time around was a modest affair with immediate family. <p></p><p>Sunday started out typically. Mark and I had talked about getting up before dawn and going to Delta Ponds to try an spot some more beavers. I woke up around 6 AM, peered between the blinds at what I thought was an overcast morning, groaned, and burrowed further under the covers. </p><p>Around 7 AM I did toddle out of bed and found Mark in the living room. The sun painted high clouds magenta, and the waning full moon hid behind the two pines to the west. I realized I was a Bad Husband for keeping Mark from his early morning nature walk, and said that we should go—but Mark said we could go in the evening. </p><p>After breakfast, I thought I'd join a Zoom writing session of folks I know, but then I got a blind spot in my vision as I was trying to catch up on social media on my phone and the next thing I knew, there was a vibrating spiral of blue lightning in the middle of everything, which put the kibosh on reading or doing anything requiring sight. </p><p>I ended up napping outside all morning on our deck furniture. In the sunlight. It got up to 65F. This is two weeks after the snow and ice storm and about a week of temperatures in the mid-20s. I think I might have gotten a mild tan. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7Ct0kR7pZ_D6DI6J9WX8Se_WFUG4HASiB-OZqTTEYpZAOfIGZohCLJV9bqRIU6d4y8xOitOD6_0qrkYrVovr3Tkms5FYc3XzQr4d7LOPqjv7yPfSG5GlIuGUMG3Pfxf0d-TghfpjFpHWsKBpkOS2n6iHQ6v5TuOhsnK415MvaRsn8jDyb9Yb/s4608/DSCN8343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A cormorant perched on a twisting tree limb" border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7Ct0kR7pZ_D6DI6J9WX8Se_WFUG4HASiB-OZqTTEYpZAOfIGZohCLJV9bqRIU6d4y8xOitOD6_0qrkYrVovr3Tkms5FYc3XzQr4d7LOPqjv7yPfSG5GlIuGUMG3Pfxf0d-TghfpjFpHWsKBpkOS2n6iHQ6v5TuOhsnK415MvaRsn8jDyb9Yb/w150-h200/DSCN8343.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Luckily, my aural-migraines aren't too bad; although my eyes didn't feel like they were focusing properly until the mid-afternoon. I convinced Mark to go to Delta Ponds a little early, and we headed out around 4PM. Mark thought we were there a little early, but as we were walking along the place where we'd seen a beaver the week before, I heard a nibbling sound, and there was a great big beaver sitting on the bank just below the walkway stripping the bark off of a twig. Mark saw a smaller beaver near-by. <p></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-22144747090530062112024-01-23T18:17:00.000-08:002024-01-23T18:17:52.920-08:00January Wildlife<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaq0LLosnC8VswSfZM1LJI00fsHo6JKjlrLXnnAPI8OJgIFi9hXuAhg99Xs2t3KUCftRtf3OzP2p4lYM25p-Qs6Y09_dLW7jfWOme6S8DorakpgwD4saeUWqh1jmerXPCJ8J3N/s200/DSCN2714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="200" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaq0LLosnC8VswSfZM1LJI00fsHo6JKjlrLXnnAPI8OJgIFi9hXuAhg99Xs2t3KUCftRtf3OzP2p4lYM25p-Qs6Y09_dLW7jfWOme6S8DorakpgwD4saeUWqh1jmerXPCJ8J3N/s200/DSCN2714.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: courier;">The Willamette Valley is slowly recovering from last week’s ice and snow. Several friends and acquaintances have had scary encounters with trees falling on or near their houses and cars; the most famous victim of weather is the Cascades Raptor Center, which lost an aviary to falling trees and is currently a deathtrap due to partially fallen tree limbs. <br /><br />The other evening, Mark and I took a walk along the Willamette River and the inlet into Delta Ponds before shopping at the local mall. Rain fell, and I was glad for an umbrella. <br /><br />A gang of kids sat on cardboard in a circle out of the rain under the Valley River bridge. Mark initially wanted to see logs, debris , and other flotsam as it came barreling down stream, but all we really saw were small twigs awash in the gallons of water rushing along the downed trees along the river banks and bridge pylons. I peered into the glooming grey, hoping to see an osprey or maybe one of the Skinner Butte eagles, but all of the birds must have been hunkered down elsewhere. <br /><br />We left the bridge and walked along the bike path along the river toward Delta Ponds. Through the leaning trees and fallen branches, Mark pointed out a white heron in the shallows. Water washed over trees growing from slender eyots near the river’s bank. We saw some ducks between the river and the path, and when we rounded a corner where the inlet flowed into Delta Ponds, there was a tree stretching up bare branches laden with cormorants. On rainy winter late afternoons, the looming cormorants take on a gallows aspect, as if they were awaiting some watery menace to surface and dispense nacreous bounty. <br /><br />A sign along the path listed likely animal residents of the waterways and I was surprised that river otters were on the list. We walked farther, not quite to the sluice gate near a car dealership, and then Mark saw a large animal swimming in the current. I thought it might be an otter because it was swimming more quickly than the nutria we usually see, but when it hopped out of the water and onto a bank below us, we saw the wide flat tail of a beaver. Mark was elated. We followed the beaver back toward the Willamette. I’m not sure if it was looking for downed branches to drag off somewhere or roots to eat or what, but during most the time we saw it, it made an almost dog-like whining, as if it were muttering to itself that “no, this branch isn’t right.” <br /><br /><a href="https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2020/02/bike-path-beaver.html">The last time we saw a beaver up this close was around February 1, 2020</a>, also during a flood, when the beaver in question was gnawing on an oak growing next to the bike path. I had forgotten how big they are. </span><br />Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-83346601097639583082024-01-21T14:57:00.000-08:002024-01-21T14:57:42.483-08:00When Your Husband's a Writer<p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4fjW76eKegFWZeVic3k-hrGA_JVoA_bn5Zp3B-02R0MJpK0OCWXNbmRqRNYmGQJxnTEou6EaxNvKqVujmGTyy9jSD7Fb6sJKbJPZBQXCsql5Vnrsa_RGD1cg5q5yjCL0H_KqvehZzSv8b_nKer3J8PFZZzdrkt8dA2J4pVcVRoExPvvbxgr5/s4608/DSCN8091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A snow shovel on an icy porch; iced over rhododendron in background." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4fjW76eKegFWZeVic3k-hrGA_JVoA_bn5Zp3B-02R0MJpK0OCWXNbmRqRNYmGQJxnTEou6EaxNvKqVujmGTyy9jSD7Fb6sJKbJPZBQXCsql5Vnrsa_RGD1cg5q5yjCL0H_KqvehZzSv8b_nKer3J8PFZZzdrkt8dA2J4pVcVRoExPvvbxgr5/w150-h200/DSCN8091.JPG" width="150" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Scene:</b> The living room. Mark is using a swifter.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Mark:</b> "There. I've finished sweeping and the floors feel less gritty."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>John:</b> "Isn't that a metaphor for life." (Notices his shoes on the floor by the couch and goes to put them on the entry shoe rack.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Mark</b> (aghast): "John!" (Steps in front of John and clasps him by the shoulders) "Look into my eyes."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>John</b> (trying to step around him): "But I need to pick up my ..."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Mark</b> (holding him fast): "Honey. Honey. Look at me: Sweeping and cleaning is an actual job we have to do to maintain the house. It's not a metaphor."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>John</b>: "It's not a metaphor? Why can't it be both a metaphor and—"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Mark</b>: "Oh my God, this explains so much."</span></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-9424085314441871122024-01-15T12:08:00.000-08:002024-01-15T12:08:31.574-08:00First Snow and Ice of 2024<p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Aau8aMTwpAJVAXpHZHS9YDM-0So5_qjqiNW4p6K4gwpMSWivJt-EaL8Yu4R6RQMn6UAWEmzdnZZOYr128kPJFIvUHPeJrjyFvJvw7mghDvE07QpZHyCJZKxE1PFCbbV-Rmm-8JwrqjeeEZFIkEnaLr8IjdAWbTnxcfT9HT3d1m9Gt-TcpYon/s2943/DSCN8036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A garden ornament of a thin medallion of an anthropomorphized sun." border="0" data-original-height="2943" data-original-width="2943" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Aau8aMTwpAJVAXpHZHS9YDM-0So5_qjqiNW4p6K4gwpMSWivJt-EaL8Yu4R6RQMn6UAWEmzdnZZOYr128kPJFIvUHPeJrjyFvJvw7mghDvE07QpZHyCJZKxE1PFCbbV-Rmm-8JwrqjeeEZFIkEnaLr8IjdAWbTnxcfT9HT3d1m9Gt-TcpYon/w200-h200/DSCN8036.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">The January winter storms have hit and covered much of the Willamette Valley with snow and a crust of ice. Power lines are down, and it seems like half of my friends up and down the valley are without power, or their wells have stopped, or trees have come crashing down near or onto their houses. The city has closed public parks and bike paths.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo84KpyGUXaQ-PwBZkxJ0mu-VK4gjpMM7sz0afo2HX-r39bRDTUSo8VCYE7QzCWbHsPPM4oaguOY-A9x_0BqEBkj2SbVztSSCouxXjMyeNJeTTrH0rlWeP_bslcvZA0rqAkciNdQX0Uoth-rNzqo9KD1sbl_Yi69gz0T_vzGr9PuItLw9OPQD/s4608/DSCN8061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blooming rosemary branch covered in snow and ice." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo84KpyGUXaQ-PwBZkxJ0mu-VK4gjpMM7sz0afo2HX-r39bRDTUSo8VCYE7QzCWbHsPPM4oaguOY-A9x_0BqEBkj2SbVztSSCouxXjMyeNJeTTrH0rlWeP_bslcvZA0rqAkciNdQX0Uoth-rNzqo9KD1sbl_Yi69gz0T_vzGr9PuItLw9OPQD/w200-h150/DSCN8061.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">We’re lucky to be in a part of Eugene that seems to have robust power transmission. I believe the last time we were without power was due to someone speeding down Willamette Street at something like fifty miles per hour and smacking into a power pole (Willamette Street is straight, so they would have had to work a little bit to hit a pole at the side of the road). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UkBUBRw22DpfBlj3QE38JZ5X6nvkAk4J8e8u9f8FhXNo1cnctvnYje_VDbMCi0qq5OLqhI8S2EnzfONslYIWO0_JKIX4GNX23H-3_R1_QlEGPKmglqDbOfuOUO6fGc71_iL_5YG7zJlSVWYRPlb8IhR6zdnRCzLR00rbwvLlHP7F4b1MIw89/s4608/DSCN8104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Spherical seed pod covered in snow and ice." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UkBUBRw22DpfBlj3QE38JZ5X6nvkAk4J8e8u9f8FhXNo1cnctvnYje_VDbMCi0qq5OLqhI8S2EnzfONslYIWO0_JKIX4GNX23H-3_R1_QlEGPKmglqDbOfuOUO6fGc71_iL_5YG7zJlSVWYRPlb8IhR6zdnRCzLR00rbwvLlHP7F4b1MIw89/w200-h150/DSCN8104.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">The time before that was a strange occurrence: lightning overhead caused a mechanical switch (maybe a line arrester) at the top of a pole near our house to trip. I’m guessing that the lightning caused an induction surge in the transmission line. Only houses on our side of the block were without power, but some linemen came and used a very long (and insulated) cherry-picker type tool to flip the switch closed. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBACi-Yq0a44C3EPjfiTrK0jol2bY9CE-2pLQzPbVBfdLTRdJ2-5dlrcw1Ymc8n2qaZivrWKXBZq8lv-Gv06LlCnReZ4JN9X8N0ZkpzuNQzb90b2VsqyB-RVm-zarN6PYtCYwG6u6ndsPEgs7GhVaQqQFxaqItPwg73sTl02IhzIZd8G4ORvau/s4608/DSCN8091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="A snow shovel on a concrete stair and porch with snow and ice." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBACi-Yq0a44C3EPjfiTrK0jol2bY9CE-2pLQzPbVBfdLTRdJ2-5dlrcw1Ymc8n2qaZivrWKXBZq8lv-Gv06LlCnReZ4JN9X8N0ZkpzuNQzb90b2VsqyB-RVm-zarN6PYtCYwG6u6ndsPEgs7GhVaQqQFxaqItPwg73sTl02IhzIZd8G4ORvau/w150-h200/DSCN8091.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">Luckily, the temperature has only gotten into the mid twenties, so the animals can go outside when they need to. Aoife doesn’t appreciate the snow on her paws—although one of her plush toys, a fox, has turned into an icicle that she likes to chew. The cats only want to be outside for a short period of time, mostly so they can stalk songbirds attracted by the suet we’ve put out . The snow is covered with a crust of ice; walking is not too bad as the ice is bumpy and dry. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeI767DDy9VgXu9aAkvCwBWYJTyM3KgYju8m4vRjk0zQ_mA-QbhYaJ_YidegHW_Emn7ktfDsgzMGgRhGUXR6o0IwNMx4zNsFfuICNlCa8nrDuhKs_k-QoJHeovuKYY_iCE8d2BKbi7EPzzgv0uXXQUIkPuWS4oLghGnCe_L805bnm3484aC8p/s4608/DSCN8125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Songbird on snow." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeI767DDy9VgXu9aAkvCwBWYJTyM3KgYju8m4vRjk0zQ_mA-QbhYaJ_YidegHW_Emn7ktfDsgzMGgRhGUXR6o0IwNMx4zNsFfuICNlCa8nrDuhKs_k-QoJHeovuKYY_iCE8d2BKbi7EPzzgv0uXXQUIkPuWS4oLghGnCe_L805bnm3484aC8p/w200-h150/DSCN8125.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">Today it’s supposed to be sunny—it’s currently sunny in Corvallis—but at the moment it is still overcast with diffuse light bouncing between the white ground and the grey clouds. But there’s a Winter Storm Warning issued for today through tomorrow morning, so maybe all we’ll get is deeper grey. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRDJuIiWUqzC7hJvmtBIBMPA9I1VH2zQiC5zaAkmhMDJd90jCQrELdwQbMB4MvzBZqjE9HDDV2SQpKwm3X7C2eLLPTYSAS929mMKwILn_XX2JvlFxKVq7Ffkn4swOnCnR-ENwEZ2aahPC3DSVA9tXCUFvpRgaGX0b-D0Jep3SKVTJYdVX0agN/s4608/DSCN8088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Rhododendron bud iced over" border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRDJuIiWUqzC7hJvmtBIBMPA9I1VH2zQiC5zaAkmhMDJd90jCQrELdwQbMB4MvzBZqjE9HDDV2SQpKwm3X7C2eLLPTYSAS929mMKwILn_XX2JvlFxKVq7Ffkn4swOnCnR-ENwEZ2aahPC3DSVA9tXCUFvpRgaGX0b-D0Jep3SKVTJYdVX0agN/w150-h200/DSCN8088.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;"><br />I think an expedition for chocolate may be in order.</span><p></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-37472246226413084992023-12-29T16:54:00.000-08:002024-01-01T18:59:57.193-08:00Solstice Adventures in Vegas<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b></b></span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbP8PyTZTAEwKxQnnDXid20pbM1RPe9iYPgdA0TH6Pg2Iq6pnwlHXhOhKL-M5Tq8aktyElkzSBh2mf7H4ISvExjPXJXfikZnvCM5zIHM_abkmj4qugRgZ2_ZlwOaqCLvyKyVNTgvDNbqMvcFrtHhQm7eTUEsStVbVXbPRtJM1H4sm9g15GdeWW/s4032/IMG_4591.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A man with long hair dressed in a blue shirt and a black vest and pants standing between two Vegas showgirls in pink and purple fleathers." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbP8PyTZTAEwKxQnnDXid20pbM1RPe9iYPgdA0TH6Pg2Iq6pnwlHXhOhKL-M5Tq8aktyElkzSBh2mf7H4ISvExjPXJXfikZnvCM5zIHM_abkmj4qugRgZ2_ZlwOaqCLvyKyVNTgvDNbqMvcFrtHhQm7eTUEsStVbVXbPRtJM1H4sm9g15GdeWW/w150-h200/IMG_4591.HEIC" width="150" /></a></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Tuesday, Dec 19, 202<span style="font-size: small;">3</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Off to Las Vegas!<br /></span></span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />We left the house and pets under the eye of The Child, who had returned home from college for Winter Break. Our flight was delayed at the gate for an hour due to another passenger’s medical emergency. We never did find out what was wrong, but airport firemen escorted them off of the plane along with their oxygen cylinder! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br /><br />We flew over west Eugene—saw Target and then had a view of Spencer Butte and Mt. Pisgah. Then the cloud layer turned white with amber highlight and obscured the view of Southern Oregon and most of the rest of the flight.<br /></span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />It will be different being in Las Vegas over the Solstice—we’ll have to have late Solstice or Birthday Fire! when we’re back home in Eugene. I can’t recall when we were away in late December last… it was before COVID… Arthur was… twelve?