fish without faces

the (a)politics of Google doodles & some Christmas syncretism

2012-01-10T11:03:00.011-07:00

I sometimes wonder how/why the people at Google chose certain people & events to recognize on certain days with their Google doodles.

Like last year, when Borges got the nod--on his 112th (?) birthday--the search it brought up happened to coincide with some news stories about an old favorite café of his in Buenos Aires getting turned into a Nike store.

So, for example, is this Google obliquely waving its magic wand to bring such a cultural outrage to the attention of tens of millions? Or, even more often, is it just to say "Hooray for Burning Man" or "Yay! Thanksgiving! Tetris! Legos!"? (That Queen/Freddie Mercury cartoon from last August was also pretty killer!)

Whatever the case, it was good to see Nicolas Steno get a shout out today for his 374th (is this a significant anniversary?) birthday.

It also reminds me that I've been meaning to post these photos from Christmas, where Ash & Tom customized Grandma's nativity.

Does this particular meshing of cosmologies qualify as syncretism?

T-Rex chewing on the "salty (salt dough) baby Jesus".

another trailer

2012-01-06T11:04:00.006-07:00

teenwolves of twilight from g e brooks on Vimeo.

Willy Krueger & the Chocolate Factory

2011-12-03T09:21:00.004-07:00

Willy Krueger and the Chocolate Factory from g e brooks on Vimeo.

tortillas

2011-11-11T11:11:00.002-07:00

scenes from the occupations

2011-10-31T16:11:00.005-06:00

why OWS has left Washington behind
an open letter

the plague in Athens

2011-10-31T09:29:00.000-06:00

“The season was admitted to have been remarkably free from ordinary sickness; and if anybody was already ill of any other disease, it was absorbed in this. Many who were in perfect health, all in a moment, and without any apparent reason, were seized with violent heats in the head and with redness and inflammation of the eyes. Internally the throat and the tongue were quickly suffused with blood, and the breath became unnatural and fetid. There followed sneezing and hoarseness; in a short time the disorder, accompanied by a violent cough, reached the chest; then fastening lower down, it would move the stomach and bring on all the vomits of bile to which physicians have ever given names; and they were very distressing. An ineffectual retching producing violent convulsions attacked most of the sufferers; some as soon as the previous symptoms had abated, others not until long afterwards. The body externally was not so very hot to the touch, nor yet pale; it was of a livid color inclining to red, and breaking out in pustules and ulcers. But the internal fever was intense; the sufferers could not bear to have on them even the finest linen garment; they insisted on being naked, and there was nothing which they longed for more eagerly than to throw themselves into cold water. And many of those who had no one to look after them actually plunged into the cisterns, for they were tormented by unceasing thirst, which was not in the least assuaged whether they drank little or much. They could not sleep; a restlessness which was intolerable never left them. While the disease was at its height the body, instead of wasting away, held out amid these sufferings in a marvelous manner, and either they died on the seventh or ninth day, not of weakness, for their strength was not exhausted, but of internal fever, which was the end of most; or, if they survived, then the disease descended into the bowels and there produced violent ulceration; severe diarrhea at the same time set in, and at a later stage caused exhaustion, which finally with few exceptions carried them off. For the disorder which had originally settled in the head passed gradually through the whole body, and, if a person got over the worst, would often seize the extremities and leave its mark, attacking the privy parts and the fingers and the toes; and some escaped with the loss of these, some with the loss of their eyes. Some again had no sooner recovered than they were seized with a forgetfulness of all things and knew neither themselves nor their friends.

“The malady took a form not to be described, and the fury with which it fastened upon each sufferer was too much for human nature to endure. There was one circumstance in particular which distinguished it from ordinary diseases. The birds and animals which feed on human flesh, although so many bodies were lying unburied, either never came near them, or died if they touched them. This was proved by a remarkable disappearance of the birds of prey, which were not to be seen either about the bodies or anywhere else; while in the case of the dogs the result was even more obvious, because they live with man.

…

“Most appalling was the despondency which seized upon any one who felt himself sickening; for he instantly abandoned his mind to despair and, instead of holding out, absolutely threw away his chance of life. Appalling too was the rapidity with which men caught the infection; dying like sheep if they attended on one another; and this was the principal cause of mortality. When they were afraid to visit one another, the sufferers died in their solitude, so that many houses were empty because there had been no one left to take care of the sick; or if they ventured they perished, especially those who aspired to heroism. For they went to see their friends without thought of themselves and were ashamed to leave them, at a time when the very relations of the dying were at last growing weary and ceased even to make lamentations, overwhelmed by the vastness of the calamity. But whatever instances there may have been of such devotion, more often the sick and the dying were tended by the pitying care of those who had recovered, because they knew the course of the disease and were themselves free from apprehension. For no one was ever attacked a second time, or not with a fatal result. All men congratulated them, and they themselves, in the excess of their joy at the moment, had an innocent fancy that they could not die of any other sickness.

“The crowding of the people out of the country into the city aggravated the misery; and the newly-arrived suffered most. For, having no houses of their own, but inhabiting in the height of summer stifling huts, the mortality among them was dreadful, and they perished in wild disorder. The dead lay as they had died, one upon another, while others hardly alive wallowed in the streets and crawled about every fountain craving for water. The temples in which they lodged were full of the corpses of those who died in them; for the violence of the calamity was such that men, not knowing where to turn, grew reckless of all law, human and divine. The customs which had hitherto been observed at funerals were universally violated, and they buried their dead each one as best he could. Many, having no proper appliances, because the deaths in their household had been so numerous already, lost all shame in the burial of the dead. When one man had raised a funeral pile, others would come, and throwing on their dead first, set fire to it; or when some other corpse was already burning, before they could be stopped, would throw their own dead upon it and depart.”

--Thucydides, 430 BC

from History of the Peloponnesian War

holiday rerun: pompions past

2011-10-30T18:35:00.008-06:00

The best thing about all the xmas catalogues and junk mail coming earlier and earlier each year is putting them to Halloween tunes:
"awroo00O! Chadwicks of Boston" to the tune of "Werewolves of London," and so on.

related: calaveras, muertos, pumpkin mold

piñones

2011-10-29T19:01:00.010-06:00

They had artichokes for 33 cents each at the grocery store.

33. cents. each.
I went and got 40 of them.

Artichokes for dinner all week. Big grey-green piles of leaves and petals heaped up on the table every night.

But pine nuts are still ~$10/lb.

So we went out and collected some of our own this year.

(Also, FYI, they explode like popcorn/firecrackers if you keep them roasting too long.)

related: cones

hacking honeybuns, pigeons, &c. (inside and out)

2011-10-28T17:19:00.012-06:00

Waiting around at CVS (pharmacy/crapstore) for my flu shot the other day, I got to reading the label of a Mrs. Freshley's Honey Bun. I was on the ethoxylated monoglicerides when I remembered that I'd meant to post this great little article my brother sent me from this newspaper in St. Petersburg Florida earlier this year.

Honey Buns as prison currency, as "hooch wine" ingredients, birthday cakes, last meals, &c.

On that note, check these other improvised prison technologies --for both living inside, and breaking out.
Mark Steinmetz' *fantastic* photo slideshow.

& these little stoves, darts, shivs, &c. at Tóxico

Finally, there's this story from a couple years ago, about carrier pigeons trying to use Brazilian yard birds to force their own obsolescence.

related: exploiting systems

hacking the city, the streets, the copyright

2011-09-13T09:53:00.019-06:00

Earlier this summer we were in San Francisco with some friends, trying to reacquaint the kids with Chinatown without breaking anything or getting run over, when we saw a guy painting a brilliant dragon mural that had a big square of plexiglass down in the corner. Here's the Banksy stencil painting, now protected by the City, that he was painting around. As great as it was to see the Banksy painting, it was an even better surprise to see someone now working in the margins of that painting. Wish I'd gotten a photo. Sorry, I guess you'll have to visit Chinatown.

Until then, here are a few movies that I've been into lately that sort of deal with this idea of working and playing in the margins, starting, actually, with Banksy. I'm not out to review them or anything, but I do give them each a bunch of stars.