… so six year ago (at least). <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />We landed in Las Vegas around 3:30; there were some light clouds and the sun felt like it was about to set at any moment. As we were walking through the security exit, the guy sitting there looked up, took in my grey-green wool cloak and long hair, paused, and said, “You look wise.” <br /><br />Mark and I thought that was fairly amusing, partially because Mark was offered a “Wisdom Discount” at a Eugene store recently. <br /><br />I’d forgotten how close the airport is to the strip. The most confusing visual was The Sphere: it’s so large that it shows up over the tops of all the other buildings long before you actually get to it, and with every turn on your approach you think that surely you’re going to get to its base only to realize that it’s still blocks away. <br /><br />Las Vegas in winter smells like wet concrete and chlorine; like cigars, tobacco, and cannabis; like potpourri pumped up on steroids and mixed in an old ash tray; like fried food, tequila, daiquiris, and body axe spray; like automobile exhaust, Bounce sheets, and old airport carpeting; very occasionally it smells like mostly empty bottles and urine. </span></p>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UKKPOBRL-lP5cN7bS8L_AOD78NrBVmRE_H8IcVFFec-DmVrS5I7TwLbPu_Nvu2vNWo3tCsMEvxuhrl2o4k_iPNeGhPfou5eMTd2tJK5Poz8JL0KbSHcempAYPxQlqji3SXsksDBksdZWxaAn5K8-_y9ceLLFxHvvHp2ibriCXEcUuGw2rIY-/s4032/IMG_4558.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two pink flamingos in repose, more flamingos in background" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UKKPOBRL-lP5cN7bS8L_AOD78NrBVmRE_H8IcVFFec-DmVrS5I7TwLbPu_Nvu2vNWo3tCsMEvxuhrl2o4k_iPNeGhPfou5eMTd2tJK5Poz8JL0KbSHcempAYPxQlqji3SXsksDBksdZWxaAn5K8-_y9ceLLFxHvvHp2ibriCXEcUuGw2rIY-/w150-h200/IMG_4558.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We stayed at a Hilton property connected to The Flamingo. Since it was winter and there was some problem with the pool, there was no obnoxiously loud pool music playing. The Flamingo was between us and the strip, which shielded us from the flashing lights and noise. Our room number was 700, which felt auspicious; the suite was pleasant and laid out so that you could have slept four people without them tripping over each other (too much). We were just above the crowns of some palm trees growing next to the building. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />For our first night out, we ate at Giada De Laurentiis. Mark described her as a Food Network presenter who tended to show her boobies, sort of like that one time in that one Star Trek: The Next Generation pan across Dianna Troi’s breasts as she poured tea. I confused her with Rachel Ray. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />“No no,” he said. “See?” and pointed to a picture of her prominently displaying some food. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />“Oh. Well. That’s a nice blouse, but she doesn’t seem to be showing her breasts.” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />Mark said, “John, take another look.” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />“Oh. That’s a peek-a-boo top, isn’t it? Hmm.” (I recalled previous non-reactions to Lee Meriwether as Catwoman and Jeri Ryan as Seven-of-Nine.) “You know, I guess women’s breasts are sort of invisible to me.” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />We had a very nice meal; I ordered a shrimp dish and Mark had something with the World’s Best Lentils. I ordered a tequila drink called, “The Destroyer.” We had a passible view of the fountains at the Bellagio. </span></p>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfcQRIXHDz4u9H5zwFsvhTJrs0L6HpH_oc-f5zyOOqM4lomLFOsSaGZkdWnU9L2s80EOobEww9yR6vZEa2EsZyd5uOJAdnUU-TZsiNfrIgjO725EvnPygw5C-Yz24sGIoK-JyCzIPCrLMTJG8NptuDPoOtocx8HIMWpstVaLtKDBytMyTpUM3/s3088/IMG_4552.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two men in shadows underneath large blue rings of light." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfcQRIXHDz4u9H5zwFsvhTJrs0L6HpH_oc-f5zyOOqM4lomLFOsSaGZkdWnU9L2s80EOobEww9yR6vZEa2EsZyd5uOJAdnUU-TZsiNfrIgjO725EvnPygw5C-Yz24sGIoK-JyCzIPCrLMTJG8NptuDPoOtocx8HIMWpstVaLtKDBytMyTpUM3/w150-h200/IMG_4552.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">Afterward, we went to a nightclub. <br />The attendants who admitted us were kind of mean; I’d say some of them came to work looking for problems their attitude created; the coat check staff were nice. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />The dance floor was an oval bracketed by two bars and ringed by VIP seating. A series of lighted rings hung over the floor, and a pendulous assemblage of illuminated crystals hung from the center, giving the whole thing the feel of a giant cyborg space jellyfish mother-ship. The widest ring was about twenty-five feet in diameter. All the rings moved up-and-down independently, and could tilt. At times it looked like a mothership was landing on Devil’s Tower, other times it looked like a multi-dimensional portal. Over a hundred LED flatscreens arranged in a checkerboard pattern along the bar’s walls echoed the color scheme of the rings. A marquee player ran along the second floor balcony’s railing. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />Mark had read that the club was a multi-level club, but the upper floors were closed that night. It was billed as a smoke free club, but the no smoking rule was unenforced. The dress code of collared shirts and slacks was also loosely enforced. The cover was slightly more than we’d read; and the mandatory coat check was ten times more expensive. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />However, we soldiered on and were the first folks on the dance floor. It was fun at the beginning, although the music was a little slow. Mark laughed a couple of times and said, “Well it’s not techno enough,” when I would just be getting into the music, and then it would turn into a slow hip-hop beat and my face would fall (and undoubtedly my eyes rolled). Then the music would get better.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"> <br />As the dance floor filled, the marquee player would read things like “Happy Birthday Ethan.” The “Congratulations, Class of 2023” did make me wonder if we were at an underage club. A few more birthday greetings ran through. And then we saw a clutch of sequin-spangled women with sparkling flares, flashing light wands, and a large green bottle, strut over to a VIP seating area, shake a flashing cue card which read, “Happy Birthday Josh,” and dance around for thirty seconds while shaking celebratory props over their heads. This happened throughout the night, occasionally accompanied with banners which would drop from the ceilings onto which would be projected birthday greetings like “Happy Birthday Alexis” and a photo (sometimes four) of the birthday celebrant. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />The music went through an uninspiring phase, and we left the filling dance floor to rest. Mark ordered a simple rum drink, and had to tell the bartender how to make it. I took a look at the light show, which took turns looking like a cool oscilloscope display and possibly a flow cytometry display. The music turned back into something one could dance to and got louder; we happily put in ear plugs and squeezed back onto the dance floor. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />We danced for a little while more. Mark is adorable when he dances; someone even complemented us. Then another couple asked us if we had extra earplugs and Mark gave him his extra set. Then some guy decided I was a stile he could use to exit a roped off VIP seating area and onto the dance floor. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />It became more crowded and more difficult to dance. Folks brought their drinks to the floor with predictable results. While some folks danced in tight little circles, others just stood on the floor chatting in clumps. Vapers were everywhere. Two girls lit up blunts next to us and Mark managed to back them away. The music turned into anthems featuring the word “way-oh;” the accompanying movement was for folks to shift their weight between their feet, flex their knees, raise one hand, and point in time with the syllables of the song, which they sang. Apparently this is how twenty-somethings dance. People got pushy. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />The music got a little more danceable and reached for a climax. Mark maneuvered us beneath the rings, which rose and rose and rose and then dropped and tilted. Spotlights like retro-rockets fired, and the crystalline assemblage lowered to just above our heads. Cold theatre mist blasted from horns surrounding the dance floor and reduced visibility to six inches. At first I thought Mark was using the mist as a cover for some scandalously dirty dancing, but he was really ducking and closing his eyes, nose, and mouth against the vapors. <br />We concluded going to the club was like trying to dance with smoking and vaping children at a Chuck E Cheese’s—but with an amazing light show.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Wednesday, December 20, 2023</b></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIYnirW4Q7q9rSD8uWZ9Q5aZ1h1iJvGjF4wI7s6iPEvMIwYSQvN4rEKry8uyXtvuM2FuOQ67TeE6Tyr-2moFyT903LpilZXiekKVurfuotIU7SXUMu03Q_OOSyIwq1m8WS-FA5wl9ZArzD_XT2lLWOz8aApfRdZBk7P4cNFnQ9jKJRy25VhPv/s4032/IMG_4567.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Exterior of an 8 story tall sphere." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIYnirW4Q7q9rSD8uWZ9Q5aZ1h1iJvGjF4wI7s6iPEvMIwYSQvN4rEKry8uyXtvuM2FuOQ67TeE6Tyr-2moFyT903LpilZXiekKVurfuotIU7SXUMu03Q_OOSyIwq1m8WS-FA5wl9ZArzD_XT2lLWOz8aApfRdZBk7P4cNFnQ9jKJRy25VhPv/w150-h200/IMG_4567.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">Today we did a lot of sightseeing, starting with a viewing of live flamingos, a walk to The Sphere, a monorail trip to Mandalay Bay, working our way through the Luxor and Excalibur and back to the High Roller (and more Sphere viewing) and off to a mystery show. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">The Flamingo Casino has a wildlife area wrapped around wings of the building. Eight flamingos live on an island in an artificial river shaded by palm trees. Mandarin Ducks, Grackles, White Faced Ducks, and Hummingbirds are in the sanctuary. Koi, Catfish, and Sturgeon swim in the waters. I believe the sturgeon was thirty years old. We visited the flamingos at least once every day. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">Getting to The Sphere was challenging; the monorail passes by it and the nearest stop is blocks away, so we did a lot of walking along side busy roads and construction zones. The Sphere is a giant computer screen wrapped around an eight story sphere. The pixels on the sphere are rings of LEDs about a handspan wide and about four feet from each other. From a distance, all of the LEDs blend together like a Seurat painting. Sometimes during the day, you can see through the skin of the Sphere, which covers a concert hall. We didn’t make it inside, partially because the Sphere wasn’t open and partially because any apparent motion caused by the inside’s display would have made Mark sick. </span></p>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVEdEUtdQnLluchjsBkfbIQmWJxccOKDbRk6qsFBGqOoY-cZ3gmdYSvJaU6J08ZRb5SOCqRW1Z_FccewBDQfeSmpuMvTwtMhFhCPaT2pRDmkITea3_JJIe68navhHi4xZ0_q80YTyVI7NH5ZDzr5rxlMDLNJpwsQgcZBv0MF6E-dwn-Y-BmPT/s4032/IMG_4570.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Close up of an array of circular LED fixtures." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVEdEUtdQnLluchjsBkfbIQmWJxccOKDbRk6qsFBGqOoY-cZ3gmdYSvJaU6J08ZRb5SOCqRW1Z_FccewBDQfeSmpuMvTwtMhFhCPaT2pRDmkITea3_JJIe68navhHi4xZ0_q80YTyVI7NH5ZDzr5rxlMDLNJpwsQgcZBv0MF6E-dwn-Y-BmPT/w150-h200/IMG_4570.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We wended our way back to a monorail station. Singing “Monorail!” we boarded and zipped to the other end of the strip. Our aim was to have a 2PM Afternoon Tea, but all of the Really Nice Tea Places were already booked. Mark located an alternative venue, which turned out to be a Irish Pub Sports Bar. We confused t he waitress with talk of Ceylon OP and Bergamont, (“We’re a sports bar, not a tea house.”) but she brought us a very tasty Irish Breakfast tea. In lieu of savories and finger sandwiches, we ate sports bar fare. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">The Luxor twenty years ago was more of a faux Egyptian museum exhibit than it was during this visit. Mark was aghast at the giant “Doritos” advertisement taking up one triangular side of the casino’s pyramid, and I’m pretty sure the hieroglyphics on some of the older set pieces are pretty gibberish. The newer construction did have the Middle Kingdom word “miw” or “cat” in hieroglyphs, so there’s that. </span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvk7F-DhmMmYqpiBeYhia5uTD3F5nT99S4-b-dejTW5clUwiPbThZ4DJTEQKbgrBDsUlbO3b-_d6sr14cmVRJC-SxX4VDp8uHwOVv2AtLbqeV01194sehvYgu48A1dd8ckJ3IRqvvLznvb6bgW3uFD3gzBiINIg3bBjI5TpTm7fLqkosumjsq/s3088/IMG_4574.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Long haird man standing in front of an Anubis statue." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvk7F-DhmMmYqpiBeYhia5uTD3F5nT99S4-b-dejTW5clUwiPbThZ4DJTEQKbgrBDsUlbO3b-_d6sr14cmVRJC-SxX4VDp8uHwOVv2AtLbqeV01194sehvYgu48A1dd8ckJ3IRqvvLznvb6bgW3uFD3gzBiINIg3bBjI5TpTm7fLqkosumjsq/w150-h200/IMG_4574.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">After some selfies with the Anubis statue, we moved on to the Excalibur Casino. <br />The Excalibur was very simple, and we concluded that it was probably easier to clean than some of the more elaborate casinos. <br />We ended our sightseeing with a ride in The High Roller; a London Eye-like ferris wheel with encapsulated gondolas. It’s 550 feet high and takes thirty minutes to do a complete revolution. We boarded a capsule with about nine other people, a family of four and a group of two couples. </span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxztebjajkeFd-tvKXoRrL6gsjv7s7i7rEt5GS2V6rKi62cImUYISqmkHGy1expKoHxsm1pePXXb5jbKk0Fc_Dx_jZH5VXVxszctbeZQi1Zg6zPzqg_o2WkH5xMJaeY4Q9JEZDLoc4FzGnTlaHTqBTdK4wO4x5Gi7Lb6FW6VEm8ZMdVZzkDCZD/s4032/IMG_4580.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Jellyfish projected on the outside of an 8 story sphere." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxztebjajkeFd-tvKXoRrL6gsjv7s7i7rEt5GS2V6rKi62cImUYISqmkHGy1expKoHxsm1pePXXb5jbKk0Fc_Dx_jZH5VXVxszctbeZQi1Zg6zPzqg_o2WkH5xMJaeY4Q9JEZDLoc4FzGnTlaHTqBTdK4wO4x5Gi7Lb6FW6VEm8ZMdVZzkDCZD/w150-h200/IMG_4580.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We chose an excellent time, around 4:30, to rise above the strip and The Sphere. The sun was set behind scattered clouds, turned the western horizon orange, and lit up the Sierra Nevada mountain range. High-rises glowed in the deepening shadows, and we had an unobstructed view of The Sphere for most of our ride. <br />The mystery show turned out to be “Love,” the Beatles-themed Cirque du Soleil show at the Mirage Casino. “Love” gave me a greater appreciation for the post World War II culture and counter-culture in England. </span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_-woPN3OIvzE4flcLjLUf2oGB1ifdXSPGLgaMIhx1ugXT0VH2IFF8lsIFdm19LO_-E0Sz_f0L6WVYecVoxIzVPOo3xZRz8nFhdjwLFsBFtN0iXwZ2A_2KILfEmgONDnp_hQeJi8JnZke2mLh-ZYdnepCx2V0mrCFLSSkDc5NGwYMBkDcIkc2/s4032/IMG_4585.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Nightscape of the Las Vegas strip, High Roller cabin in foreground." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_-woPN3OIvzE4flcLjLUf2oGB1ifdXSPGLgaMIhx1ugXT0VH2IFF8lsIFdm19LO_-E0Sz_f0L6WVYecVoxIzVPOo3xZRz8nFhdjwLFsBFtN0iXwZ2A_2KILfEmgONDnp_hQeJi8JnZke2mLh-ZYdnepCx2V0mrCFLSSkDc5NGwYMBkDcIkc2/w150-h200/IMG_4585.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">The opening was a dance reenactment of the Blitz, complete with Blue Meanies and tumblers leaping off of exploding brick chimneys. The show was mostly dance and aerial work, with lots of tumbling. I liked the transition into “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” which filled the performance space with glittering LEDs. There was a fun sequence where sheets streamed out of a bed, which rose and became a circus tent; we were seated above the tent and saw aerialists dancing upside-down beneath very large beach balls. The contortionist bothered Mark, but I thought he was cool. <br />After the show, we wandered past the Mirage’s volcano show. The heat from the flame made me wince. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Thursday, December 21, 2023</b></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Winter Solstice</b></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">A slow morning in Las Vegas. Mark went off to look at sturgeon in the Flamingo’s pools and I stayed in our room and drank tea and scrolled social media. It seems strange to be in a mostly sunny place with palm trees during the Winter Solstice. This is such an urban environment—with artificial volcanoes and canyons of glass—that it doesn’t feel Wintery at all (even with the artificial, twenty-feet-tall Christmas Trees that show up in every lobby and outdoor walkway intersections). The only real sign of the season is that the sun sets at 4:30 and it feels like evening starts at 3:30.</span>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjI3xDDxeQgrQ7t4IGHMvudGbqIQrZpHUBszz2LNerL7fJzH6_DAX4KsJZPE36sQPj9-lLjAl2TVmcOvyUsIEdNJspQCj2EGPRvVA3jWRdq0aWBrHXwXPeNRNeZUY_IJR7SXtdTIw2ZYnhAZFiPmturVQFyq2frgOqbHJJjTWut6u3m1s-UUW/s4032/IMG_4555.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Man standing in front of a hippocampus statue in a pool" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjI3xDDxeQgrQ7t4IGHMvudGbqIQrZpHUBszz2LNerL7fJzH6_DAX4KsJZPE36sQPj9-lLjAl2TVmcOvyUsIEdNJspQCj2EGPRvVA3jWRdq0aWBrHXwXPeNRNeZUY_IJR7SXtdTIw2ZYnhAZFiPmturVQFyq2frgOqbHJJjTWut6u3m1s-UUW/w150-h200/IMG_4555.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We survived the Bacchanal at Ceasar’s Plaace. There was lots of very good food, but no actual bacchanalia! I was surprised that a buffet breakfast could be so good. Mark said the cheeses were obviously well cared for. We had to walk off the meal by visiting the shops in the Forum Shopping area. We loitered a while and saw a very hokey Atlantis Fountain show (old animatronics, hammy voice acting, hokey plot—but there was a fun flaming pterodactyl/dragon at the end), which, sadly was a waste of time. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We made our way back to our room for a brief reset and then I was off to ride a zip line over the Linq Properties. The lines aimed straight at the High Roller. I was hoping to ride like Superman, but that wasn’t an option, so basically I flew over the Las Vegas crowds in a sling (Mark and I had a good laugh at that burlesque image). Mark stayed on the plaza below and captured fun video of me zipping overhead, my hair trailing like a comet’s tail. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">My hair (and cloak) keeps attracting attention from valets, cab drivers, show girls, and, most recently, Captain America. Mark’s been a good sport about it, but is wishing my “NYC Don’t Engage” skills were stronger. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">We saw “O”, our second (and originally planned) Cirque du Soleil show. It was fun and I remembered much of the show from when we saw it twenty years ago. Like many Cirque du Soleil performances, there’s so much happening that I’m never quite sure where I should be looking, and so performers and props appeared and disappeared while my glance darted all over the stage.</span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qJfHw-Jrqpl9jq61AJaD7z-sKBRg0sZaMtZAUc4mUI_a31PBAKd9jvmd1VlIU1kIS3hqu36vYWqWOoiMJP8sAtdp1ffQpPHyL8JXgy0Dbryj7PeKDGzLFplFT0NAxFd5UNI1dXpd9w6bZQ9PmTFFHU4JmZtTMxakmkzrwy__G4KyQFirYnAZ/s3088/IMG_4599.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two men seated at a theatre; the man in the foreground is wearing a festive shirt." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qJfHw-Jrqpl9jq61AJaD7z-sKBRg0sZaMtZAUc4mUI_a31PBAKd9jvmd1VlIU1kIS3hqu36vYWqWOoiMJP8sAtdp1ffQpPHyL8JXgy0Dbryj7PeKDGzLFplFT0NAxFd5UNI1dXpd9w6bZQ9PmTFFHU4JmZtTMxakmkzrwy__G4KyQFirYnAZ/w150-h200/IMG_4599.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">I, of course, wore the World's Most Fabulous Shirt: a shirt covered in small prismatic, reflective squares. When I wore it to a previous Cirque show years ago, one of the clowns nearly broke character to ask where I had gotten it. When we entered the theatre, one of the ushers smiled and said, "Oh my! You look festive!"</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">"Oh, thank you," I said.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">"Frisky?!" Mark said.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">The usher and I turned to Mark and said, "Festive!"</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">"She said I looked 'festive!'" I continued. "Ugh. Here are our tickets."</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">"Oh, you're seated right over here. Enjoy the show and make sure you two behave!" </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">It’s hard to say what my favorite vignette was; like a dream, the images blend into each other and the recall is difficult. I enjoyed the four hoop aerialists. Certainly the most gasp-inducing was when one of the catamaran aerialists missed their landing and arced into the pool (they crawled out of the pool and waited by its edge until that act concluded). </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br />The audience was odd; lots of families and groups chattering the entire show, but the weirdest thing was how often folks got out of their seats. In at least three instances The Unseated got in the way of roving performers. Mark attributed it to Belagio “I’m Specialness.”</span></p><p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KD3Zs3UW7uL5wDhTSc-FH2ALiApjiYpgkKpZTD61wgf8KW18-xQ3RwEcxWV0H5JU687Vav2uACI736YzWol64CJYSfhTbfigbjiyWNFdidQeiAV0ybLDyTAMb7eljK0uGuemIPSwfsit3PbFCknlNHrG1E90aB4SUBEw0sLjevl32mlDQU4C/s4032/IMG_4598.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Fountain show at the Bellagio tinted red-pink." border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KD3Zs3UW7uL5wDhTSc-FH2ALiApjiYpgkKpZTD61wgf8KW18-xQ3RwEcxWV0H5JU687Vav2uACI736YzWol64CJYSfhTbfigbjiyWNFdidQeiAV0ybLDyTAMb7eljK0uGuemIPSwfsit3PbFCknlNHrG1E90aB4SUBEw0sLjevl32mlDQU4C/w150-h200/IMG_4598.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;">Afterward, we walked through the Cosmopolitan and weighed having a drink in The Chandelier, but Mark wanted to be outside, so we walked along sidewalks and walked over bridges and managed to find a beer garden which was up over the street and had a marvelous view of the fountain show at the Bellagio. Mark insisted that I eat a salad; we also had cheesy tater-tots and I ordered a blue-tinged drink. The fountain was on a short schedule and we were treated to several shows; Mark’s favorite number was “Hey Big Spender,” when the water gets waved back and forth like legs. Overhead, the waxing crescent moon shone near a brilliant Jupiter. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>Friday, December 22, 2023</b></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEtmagBjYlt2o7P8jCdG_7d-OAnMQlM6KsSF7CJ77ms9fC0ja-hqkBtf6voE-bmgf4AFK67w_6_pNX_PFDqjV3FUl0RxzW5MGeCM3CYdOtqxSoz3vbtzU40f-IoBoSxP8Dwc5UhmPo2vXD9mJg7aSZFsDv1hLOsS-sxZ78BwnBpdnH427Era7/s3088/IMG_4553.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two men in a Vegas colonnade." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEtmagBjYlt2o7P8jCdG_7d-OAnMQlM6KsSF7CJ77ms9fC0ja-hqkBtf6voE-bmgf4AFK67w_6_pNX_PFDqjV3FUl0RxzW5MGeCM3CYdOtqxSoz3vbtzU40f-IoBoSxP8Dwc5UhmPo2vXD9mJg7aSZFsDv1hLOsS-sxZ78BwnBpdnH427Era7/w150-h200/IMG_4553.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: courier;">We had a quiet morning in our room watching wide tailed Grackles forage for bugs in the crown of the palm trees outside the windows. </span></span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: small;"><br /><br />Breakfast for me was tea, pills, and an In And Out burger. Mark got a Subway salad. Afterward, I confessed my secret desire “to win a fortune in a game” by playing an Egyptian themed slot machine. We wandered through two casinos filled with Asian-themed slots before Mark pointed out a Cleopatra slot machine I’d walked right past. I put in $5 and managed to win $15. Hmm, the agency is wrong on that: I put in $5, set the betting, chose which lines across the slots to play, and pressed the PLAY button. The random sequences generated by the machine resulted a slow bleeding away of my money until there was a substantial credit result. Then Mark reminded me that we had a plane to catch, that I had “won a fortune” three times my initial investment, and that I should cash out. <br /><br />My hair and green wool cloak continued to enjoy celebrity treatment. <br /><br />Unfortunately, during our last walk of the strip, I lost my reading glasses somewhere, so while I was journaling on the flight home, I couldn’t see what I was writing very well—luckily, not being able to see didn’t have too large an impact on my penmanship (and my text is legible with proper eyewear). But it was a pain because I’d hoped to get some writing in on the flight. At least I could peer over Mark and see the sunset turning the clouds pink and the horizon green. <br /><br />It was interesting to see who was friendly and who was gruff on the strip. I’d say the Ceasar’s Palace staff was the most stressed. Cashiers seemed friendly. Hilton at the Flamingo were friendly. Folks who managed queues seemed grumpy. Zip-line staff seemed firm but upbeat. <br /><br />When we got home, the Willamette Valley was still grey, the house was still standing and the pets were still alive (Aoife was ecstatic to see us), and it was obvious from the over-filled garbage bin (uncollected by the service), dirty dishes (mostly piled in the dishwasher), the wads of blankets and pillows, and a collection of wet mats and towels in the bathroom that The Child had turned the home into a crash-space for some of his friends. <br /><br />I guess what happens at home stays at home.</span></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-46340810016000606862023-11-10T16:22:00.004-08:002023-11-10T16:22:58.238-08:00Slow Writing Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykd6WDjggrqQ60ZgtalHwGOIAUBi1SW31eaT8PWDXRcEFQnQhl1pK7RTDm03cRZsk_8NIBN_lV4qXiB_6hJjZuYJtYCK4MdnqPHyEltS6A1_ifJZtiIW_E3YOhIK3odStgTLSfYNCh5XMdjO_rVxpajqrVRTzPIqXwc44OmMNfB37Hkt7Da6x/s3088/IMG_4257.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A man with long grey hair and a beard looking perplexed." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykd6WDjggrqQ60ZgtalHwGOIAUBi1SW31eaT8PWDXRcEFQnQhl1pK7RTDm03cRZsk_8NIBN_lV4qXiB_6hJjZuYJtYCK4MdnqPHyEltS6A1_ifJZtiIW_E3YOhIK3odStgTLSfYNCh5XMdjO_rVxpajqrVRTzPIqXwc44OmMNfB37Hkt7Da6x/w150-h200/IMG_4257.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>Today has been a day of trying to shake some rust off of my writing abilities. <p></p><p>It hasn't been entirely successful. I thought I'd sit down with a few prompts and write, but not a whole lot has come out other than some attempts at character information, a list of prompts (which aren't exactly speaking to me), and an anemic outline. </p><p>I've switched to writing this blog post to try to jump start the process. It's entirely possible that trying to write from an outline is the problem, and I'm going to switch back to a technique of free-associations of images–I don't remember if it was Gene Wolfe or Ray Bradbury who would sometimes follow a thread of images to a story, so we'll see.</p><p>At least the house is cleaner and the dog has been exercised and the cats fed.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-33039536483846207382023-09-25T22:08:00.000-07:002023-09-25T22:08:01.621-07:00Autumnal Transitions<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevsGMghE24QBo_nnldTjjIavLeWeEDfYVsksg67s2_Fw1VDdY3-TOLHrPEHzCfmNeCHII4QQzpXiLSVnIKvZLuEaJXq4ZU-A5xUSy90XGKP6TE7-0V2TyVYHEOoE2Llc88Auu6akx7Q7XNs5D8JiFlOdlYgkFnwrrzpoY-AMuLvdZ7DmvAV5I/s4608/DSCN8615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Stained glass window showing a medieval boat in front of a castle" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevsGMghE24QBo_nnldTjjIavLeWeEDfYVsksg67s2_Fw1VDdY3-TOLHrPEHzCfmNeCHII4QQzpXiLSVnIKvZLuEaJXq4ZU-A5xUSy90XGKP6TE7-0V2TyVYHEOoE2Llc88Auu6akx7Q7XNs5D8JiFlOdlYgkFnwrrzpoY-AMuLvdZ7DmvAV5I/w200-h150/DSCN8615.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">To misquote Oscar Wilde, summer has collapsed into autumn here in the Willamette Valley. With the Autumnal Equinox, the unseasonably warm and bright days have been washed away, at least for now, by an atmospheric river. The plants in the yard have gone from looking slightly withered to slightly faded but somehow more lush. The yellow grass is poised to regain its Pacific Northwest winter verdancy. The garden gate swings easily now that the clay in the ground has been watered and whatever shrinkage causing misaligned sidewalk and fence post has been undone. And we've had bewilderingly dim days, as if the equinox acted like a wall-outlet timer switch that tripped and turned off the sun.</span><p></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">On the last day of summer, The Child went off to college. We've all been fairly laid back about it. I asked him if we could take pictures of him moving into his dorm room for social media, complete with me, hand at my brow, clutching his knees, and wailing while the two of us were surrounded by moving boxes and laundry, but he declined. We did have some moments on Move-In Day where I would wobbly sing "Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away," and we would both theatrically break down into fake boo-hoo-hoos. But then we'd both start snickering. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">It's not like we haven't been practicing for the last six months for this moment; he's spent a lot of time in the high school theatre rehearsing for shows or hanging out with his friends, so we really weren't seeing him much except for an hour before work and school or for a moment when he would come home for the night. During the summer, we saw him even less, and it wasn't unusual for Mark and me to be in bed for the night before he'd come home.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Even though he was essentially only sleeping here these last few months, the first twenty-four hours after he was gone, the energy of the house shifted. Now that he's gone his computer (and fan) are turned off, as is his air conditioner, which can account for some of the shift. But our small house isn't very sound-proof, and The Child is a dynamic person. I am pretty sure I was partially waking whenever he would come home, or get up in the middle of the night to eat the last of the pizza, or when he would thrash in his sleep and knock against whatever. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Mark and I are not sure what the dog thinks of this. She would trot to the front door to meet him whenever he came home. Mark thought she would be looking for him, but I haven't noticed her wandering in and out of his room or perching on the back of the davenport, forlornly sighing in a reenactment of Odysseus' faithfully waiting dog. Although she does seem more clingy. The cats seem to be more affected by the season's change.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">At odd moments the last few days I've been struck by the weirdness of the shift. I'm reminded of the time long ago when I had returned to Oregon and was crashing at my folks' house. My mom said to me, "John, when you were in Minnesota and Arizona, I really didn't worry about you. But now that you're here, I want you to know that I really don't get to sleep until I hear you pull into the driveway." Mark and I are going through something similar, but for us it's in reverse and it's a freeing up of cognitive focus.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">We—or rather Mark—scoured out his room, which revealed the accumulated wear of the last fifteen years. Most of the furnishings have stayed, and the plan is to turn The Child's room into a guest room / office. We'll see how this works out. Considering that Fall Term only lasts eleven weeks and he'll be back for about four weeks over the Winter Solstice, the changes we're making feel a little temporary. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I expect on that December day when she first sees him, the dog will charge at him, barking and growling as if he were an Evil Trespasser bent on perfidy, but a split second before she's about to eat him and save us from Certain Peril and Property Damage, she'll recognize him and beg for belly rubs.</span></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-49448881917915202572023-09-05T18:39:00.000-07:002023-09-05T18:39:51.436-07:00Discussing Decorating with Fire with a Chatbot<p><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" />I want to have decorations with fire! Sometimes I think it would be fun to have a large pumpkin that has flames coming out of its top or spouting out of its mouth. Or torches! Or the bottom half of a cast iron barrel with snake forms cut out of it and burning firewood, with colored flames of green or purple. Or some kind of convection-powered mobile made out of flaming bats (not real bats, maybe metal bats?) Or maybe a musical instrument, like an organ that shoots flames (pause to consider a laser beam harp)! </p><div><div>However, my husband is Mr. Safety, and is 100% convinced if I do any of this I'm going to set the house, if not half the neighborhood, on fire. Or at least my long hair. What sorts of fire-based decorations could I come up with that will pass Safety protocols. (I also don't want to burn down any buildings, I just want to have some cool flaming things for October 31.)