Exit through the Gift Shop (2010)

Dogtown & Z-Boys (2001)

“Two hundred years of American technology has unwittingly created a massive cement playground of unlimited potential. But it was the minds of 11 year olds that could see that potential”

- Craig Stecyk, 1975

Be Kind Rewind (2008)

Finally, here's one recent take on margins and this question of the cultural commons--not part of the film, don't worry:

“In premodern England, villagers used to annually ‘beat the bounds’ of the commons. Armed with axes, mattocks, and crowbars, they would perambulate the public ways and common fields, demolishing any encroaching hedges, fences, stiles, and buildings that had been erected without permission. To bring formalities back to copyright would nicely beat the bounds of the cultural commons. I doubt it was apparent in the late 1970s that abandoning formalities would amount to a taking from the commons, but that is what it has turned out to be. To restate but one piece of what has already been said: In the old days, with a renewal requirement, 85 percent of all work passed into the public domain after 28 years; now, without it, that sizable portion remains enclosed (uselessly so) for another generation or more.

...

Simply put, by reducing the de facto reach of monopoly privileges, formalities enrich the cultural commons. If they also remind us that copyrights are creatures of positive law, not of natural right, and thus also push back against what might be called ‘conceptual enclosure,’ so much the better.”

-Lewis Hyde

related: Moose Curtis, feeding fish

Walking in the City

2011-09-11T08:46:00.002-06:00

The desire to see the city preceded the means of satisfying it. Medieval or Renaissance painters represented the city as seen in a perspective that no eye had yet enjoyed. This fiction already made the medieval spectator into a celestial eye. It created gods. Have things changed since technical procedures have organized an "all-seeing power"?
...
The ordinary practitioners of the city live "down below," below the thresholds at which visibility begins. They walk--an elementary form of this experience of the city, they are walkers, whose bodies follow the thicks and thins of an urban "text" they write without being able to read it. A migrational, or metaphorical city thus slips into the clear text of the planned and readable city.
...
The story begins on ground level with footsteps. They are myriad, but do not compose a series. Their swarming mass is an innumerable collection of singularities. Their intertwined paths give their shape to spaces. They weave places together.
...
The act of walking is to the urban system what the speech act is to language; it is a process of appropriation of the topographical system on the part of the pedestrian (just as the speaker appropriates and takes on the language).
...
We could mention the fleeting images, yellowish-green and metallic blue calligraphies that howl without raising their voices and emblazon themselves on the subterranean passages of the city, "embroideries" composed of letters and numbers, perfect gestures of violence painted with a pistol, Shivas made of written characters, dancing graphics whose fleeting apparitions are accompanied by the rumble of subway trains: New York graffiti.
...
The childhood experience that determines spatial practices later develops its effects, proliferates, floods private and public spaces, undoes their readable surfaces, and creates within the planned city a "metaphorical" or mobile city.

-- Michel de Certeau, 1990

Chinatown haiku

2011-09-09T13:46:00.008-06:00

all right. here we are
neighborhood of make-believe
museum-go-round

cable car trolley
ore skip of the surface streets
every body off

there, in the middle
of your post card, he gestures,
that's my Acura

speaking so softly
and with their haricuts
Indios take pictures

*
related: early summer, looking up, accident, waiting, wooden cars

lucky eyes, evil eyes, third eyes

2011-09-06T11:46:00.005-06:00

You know the bindi? The colored dot some Indian women traditionally wear on their foreheads? Ash is really into bindis, ever since she saw little girl with on in one of her story books. Now, for the last couple months, everyone she draws gets a bindi. Herself, me, Kelly, Tom, the Sun, Grandpa Rem. These are giant bindis too. More like great big moles, or dark, mystical third eyes. Here are a few examples, in watercolor and highlighter.

Tom's deal, on the other hand, is quite different. Earlier this year he started doing this thing (mostly when we're sitting at the table, trying to eat dinner or something) where he lowers his chin to his chest and says "two Moms," or "two Ashes," or "two grapefruits." We couldn't figure it out at first, but soon realized that he was going walleyed (I think the medical term would be exotropia/exotropic), giving himself double-vision.

I'm not sure whether it's fair to blame/credit the nazar charm a Turkish friend of ours gave him last summer, but it has been hanging over his bed from a mobile for the past year, keeping the evil eye off.

Should I call these things "talents"? If so, they're ones I don't mind encouraging, especially if, in Tom's case, it might eventually place him among such distinguished company as, say, Peter Lorre, Marty Feldman, and (Dad, you'll like this) Leo McKern.

related: ash draws

Pedestrain Day(s) in Bolivia

2011-09-05T13:17:00.026-06:00

"What's the matter with you?! Today is Pedestrian Day; you can't drive!" shouted Jorge, an offended seven-year-old who was playing soccer with his friends on the Avenida Esteban Arze de Villa San Antonio. For just a moment, an authorized vehicle had broken through his improvised soccer field.

This is how the front page article begins in today's la Razón, Bolivia's national daily newspaper. Yesterday Bolivia cleared about 2 million cars from the streets in nine cities, calling it, officially, if not very succinctly, "National Pedestrian and Cyclist Day in Defense of Mother Earth."

Volleyball, street markets, music and dancing, kids throwing tops, hundreds of bikes (a lot of them on the freeways), people playing hopscotch in zebra costumes, old Chola ladies in bowler hats doing tai chi, etc. Of the forty or so people that got busted for driving, one was someone from the mayor's office, another it turns out, a drunken senator.

There's a video montage over here with this little article from the bbc, and maybe check out the general wikipedia article on car-free days.

As fabulous as this all is, though, it's worth noting here that Bolivia's real pedestrian event actually began last month, when over 1000 Bolivian Indians started marching 400 or so miles--from the Amazon Basin up to La Paz, at 12,000 feet elevation!--to protest a new highway through TIPNIS (Isibordo Sécure National Park and Indigenous Territory) land.

some more details (English), and 16 minutes of interviews (Spanish)

related (offsite): patagonia sin represas

endless tide pools

2011-08-27T23:04:00.013-06:00

some photos I've been meaning to post for the last month.

mono lake, on the eastern sierra

caves and beach house ruins at crystal cove

maguey flowers & Tom finds some pickleweek, gooseneck barnacles

some big sea hares!

and did you know that this creature is an anemone?
not, as I had always thought, an "anenome".
right. I know. I feel like I've been saying "liberry" all these years.

related: capybaras & barnacle geese, cacti, the snout, the obliging cephalopod, (endless pools), august moon

firmament

2011-08-26T16:29:00.004-06:00

this will appear along with two other images as part of an article on Mormon mysticism in the next Sunstone magazine.

related: dream mine, 3 grand keys

wide conqueror

2011-08-04T17:06:00.016-06:00

If you’re scheming something to do with old tires, looking for ideas and examples, there’s a fine line between inspiration and intimidation. Considering what people have been doing with spent tires, there’s plenty to envy in the way of resourcefulness and craftsmanship.

the GIANT robots & dinosaurs at this Tokyo tire park

there's Dr. Mars J. Läns’ Earth Tire Foundation

(Check out Mars & Rita in the studio, tricking out a shopping cart, and posing with mayors and senators.)

Inspiration Green (a beautiful and killer site!) has a page cataloging all kinds of uses for tires in art and design. Here's just a little selection.

And, finally, there's Go Play!’s fabulous open-source playground movement. If you like this, you may also want to visit Arcady's playscapes blog.

So by the time I finally found the celebrated Ray’s Tire Exchange here in town (under the Wells Avenue overpass) I already had a general idea of what I wanted to do. I was thinking of something a 40 lb kid could bounce and climb on, but also crawl under/through. Something that might get them dirty, but not that they were going to cut or strangle themselves on. Also, if I could make it look like some kind of monster, all the better.

While I was in getting the tires, Ash and Tom did a good job waiting patiently in the truck--partly because I told them this was about building something fun, and I think partly because it was an unfamiliar part of town, where they felt more inclined to sit tight than to get out and wander. Sure enough, Ray’s had heaps of them, and the perfect “whatever. over there’s the scrap pile. help yourself” attitude.

We took home 6 tires and, for now, this is what we came up with. I worked a few old bike tires into it too and, aside from those, there was no sawing or chopping of rubber or steel belts here. But if you’re looking for encouragement in this direction, here's a short, surprisingly soothing video about how to cut up tires for stuff like this.