</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">🤖</span></div><div>Fire-based decorations can be mesmerizing and perfect for creating a spooky ambiance on October 31. However, safety should always be the top priority. Here are some fire-based decoration ideas that are designed with safety in mind:</div><div><div><br /></div><div>1. **Fire Pits**: </div><div> - Use a commercial fire pit or a DIY version made from bricks or metal.</div><div> - Ensure it's placed on a non-flammable surface and away from any structures or trees.</div><div> - Use a metal mesh cover to prevent sparks from flying out.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. **Colored Flames**:</div><div> - Purchase special flame crystals or logs that produce colored flames when burned. These can create green, blue, or purple flames.</div><div> - Always follow the manufacturer's instructions.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. **Tiki Torches**:</div><div> - Use commercial tiki torches filled with citronella oil. They're designed to be stable and safe.</div><div> - Ensure they're placed in open areas away from flammable materials.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. **Tabletop Fire Bowls**:</div><div> - These are small, controlled fire features designed for outdoor tables.</div><div> - They use gel fuel, which burns cleanly without producing sparks.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. **Fire Lanterns**:</div><div> - Made from paper and a small candle, these lanterns float into the sky. However, they can be a fire hazard if they land while still lit. It's essential to use them responsibly and ensure they're legal in your area.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. **Flameless Candles**:</div><div> - Battery-operated candles can create the ambiance of real candles without the fire risk. Some even flicker like real candles.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. **Water + Fire Features**:</div><div> - Consider a water fountain with a fire feature. The combination of water and fire can be both beautiful and safer, as the water can act as a barrier.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. **Fireproof Decorations**:</div><div> - If you're keen on the idea of flaming bats, consider making them from metal and placing small, controlled gel fuel containers beneath them. The flames can lick the bats without setting them alight.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. **Fire Extinguishers & Safety Protocols**:</div><div> - Always have a fire extinguisher on hand.</div><div> - Ensure all decorations are stable and won't tip over.</div><div> - Keep a bucket of water or a hose nearby.</div><div> - Never leave any fire unattended.</div><div><br /></div><div>10. **Flame Effects**:</div><div> - If real fire is too risky, consider using lighting effects to simulate fire. There are LED lights and silk fan combinations that create a very realistic flame effect without any actual fire.</div><div><br /></div><div>11. **Flame-Throwing Organ or Instruments**:</div><div> - This is a more advanced project and should be approached with caution. If you're serious about it, consider consulting with a professional pyrotechnician. They can guide you on creating safe flame effects synced with music.</div><div><br /></div><div>Remember, while fire can be a captivating decoration, it's essential to prioritize safety. Always consider the surroundings, keep flammable materials away, and ensure there's a quick way to extinguish any flames. With careful planning and safety precautions, you can enjoy the mesmerizing beauty of fire without risking harm.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" /></div><div>What I really want is a Huge Bonfire in the Street that we can all dance around while singing, "This is Halloween! This is Halloween!"</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">🤖</span></div><div>A huge bonfire in the street would indeed be a spectacular sight and a memorable way to celebrate Halloween! However, there are significant safety and legal concerns associated with such an idea. Here's how you might approach the idea while keeping safety and regulations in mind:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. **Permits and Regulations**: </div><div> - Before even considering a bonfire, check with your local city or county regulations. Most municipalities have strict rules about open burning, especially in residential areas.</div><div> - If allowed, you'll likely need a permit, and there may be size restrictions on the fire.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. **Safety First**:</div><div> - Ensure the bonfire is a safe distance from buildings, trees, cars, and other flammable materials.</div><div> - Have fire safety equipment on hand, including fire extinguishers, buckets of water, and a hose.</div><div> - Designate a few responsible adults to monitor the fire at all times.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. **Alternative: Controlled Fire Pit**:</div><div> - If a bonfire isn't feasible, consider a large, controlled fire pit or several fire pits. While it won't be as grand as a bonfire, it can still provide the ambiance and warmth you're looking for.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. **Flameless Alternatives**:</div><div> - Use LED lights, projectors, or silk fan flame effects to create the illusion of a large fire without the risks.</div><div> - Arrange these in a circle or central area where people can gather and dance.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. **Community Involvement**:</div><div> - If you're envisioning a community-wide event, consider collaborating with neighbors or local organizations. They might have ideas or resources to contribute.</div><div> - Organize a parade or procession leading to the fire area, adding to the festive atmosphere.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. **Music and Dancing**:</div><div> - Set up speakers to play "This is Halloween!" and other festive tunes.</div><div> - Encourage costumes, singing, and dancing to make the event truly memorable.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. **Safety Barriers**:</div><div> - Set up barriers or ropes around the fire area to ensure people don't get too close, especially children.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. **Cleanup**:</div><div> - Plan for the cleanup afterward. Ensure the fire is completely extinguished, and the area is cleaned up.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. **Insurance and Liability**:</div><div> - Consider the potential liabilities. If someone gets hurt, there could be legal repercussions. Check with your homeowner's insurance and consider getting additional event insurance if needed.</div><div><br /></div><div>While the idea of a huge bonfire in the street is exciting, it's essential to prioritize safety and adhere to local regulations. With careful planning and consideration, you can create a memorable Halloween event that captures the spirit of the celebration without compromising safety.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" /><div>Perhaps there is a way to rig my RollerBlades to leave a trailing curtain of flame behind them while I glide through the night ? </div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">🤖</span></div><div>Creating a trail of flames behind your RollerBlades would undoubtedly be a visually stunning effect, but it's essential to approach such an idea with extreme caution. Fire is unpredictable, and combining it with the motion of RollerBlading increases the risks significantly. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you're seriously considering this, here are some steps and precautions to keep in mind:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. **Safety First**:</div><div> - Wear flame-resistant clothing, especially on your legs and feet.</div><div> - Ensure your hair is tied back and covered to prevent it from catching fire.</div><div> - Use safety gear like a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. **Fuel Source**:</div><div> - Consider using a controlled fuel source like a small canister of propane or butane. These can be regulated to produce a consistent flame.</div><div> - Ensure the canister is securely attached to your RollerBlades and has a shut-off valve for quick deactivation.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. **Ignition Source**:</div><div> - Use a pilot light or electronic ignition system to ignite the fuel as it's released.</div><div> - Ensure the ignition source is stable and won't go out while you're moving.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. **Flame Control**:</div><div> - Use a valve or regulator to control the size and intensity of the flame.</div><div> - Test the system at various speeds to see how the flame behaves.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. **Emergency Shut-Off**:</div><div> - Have an easily accessible emergency shut-off mechanism to cut off the fuel supply instantly.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. **Practice in a Controlled Environment**:</div><div> - Before attempting to RollerBlade with flames in public, practice in a controlled, open environment away from flammable materials.</div><div> - Have a friend or assistant nearby with a fire extinguisher.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. **Legal Considerations**:</div><div> - Check local laws and regulations regarding open flames and public displays. You might need a permit or face restrictions.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. **Alternative: Flameless Effects**:</div><div> - Consider using LED lights or glow-in-the-dark materials to create a "trail" effect without actual flames.</div><div> - There are also pyrotechnic spark generators that can create a spark trail without an open flame.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. **Risk Assessment**:</div><div> - Understand that even with precautions, there's a risk of injury to yourself and others. Assess whether the visual effect is worth the potential dangers.</div><div><br /></div><div>While the idea of leaving a trailing curtain of flame behind your RollerBlades is captivating, it's crucial to prioritize safety above all else. If you decide to proceed, consulting with a professional pyrotechnician or special effects expert is highly recommended. They can provide guidance on creating the effect safely and effectively.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" /><div>Okay, okay; learn from Wiley Coyote.... How about this: we get the lower half of metal drum and attach ten or so metal fins to the rim so that they're forty-five degrees from the rim's tangent. We put firewood in the drum and light it. As the fire draws fresh air over the fins, it would make a Fire Tornado! How high would the pillar of flame get, do you think ? </div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">🤖</span></div><div>Creating a fire tornado using the setup you described is a popular demonstration and can indeed produce a visually stunning effect. The principle behind it is that the angled fins introduce rotational air movement, which, combined with the rising hot air from the fire, creates a vortex or tornado effect.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's how the setup might influence the height and intensity of the fire tornado:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. **Size of the Drum**: </div><div> - The size of the drum will determine the initial size and intensity of the fire. A larger drum can hold more fuel and produce a bigger fire, which can lead to a taller fire tornado.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. **Number and Angle of Fins**:</div><div> - The number and angle of the fins will determine how much rotational air movement is introduced. More fins or a steeper angle can produce a faster rotation, leading to a more pronounced tornado effect.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. **Fuel Type**:</div><div> - Dry, lightweight materials like paper or leaves can be lifted by the vortex and contribute to the height of the fire tornado.</div><div> - Hardwoods or logs will burn hotter and longer but might not produce as dramatic a vortex unless the fire is very intense.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. **Environmental Factors**:</div><div> - Wind and ambient air movement can influence the fire tornado. A calm day is best for producing a clear vortex, while wind can disrupt the effect.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. **Height of the Fire Tornado**:</div><div> - With a standard-sized drum (like a 55-gallon drum) and optimal conditions, you might expect a fire tornado several feet tall, possibly reaching heights of 6-10 feet or more. However, the actual height can vary based on the factors mentioned above.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. **Safety Precautions**:</div><div> - Place the drum on a non-flammable surface and ensure it's stable.</div><div> - Keep the setup away from buildings, trees, and other flammable materials.</div><div> - Have a fire extinguisher or water source nearby.</div><div> - Monitor the fire at all times and never leave it unattended.</div><div> - Be cautious about adding fuel to the fire once the tornado effect has started, as this can lead to unpredictable flare-ups.</div><div><br /></div><div>While a fire tornado can be a mesmerizing and relatively safe effect when done with precautions, it's essential to prioritize safety and be aware of the risks. Always ensure that the setup is stable, and be prepared to extinguish the fire if it becomes too intense or uncontrollable.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" /><div>I'm wondering if replacing the fins with a continuous metal spiral around the firewood or fuel would be more effective.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">🤖</span></div><div>Replacing the fins with a continuous metal spiral could indeed be more effective in creating a consistent rotational airflow, which is essential for the formation of a fire tornado. Here's why:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. **Consistent Airflow**: A continuous spiral would provide a more uniform and consistent introduction of rotational air around the entire circumference of the drum. This could lead to a smoother and more defined vortex.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. **Increased Surface Area**: The spiral would have a greater surface area than individual fins, which could enhance the effect by drawing in more air and increasing the rotation speed.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. **Adjustable Rotation**: Depending on the pitch (spacing between the turns) of the spiral, you can influence the speed and intensity of the rotation. A tighter spiral might introduce faster rotation, while a looser one might be more gentle.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. **Fuel Considerations**: With a spiral, you'd need to consider how you're placing your fuel. The spiral might interfere with stacking logs or larger pieces of wood. However, smaller fuel sources, like twigs, leaves, or wood chips, could work well.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. **Heat Distribution**: The metal spiral will heat up as the fire burns. This could further influence the airflow as the hot metal might cause the surrounding air to rise faster, enhancing the tornado effect.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. **Safety**: A continuous spiral might be more stable than individual fins, especially if it's securely attached to the drum. However, the same safety precautions apply: ensure the setup is stable, keep it away from flammable materials, and always have a means to extinguish the fire nearby.</div><div><br /></div><div>In conclusion, a continuous metal spiral could potentially be more effective than individual fins in creating a fire tornado due to its ability to introduce a consistent and uniform rotational airflow. If you decide to experiment with this setup, it would be interesting to compare the results with the fin-based design to see which produces a more pronounced effect. Always prioritize safety and monitor the fire closely.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img alt="User" class="rounded-sm" data-nimg="1" decoding="async" height="36" loading="lazy" src="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75" srcset="https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=48&q=75 1x, https://chat.openai.com/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2Fa%2FAAcHTteM8KIgL6qHDjH5NvZyckH8-aVmNQQbnm6mOhRKxyUc5cFW%3Ds96-c&w=96&q=75 2x" style="border-radius: 0.125rem; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); display: block; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; height: auto; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" width="36" /><div>Science! With Fire! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-15233608850186608322023-08-24T20:11:00.004-07:002023-09-06T19:54:04.340-07:00Dream: Flying Above The City<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fdBPJnv7kfE8cHhdTaMGdo4CVV_t52Z-SIWiN74mG90r6uA7lTr0NXKkN8WFxEnkupbtZvmIc-KDl-RZpVM-YcS9l5Wmje0WUK_nkBMscblFvLkFzaaoU5j8ww_wJhsFLMTY1wN0fUQgEWm1m34Sul2ISH6HwUuaYZxODU9yljq9oytwQtkQ/s4608/DSCN9196.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fdBPJnv7kfE8cHhdTaMGdo4CVV_t52Z-SIWiN74mG90r6uA7lTr0NXKkN8WFxEnkupbtZvmIc-KDl-RZpVM-YcS9l5Wmje0WUK_nkBMscblFvLkFzaaoU5j8ww_wJhsFLMTY1wN0fUQgEWm1m34Sul2ISH6HwUuaYZxODU9yljq9oytwQtkQ/w200-h150/DSCN9196.JPG" width="200" /></a></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">The latest dream was set in a city which might have been New York. The dream had been going on for some time, my recall starts on a sidewalk between very tall buildings. I recall that other people were walking along the sidewalk, but I don't recall any interactions with them. I think it was kind of dark, and possibly cloudy or rainy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think I flew by a power cable or possibly some light poles. At any rate, I found myself flying over a sidewalked area that was a kind of pedestrian mall in the sky. The mall in the sky was much brighter than the sidewalks stories below. I zoomed over the area in a kind of looping path that went up and around some of the other folks walking along the rooftop buildings and shops.</div><p></p><p></p></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">
I was wearing my purple and black cloak, and I used it to fly up alongside of one of the buildings; I must have gone up something like twenty stories. At some point in the dream, I'm not sure when, I noticed the hem of my cloak was very tattered (it's fraying in real life). I'm not sure how, but the flat roofs of the building and its neighbor somehow joined together. Maybe I flew through a slot, or maybe the buildings were at an angle that allowed the roof decks to join.
</p><p style="text-align: left;">
There's a break in the narrative, and it turned out I was in LGL's apartment. I had come to visit him for his birthday. (In waking life, LGL had just mailed me a bracelet I accidentally left at his home, and his birthday is in a few days.) In the dream his apartment was two stories, with dark shag carpets and wood panelling and stairs and possibly conversation pits. I was early to the party, but some other folks appeared. I don't recall a whole lot, but at one point LGL and I were speaking and he went to his balcony, opened the sliding patio door (in waking life he has no patio, but apartments across the way do), and we stepped out. With great alarm, I noticed the balcony was under renovation and there was no railing (shortly after waking, or possibly just before I woke up, I realized I was still wearing my cloak and could presumably still fly, so the railing's absence shouldn't have been a big deal).</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-44924583679056204902023-08-21T17:27:00.005-07:002023-09-06T19:50:45.006-07:00Dream Selfies<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kLugOPM3gen_-q0ZdHGDElC4tqcw1vLcj6FILe8TcdRVjrlqg-E7PED6FMD7HPlWQ_rBr6sCbey_nNav2gC8XD4quem7nOQBB9j7lpDUp-2td49zLsZCn_yGojikcUAUFEYhsdrDOWuvuMGVgK628O_JxH9zNNn_zARGw286E6WYb2S7L201/s3088/IMG_4257.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John looking bemused." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kLugOPM3gen_-q0ZdHGDElC4tqcw1vLcj6FILe8TcdRVjrlqg-E7PED6FMD7HPlWQ_rBr6sCbey_nNav2gC8XD4quem7nOQBB9j7lpDUp-2td49zLsZCn_yGojikcUAUFEYhsdrDOWuvuMGVgK628O_JxH9zNNn_zARGw286E6WYb2S7L201/w150-h200/IMG_4257.HEIC" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: courier;">The dream was in progress; events had been happening in a in a cabin, but I don't recall them.<span> </span><span>I started out talking with a guy -- I want to say he was in his 30s or 40s. I'm not sure where we got a blob of lava, a fist-sized blob glowing yellow and orange, but through the magic of dream plot it was available. I decided that I would use the lava to make tea.</span><span> </span><span>I had a vessel, a kind of large snifter, made of clear thick glass.</span><span> </span><span>The lava was boiling water in the snifter for my tea. </span><span> </span></span><p></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was a dream shift and I was in a large lake, or possibly an ocean.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Below me in the water was the large snifter and the lava blob.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">I don't remember how I was able to bring the glass to the surface of the water, but somehow I did.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">There was a sense that I was still making tea in the snifter with the lava, and that the snifter was containing the heat of the lava.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">As I looked down through the water, I saw a group of people swimming, almost as if they were flying. One of them was in a trench coat and carried a stereotypical black English umbrella in his left hand. It was P.G. I must have called to him, because P.G. came up to the surface. We might have had a short discussion along the lines of "Look, I'm making tea."</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I decided I wanted to post a selfie of myself making tea in a large snifter with lava. I placed the glass on a convenient near floating table. My cousin, J.S. was suddenly there, floating in an inter-tube, and we had a short conversation along the lines of "Look, I'm making tea with lava." My phone was suddenly available and I called up the camera function.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">The sun was beginning to set, and it cast red-gold light along the water. I don't recall if the selfie ever got taken before the dream moved on to other things.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">---</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">In the second dream, all I remember was that we were at some sort of ocean side resort. It was twilight, and I was on some concrete steps overlooking the ocean, leading up from the dunes with a bunch of other (random dream) people. We looked up and there was a missile coming straight at us—it just hung in the sky, getting larger and larger as it hurtled closer. I threw myself to the landing of the steps and covered my head.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Through dream-perspective, I watched the missile, which was about the size of a table, whiz over our heads and crash into the beach below. Mostly sand exploded up into the air; it was loud, but probably not a loud as a real attack missile would have been.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">The sky was dark blue and orange, and the missile was a dark lump near a large puddle of water on the beach. I decided that I wanted to post a selfie to social media, so I took out my phone. While I was composing a picture of myself along the steps and dunes, in the phone's screen I saw a man reflected in the puddle. This was alarming, and I turned around to see him directly; he wasn't there, and I concluded that I'd seen myself in the reflection (in waking life, I'm not sure how this could be, as I would have seen the reflection of the back of my head). </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I woke up thinking that I'd dreamed about posting selfies to social media twice.</span></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-48406748464764344292023-08-20T19:54:00.003-07:002023-08-24T20:02:28.551-07:00 A Review of "The Satyr's Kiss"<p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 16px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-V9bZviJF5UamfgYW052nGjEgjZ0kWVPWIcePg6fZ36FnuCSH4N1NGkBRwdg12lTy39TSozSe5OCsUGjagr07ZoWMmDr_TReFvV4kO5BPLBXh9ESMKlPKbKkT5zbw0D47R8vAluoiYLCqzV1ARTuxCAjHtY_WkXv_tBkL0sSeak_5lJlTssY/s3088/IMG_4288.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="John pretends to read "The Satyr's Kiss" with a large magnifying glass." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-V9bZviJF5UamfgYW052nGjEgjZ0kWVPWIcePg6fZ36FnuCSH4N1NGkBRwdg12lTy39TSozSe5OCsUGjagr07ZoWMmDr_TReFvV4kO5BPLBXh9ESMKlPKbKkT5zbw0D47R8vAluoiYLCqzV1ARTuxCAjHtY_WkXv_tBkL0sSeak_5lJlTssY/w150-h200/IMG_4288.JPG" width="150" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm Faerywolf's "The Satyr's Kiss: Queer men, Sex Magic, and Modern Witchcraft" is a queering of of Feri Wiccan theory and practice, and a queer presentation of sexually explicit ritual and spell craft.<span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span></span><p></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I purchased this book because I'd been impressed with Storm Faerywolf's other writings about how using a calendar and clock effectively would help with one's spiritual practices; because he identifies as a cis-male, gay, Neopagan; and because if I'm going to read a book about sex magic, it may as well be cis-male, gay Neopagan sex magic. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Starhawk, Storm Faerywolf's spiritual practice is grounded in the American Feri Wicca tradition of Victor and Cora Anderson. But this is a book that doesn't take itself too seriously; it's a casual book that wants to take you to a fabulously earthy brunch. This book is not "The Spiral Dance," and Storm Faerywolf is not Starhawk. Neither is this book "The Triumph of the Moon," and Faerywolf is not Ronald Hutton. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The Satyr's Kiss" is divided into a philosophy section and a praxis section. The philosophy section is part introduction to Feri Wicca, part queering of Wicca, part gay history, and part the basics of sex magic. The praxis section is a collection of rituals and spells. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I found the review of Feri Wicca's concept of the three-part soul—fetch, talking self, and divine soul—interesting, as well as the mapping of Oak King, Holly King, and holy daemon. I did wish for more of an exploration into the history of the two kings and why Faerywolf chose to adapt them as apposed to, say, Cernunnos and The Green Man or a trio of gods instead of a duo. The Feri iron pentacle meditation is introduced, along with a queer variant called the amethyst pentacle. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gay history, like much of the material in this book, is painted in broad strokes, which gives it a strong 101 feel. It does allow Fairywolf to construct a ritual calendar which supplements the Pagan wheel of the year and which honors the lives and deaths of various queer luminaries, such as Harvey Milk and Matthew Shepherd, and events such as the Stonewall Riots. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While acknowledging the author wanting to avoid Hay's NAMBLA advocacy, I think there is a missed opportunity to explore Harry Hay's concept of subject-subject consciousness, and his ideas behind founding the radical faeries. Given the number of times the author (possibly at the guidance of the publisher) reminds his readers that any sex magic described in "The Satyr's Kiss" needs to happen between legally consenting adults and that neither he nor his publisher are responsible for the readers doing something stupid or unlawful, I can see why glossing over Hay could be the easier path to take. </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the same vein, I felt that Oscar Wilde's representation as a late 1800's aesthete and the historical backlash to the aesthete could have been expanded and connected to the sections on other types of gay cis-men. Both Hay and Wilde are listed as honored ancestors, which would have justified a deeper dive, but "The Satyr's Kiss" really only lists people in summary. At least this is a good starting point for folks wishing to do deeper research into the lives and main events of the queer community.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Other parts of the philosophy section broadly tell the stories of gods, heroes, mythical creatures (e.g. unicorns), historical, and contemporary figures through a queer lens. There's not much consultation or interpretation of archeological or historical records, which contributes to a "I read this on Wikipedia" feel. I suppose the point isn't so much to provide provenance for the stories as it is to provide queer inspiration.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The philosophy behind the sections on sex magic could be summarized "...Sex is something that we should do / Sex is something for me and you / Sex is natural sex is good / Not everybody does it / But everybody should / Sex is natural, sex is fun..." Fairywolf points out that queer folks, even the ones who aren't cis gay male ones, are sexual beings, and as magic practitioners we should be able to practice magic with every aspect of ourselves. The three main premises of sex magic are 1) the physical mechanics of sexual and erotic acts produces an ecstatic trance state conducive to casting spells and other numinous actions; 2) orgasm is a liminal and numinous state, and 3) because bodies are sacred, semen—like blood, saliva, or menstrual fluids—is chock full of life force and therefore an efficacious component of rituals and spells. (While there wasn't a gay male version of Starhawk's "Spell To Be Friends With Your Womb," which would have been "Spell To Be Friends With Your Prostate," there were some that came close.)</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In addition to some practical and health advice about sex, I also appreciated the advice about practicing sex magic: "Sex magic is fun and powerful, but it should't be an excuse for being careless with each other's emotions or for simply expanding one's circle of sexual partners. As always, if you want to have an orgy, have an orgy. If you need Witchcraft to give you permission for indulging in carnal pleasures, then you have some deeper personal work to do first." </span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The praxis section is less a book of shadows and more a collection of rhymed stanzas and suggestions for performing magical acts, with varying degrees of auto- or group sex. Fairywolf is broad and general with his descriptions in an attempt at universality and to avoid "arbitrary details." l should confess that I am not the biggest fan of the author's poetry. Some of it is fine as ritual litany; some of it could use another pass to address issues with the meter. As the author often prefaces his ritual descriptions with instructions to alter or rewrite ritual to better fit one's personal tastes and ritual needs, this makes me want to treat the poetry more like suggested guidelines rather than sacred texts.</span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The conclusion of "The Satyr's Kiss" is a general overview of what a queer coven might look like, with examples from Fairywolf's coven, the Brotherhood of the Satyr, and how the ideas, spells, and rituals presented in the book might be used to realize it. Fairywolf stresses the importance of boundaries and the differences between a coven and group therapy. A brief list of resources concludes the book. </span></p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-6670380572702880722023-07-06T22:05:00.001-07:002024-02-18T22:03:46.387-08:00NYC Pride Notes<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcUl-qnBxb0it8HXmZWPU-7yOcOo-9s4-bjfEJkW_pwE0qyV4m_JVfAz_4iqIkNxlT2fBxGpMQgeMz7kTmRyF_JiciMUupyGqSPKhO64NFjC6hVUELS51R16Ts7rz8NX9TEr_OOTUbKfTL2Dl0_Z3RamLwQ2QbgIcQPHoEDL9DRIZyQmeixBA/s3088/IMG_3992.