Of course there's no guarantee that anything you make will stay that interesting for very long, especially when there's hanging laundry to play in; it gets hard to compete.

roundup: earwigs, sabotage

2011-08-01T15:55:00.035-06:00

On Saturday I was out in the backyard, checking my earwig traps and watering the potatoes—the last remnant of a garden their ravages have left us this season—when my brother called. He’d spent the last week, among other things, following Tim DeChristopher’s federal sentencing and conducting some pedestrian sabotage of his own across downtown.

Actually, maybe I should back up here and begin by revisiting some stories I’ve been neglecting for the last couple years.

First of all, remember, Muntadhar al-Zaidi? The Iraqui journalist who put the shoes back into sabotage in Dec. 2009? After a 90 minute trial, he was sentenced to 3 years in prison, then released for good behavior after 9 months. Beatings. Routine torture. He’s been out for a couple years now. There’s even a play about it all that opened last month.

On the other hand, nobody’s staged any plays about Tim DeChrisotpher, unless you count the farce of a federal trial that pronounced his two year sentence and $10,000 fine last week, or the protests, demonstrations, and zip-tie sit-ins that happened in response. First of all, if you only read one thing about DeChristopher’s actions, motives, trial, and sentencing, read his official statement from his sentencing last Tuesday. It’s not short, but it’s one of the most honest, articulate, badass and polite things I’ve ever read on civil disobedience and the US legal system, our energy economy, environmental justice, and the ethical and civic imperatives of climate change.

"...This is really the heart of what this case is about. The rule of law is dependent upon a government that is willing to abide by the law. Disrespect for the rule of law begins when the government believes itself and its corporate sponsors to be above the law..."

Since last week’s sentencing, there’s been coverage on NPR, in the Guardian UK, Rolling Stone, and the LA Times—an op-ed byPeter(paul&mary) Yarrow. For better or for worse, Rolling Stone makes another facile analogy to RosaParks, but they’re not alone. In all the media on the trial, there have been comparisons to Dr. King, Thoreau, Gandhi, Susan B Anthony, and even Brigham Young. Why, in a reckless appeal to a readership of tea partiers and other Utah County conservatives, I even made a comparison to an angry horde of early Bostonians in brownface in a letter I wrote to a local newspaper editor a couple years ago.

But over the last month, some of the best coverage of the story has been, probably not surprisingly, from the Salt Lake Tribune. For starters, Brandon Loomis gives a very nice summary of things here. They ran a couple short letters from locals Terry TempestWilliams and Scott Carrier. There’s a great piece from Bill McKibben. And Paul Rolly’s column pretty well nails the hypocrisy and inconsistency of Utah’s selective enforcement of federal law when it comes to land use in the state.

Here’s a piece from the Tribune’s Friday op-ed.

“Now that [Judge] Benson has spelled out his reasons for sending DeChristopher to prison for two years, we are convinced this charade of a prosecution was bogus from the beginning.

“DeChristopher was not prosecuted because he caused harm to the government, to energy developers or to taxpayers, but because he was widely praised for his bold effort to draw attention to a crisis that has been largely ignored by our government. The lease auction that put some precious public lands on the block to be sold for development of fossil fuel energy was later deemed by courts and the federal government to have been illegal. In simple terms, DeChristopher was right.

“And, by his own admission, Benson punished him for pointing out something that conservatives do not want to hear: Human-caused climate change and government negligence in addressing its consequences are threatening the globe.

“Following the sentencing, the judge acknowledged that DeChristopher’s act of civil disobedience — for that’s precisely what it was — was “not that bad” and should not have prompted a prison term, and possibly no prosecution at all. What sent DeChristopher to prison was his brave exercise of his constitutional right to free speech.”

As entertaining/frustrating as it has been to watch the rhetorical angles of the prosecution (and, strangely but maybe predictably, of the court itself) slide all over the place, it has been even more encouraging to see how the terms of Tim’s defense—and the movement that has joined him—have adapted to the scale of the stakes involved.

This is a lot of what TR and I talked about the other day, how DeChristopher’s story, and the Peaceful Uprising/Bidder 70 movement that has grown out of it, have gone from being mostly about local, site-specific land conservation/preservation (v. oil/gas/coal extraction), to now calling for broader, more comprehensive action in response to CO2 emissions and climate change. For example, in December 2009, when Tim crashed the auction, he entered a debate that had, until that point, revolved mainly around wilderness, public lands, and the problems of “drilling in some of Utah’s most scenic redrock desert.” These issues were also emphasized early on in coverage by NPR, the New York Times, and the Peaceful Uprising website, which talks about the importance of protecting "lands deemed special because of their beauty or fragility," and where DeChristopher says that "it was more just based on me watching one parcel after another end up in the hands of developers, watching all those parcels go by and knowing that I could have stopped it."

But by the following October, the NY Times article opens with the statement that “Tim DeChristopher became convinced last year that global warming’s potential effects were so urgent and dire that direct action was needed.” By then, the movement had mobilized the trial’s momentum way beyond the limited meaning of the voided auctioned parcels themselves. Of course, I’m not saying that land, air, and carbon (and our national denial about how we use them) aren’t deeply connected, or that this is some kind of rhetorical sleight of hand. It’s just worth a look, I think, to consider how a movement that started with local “preservationists, conservationists, archaeologists, business owners, river runners, anglers and hunters” has effectively opened up discussion about a global problem, and, more specifically, about the persistent failure of our policymakers to confront it.

Anyway, here are a couple videos, if you’re tired of reading what’s definitely been my longest post here in a while. When it rains, it pours. Earwigs. It pours earwigs. When it rains, earwigs, I mean.

Looks like they’re making a documentary. Here’s a trailer.

Bidder 70 from Gage & Gage Productions on Vimeo.

And this from a Magnetic Zero.

Let's Win! from Alexander on Vimeo.

For now, Tim has been ordered into immediate custody. He and his lawyers are planning an appeal. You can follow things over at Bidder70.org and Peaceful Uprising.

peavine on fire

2011-07-30T15:52:00.013-06:00

When we first moved into the neighborhood two years ago, Mike-next-door was the first person we met. He was out mowing the lawn in his scars and a red tank top. Looking like the Kool-Aid Man. Mike walks his bulldogs up and down the neighborhood and comes out to the curb for the ice cream man.

Last night when Peavine Mountain caught fire in a lightning storm he was out on the front lawn sharing his binoculars. “I’ve lived here 57 years, man. I’ve seen that mountain burn up like 20 times."

The next morning I took Ash & Tom up for a closer look. Ash was pretty interested, but Tom wasn't having any of it.

school lions

2011-07-04T19:22:00.001-06:00

related: wha' happen?, lion hunt, Shasta the liger has a posse

Missississississississippi Canyon w/ Larry & Griffy

2011-04-21T22:33:00.020-06:00

This geographer/geologist Clarence Dutton supposedly once said that if you could see Nevada's Basin and Range from above, it would look like an army of caterpillars marching south toward Mexico. That was like 100 years ago (100+ BG), so now the "if," like so many other ifs, has been replaced by satellite.
Anyway, one of those caterpillars is the Stillwater Range. Mississippi Canyon drains out of its eastern slope onto Dixie Valley. Tax day weekend, Larry and Griffy from across the street took me to see the place. From the condition of the trail, and the vintage of the few articles of human debris we came across, it looks like people have pretty much left the upper canyon alone for over a decade.

Also, I've been meaning to share this for a while. Here seems as good a place as any:

sustancia bondadosa es el cielo

nos da la realdad y también el lago

es azul en su centro y poblado de astros

kind substance the sky

gives us reality and the lake also

is blue in its center and peopled with stars

-Homero Aridjis

1969 Los espacios azules/Blue Spaces

related: highway 50

March

2011-03-31T09:09:00.007-06:00

The truck passed emissions.

Anniversary. (10 years!)

My gmail got hacked.

Ash turned 4; Disneyland.

70 degrees again. Coyotes. Frogs. Short sleeves.

The kids are now immunized.

I just got this book review published.

and a couple of poems at Willows Wept review.

current job application stats:
25+ applications submitted,
1 interview,
11 rejections,
~14 still pending.