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John in Grand Central Terminal" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcUl-qnBxb0it8HXmZWPU-7yOcOo-9s4-bjfEJkW_pwE0qyV4m_JVfAz_4iqIkNxlT2fBxGpMQgeMz7kTmRyF_JiciMUupyGqSPKhO64NFjC6hVUELS51R16Ts7rz8NX9TEr_OOTUbKfTL2Dl0_Z3RamLwQ2QbgIcQPHoEDL9DRIZyQmeixBA/w150-h200/IMG_3992.HEIC" width="150" /></a></b></div><b>June 22 2023 1:25pm Thursday.</b><p></p><p>Last fall, Mark said that I kept saying how Eugene Pride was unfulfilling and that I should just go to Pride in New York City—so here I am! In the air and flying to NYC Pride! I took a disco nap last night from about 8pm to 1am, but kept waking up so I'm not sure how much rest I got. I kissed Mark goodbye, left Eugene at 2 am, and drove to PDX. I'm traveling by myself. </p><p>The shuttle buss was crowded. I got through security quickly and made it to my gate around 5am or earlier. The plane was full. Somewhere over Minnesota, I got a migraine aura, but it lasted only about an hour. I'm guessed whacky sleep and a change in caffeine intake was to blame. I figured I could see well enough to be able to navigate NYC MTA.</p><p>LGL will be hosting me, and there are several events planned. We were going to attend a "Gay Mass" outside of the Stonewall Inn, which is a National Monument, but the National Park Service closed the park citing security concerns, so the mass has moved to LGL's church, St. Paul (Out At Saint Paul is an LGBTQAI+ ministry).</p><p>At some point we may go for drinks at the Eagle. Mark said he thought that it was funny that we're going to a leather bar, and I'm wondered how much it might bother him. (He siad it didn't, but he kepts bringing it up). We'll also visit the Stonewall and probably Flaming Saddles in addition to some shows and Sunday Pride Events. </p><p>I'm wanting to go to the Brooklyn Museum's Egyptian Wing one day, and if we run out of Gay Things To Do, I brought my NYC Gargoyle book. We'll also visit Mary Dwyer in Suffern (probably on Saturday, and it's possible we'll run into The Child there).</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoiiwGJYTJ39mTXOFEfL2z6vq0hXCsTK3Pj4Ql27SrLgWlyfHyj2m1ayQRjAF6WLd4KKpdsjYxxUehmVu6jeAe32s4CEb81nOI0jX3h5vNBK5E1I4V6BmC48D40uVMjnhX_lKm4zx7bWw6TlZoYqgbNaD42582C7QHUsik52rLbpIqtXI1F6J/s4032/IMG_3997.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Group shot at Out at St. Paul's, NYC." border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoiiwGJYTJ39mTXOFEfL2z6vq0hXCsTK3Pj4Ql27SrLgWlyfHyj2m1ayQRjAF6WLd4KKpdsjYxxUehmVu6jeAe32s4CEb81nOI0jX3h5vNBK5E1I4V6BmC48D40uVMjnhX_lKm4zx7bWw6TlZoYqgbNaD42582C7QHUsik52rLbpIqtXI1F6J/w200-h150/IMG_3997.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div><br />Thursday evening's Gay Mass was the first Catholic Mass I've been to. I was able to fall into the ritual from my Episcopal upbringing, but every now and then there were changes in the wording (things like, "and with thy spirit" vs. "and also with you," and "with all the angels and archangels" vs. "with all the angels and saints"). The closest religious events to the mass that I've attended would be Radical Faerie ritual circles back in the nineties, and they're really not that close. <p></p><p>As I was sitting out in the pews during communion, my eye kept returning to the Matthew 6:7 verse about not being like babbling Pagans in the service flyer, which could have been more ecumenical, but I was able to reinterpret it to "don't be ostentatious in your religious practice." </p><p>I was surprised when the sermon turned into an interactive discussion about pride and how some folks equated it with value, or strength, or self-worth. I'm amazed at how LGL and the others at the mass operate at the intersection of their Catholic faith and their LGBTQAI+ orientation. </p><p>After the mass's social mingling, LGL and I went to one of his favorite bars for dinner and drinks (LGL is a networker and is on a first-name basis with practically everyone) and had a brief discussion of the effects of a transcendent God compared to immanent deity on the manifestation of the praxis of Pride vis-a-vis community vs family household. What I had seen in the church was a community coming together for shared worship; my sense with gay Pagans is that they move in together.</p><p>We also talked about bunting in our respective cities.</p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BCaUCUwB5BYEp2XPInaMRg6S0LtDAIuf7FmXjG9lhCia1-RO_TcU6CaNDQpiKO-YizqqbeIHGZgyQ3cWSJPHSO0_cXvxnGPYHUImBx-uDceTW7PYMvAtqEk99Nvd1hmEms74VW22hKxYhmtqQDOUsRGbJ2qhOQcd_aNkCP3JBLaC8QRsgKuP/s4608/DSCN6015.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Ancient Egyptian carving" border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BCaUCUwB5BYEp2XPInaMRg6S0LtDAIuf7FmXjG9lhCia1-RO_TcU6CaNDQpiKO-YizqqbeIHGZgyQ3cWSJPHSO0_cXvxnGPYHUImBx-uDceTW7PYMvAtqEk99Nvd1hmEms74VW22hKxYhmtqQDOUsRGbJ2qhOQcd_aNkCP3JBLaC8QRsgKuP/w150-h200/DSCN6015.JPG" width="150" /></a></b></div><b>June 23 - Friday - 2023</b><p></p><p><i>"That moment when your morning tarot card pull for NYC Pride adventures is the two of wands, reversed. I think this might be about jet lag…."</i></p><p>LGL had to work, and I was left to my own devices. I had breakfast at Old John's (cue music, "No one DINES like Old John, or RECLINES like Old John, no one interlocks forks by their TINES like Old John..."). The breakfast was hearty -- although I did have to fish out a red pepper!-- and the waitress thought my pride flag shirt was cute (and called me "sweetie," which, according to LGL, is her standard modus operandi).</p><p>Wandering west of Central Park, I tried to find Eden Dragon House, but missed it (three blocks too north). I meandered through Central Park. It was raining, and with no sun I got turned around and ended up using Google Maps to navigate the curving paths to Fifth Avenue.</p><p>Somehow, I wound up in the Egyptian Wing of the MET. (Sticker shock on the ticket prices, which have gone up substantially since I was here last.) Once I got into the Egyptian Wing, I tried photographing new things, but found myself re-imaging old favorites. I did manage an image of a hippo on an ostracon for Mark. Between photographs I had fun being an informal docent with hieroglyphs, especially with the offering prayer. Alas, the Middle Eastern Wing was closed for renovations, and the Rooftop Garden was closed by the rain; so no art or photographs from there (except for a long-distance shot of the rooftop from outside as I was leaving). </p><p>I got turned around in Central Park again as I returned to LGL's, but I managed to photograph Bethesda Park and gargoyles, grotesques, and decorative buildings.</p><p>Aside from wearing a Pride Progress Flag t-shirt, the day wasn't particularly gay. I suppose one could argue Queen Hatshepsut was in drag when she wore a Pharaoh's beard, but it would be a real stretch. </p><p>Back at LGL's, I took a disco nap, snacked, and had tea. LGL returned later than he wanted to, but also took a disco nap for tonight's Stonewall Celebration at Hudson Yards and visit to The Eagle. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4OR14skrq5cLscWN4BPK1jn0iR_2tkhQ0mTwWA-uOAsa7mKz90Z0L5yd4TloLD9zOr87lUjPdncoCYjbN5GSMdQqRvBEGxa7cNhc1tLdHUrNdvuTHqYXmWZ3-0Coxr069CeA4TCxtktG0e_6SCPHeh1KKhN06akA71cu6vIDnPSpapyCtTUl/s3088/IMG_4011.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="John in a unicorn shirt." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4OR14skrq5cLscWN4BPK1jn0iR_2tkhQ0mTwWA-uOAsa7mKz90Z0L5yd4TloLD9zOr87lUjPdncoCYjbN5GSMdQqRvBEGxa7cNhc1tLdHUrNdvuTHqYXmWZ3-0Coxr069CeA4TCxtktG0e_6SCPHeh1KKhN06akA71cu6vIDnPSpapyCtTUl/w150-h200/IMG_4011.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>The Stonewall Celebration was one part gala celebration, one part Word From Our Corporate Sponsors, and one part concert. LGL (who knows everyone) managed to get us into a VIP section about forty feet the main stage. We connected up with other folks from LGL's office. The pacing was a little odd in that a performer would get the crowd pumped to dance, and then the Vice-President of So-and-so Company would come out and make a short speech about Acceptance and Love.<p></p><p>Many people referenced recent legislation to ban or erase drag and trans folks, and urged the crowd "Don't fight back, fight forward!" The most moving performance was a trans activist who created a sound-scape around the sung phrase, "I'm ev'ry woman" and then read the names of trans victims murdered within the last year. </p><p>The most professional performance was by Netta Barzilai, an Eurovision performer from Israel. The sound system had issues the entire event; these were not helped when Netta choreographed her sound box off of her outfit and couldn't re-connect to the stage's speakers. She kept on dancing and singing as loudly as she could and during the dance bridge danced off stage and pulled a sound engineer back with her to get re-hooked up—smiling and dancing all the time. </p><p>The most fun performance was BETTY. LGL was familiar with them. They struck me as an edgier, Rock-n-Rollier, New York City version of Seattle's 90's folk trio, We Three. They started out with a Pride Anthem, then transitioned into a saucy song, "Did You Tell Her?" </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzYDn_MA_kDcbfHqjhLoAVj8WVj1i-WPtZl6_93LDXpAJb8xSTTRzwtJRtUVm3Yib5wjC6vPSyEegHS5sFhB1Sbc3MSo1oWn24QOhNMYqUd2cTQvQvE3e_bnN63ruGNnfDAKSJDx39qSn2nBw0erm108FtKXlDfDrr1FKWpeHzNDhPH7phEDz/s4032/IMG_3579.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Posing for a selfie with BETTY !" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzYDn_MA_kDcbfHqjhLoAVj8WVj1i-WPtZl6_93LDXpAJb8xSTTRzwtJRtUVm3Yib5wjC6vPSyEegHS5sFhB1Sbc3MSo1oWn24QOhNMYqUd2cTQvQvE3e_bnN63ruGNnfDAKSJDx39qSn2nBw0erm108FtKXlDfDrr1FKWpeHzNDhPH7phEDz/w200-h150/IMG_3579.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div>By this time my hair had become a minor personality on the event's jumbotron, and apparently was visible from the stage. When we met BETTY after the event, one of them said they'd noticed my energy from the stage, and another one wondered if we'd met before (LGL quipped that they'd mistaken me for one of the sound engineers, who also had long grey locks (although his were tied back)).<p></p><p>Christina Aguilera came out last and performed three songs. The weirdest part of the show happened: about every other person held up their mobile phone up to video the performance, so it was like a forest of techno-trees sprouted up in front of us. They cranked up the sound system for her, and I was glad that I'd brought along some concert earplugs. She has a nice voice, but everything was so loud and distorted that I really couldn't follow the lyrics. </p><p>By the time the event was finished and we'd gotten a selfie with BETTY, I was starving, so we found a place to eat nearby (where my hair got asked out for a date). </p><p>On reflection, I realized that a lot of local talent had participated in the show, and that this was one difference between NYC Pride and Eugene Pride: NYC can support a community of professional and semi-professional singers, dancers, poets, DJ's, photographers, and videographers; most of presenters and performers at Eugene are earnest and having fun—which is fine but does contribute to a "bake sale and craft fair (and group therapy)" feel of local events. Then we were off to The Eagle.</p><p>We opened the place up; apparently on Friday nights they don't open until 10 PM. There used to be a stricter dress code (or is that undress code?), but they've relaxed it, so wearing jeans and T-shirts (and a leather cuff) were sufficient to get in. There was some sticker shock at the evening's cover, but we paid it and made our way up to the rooftop part of the bar. I ordered a margarita, and LGL and I sat back and enjoyed the skyline and the scenery. Most of the guys were dressed like we were, with about a third (?or a fifth?)—mostly the staff—dressed in more scanty scraps of leather or shirtless (honestly, I saw more leather harnesses, jock-straps, and booty-shorts in the Sunday Pride Parade than I did in the bar). </p><p>What I enjoyed about The Eagle was that it was mostly men, and the crowd seemed to be in their 30's or older. You didn't need to be a gym stud with eight-pack abs to dance or socialize. The music was something one could dance to, and I did. (My hair got some more date offers.) This was a nice change from trying to dance to arrhythmic soundscapes of high-pitched beeps and water being poured into a pitcher with 20-something, half-stoned Eugene kids in a mixed-use space (or not-dancing because a cos-playing person is lip-synching and wiggling for tips on the dance floor). According to LGL, the place, especially one particular corner on the second floor, would become raunchier as the night progressed, and he pulled me off of the dance floor around 12:30.</p><p>We grabbed some matches from the bar as a souvenir for Mark and left.</p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr1WUrJde2DIyNw6eQA8u5aa2P8hxFasd7xpdkevrS8ywkzYTrHGkSIngcEeVtGTRzMpRFP9NDoZbovlhuGnqQ9fX6wHKMMS14p0hPF1rKDGiltEY_XqiNWEIqHaN_EbV3wm2fp-KALGJSGiS0u5nlNIay66HO3LV_zAt0AY4tQ8vfCCNUzpQ/s3088/IMG_4023.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John and Mary" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNr1WUrJde2DIyNw6eQA8u5aa2P8hxFasd7xpdkevrS8ywkzYTrHGkSIngcEeVtGTRzMpRFP9NDoZbovlhuGnqQ9fX6wHKMMS14p0hPF1rKDGiltEY_XqiNWEIqHaN_EbV3wm2fp-KALGJSGiS0u5nlNIay66HO3LV_zAt0AY4tQ8vfCCNUzpQ/w150-h200/IMG_4023.HEIC" width="150" /></a></b></div><b>Saturday, June 24, 2023</b><p></p><p><i>"Today’s Pride tarot card is the four of pentacles reversed. This is what happens when one is discussing the previous evening’s bar tab when pulling a card…"</i></p><p>LGL had some business in Suffern, and so I visited my mother-in-law, Mary Dwyer, and other available residents of Dwyer Manse. There was some cognitive dissonance running into The Child, who had flown to the east coast with his mom, and who was on the East Coast Relative Circuit. Mary looked good, and I filled her in on Gay Adventures so far.</p><p><br /></p><p>Back in The City, we visited the Brooklyn Art Museum Egyptian Wing. LGL was tolerant of my propensity to lecture on hieroglyphs and the Egyptian Netherworld Books as we rode the MTA to the museum.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ra_5-bikZr0dde3FhDmlTfSW_VP5jFtbmP8u-IQfPi0FcHpcNeY2uwM3p9P1Figq4gmFl-P2weq5YTvAnLPhdREXwPsKXva4CujProovnLxZ6D9wF-2WnaK7QB5NWTgZueWOw2T7ue3z2jYmXOuYL_DIABcdf3_8MoeTw-jkULB8wSd2W-4l/s4608/DSCN6132.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Re at sunset." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ra_5-bikZr0dde3FhDmlTfSW_VP5jFtbmP8u-IQfPi0FcHpcNeY2uwM3p9P1Figq4gmFl-P2weq5YTvAnLPhdREXwPsKXva4CujProovnLxZ6D9wF-2WnaK7QB5NWTgZueWOw2T7ue3z2jYmXOuYL_DIABcdf3_8MoeTw-jkULB8wSd2W-4l/w200-h150/DSCN6132.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>When we entered, we ran into a sound check for a wedding taking place there in the evening. The last time I visited, for about twenty minutes over a decade ago, I remember a long, dark room, and a silver ibis. The galleries were different from my memories: more broken up and much lighter. I was expecting larger statuary than the MET's, which wasn't really the case. The galleries did not seem to be organized chronologically, and I was not able to discern any themes to how they were ordered.<p></p><p>There was a lot of new artifacts to see. I was particularly drawn to the Cartonnage of Nespanetjerenpare (3rd Intermediate Period, D 22). What strikes me about this image of Re is that it is ram-headed instead of falcon headed, indicating that this is Re at sunset; and also the green, orange, and black coloring—which I'm guessing may have associations with the rejuvenating properties of the netherworld.</p><p>LGL was drawn to a mummy portrait of an Egypto-Roman man. I'd say the Brooklyn's Egyptian collection is smaller than the MET's, with finer quality Ptolomeic pieces. </p><p>After the museum, we went bar hopping, first to Flaming Saddles (cowboys dancing on the bar!) and The Dickens (loosely based on Charles Dickens). Both bars were crowded, and the crowds were both younger and more mixed. And loud. The music was slower, and the young folks who were at The Dickens at times felt like they were there more to sing along with the songs and enact them as a mini-performance for their posse of friends (and splash their drinks onto the dance floor) than to dance to the music en mass. </p><p>Looking back on the night, I have to say that I appreciate spaces that are enclaves for men—the local Eugene LGBTQAI+ bar hosts a lot of all-family, drag, and trans events—but does not host a "men's night" other than a monthly "bear mixer," and I'm not even sure it's a dance event, unlike their "Lesbian Dance Party."