Kelly discovered a new bakery.

3 short improvised plays

2011-02-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

Ash & Tom "driving" in their car (2 wooden chairs) in the living room, surrounded by a mess of books and toys, after dinner.

1st Play

Tom: Where we going, Asha?

Ash: Yosemite. And maybe you will throw up.

Tom: Hey Ash, I threw up in the car.

Ash: I will clean you up. And here's a coat.

2nd Play

Tom: Where we going to, Asha?

Ash: San Francisco. It's not very far. You won't throw up.

Tom: Put my seat belt on.

Ash: Here we are! It's just books.

3rd play

Tom: Where we going? Let's go to Grandma's house.

Ash: Put your seat belt on. pu-DIP!

Tom: pu-DIP!

Ash: Here we are, Pyramid Lake! Here we are. Wow, I've never been here before. It has mostly books and toys.

Tom (singing): Pyramid Lake! Pyra(BURP)mid Lake! Pyramid Lake! Pyramid Lake!

enter monsters...

350 eARTh: King Canute has a posse

2011-01-06T18:33:00.001-07:00

details here

of cartographies

2010-12-28T16:33:00.016-07:00

I must have the look of a guy who could use a map: disoriented, off track, out of place.

For Christmas last year my dad got us a great National Geographic world atlas. It's huge too, like a kitchen door with pages. The same year my brother gave me this beautiful physiographic map of Nevada from raven maps. One of the things I really like about this one is how starkly it shows the caprice of state boundaries, especially with western states, like a cut of meat laid out on white butcher paper. It’s about 4 x 5 feet and takes up an entire wall at our house!

And this year my mom went to visit my sister in Scotland where they found me this fabulous Seale/Rapin map of North America from 1745, “with the European settlements &. whatever elfe is remarkable in ye West Indies, from the lateft and beft obfervations.”It’s from the Carson Clark Gallery in Edinburgh, who does maps and sea charts from the 16^thto 19^th centuries.

While we’re on the subject, and limited wallspace isn’t an issue, here are a few more to look at.

Let's start with an old favorite.

A high school teacher of mine kept this one hung up in his classroom.

Joel Garreau’s “nine nations of north America," as of 1981.

this land is your land, this land is my land

Another favorite. Where to begin.

Maybe even better, this one goes a step further, putting "the West" back out on the margins, splitting the Prime Meridian, and centering the International Date Line.

Above, toy exports & toy imports. These Worldmapper guys have hundreds like this! Like, you can sort of see where Santa's elves live.

clothing imports look similar.

grain exports.

weapon exports.

nuclear weapons.

landmine casualties.

rabies deaths.

and books published.

the Book Depository shows a map of who's online buying what books where. the “live” thing is a little misleading, but a cool idea all the same.

below, a geography of narcissism and leisure, or "who's using facebook?"

On a similar note, here's this little piece of steampunk foppery from boingboing.

And check out Kevin Kelly’s 2009 internet mapping project on the Technium.

Also see mapping stereotypes, where there's an especially fine collection of inter-European prejudices. (Thanks for the tip, Jon P. Spencer!) Now they've even done a 2011 calendar.

Ex: the American view.

And, finally, for some more great old ones, the David Rumsey map collection has thousands of all kinds, like this heights of mountains, lengths of rivers from 1846.

writer photos

2010-12-21T10:34:00.005-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I was at this used bookstore with Tom, who, for an illiterate two-year-old that can only reach the second shelf, does pretty well at bookstores. This time we’d already run a few errands so he was a little antsier than usual. And as I was looking through the M's for a copy of Beloved, he started pulling stuff off the shelves.

At the library I once watched a mother beat her kid for getting all excited and pulling out too many books at once. I’d rather Tom like books than reverence or fear them, even if it means he trashes a few. I looked up and saw the backs of a bunch of James Patterson novels that had been set up on display facing the opposite side—James Patterson whose bib reads like a daytime TV series. So I handed one to Tom, reasoning to myself that he could do his worst and it would be like spoiling a $2 roll of paper towels. No problem.

But all the different author pics on the backs of those James Patterson novels was a little more unsettling. Patterson the dopey-eyed novelist. The wristwatch model. The waterside character with a mouth like a rabbit’s bum, as it were, and some sort of flattened baseball cap draped over his skull. Since then I’ve paid more attention to the photos writers and publishers choose to put on their dust jackets, who they’re trying to be there, what certain props and other accessories are supposed to mean, and why author photos at all.

Here are a few more examples.
Let's start with a couple of V.S. Naipaul, OK?

At left, the working writer. The earnest, enigmatic creator and custodian of a heaping tome of a (probably type-written) manuscript. Heavy glasses.
On the right, the elderly, joshing libertine, playfully thrusting a cat your way.

more cats:

Phillip K. Dick clutches one.
Mark Twain, in his white suit here, with a kitten and cigar. Like a nice cat, smoking, actually, is tremendously helpful for simultaneously offsetting and emphasizing the "thoughtful guy" ethos of a good author portrait.

Steinbeck holding his smoke like a riddle beside his face; I've always liked this one.
Bukowski, whose portrait would be incomplete (maybe indistinguishable) without a faceful.
And David Sedaris, of course.

As fine as smoke is, see how striking the turbulent clouds in this one of Borges for comparison.

And must a portrait be a human face? Why?

These last two of Borges are by Susana Mulé. With cane. Between to Asian men. (Also, another cat.)

Finally, maybe another genre itself: critics, theorists, and other such types.

Derrida, as always, looking like a rock star.
Slajov Žižek, who acts like a rock star. (Real awkward family photo material here.)
Walter Mignolo, quite appropriately placed in the foreground of what looks like a labrynth garden, sneaky guys milling around in the background.
And Christopher Lloyd?

2010-11-25T16:46:00.008-07:00

Chac Mool

2010-10-10T11:59:00.001-06:00

A few years ago I wanted to read Carlos Fuentes' story Chac Mool to some teenagers at Birch Creek Service Ranch, where I was working. I looked for an English translation but couldn't find any, so I did my own. I guess I didn't look around that hard because it turns out there are already some good translations out there.

Anyway, this is the first time my version has seen the light of day since it put 6 or 7 boys to sleep--halfway into the story--in a side canyon of Death Hollow.

Enjoy?

happy labor day

2010-09-06T08:39:00.002-06:00

related: hallelujah, bum again

losing contact

2010-09-01T08:24:00.009-06:00

They are so skilled in running that without resting or tiring they run from morning until night following a deer. And in this way they kill many of them, because they follow them until they tire them, and sometimes they take them alive.
...
Many times when we were with these people, we went three or four days without eating, because nothing was available. To cheer us up, they told they told us that we should not be sad, because soon there would be prickly pears, and we would eat many and drink of their juice, and our bellies would be big, and we would be very content and happy without hunger whatsoever.
...
And when the time of the prickly pears returned, we again gathered in the same place. Inasmuch as we had resolved to to flee and had set the day to do so, that same day the Indians separated us, and each one of us went his own way. And I said to my companions that I would wait for them at the prickly pear grounds until the moon was full. And this day was the first of September [1534], and the first day of the new moon.* And I informed them that if they did not come during this time as we agreed, I would go alone and leave them behind.

- Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca

* Cabeza de Vaca's references to specific dates six years after losing contact with Spanish civilization cannot be taken literally.

related: running after antelope &c.

Peavine Half~Marathon

2010-08-10T10:22:00.014-06:00

Announcing: The Peavine Mountain Half~Marathon.

Where: Beginning at Peavine Road (which is just off of North Virginia St. in Stead). If you're going up N. Virginia it's an unmarked dirt road on your left, shortly after you cross the railroad tracks; if you get to the zoo you've gone too far. Here's a great little map from USATF, where you can zoom in and look around. We'll be running up to the radio towers on the summit--8,200 feet--and then back down.

When: Saturday, August 28. Meet at 7:30 am, running by 8 am.

How: However you like. I'm running. You can run it too. Or bike it. Or walk some. Or round up another friend or two to relay with you. Tag in and out of a support vehicle. Whatever. Peavine Road is leveled and improved all the way up so you could drive a sedan to the top. No high clearance or 4x4 required. No kidding. No race clock. No hurry.

Distance: 14 miles total

Cost: Free, or course. Plus: there will be snacks!

Also: Did I mention it's beautiful? The grade of road itself is pretty gradual: no terribly killer steep stretches. From what I can tell, the total elevation gain is about 2,000 feet, perhaps slightly more.

A little more about Peavine: You know Peavine. It's the mountain north of Reno where they keep the big R & N. The one that's all yellowed over with cheat-grass when you look at it from the south. But the approach from Peavine Road (north) is spotted with sage, mule's ear, then gets into forests of mountain mahogany, with even a few groves of aspen, willow, and pines.

Finally: If you've got any more questions, here's a very legal event disclaimer and FAQ (a la Gil Scott Heron, as usual) for you to sign off on. Otherwise, feel free to post any other questions (or just sign up!) in the comments section.

related: suit run, wasatch plateau marathons

Pyramid Lake III

2010-07-19T23:04:00.009-06:00

Last week Kelly was in Wisconsin visiting her sister so I had a few days to pal around with Ash and Tom. I’d been up to Pyramid Lake a few times but never really made it that far up the east side, which is where the big pyramid lives.

I had some reservations about taking our two chicos truck-camping up a remote desert road in July, but figured if those poor slobs hauled a cannon out there with horses, we could probably manage well enough. Considering the engine overheated 10 or so miles in on the dirt road, and that we had to change a flat, and that Tom went tumbling over the tailgate at one point, and that both kids got acquainted with all kinds of nettles and spider bites, they were eminently good little sports.

related: where do mummies come from? & HWY 50

Pyramid Lake II

2010-07-19T15:24:00.010-06:00

A lot of northern Nevada drains into this desert terminus called Pyramid Lake, about an hour north of Reno. The best description I can offer is something between the more arid side of Bear Lake and a miniature, less saline Sea of Cortez. What I mean is it’s phenomenally stark and beautiful. A long cerulean blue mirage that actually is water.

Here’s a photo a friend took up there last year.

Also, if you bought one of those new apple ipads you’ve got a sleeker and slightly doctored (check the exaggerated symmetry in the widescreen version) picture of the place at dusk, probably overlaid with a few desktop icons. All of this has left me wondering about our use of pretty pictures as wallpaper and pegboard for our digital carkeys, frypans, monkeyspanners, and hacksaws, along with all the psychological corollaries, subliminal or explicit, profound or superficial.

For example, how does the act of clicking and dragging my ehowitzer or other tacky virtual furniture across a flat, odorless, digital expanse like this effect my connection with or understanding of an actual desert lake at dusk, or an actual sunflower at close range, or, if you like, puppies, or Sting, or the plastic-silicone-heavy-metal-device itself? Or does this just look like a lot of handwringing and hoodia about ecoporn, commodification, and turning somewheres into nowheres? Maybe try putting your coat rack in front of your bay window, or spreading your T.V., roadmaps, walkman, mailbox and “recycle bin” out on the beach, and then post a report.

Pyramid Lake I

2010-07-19T15:10:00.003-06:00

We followed again a broad Indian trail along the shore of the lake to the southward. For a short pace we had room enough in the bottom; but after traveling a short distance, the water swept the foot of precipitous mountains, the peaks of which are about three thousand feet above the lake. The trail wound along the base of these precipices, against which the water dashed below, by a way nearly impracticable for the howitzer.
…
Having advanced only about twelve miles, we encamped in a bottom formed by a ravine, covered with good grass, which was fresh and green. We did not get the howitzer into camp, but were obliged to leave it on the rocks until morning. We saw several flocks of sheep, but did not succeed in killing any.
…
The next morning the snow was rapidly melting under a warm sun. Part of the morning was occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making only nine miles, we encamped on the shore, opposite a very remarkable rock in the lake, which had attracted our attention for many miles. It rose, according to our estimate, six hundred feet above the water; and, from the point we viewed it, presented a pretty exact outline of the great pyramid of Cheops.
…
The elevation of this lake above the sea is four thousand eight hundred and ninety feet, being nearly seven hundred feet higher than the Great Salt Lake, from which it lies nearly west, and distant about eight degrees of longitude. The position and elevation of this lake make it an object of geographical interest. It is the nearest lake to the western rim, as the Great Salt Lake is to the eastern rim, of the Great Basin which lies between the base of the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada.

-John Charles Frémont & Jessie Benton Frémont
January 13, 1844

Baron Von Bunsen's threatening shoal

2010-07-04T12:46:00.006-06:00

[Baron Von Bunsen has a] threatening shoal of books, teeming with hypotheses on aboriginal nations. Egyptian, Indian, and disinterred Assyrian Semites; as also on the locality of Paradise, for which a map is already ordered of Kiepert. Maps on the opinions of people may range from the ship-binding myth on the seashore and the Himalaya to Ararat, and to Aramea Kibotos, even to the Mexican Coxcox; the fanciful productions of fiction, which are known also to the Bible of the Mormons.

-Alexander Von Humboldt
July 4, 1854
In the era of Crystal Palaces

RAD DAD

2010-06-20T13:56:00.011-06:00

A couple weeks ago we were in San Francisco with some friends and I found a pretty great little zine in the little consignment corner at City Lights Books.

Cover art by Fernando Martí

It's been several years since I've picked up a 'zine, and even longer, if ever, since I'd read one cover to cover. But this one's all stories, essays, interviews, resources, and art about "anarchism and parenting," or more generally, about being a "radical parent." Thomas Moniz has been doing these for 5 years (17 editions) and there’s also a blog.

In other fatherly news: we’ve got Tom walking now, sort of. Ash is into rub-on tattoos and the A-Team.

¡recordando los alamos / remembering the cottonwoods!

2010-05-31T15:16:00.032-06:00

yeah. hullo. hi. it’s been a while, right? let me start w/ a short update. a couple weeks ago we drove out to Utah to stay w/ my mom and visit the cottonwood canyons of our youth.

a couple highlights: trespassing through a big hole in the chain-link into the abandoned plant nursery up the road. Ash found some big concrete platforms for showing off her skills. Tom putting on the charm at the west bank of Bell Canyon’s lower reservoir. geese at the east bank.

otherwise, I’ve been trying to tie up the last of spring semester’s loose ends and get our garden in. today I think we’re about there. the books are mostly put away. and a couple hours ago I opened the fridge and drank the last half liter of flat coke left over from finals.

this is our first crack at planter boxes; our backyard is mostly stone and clay. the wood is mainly pallets that Ash and I scrounged from behind strip malls and stuff, some old fenceboards too. I’d been holding out for some free topsoil on craigslist, since buying dirt feels a little like buying zucchini (lonely), or bottled water (sucker). I was finally able to get some great composted horse manure from a friend in town, who loaded about a yard into our truck to take home.

here’s Ash and Dirtlips working on their garden. it’s mostly a milpa deal (corn, squash, beans), with some carrots in the corner. because, as Kelly pointed out, kids love pulling those long orange spikes out of the dirt.

oh no.

2010-05-25T14:46:00.003-06:00

just following up on last semester w/ another name-dropping nerdbomb:

1. C.T. Onions
2. T.V. Reed
3. Noël Sturgeon
4. Lucius Caflisch
5. Ted Toadvine
6. Donald K. Swearer
7. Tony Bennett
8. Hazard Adams
9. Royal Shanks
10. Sir Vidia Naipaul

2010-04-04T07:31:00.001-06:00

2010-04-03T08:40:00.006-06:00

2010-02-26T00:15:00.001-07:00

when you get home you're really going to be funny about my own mask.
i wear it.
i'm crazy 'bout this.
this mask and i wear it.
i love you.
and i go sledding with it.