</p><p><br /></p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLoVSBz-K4EBHVD-8by5Oxyku6_R_VCU7xFcZQI8ky8QBWDX6UcltjRIl9hpuAn2KZPcLTrz3rvHq0hn1aESxdhr24ul5BuoJw8_PmXppAGaThYjPdgTGA3N-SCF6T7s44oFtLaEVduiC3CSRYoEXIjnulWLH8PBcgV3EmDe2Kzfr7gRx3Pp09/s3088/IMG_4044.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John making a blessing sign." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLoVSBz-K4EBHVD-8by5Oxyku6_R_VCU7xFcZQI8ky8QBWDX6UcltjRIl9hpuAn2KZPcLTrz3rvHq0hn1aESxdhr24ul5BuoJw8_PmXppAGaThYjPdgTGA3N-SCF6T7s44oFtLaEVduiC3CSRYoEXIjnulWLH8PBcgV3EmDe2Kzfr7gRx3Pp09/w150-h200/IMG_4044.HEIC" width="150" /></a></i></div><i>"That 4:38 a.m. Pride Moment when you realize (too late) that your response to “I thought Jesus was in the (gay) bar!” should be either “Come, and I shall make you fishers of men!” Or “Pick up the receiver / I’ll make you a believer.”"</i><p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Sunday, June 25, 2023</b></p><p><i>"Today’s Pride March tarot card is the four of wands reversed. Celebration in the City! Which is fun, but it’s not my home. (Pause to miss my husband… okay, put on the sunscreen and the dance tunes!)"</i></p><p>After a hearty breakfast at LGL's, we made our way to the NYC Pride. LGL had once again secured access to a VIP area, and we found ourselves at the shaded review stand near 25th Street and Fifth Avenue, with access to snacks and drinks, watching politicians queue up to begin the parade. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvq1bd-5-pNoiHsESoaIOGgvzIr29ZfBOrxA7NivtA25ISVgSKvJ_PSo1rECrW80P3ELFkBm4_JQboWVgY_chr8W8LcHxX3DQh5_OsRSRJ1T5vn_K5csbKLg1hQsbJdp8BK3W8UHlbxVV1btq_ma-OMuXLIR3qINRVjcfX-R-TFxsSSJNH44N/s4608/DSCN6223.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="A rainbow arc of balloons" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvq1bd-5-pNoiHsESoaIOGgvzIr29ZfBOrxA7NivtA25ISVgSKvJ_PSo1rECrW80P3ELFkBm4_JQboWVgY_chr8W8LcHxX3DQh5_OsRSRJ1T5vn_K5csbKLg1hQsbJdp8BK3W8UHlbxVV1btq_ma-OMuXLIR3qINRVjcfX-R-TFxsSSJNH44N/w200-h150/DSCN6223.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I took a lot of photographs of grand marshals, and floats, and marchers, and rainbow everything. Everyone, from Girl Scouts, to people of all races, to politicians and TV stars, to folks in their eighties, to cheerleaders, and all sorts of corporate sponsors, queued up to start their march.<p></p><p>When LGL's workplace's group came by, we left the review stand and joined in. Initially, I felt like I stood out because A) I was wearing a grey T-shirt with a progress pride flag graphic on it and everyone else was wearing their corporate white T-shirts, B) everyone but me had some kind of flag to wave, and C) My Hair. But I chanted, "Elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist-wrist" to myself and marched along Fifth Avenue with everyone.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1BFI3HMnMw8dCaJXCU57-hPZUDMaEx_l8bHC5tdRTwriK4hLoUlJgvsVwdfr5IiAO_DgbB5p_FigiVHPvD05bU1otzoEGyTb2Wfr4SHTYufG_AnLFysZAFFLG7h7WBJ9xc8L9pnyXWso4Fr-IdqrLvZGQc8RCSuOjETYYElELvEo3en9S_zR/s720/ChasePrideFloat.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dancing on a Pride Float." border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1BFI3HMnMw8dCaJXCU57-hPZUDMaEx_l8bHC5tdRTwriK4hLoUlJgvsVwdfr5IiAO_DgbB5p_FigiVHPvD05bU1otzoEGyTb2Wfr4SHTYufG_AnLFysZAFFLG7h7WBJ9xc8L9pnyXWso4Fr-IdqrLvZGQc8RCSuOjETYYElELvEo3en9S_zR/w200-h150/ChasePrideFloat.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>After a few moments, LGL (and a work friend, C), said, "C'mon! We're going to get on the float!" The next thing I knew I was dancing to some really good music and waving at, encouraging to dance, and making eye contact with what seemed like half of New York City as they stood along the sidewalk, or leaned out of windows, or watched from fire escapes. Most people smiled and waved back, and some even started dancing to the music.<p></p><p>At one point it seemed like we were floating down a river of dancing rainbow flags, faces, and sparkles. I said to someone, "Man, I wish my husband was here." And then I stopped and thought about it for a moment and added, "Nah; he'd hate this. And I'd want to smooch him, but he'd want space or to go on a hike." And it was true, Mark would have been bored after about a half-hour.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4zGyIoc-vFt8Q_dOpnQI3xvznsFZQOUU5XO5-Xh-XM9_LcTYbAtzQCmP6tZ6q2R8n-TKGJP6JopizyEetrOTOXa85ZmMAP9tiZUE1HSbVrQyu311u6mzyOMB9i8DgPqSXGVy1Vnx-7bmo5KnTe4YJ-knowGVFy50LCegJtF2RHUHiVl0uhqo/s4608/DSCN6247.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4zGyIoc-vFt8Q_dOpnQI3xvznsFZQOUU5XO5-Xh-XM9_LcTYbAtzQCmP6tZ6q2R8n-TKGJP6JopizyEetrOTOXa85ZmMAP9tiZUE1HSbVrQyu311u6mzyOMB9i8DgPqSXGVy1Vnx-7bmo5KnTe4YJ-knowGVFy50LCegJtF2RHUHiVl0uhqo/w200-h150/DSCN6247.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQQMUtMoKWzAIqPxsnAbErR1G95_hRN0su96_i2G5wmlh8ou8Jsa0lKLNvHWPNmJ7MB76CPg1q_3O6MvxpO6EXJ3OMB4gP2dTdzN_i_Tt-TyvL_xGMjrmzDlBznnsY1ymLLHZhb5MOMv5sqTsx2DqiTbUrFv5poyTKo6nLDz4KgA01-13u1Lh/s4608/DSCN6257.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQQMUtMoKWzAIqPxsnAbErR1G95_hRN0su96_i2G5wmlh8ou8Jsa0lKLNvHWPNmJ7MB76CPg1q_3O6MvxpO6EXJ3OMB4gP2dTdzN_i_Tt-TyvL_xGMjrmzDlBznnsY1ymLLHZhb5MOMv5sqTsx2DqiTbUrFv5poyTKo6nLDz4KgA01-13u1Lh/w200-h150/DSCN6257.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExF4Tl5EgEaXwRBO9kKjiJOxSZtXQ2c3ac3BkAHni91CV_CvBpRINki21cyCFNf-oZVq3DxLtd8OBw19YaTE28Dz4usi2brWRZeW05ou61Rt2SHNaxF3JXHwtO1QdHHn-rCqVWJEF5kQs1FrOa_EVa6AQdcY4X-st8NSd-91q8Q-1Md7JNppJ/s4608/DSCN6349.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExF4Tl5EgEaXwRBO9kKjiJOxSZtXQ2c3ac3BkAHni91CV_CvBpRINki21cyCFNf-oZVq3DxLtd8OBw19YaTE28Dz4usi2brWRZeW05ou61Rt2SHNaxF3JXHwtO1QdHHn-rCqVWJEF5kQs1FrOa_EVa6AQdcY4X-st8NSd-91q8Q-1Md7JNppJ/w200-h150/DSCN6349.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYugLohBsulc5B_dVDt3R3YLc_ZwYrY1j8bYvbk461TGL-wbdyUBT2hBiyt_Qgx9XCzJy6ajL3IY5n1qzUnciDrnfhcvwFa7Bjjs_p6zc-sFJ7CNbWWN8weo9gXmpz7YN8k8rK73ygi3Y4e9nBpVGiHPEGv_GwWNhZkLfhK7L8oX27AlVkLhW/w200-h150/DSCN6406.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqCPZQfjCwuptWm7oDpRHJKrunpNns1hjDxb2UhXlW3IEZkgBCvwWFiJJx1LS0dKdG8ggBdCcCcjWw5Opvl5wW9o40lC7bYs--v4sLN053ia3KZrIANvJKhSpTwIhDy814sj44_k1TsZvwVvQrTFWJW7gPcRwccGN9a2IGh8jNalrqMKsDuoa/s4608/DSCN6382.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqCPZQfjCwuptWm7oDpRHJKrunpNns1hjDxb2UhXlW3IEZkgBCvwWFiJJx1LS0dKdG8ggBdCcCcjWw5Opvl5wW9o40lC7bYs--v4sLN053ia3KZrIANvJKhSpTwIhDy814sj44_k1TsZvwVvQrTFWJW7gPcRwccGN9a2IGh8jNalrqMKsDuoa/w150-h200/DSCN6382.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61CSoPfDWi0491aDSMGFmCxQx1-zE7HqiF2scrvzIU78bEEcjItRJVDn2BT-5hMFMG2xyKrOjzXQDSnJOPxdu-jXiGRb6N20d0J3WSgQ49geVlRHCMi8WDWEmkLMAtORDo5cqn_FbIXAzLNeMtSBnNkqy9mMZa5YuyULp46OLGV42s1ku7Wsv/w200-h150/DSCN6457.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPzoYBZmTB87FJnSRZ_DJHc6Lo8QbeL4USkxK1q-avjTO0xREON6pc49EoR-7oi4n48wchixO5YYqr52yAS51WYDetQbrgI1o0fyzVqLooer23-b3m3U2mpws6cWO5ASsBnoh10xW-vMUaNFZZDttmOj2soAnW8tOXGerKuaihmCCt4aAba3-/s1220/IMG_4056.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="John with a Gay Pride Angel." border="0" data-original-height="1220" data-original-width="914" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPzoYBZmTB87FJnSRZ_DJHc6Lo8QbeL4USkxK1q-avjTO0xREON6pc49EoR-7oi4n48wchixO5YYqr52yAS51WYDetQbrgI1o0fyzVqLooer23-b3m3U2mpws6cWO5ASsBnoh10xW-vMUaNFZZDttmOj2soAnW8tOXGerKuaihmCCt4aAba3-/w150-h200/IMG_4056.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>I did not have a good sense of where we were; the parade proceeded south on 5th Avenue before heading west on 8th Street. I had to look this up later: After crossing over 6th Avenue, the parade continued on Christopher Street and passed the Stonewall National Monument (which didn't register with me as the Stonewall when we passed it). It turned north on 7th Avenue, passing the New York City AIDS Memorial (which must have been on the other side of the float), and ended up at 16th Street and 7th Avenue.<p></p><p>We hopped off of the float and started walking and searching for a place to have a late lunch. Someone from LGL's work was wearing huge white angel wings and waving a pride flag, and they graciously agreed to a selfie. </p><p>While we were waiting for food (and drinks) with LGL's co-workers, I realized that underneath the smiling and waving and dancing, I'd unconsciously been looking for Mark in the crowds, and how wonderful it would have been if at some point the crowds could have parted and Mark could walk out onto Fifth Avenue and joined me on the float.</p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX7BcoobROppq_NTF_KHFbApRWRaALbe4aeGnWw8Z4TFn5oFJTN_AnU6ROMQ-S5yXEW_cn_NIZa1F7Q6C7J2an2DFQBDumPmInm3NBCiSxJaubshn1aPon6AMB7MCsuSriZCQ6zP8-sD9ElQEQpztH6Fte36tkuUrXvrlu93cv3Vd4q645d_a/s4608/DSCN6471.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBX7BcoobROppq_NTF_KHFbApRWRaALbe4aeGnWw8Z4TFn5oFJTN_AnU6ROMQ-S5yXEW_cn_NIZa1F7Q6C7J2an2DFQBDumPmInm3NBCiSxJaubshn1aPon6AMB7MCsuSriZCQ6zP8-sD9ElQEQpztH6Fte36tkuUrXvrlu93cv3Vd4q645d_a/w200-h150/DSCN6471.JPG" width="200" /></a></b></div><b>Monday Morning, June 26, 2023</b><p></p><p><i>"Today’s Pride tarot card is the Seven of Wands, reversed. Taking the long view, this could signify being beaten down by institutional homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and the various -isms. Or, short view, it could be about travel anxiety."</i></p><p>I escorted LGL to the local MTA station on 77th Street and then went for another breakfast at Old John's. I spent the morning wandering around the 78th Street and Amsterdam area photographing gargoyles, grotesques, and dragons. I got caught in a thunderstorm, and was glad for an umbrella. I found what I call "The Dragons of Library Eden House," which was half under renovation scaffolding, so I was only able to take limited photographs of the dragons there.</p><p> </p><p><b>5:49pm Monday, June 26, 2023</b></p><p>I waited for the flight out of JFK to PDX and wrote in my Book of Art. I probably could have left LGL's apartment an hour later, but that wouldn't have left any time for train mishaps. Luckily, taking the 1 MTA train to Penn Station, and then the Babylon Train to Jamaica Station and then the Air Train to Terminal 4 went smoothly.</p><p>LGL was worried that the thunderstorms today might make air (and train) travel extra tricky, but at 6 PM everything appeared to be on time.</p><p>Ha! LGL was right! First my flight was delayed 90 minutes while we waited for flight attendants from other delayed flights to board the plane (which was sitting at the gate, empty). Then, after we boarded, we taxied around on the runways while the pilots negotiated a flightpath with air control, then we parked on the tarmac, then we returned to the gate because the whole airport was shut down, and finally the flight was cancelled around 11:20.</p><p><i>"That NYC Pride Moment when Delta cancels your flight home, and your Wonderful Gay Husband manages to remotely find a space for you at The Box House Motel."</i></p><p>I took a crazy midnight taxi ride through the rain to the motel; the driver didn't know where the motel was, and navigated there with his cell phone. The mobile's map app sent us the long way, and I ended up paying the fare in cash to knock off $15 of what was still a steep price.</p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmH84kAS24_L7osgG6Z3QQxjZwnAofWtCdhOc0sth5DOodSobQC-BSC4PlkSIRNzjsXN-xV4OlmHtVVwN6a0q3_pYIRDXQCOeq2w-t8Wr8h6QVsQPJAFaDAKmnE_wOhx1mnUurrJYcH7at427H_Vb0fe7vBqLeeoUt6VGc-NbKNTBY8U1teMyL/s4032/IMG_4086.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmH84kAS24_L7osgG6Z3QQxjZwnAofWtCdhOc0sth5DOodSobQC-BSC4PlkSIRNzjsXN-xV4OlmHtVVwN6a0q3_pYIRDXQCOeq2w-t8Wr8h6QVsQPJAFaDAKmnE_wOhx1mnUurrJYcH7at427H_Vb0fe7vBqLeeoUt6VGc-NbKNTBY8U1teMyL/s320/IMG_4086.HEIC" width="240" /></a></b></div><b>Tuesday, June 27, 2023</b><p></p><p><i>"And today’s post-air-flight-cancellation tarot card is the three of wands. For some reason what sprang to my mind was gratitude… although I am wondering if the merchant in the card is wishing they were on one of the ships in the distance."</i></p><p>Hunkered down in a (expensive!) boutique hotel, The Box House Motel, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It was the only place with a room (the JFK Hilton had all of their rooms booked by other stranded travelers). Between having fun in NYC with LGL and the room deposit for The Box House, my credit card was maxed out (this is my reward for setting my credit limit to a low amount as a preemptive method to manage credit card debt), and so I spent over an hour on the phone with the credit union to try to extend my credit and secure lodging through Thursday.</p><p>The Box House Motel had an artsy lobby with a sixties art-deco and colored glass pane feel. Magnolia or cedar scented the air--it was not unpleasant, but strong. Pop/swing ballads dominated the sound system--this made the open design of the space more private, but also made conversations difficult. </p><p>I'm grabbed a (expensive!) burger at The Eagle Trading Company, a kind of indoor/outdoor cafe with glass garage doors. The clientele looked like local neighborhood folks; lots of dog walkers, mixed ages, and mostly dudes. I asked the wait staff about place to walk (and not walk) and they said the neighborhood was a safe one.</p><p>After waiting four hours for a call back which never came, I finally managed to connect with a bank person and get my credit card straightened out. It's was a huge relief; it's crazy how food and travel are dependent on credit-card connected apps on my iPhone. I'd would have been in a really bad place if my iPhone (or credit card) stopped working. </p><p><b>Tuesday evening</b>: There was only one working laundry machine in the laundry room. I gave up on laundry for the moment and walked to the Greenleaf Cafe, where I found a bench supported by two stone griffins! Then the music switched from sort of tribal-fusion to 70's Rock (oh well). The Cafes and hotels here all seemed to be converted garages: high roofs and glass garage doors, so I am imagined that rooms and houses and buildings that I write should have a history--the farmhouse with added rooms, or old carriage houses turned into living quarters, or old engine sheds turned into garages and then turned into cafes. </p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCzYs6bgTWfZL4SfqYRVwTXKytFxsafudgJiOj384XyDUiP6jBcQ0hzFDnPj6urQBa8dvhh9Aa4iislP2GN-wCL6H6u3cnYAYoiTukE7n2-YI4iCkSRG7EDp6e4TtWvhbaFhXcXZzP59Nfh2AMxUoa8roQJZmjKwjhTLuVg22_MjMw5JR9r1x/s4608/DSCN6588.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Winged horse and winged lion." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCzYs6bgTWfZL4SfqYRVwTXKytFxsafudgJiOj384XyDUiP6jBcQ0hzFDnPj6urQBa8dvhh9Aa4iislP2GN-wCL6H6u3cnYAYoiTukE7n2-YI4iCkSRG7EDp6e4TtWvhbaFhXcXZzP59Nfh2AMxUoa8roQJZmjKwjhTLuVg22_MjMw5JR9r1x/w200-h150/DSCN6588.JPG" width="200" /></a></b></div><b>Wednesday, June 28, 2023</b><p></p><p><i>"Today’s Post-Pride-Still-Waiting-For-Tomorrow’s-Flight Tarot Card is the Knight of Swords reversed. This is my usual significator card, so I’m interpreting it as a warning to stay focused and be aware that I’m tired of not being home yet."</i></p><p>I had recovered from bank negotiations and goofy non-travel sleep that I had enough energy to go on a photo safari of Mid-Manhattan. The nearest MTA stop to the Box House Motel was about a 10 minute walk over a bridge spanning a small river (the Pulaski, which fed into the Harlem River).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1e4pdV9d0b8bl0pDvUoozjcF_Yuj7ul0Q4B5ikn6HYRLJ1CeZH8x-QE-1Po1ZU_9M426Sg84AEmiyaK89cus0cXJMVIBcZ-oSu1U0_PyEs5lcDoqA2N0n7R1KaspzDE-t-F4cOdSflX6SVmWrdvooacmO6vPKUKbgymQqvBwJN287JybzIcb/s4608/DSCN6572.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1e4pdV9d0b8bl0pDvUoozjcF_Yuj7ul0Q4B5ikn6HYRLJ1CeZH8x-QE-1Po1ZU_9M426Sg84AEmiyaK89cus0cXJMVIBcZ-oSu1U0_PyEs5lcDoqA2N0n7R1KaspzDE-t-F4cOdSflX6SVmWrdvooacmO6vPKUKbgymQqvBwJN287JybzIcb/w150-h200/DSCN6572.