-ASH

madrugada: to Thomas Serrano, turning one & singing

2010-02-16T08:38:00.001-07:00

from behind your bedroom door
in the dark of this too early morning
hooting, hissing, drumming the wall
with your heels, rolling

all your words come now:
dog. daddy. cracker. ball.
sssssssssssssssssssssssss
sounds we attached to things, and that you accept

air: just stuff we made up. not like before
when you would blow your wet speech
bubbles of curdled milk, painting
sleeves, pillows, her neck, everything

foamy white, like some insane depression-era comic
about a frustrated mime:

"howzat?"
"speak up kid!"
"lettuces? why din't ya' say so?"

flick'r

2010-02-01T20:27:00.001-07:00

related: neighborhood killer

zeros & ones on donner pass

2010-01-25T06:14:00.005-07:00

P.S. - check out Treeblog's festival of the trees 44, where this post is linked in the good company of 50 or so others.

new year roundup (& 300th post)

2010-01-24T16:24:00.013-07:00

I've painted my door with ram's blood and have been hiding out from the flood of confessional new years resolution blog postings, which I hope have by now run their course 'round the internets. so it's looking like a safe time for me to make my own confession: aside from a new 52-week regimen for a prescription toenail fungus treatment, and a 6 week sugar fast (again), I have no real resolutions, hobbies, or interests for 2010. wait, we've started planning a couple road trips for the spring. does that count?

but, Kelly helped me set up this google analytics* thing a couple months ago and I've just been checking the results. in case you're curious, here are some of the search terms that have routed people over to fish without faces (for an average visit time of 50 seconds):

when did shasta the liger die
judgment of the birds
animal magnetism fish
clothed capybara
costa rica bird list
costa rica fish list
fish birdhouse
the glad menagerie
austin nv, serbian christmas
barnacle goose eating during lent
hallelujah I'm a bum hallelujah bum again hallelujah give us a whiskey
how to hunt mountain lions without dogs
fish with people faces
taxidermy toucan pelican
virtual diorama

*if you're not familiar, google analytics is like a lobster pot/fishweir or a kind of surveillance camera you can set up to find out stuff about who in the world is visiting your blog. if you're running a boutique for home-knit apple sweaters or selling ad space for teeth whiteners this is strictly commercial. but if you're just whistling into the dark vacuum of cyberspace it's more of a simple curiosity.

the imperfect paradise

2010-01-08T21:57:00.002-07:00

"It's true," the man said with a melancholy air, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace that winter night; "in Paradise there are friends, music, some books. The only bad thing about going to Heaven is that from there you can't look up."
-Augusto Monterroso

related: arcadia &c., fire in the fishtank, the salamander, January 2008

ok. this is the last stolen(lazy) fable I'll be posting here. promise.
...oh, and a belated happy new year.

the obliging cephalopod

2009-12-27T07:51:00.009-07:00

it was the least he could do. the woman had come all this way. flown from John Wayne to Jakarta International. a six hour layover in Auckland. all that unwieldy gear. a film crew to pay. and they had all descend to his seafloor, aping his nimble motions in their own water-softened gestures. rubber tubing. bubbles. how to appease this expectant tribe. he thought a moment.

a humble busk:

he reached for a pair of coconut shells, improvising a bony skull, and and began to moonwalk on two of his legs, retracting the other six.
“oogali boogali,” he said.
“boh bah boh bah boh bah.”
“voh voh voh voh voh.”
“oxygen, apparatus, bastard, MasterCard.”

while his utterances were lost on the visiting pilgrims, the octopus’ dance appeared well-received, as these turned their masked faces to the left and right, a reverse shower of bubbles erupting from their heads and rising out of sight. and thereafter there was much spirited talk of “tool-use,” “hydrostatic bipedalism,” and a great many other -isms. all parties then went their way for a nice seafood lunch.

related: the snout, trash vortex, synanthropy, quadrupedal and bonnetted turks

the repentant apostate

2009-12-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

It is said that once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a Catholic (according to some, though others said a protestant) who, assailed by doubts, began to think seriously of becoming a Christian. However, fear that his neighbors would imagine that he had done it just for a joke, or to attract attention, made him give up such a foolish and extravagant plan.

-Augusto Monterroso

the recurrent savior

2009-12-25T10:00:00.001-07:00

In the Jungle it is known (or should be known) that there have been an infinity of Christs, B.C. and A.D. Whenever one dies another is immediately born who preaches the same as his predecessor and is received according to the ideas that prevail at the time of his arrival--and never understood. They adopt different names and they may belong to any race, country or creed, since they profess no religion. In each epoch they are rejected; on occasions--the most glorious ones--by violence, be it in the form of cross, stake, gibbet, or ball. This they consider a blessing, as it shortens the term of their mission and they depart assured of the value of their sacrifice. On the other hand, they are saddened by times of "understanding" during which nothing happens to them and they go their way ignored. They prefer active repudiation to passive acceptance, gallows or gunfire to psychiatry or pulpit. What they fear most is to die too old, no longer preaching nor striving to teach those who neither want nor merit guidance; oppressed because they know that like themselves in their turn, someone, somewhere, is anxiously awaiting the moment of their death to enter the world and start all over again.

-Augusto Monterroso

the black sheep

2009-12-25T09:43:00.002-07:00

In a far-off country many years ago there lived a Black Sheep.
They shot him.
A century later, the repentant flock erected an equestrian statue of him, which looked very good in the park.
From then on, every time a Black Sheep appeared they were promptly executed so that future generations of common, ordinary sheep could also indulge in sculpture.

-Augusto Monterroso

related: the witness, nochebuena, piñatas

canyon, Indians, booze, birth, Indains

2009-12-22T14:32:00.005-07:00

Sunday, December 24. I said Mass. We set out from the foot of the willow at half past nine in the morning, and halted about two in the afternoon in the same canyon, at a dry arroyo not far from a small spring of water, having traveled some four short leagues to the west-northwest.

...

Near the spring by the road we saw a village of Indians perched in the crags, from which they watched us pass. The commander called them and showed them glass beads but only one woman had the courage to come near. The commander gave her a string of beads. Shortly before halting near the little spring of water we saw another village whose houses were some half subterranean grottoes formed among the rocks and partly covered with branches and earth, like rabbit warrens. The Indians came out of their grottoes as if they were angry, motioning to us with the hand that we must not go forward, talking in jargon with great rapidity, slapping their thighs, jumping like wild goats and with similar movements, for which reason since the other expedition they have been called the Dancers. One especially, who must have been some little chief, as soon as he saw us, began to talk with great rapidity, shouting and agitated as if angry, and as if he did not wish us to pass through his lands, and jerking himself to pieces with blows on his thighs, and with jumps, leaps, and gestures.

...

I learned at night that because it was Christmas Eve refreshments were being served to the soldiers; and in order if possible to prevent drunken carousal, after dinner I said to the commander:
"Sir, although my opinion is of no value and I do not cut any figure here, I can do no less than to tell you that I have learned that there is drinking today."
"Yes, there is," he replied.
"Well, Sir," I continued, "I wish to say that is does not seem to me right that that we should celebrate the birth of the Infant Jesus with drunkenness."
"Father," he said, "I do not give it to them in order that they may get drunk."
"Clearly this would be the case, "I said to him, because then the sin would be even greater, but if you know that they are sure to get drunk you should not give it to them."
He said to me then, "The king sends it for me and they deliver it to me in order that I may give it to the soldiers."
"This would be all right at the proper time," I replied. "But I understand that to be in case of necessity."
"Well, Father," he said, "it is better that they should get drunk than to do some other things."
"But, Sir," I replied, "drunkenness is a sin, and one who cooperates also sins, and so if you know that a person will get drunk on so much you should give him less or none at all."
He did not say any more and I went to my tent without being able to prevent this disorder, because the commander had already made up his mind to distribute the liquor. And so he immediately gave it to the people, a pint to each one, saying in a loud voice:
"Be careful that you don't get drunk, because if any one is found drunk outside his tent I'll punish him."
With this he satisfied his conscience, and the people that night were very noisy, singing and dancing from the effects of the liquor, not caring that we were in so bad a mountain in the rain, and so delayed with the saddle animals and the tired and the dead cattle. Such is the rule of those absolute lords, in evidence of which I have related this incident.
...

Monday, December 25.--Because a little before midnight on this holy night of the Nativity, the wife of a soldier, the one whom I mentioned yesterday, happily gave birth to a boy, and because the day was very raw and foggy, it was decided that we should remain here today. I therefore had an opportunity to say three Masses, and after them I solemnly baptized the boy, naming him Salvador Ygnacio. The day continued foggy until the afternoon, when the sun shone a little, and the night began somewhat fair. Because the place is very short of water and pasturage the cattle went ahead on the trail. Today I was slightly relieved of my ills.
So savage and wild are the Indians of these sierras that last night they left their huts and climbed up in the rocks, perhaps fearful at seeing that we had stopped and did not go forward as they signaled us to do. Although they have seen that nobody has done them the least harm, yet very rarely have they come down to the floor of the canyon; but some have permitted themselves to be seen on the tops of the hills among the rocks. From this I infer that although an attempt might be made to found in this neighborhood a mission for the Jecuiche tribe, in this case it were possible it would be as difficult to reduce these Indians to a settlement as to confine wild sheep to a domestic fold; for it will not be easy to get them out from among the rocks, unless God does it all, for they climb with the ease and speed of deer.

...

-Padre Pedro Font
1775

related: nochebuena, the witness, scuffle on Baffin Island

this ghost of the school-boy pie

2009-11-26T08:08:00.002-07:00

"Cattle are very fond of pumpkins; it is pleasant to see what a feast the honest creatures make of them in the barn-yard; they evidently consider them a great dainty, far superior to common provender. But in this part of the world, not only the cattle, but men, women, and children — we all eat pumpkins. Yesterday, the first pumpkin-pie of the season made its appearance on table. It seems rather strange, at a first glance, that in a country where apples, and plums, and peaches, and cranberries abound, the pumpkin should be held in high favor for pies. But this is a taste which may probably be traced back to the early colonists; the first housewives of New England found no apples or quinces in the wilderness; but pumpkins may have been raised the first summer after they landed at Plymouth. At any rate, we know that they were soon turned to account in this way. The old Hollander, Van der Donck, in his account of the New Netherlands, published in 1656, mentions the pumpkin as being held in high favor in New Amsterdam, and adds, that the English colonists — meaning those of New England — "use it also for pastry."
...
"What bread-and-milk, what rice-puddings, can possibly equal the bread-and-milk, the rice-puddings of the school-boy?
...
"But this ghost of the school-boy pie, this spectral plum-pudding, sitting in judgment upon the present generation of pies and puddings..."


Susan Cooper
Rural Hours
1850

Conrad Gessner - Historiae Animalium

2009-11-25T10:19:00.014-07:00

Conrad Gessner
Historiae Animalium (check it out)
1551

also, for a fabulous little bestiary of creatures--mostly piscine--by Gessner and his ilk, don't miss Gunther's post from earlier this year on Miszellen(~miscellany?).

more sea monsters here: cryptomundo.

and, lastly, it seems june '03 was a good month for monsters on giornale nuovo. actually, upon closer inspection it seems fair to ask, what month wasn't a good month for monsters over there?

gift from a neighborhood kestrel

2009-11-24T22:18:00.003-07:00

fizzgiggious fish, &c.

2009-11-18T10:24:00.003-07:00

The Fizzgiggious Fish,
who always walked about upon Stilts,
because he had no legs.

There was an old man in a tree,
Whose whiskers were lovely to see;
But the birds of the air pluck'd them perfectly bare,
To make themselves nests in that tree.

The Tumultuous Tom-tommy Tortoise,
who beat a Drum all day long in the
middle of the wilderness.

There was an old person of Crowle,
Who lived in the nest of an owl;
When they screamed in the nest, he screamed out with the rest,
That depressing old person of Crowle.

There was an old person of Dundalk,
Who tried to teach fishes to walk;
When they tumbled down dead, he grew weary, and said,
"I had better go back to Dundalk!"

Edward Lear
from More Nonsense
1872

(and check out the nonsense botany on Project Gutenberg)

bolador: the flyeng fishe, &c.

2009-11-14T14:07:00.012-07:00

John White
c. 1585

snipe hunt

2009-10-26T09:42:00.001-06:00

"The gnat chasers, which likewise serve other purposes, are called cucurios, and are winged worms, inoffensive, a little smaller than butterflies, and resembling rather a scarabaeus, since their wings are protected through a tough outer covering, into which they are drawn when the insect stops flying. These insects, like the fireflies we see shining at night or certain luminous worms found in hedgerows, have been supplied by provident nature with four luminous points, two of which occupy the place of the eyes, and the other two are hidden inside the body under the shell, and are only visible when they put out their little wings like the scarabs, and begin to fly. Each cucurio thus carries four lanterns, and it is pleasing to learn how people protect themselves against the pestiferous gnats, which sting every one and in some places are a trifle smaller than bees.

"As soon as one knows that these dangerous gnats have invaded his house, or wishes to prevent them doing so, cucurios are immediately procured by the following artifice; necessity, the mother of invention, has taught this method. To catch cucurios, one must go out at nightfall, carrying a burning coal, mount upon a neighboring hut in sight of the cucurios, and call in a loud voice, "cucurios, cucurios!"

-Pietro Martire d’Anghiera
De Orbo Novo
1511

fish stories

2009-10-20T09:50:00.000-06:00

"A certain cacique of the region, Caramatexius by name, was very fond of fishing. Upon one occasion a young fish of the gigantic species called by the natives manatí was caught in his nets. I think this species of monster in unknown in our seas. It is shaped like a turtle and has four feet, but is covered with scales instead of shell. Its skin is so tough that it fears nothing from arrows, for it is protected by a thousand points. This amphibious creature has a smooth back, a head resembling that of a bull, and is tame rather than fierce. Like the elephant or the dolphin, it likes the companionship of men and is very intelligent. The cacique fed this young fish for several days with yucca bread, millet, and the roots the natives eat. While it was still young, he put it in a lake near to his house, as in a fish-pond. This lake, which had been called Guaurabo. was henceforth called Manati.

"For twenty-five years this fish lived at liberty in the waters of the lake, and grew to an extraordinary size. All that has been told about the lake of Baiae or the dolphins of Arion is not to be compared with the stories of this fish. They gave it the name of Matu, meaning generous or noble, and whenever one of the king's attendants, specially known by him, called from the bank Matu, Matu, the fish, remembering favours received, raised its head and came towards the shore to eat from the man's hand. Anyone who wished to cross the lake merely made a sign and the fish advanced to receive him on its back. One day it carried ten men altogether on its back, transporting them safely, while they sang and played musical instruments. If it perceived a Christian when it raised its head it dived under water and refused to obey. This was because it had once been beaten by a peevish young Christian, who threw a sharp dart at this amiable and domesticated fish. The dart did it no harm because of the thickness of its skin, which is all rough and covered with points, but the fish never forgot the attack, and from that day forth every time it heard its name called, it first looked carefully about to see if it beheld anybody dressed like the Christians. It loved to play upon the bank with the servants of the cacique, and especially with the young son who was in the habit of feeding it. It was more amusing than a monkey. This manati was for long a joy to the whole island, and many natives and Christians daily visited this animal.

"It is said that the flesh of manatis is of good flavour, and they are found in great numbers in the waters of the island."

-Pietro Martire d’Anghiera
De Orbo Novo
1511

...and hemispheres

2009-10-15T14:00:00.001-06:00

In that hemisphere I saw things incompatible with the opinions of philosophers: a white rainbow was twice seen around midnight, not only by me, but also by all the sailors. Likewise we have frequently seen the new moon on that day when it was in conjunction with the sun. Every night in that part of the sky innumerable vapors and glowing meteors fly about. A little while ago I spoke of the hemisphere, although it is not properly to be spoken of as a complete hemisphere, comparing it to ours; yet since it approaches such a form, such may we be permitted to call it.

-Amerigo Vespucci
from Mundus Novus
1503

of hemispheres

2009-10-12T02:00:00.004-06:00

Ptolemy and the other geographers believed that the world was spherical and that the other hemisphere was as round as the one in which they lived, its centre lying on the island of Arin, which is below the Equator between the Arabian and Persian gulfs; and that the boundary passes over Cape St. Vincent in Portugal to the west, and eastward to China and the Seres. I do not in the least question the roundness of that hemisphere, but I affirm that the other hemisphere resembles the half of a round pear with a raised stalk, as I have said, like a woman's nipple on a round ball.