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Once I was on the MTA 7 train, it was a one-stop trip to Grand Central Terminal, where I photographed the building details, especially the twined dragons. While traipsing about trying to find them, I wandered into a jewelry store, and the next thing I knew, I was helping my New Best Friend, Mars, pick out a tiger-eye bracelet. She (or maybe they) gave me their email so I could share a link to Google photos of GCT.<p></p><p>Outside the station, I met a Venezuelan couple who were a little lost; I tried to help them, but we had no common language... I couldn't get a translation app on my phone, and felt inept. In the end I could only wish them good luck.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHjjfyxghYcDhpxEJOK_F3sOcHsEnhn_sREEexVpoMWEpmxchaQb1PmAm6kJ4iDCWp8zKZwWXW0y0oMJs4Iz4jjSdWCpyVUTIcdWXTbBdYIZlzww8eMhTKiY8b1FeRnqg99uU_eKR0qfAsyUF7g_laf4E5_MTSLjaPYASS3emrlgA9Y9X6RXl/s4608/DSCN6646.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Statue of Prometheus with Rainbow Flags" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHjjfyxghYcDhpxEJOK_F3sOcHsEnhn_sREEexVpoMWEpmxchaQb1PmAm6kJ4iDCWp8zKZwWXW0y0oMJs4Iz4jjSdWCpyVUTIcdWXTbBdYIZlzww8eMhTKiY8b1FeRnqg99uU_eKR0qfAsyUF7g_laf4E5_MTSLjaPYASS3emrlgA9Y9X6RXl/w200-h150/DSCN6646.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>From there it was more photos of the terminal and then Rockefeller Center. Prometheus' courtyard was surrounded on all sides by rainbow flags. And somehow I wandered into a La Madison du Chocolat.<p></p><p>After more wandering and photography and a cloudburst and I finally exhausted my camera's battery. This was probably a good thing, as I managed to get back to the motel before five o'clock rush-hour trains.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Thursday, June 29, 2023</b></p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1h_bTi8jabwBJAEsQ2QQVm5osulbTzNSyUgTv4Jvh5eXwdpSy-heapY_quLw0B_s5l2FjPzfchbV_h-7Njino60fpxkQaEALD5Qx4dTRUFpcBzqTEkc_5lNKgeTdpGuddfUOvniljbVnQ6mPOwGUPR9WpmE1jJ0eRyWWaJkIoXhW04laegzt/s4032/IMG_4119.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1h_bTi8jabwBJAEsQ2QQVm5osulbTzNSyUgTv4Jvh5eXwdpSy-heapY_quLw0B_s5l2FjPzfchbV_h-7Njino60fpxkQaEALD5Qx4dTRUFpcBzqTEkc_5lNKgeTdpGuddfUOvniljbVnQ6mPOwGUPR9WpmE1jJ0eRyWWaJkIoXhW04laegzt/w150-h200/IMG_4119.HEIC" width="150" /></a></i></div><i>"That Post-Pride moment when you’re about to embark to JFK. No tarot card pull today, although I am envisioning the eight of wands for a completed travel and arrows of love."</i><p></p><p>Thursday morning; I had to leave the motel at 5 a.m. so I could be at JFK at 6 a.m. so I could be ready for my 8 a.m. flight. At the airport, I bumped into an information desk where the attendant was giving away little rainbow ribbons; I ended up pinning it to my camera's pack. My departure gate was in a sixties-industrial concourse that could only be reached by bus, so I lingered a while in the nicer main concourse. </p><p><br /></p><p>The floating time during the three days waiting for my Thursday flight was a contrast between the scheduled time with LGL. Instead of having a guide and host, I was on my own; instead of having scheduled Pride events to be at, I had unscheduled tourist events. </p><p>NYC Pride was fun and great and I managed to experience it from a place of privilege. Marching was fun, and dancing and waving to folks from a float was fabulous. </p><p>The only thing I'd change—aside from not having my return flight cancelled—would be the bars and venues to something where conversations could be had (all the bars and places we went to had really loud music, which made understanding folks next to impossible).</p><p>In contrasting and comparing NYC Pride with EUG Pride, I'm reminded that NYC has massive corporate sponsorship, and EUG has maybe city sponsorship. Also NYC has a larger and more diverse community, and can have groups like the Sirens (Dykes on Bikes), and The Eagle, and Gay Water Polo Players, and Education Centers, and Latina/Latino and transgender and gay parent groups. Eugene pride is smaller, with folks like the Unitarian Church, and Spectrum Bar—but the three community pools: Eugene, Springfield, and the University of Oregon, don't always speak to each other.</p><p>I suppose that I need to go to PDX for Gay Dancing with Gay Men over 35.</p><p>And volunteer more.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-52338207050829014492023-06-15T21:46:00.002-07:002023-06-15T21:46:21.039-07:00Signs of Maturity ? <p style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px; text-indent: 18px;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NpzLbV0vcPKB3SOo16qQjQD6DjJwlQ-KaK3oe-zqUcvO7dlLTrMZLxTzoPcfoV59jyVGX-d6QQ2HxmPjd3Ye2-It8h3PModMT3l88KzeQWbg15A0_vg7ryfqmvJwKCkSpvuf4N7XFRlZAiyCVgyqrRnKsQfos1hq3yInA-sGz5nu6ublZw/s3088/IMG_3780.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John looking archly over a giant tea mug" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NpzLbV0vcPKB3SOo16qQjQD6DjJwlQ-KaK3oe-zqUcvO7dlLTrMZLxTzoPcfoV59jyVGX-d6QQ2HxmPjd3Ye2-It8h3PModMT3l88KzeQWbg15A0_vg7ryfqmvJwKCkSpvuf4N7XFRlZAiyCVgyqrRnKsQfos1hq3yInA-sGz5nu6ublZw/w150-h200/IMG_3780.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>The other day I was driving in-laws to the airport.<span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14px;">The traffic was the worst I'd ever seen; when I exited I-5 for highway 205, the congested traffic slowed to about ten miles an hour and stayed that way until just after the Oregon City exits.</span><span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14px;">It picked up a bit where 205 passed Clackamas.</span><span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14px;">As we passed what my Reedy housemates and I used to call the "Tacky-Mess Clown Center," a beat-up white car shot out of an on-ramp, crossed three lanes, wedged itself between my car and the car in front of me, and nearly smashed into my front passengers-side headlight. </span><span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span><p></p>
<p style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 18px;">Reflexes, and possibly The Force, helped me to break (and honk) and avoid a collision. The other driver was obviously insane, but not nearly as insane as another driver who appeared about a minute later and would have happily rammed my rear bumper because I was in her way.</p>
<p style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 18px;">We arrived at the airport unscathed, and I saw my in-laws off. </p>
<p style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 18px;">What strikes me about the whole thing is that if this had happened fifteen years ago, or even five years ago, I would have had a sinking sensation in my stomach and my hands would have been shaking; I would have been replaying the near-accident for the thousandth time by the time I got home. I would have composed an angry and sarcastic song about bad drivers in Portland. But I feel detached from it all—I'm not sure if this is a sign of maturity, or if I should be worried that I'm operating in a fog.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-6368277829695349022023-05-20T10:42:00.001-07:002023-05-20T10:42:49.413-07:00There Will Be Cats<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3fMBobJjvo0lpzO926Qj9vzeJ8hacwLEwQWmkb2gbT6mYYbmagYBuHg_c-C1YOWy7Dh2tBrEHEDCmhU04VJX_lUfgW66-Pgvl5TR59UJVyrnfiPc3a0oDbZ0ZdozozZGcXoSDvhJ04JNoHoR-Fb8nixj3NkR8-UIgPV2W5TwKg8jeitBMw/s4032/IMG_3694.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A grey cat and a black cat on a table" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3fMBobJjvo0lpzO926Qj9vzeJ8hacwLEwQWmkb2gbT6mYYbmagYBuHg_c-C1YOWy7Dh2tBrEHEDCmhU04VJX_lUfgW66-Pgvl5TR59UJVyrnfiPc3a0oDbZ0ZdozozZGcXoSDvhJ04JNoHoR-Fb8nixj3NkR8-UIgPV2W5TwKg8jeitBMw/w150-h200/IMG_3694.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>Lately on Saturday mornings I have been joining a group of writers on Zoom to write virtually together. Groups of people writing in a 45-minutes-on-15-minutes-off cycle is supposed to be good for productivity and writing craft. And I enjoy the social aspect, even if it is virtual.<p></p><p>The next cycle starts in ten minutes, at nine. It's cool and overcast outside. I set up to join the writing session. I get everything ready on our deck outside: the supporting pillows on the wide, outside sectional; the sunbrella set up to block the overcast sun; the tripod desk tilted up against the sectional so it could suspend the laptop over my knees; the wireless keyboard and mouse at ergonomic ready; folding mini-table set with a starry tea cloth and matching starry napkin; a mondo-mug of English Breakfast tea, eggs, a slice of cheese, carrots, and dates laid out on the setting. Even Aoife the pit bull terrier curls up on one corner of the sectional, close enough for her to be at guard rest, but not pressing up against me. </p><p>It's 8:57. The laptop fires up. A Scrivener session begins. Into email for the Zoom link!</p><p>Meanwhile, Smokey our old grey cat, who had been napping on a table on the other side of the deck, smelled my breakfast cheddar, eased his rickety bones off the table, pulled himself up onto the sectional, and quested around for my breakfast. After three rounds of discouragement, his claws got stuck on the tablecloth and he upset the tea mug: tea overflowed the saucer, drenched the tablecloth, and cascaded onto my lap.</p><p>Just as I'm about to click the JOIN button for the Zoom meeting.</p><p>A sullen cat, table linens and pants in cold water to soak out the black tea stains, tepid tea, and twenty minutes later, I pull together pillows and blankets and return to Zoom. Zoom is confused and dropped the meeting, which requires restarting it. </p><p>The timed session is half-over; other writers are muted or have their screens off while they industriously churn out words. I'm too wound up to work on the (too many) fantasy short stories I've got floating around, and I end up writing instead about the experience of not-writing until the host chimes the end of this session.</p><p>I'm not sure why writers are supposed to have cats.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-40845878829198702052023-04-10T17:55:00.020-07:002023-04-10T17:55:00.205-07:00Review: Babel, by R.F. Kuang.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eVOzzvBkrIDMWfr8w-p4wwW1BLBw23HCmgn-nr_b9OH4IYdbCmG2GEOz2w81h7djcjbfd03AkqssKHQ7nNDHiKoWU3okb88KKRcdi6-vC2A2ERK5MVkDmkNygdISfcbZyjaqYJ4xernS3fqrM4nFV2JtwWqWDkRJnMFtWhPcPEE4n-fsZA/s4608/DSCN3057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Small metal sculpture of a Chinese dragon." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0eVOzzvBkrIDMWfr8w-p4wwW1BLBw23HCmgn-nr_b9OH4IYdbCmG2GEOz2w81h7djcjbfd03AkqssKHQ7nNDHiKoWU3okb88KKRcdi6-vC2A2ERK5MVkDmkNygdISfcbZyjaqYJ4xernS3fqrM4nFV2JtwWqWDkRJnMFtWhPcPEE4n-fsZA/w200-h150/DSCN3057.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I've just finished reading "Babel" by R.F. Kuang. The writing was good, although I had to overlook 1883 era characters using the words "morph" and "ridiculous"—two of my pet peeve words—anachronistically. <p></p><p>I went in thinking the novel would be a high fantasy about a magical library, and in a sense Babel is, but the novel is more an alternative magical history meditation on (the British) Empire and colonialism, capitalism, and on the relationships of academia and the military-industrial complex. As someone who has worked for a university for twenty-some years, some of the book's observations about exploitive worker-producer-product relations in the institution of higher education hit close to home. </p><p>The novel ends on a grim but open-ended note, sort of like the end of "The Empire Strikes Back," only without a Rebel Alliance. I will shelve "Babel" with books like "1984," "The Handmaid's Tale," "Animal Farm," and other cultural critique books that are, to paraphrase Anna Russell, "art that one must expose oneself to without thought of reward or enjoyment."</p><div><br /></div>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-33437541544000331072023-04-09T21:54:00.005-07:002023-04-09T21:54:56.370-07:00Easter Family Visit<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaCoIJlqOP3d3HiotifUsN0E-1mNfuRazLriP27MMtaJprMl_XELYD1BtJvqTGQ4e9r7yvE8Vds-UXXhGqxqoV3r9XnhBGuA7sj0fz_a0elcByA_1oCqS-pL_PtSgtQbhE1pqLvMmQzXIPAhVofWoO3oObpBwUKJT-fYQAww1jgcFS68sqw/s4608/DSCN5185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Woodpecker on a tree trunk." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaCoIJlqOP3d3HiotifUsN0E-1mNfuRazLriP27MMtaJprMl_XELYD1BtJvqTGQ4e9r7yvE8Vds-UXXhGqxqoV3r9XnhBGuA7sj0fz_a0elcByA_1oCqS-pL_PtSgtQbhE1pqLvMmQzXIPAhVofWoO3oObpBwUKJT-fYQAww1jgcFS68sqw/w150-h200/DSCN5185.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>It's Easter Sunday and an atmospheric river has made the morning grey and wet. In the distant southeast there was a morning glimmer of gold along an edge of pending rain. Yesterday was sunnier, which is better for my mood. <p></p><p>We visited my folks for a gathering of ten. In addition to my immediate family, my vintner cousins, K & B visited. K & B brought wine, hors d'oeuvres, and an extra boost of energy to the gathering. My sister put in a lot of effort in to food production, and made a scrumptious chicken main entry. We (or rather, Mark) brought carrot-cake cupcakes for dessert. And there were Easter candies. </p><p>The route to my folks' house follows Highway 99 and Territorial Highway. Over February the bald eagles would gather on the tops of power line poles overlooking the fields where the lambs were being born; one time we must have seen around ten or so. This time around, we saw five miserable-looking and soaked golden (we think) eagles sulking along the top branches of a tree overlooking the river. We also saw joggers, who looked like they were inviting hypothermia, but I guess when one is running in 50F rains, it's not so bad.</p><p>The rain slacked off some over the day. In the afternoon a woodpecker visited a dying oak tree next door. Since it was level with my folk's deck, I managed to get a photograph of it.</p><div><br /></div>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492013.post-48291695540769302562023-03-24T22:49:00.001-07:002023-03-25T21:58:04.721-07:00Dream: Naked Wounds<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftHyo6NihZroHauAZPt2p7cGvq6FQQIQyEchpaDkD1u5u1t-bI8YSSzuF8JW5KxlwCE1K5bpEY3j16cjo0S99-G_0pUSCmWGnAXxlLZHOrQaIAycPLxjgIPwQARZKOjStXnVHcK-VDo7muOLKw21Z-vNQfPpmUgFl-_c_zzFp8i0YtZRWvQ/s4608/DSCN9196.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftHyo6NihZroHauAZPt2p7cGvq6FQQIQyEchpaDkD1u5u1t-bI8YSSzuF8JW5KxlwCE1K5bpEY3j16cjo0S99-G_0pUSCmWGnAXxlLZHOrQaIAycPLxjgIPwQARZKOjStXnVHcK-VDo7muOLKw21Z-vNQfPpmUgFl-_c_zzFp8i0YtZRWvQ/w200-h150/DSCN9196.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Tuesday night. We join the dream in progress...<p></p><p>I was at Arcosanti. Usually, Arcosanti dreams involve odd road-trips or airport anxiety, but not this time. No; this time I was changing into clothing and was worried that I was going to be walked in on in a state of undress. I'm not recalling much about the room that I was in other than it was rectangular and had white stucco walls—I couldn't even tell you what part of Arcosanti I was in, only that I was there. Somehow, I managed to get pants on before anyone could enter the room.</p><p>A guy, I can't recall if it was C.A. or D.R. came in. "Whoa!" He pointed to my chest. "That's some cut you've got there." </p><p>I looked down. Earlier in the dream (or at least in the dream's story line), I had cut my myself just below my left pectoral muscle with a very long kitchen (Chef's) knife. I had a finger-length slice oozing blood. "Uh, yeah," I said, looking at the red opening. "I probably should have gotten it stitched shut." The more I looked, the wider and deeper the cut became, until I was looking underneath a hunk of my crimson flesh. It didn't hurt, but there was a sense that I had this big gaping wound that needed more than just a bandaid. </p><p>And then the dream went on to other things.</p><p>I woke up with Sting's 1988 song, "Lazarus Heart" in my head (which I haven't heard in ages, and on those instances when I do recall it, I normally just recall the phrase, "lifts her eyes to the sky / like a flower to the rain"). I'm not quite sure what prompted this dream, although I have been reading books on the tarot and Kabbalah before going to sleep, so maybe I picked up wounded heart symbolism from Dion Fortune.</p>Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15543619001490034240noreply@blogger.com0