-Christopher Columbus
October 14, 1492

related: reconquista 84627

pterodactyls, & the universe as a wax cylinder

2009-08-26T13:07:00.007-06:00

the prevailing wind at our new place is a pretty strong zephyr, out of the west. and when we moved in earlier this month, one thing on the fix list was the back fence, which was leaning into our yard at about a 60 degree angle. so as we’ve gotten into the project this week, with a lot of leaning on pry bars. trying to dig out the former post-footings has also involved a little speculative archeology: “what the hell were they thinking?” and so on.

Archimedes was like:
just give me a big crowbar and somewhere to stand; watch me rock your world.

now people are like:
just give us the right tuning fork to strike the earth and we’ll recall all reality.
past & present.

the tuning fork’s probably a bad example. I’m thinking it would probably have to be something more like a tremendous steel-tooth comb (as from a music box) or a giant player piano.

although the instrument’s still a work in progress, in the mean time, we’ve at least found some more rock to drag across it. in France they’ve turned up 150 million-year-old fossilized lakeshore, printed and stippled with pterodactyl tracks: dance steps where, one day, a small dinosaur came in for a serviceable, if not very graceful, landing. how do you like that?

anyway, the fence should be about done by the weekend.

related: the witness, martin prothero, tracks, humbaba, cherubim, chainlink, the dawnland, tiktaalik, petro-tarsi & clay footings, mammoths in moth balls, hoboclowns & coelacanths

new digs - 89503

2009-08-26T07:08:00.016-06:00

I’m trying to come up with anything more American than walking into a Sears, buying a brand-new washer and dryer, and having them delivered to your home. (I guess maybe only voting or NASCAR.) they’re the front-loader kind with the window, so you can sit down and watch your clothes roll around like people scuffling on daytime TV.

as we settle in, the kids make due with bivouacs, hobo camps and other provisional shelters.

Tom in a box

Ash builds her own.

and here’s the moon from our backyard earlier this month.

last week's eclipse

2009-07-29T16:55:00.005-06:00

situated as I am in the western hemisphere, it was sure nice to see all the AP & Reuters photos of last week's eclipse posted on boston.com. I guess it was 6 minutes long over parts of India & China, the longest eclipse anticipated this century.

it's also been sort of fun -in more of a petty, less cosmically inspiring way- to skim over the hundreds of things said in multiple languages in response to the truly amazing photo collection. aside from effusive gratitude, the comments generally seem to follow one of a couple basic threads. bickering: whether it's the Ganges or Ganga, whether Hyderabad is in India or Pakistan, and so on. and evangelism: Islam, Christian, anti-Christian, math & physics, and so on.

as if a "one planet, under heavenly bodies, with sunlight and darkness for all" weren't more than enough for us to just agree on and be thrilled with. (and then there's the occasional wild posting of stuff like lyrics from an entire Pink Floyd song.)

anybody else ever seen an eclipse? I've just seen a couple partials. the first was one morning they let us out of junior high. I held up a sheet of looseleaf and we watched 3 crescents form in the shadow it cast. the second was one evening, 7 or 8 years ago from my lawn.

anyway, for those of us who missed this last one, we can try to console ourselves w/ this video.

a final pitch for next Saturday

2009-07-18T12:22:00.000-06:00

I first announced this last month and if it turns out to be even half as much fun* as the deal last week with the suits, then you won't want to miss it. a week or so ago I went and drove the course; it's pretty spectacular. (did I mention mostly downhill?)

a few things you can expect along the way: a handful of small emerald lakes, larks and larks, wildflowers, spruce, pinyon, aspen, juniper, snakes?, a few 4 wheelers (just being honest here, Saturday in Sanpete County), deer, the bleached bones of sheep & elk, and a lot of sky.

again, it's this Saturday, July 25 (around 10am). please feel free to run all or just part of the course, arrange a relay, do it on your bike, whatever. also feel free to contact me w/ any questions.

english dot brooks at snow dot edu

* yes, I can guarantee it will be at the very LEAST half as fun as the suit run.

4.01k suit run roundup

2009-07-14T09:13:00.017-06:00

for anyone who missed the important meeting this last Saturday, here are a few photos, beginning w/ everyone starting up on Wall Street:

summary: 20+ real serious types, well-groomed, fancy photographers, wingtips, blouses, bluetooths(blueteeth?), a stroller, all kinds of jaywalking, conference calls and networking, an unscheduled jaunt through the farmers market, snacks, high-tech prizes, a plazaful of tiny geysers, a bride and groom (?), God Bless America (??), handshakes. "thanks for coming." breakfast.

for more detail, see the latter half of these July pics on picasa. this "the professor" character has also posted some real-nice professional quality photos over here. and there are plenty more photos all over facebonk, I recommend starting w/ Abigail's gallery.

if you've got photos too, please post any links in the comments section. congratulations all; a very productive morning.

7/25 - Wasatch Plateau Skyline Run III

2009-06-18T21:14:00.020-06:00

OK, this will be a little shorter than the last couple years (just over 21 miles). as always, you can run it, walk, mountain bike, do a relay, whatever. and, because of the length, it makes a great training run for anyone doing a Marathon in the fall (St. George, Logan, etc.).

here's a map of the general neighborhood.

and here's a map of the course. this time we're starting at the top of Ephraim Canyon, running the Skyline Drive (about 10,000 ' elevation) to the top of Manti Canyon, and then heading down into town. since most of the route runs down Manti Canyon, this will be mostly a downhill course. (hooray!)

here are the posts detailing similar runs from the last couple summers: 2008, 2007

and for more details you can follow this link to the of course it's legal event disclaimer and FAQ's (a la Gil Scott Heron)

otherwise, let me know if you're in or have any other questions. things will probably start around 10 am.

7/11 - Suits Are Kicking Up the Hill 4.01k

2009-06-18T21:14:00.009-06:00

it's been a while since I can remember having worn a suit to anything. (Cate, maybe to your wedding a couple years ago.) but, for the last several months I've had this persistent longing to put on an old suit (yeah, I know) and go run somewhere. maybe even with a briefcase in hand, some sort of styling product in my hair. somewhere public. you know.

I had something like a 5k in mind. and I was really trying not to put too fine a point on it, but a friend suggested making it a 4.01k. (you know, suits.) and who could resist that?

anyway, here's the plan:
a little over 4 kilometers (run, walk, both, whatever)
wear a suit, tie, slacks (blackberry, cufflinks, etc. again, whatever, you get it.)
if you could find an old race number or two to pin on that would also be handy.

when:
Saturday July 11, around 8 am. (let me know if you're interested and we'll work out the details.)

and:
of course, this is not an organized "race".
so there's no fee. no t-shirt. no trophies. no cops. (hopefully no cops.)

we'll be starting up at the Utah State Capitol, running basically down State Street to 300 S. then taking a right over to 400 west before wrapping back up north for the final three or so blocks. although not required, jaywalking is of course heartily encouraged. here's the map.

as you look things over, you'll also notice that the run finishes in the middle of the big fountain at the Gateway Mall. from there maybe we can go for breakfast somewhere.

any questions? who's in?

another post about running

2009-06-14T14:31:00.014-06:00

the desert thunderstorms have let up for a couple days and it's definitely summer. so I'm planning a couple runs for next month that I want to sell you on. when talking with friends, sometimes I tend toward a kind of bossy moralizing about "why you aught to run". but instead of doing that here why don't I direct you to last month's Radio West show where Doug Fabrizio talks with w/ Christopher McDougall about his book Born to Run.

it's a pretty great interview despite Doug Fabrizio's signature half-question-followed by statement-followed by slight backpedaling-followed by surprisingly keen observation-concluded with either totally leading or vaguely open-ended question style. they cover everything from human anatomy, to the Tarahumara/Raramuri runners of the Sierrra Madre, to those funny glove-shoes with the toes that you see people shopping in when you go to Whole Foods. maybe best of all, they reference some of Running After Antelope by our (Utah's) own beloved Scott Carrier. (for more of this latter piece check out one of these four This American Life shows.)

related: getting there, going

creation, blessing

2009-06-08T11:47:00.002-06:00

reconquista 84627

2009-06-02T09:15:00.006-06:00

I thought this little story from the Salt Lake Tribune might be of interest to some.

from there it looks like it got picked up by the AP and went out on Deseret News, KSL, Daily Herald, City Weekly, Fox and a couple blogs.

and since then, the SL Trib went and did an editorial too.