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Year: 2008

Fresh Hot Meme

Way back in May, when the world was cool and the grass was green, Heather tagged me. At long last, I respond.

Here are the rules:
A) The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
B) Each player answers the questions about himself or herself.
C) At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1) Ten years ago I was…

Just married, getting used to being a homeowner, trying to decide where to hang my newly acquired master’s degree, running a mailroom in downtown Austin, and starting on the first draft of A Place Without a Postcard, which <shameless plug> you should purchase if you haven’t </shameless plug>.

2) Five things on today’s to-do list:

I actually had one for today: pick up replacement ipod at the Apple store, get passports out of safe deposit box, drop off old light fixtures at Habitat for Humanity Re-Store, get mealworms for the wrens and titmice, get a new journal at Book People.

3) Things I’d do if I were a billionaire:

Purchase an island in the south Pacific and build a network of research stations to better understand and harness its unusual magnetic properties.

4) Three bad habits:

Candy, cookies, cake.

5) Five places I’ve lived:

Portsmouth, Rhode Island; Springfield, Virginia; Subic Bay, The Philippines; Naples, Italy, Austin, Texas

6) Six jobs I’ve had in my life:

Teacher, Project Manager, Mailroom Supervisor, Migrant Film Worker, Pizza Cook, Busboy.

I tag nobody specific, but feel free to use this meme if you’re reading it and feeling like listing.

I’m off to London. I’ll put up pictures when I return.

Time to Fly

A Bewick’s wren hunts in my tomato plants for a bug to bring back to the nest box on the fence post.

Last week, I got to watch the young wrens living out back leave their nest. It takes about 2 weeks for the eggs to hatch and another 2 or so for the nestlings to fledge so I had been keeping track so I wouldn’t miss the show, which came last Monday afternoon.

Each day leading up to flight day, the cheeping in the box grew louder and louder whenever one of the adults showed up with a worm or bug. Last Monday, I noticed that the adults were up in the trees singing and calling louder than usual. Then, I noticed one of the young birds kept poking his head out.

He would sit in the hole and look around at the world, studying it and listening for his parents, sometimes responding, sometimes ducking back into the dark safety of the nest.

Occasionally, he’d get his little feet up onto the lip of the hole and look ready to jump only to back into the nest again. Eventually, he jumped and flew to a nearby tree.

He hopped around in the branches and then flew up to the roof of the neighbor’s house where one of his parents met him, and then they flew off from there. A few minutes later, a second wren poked his head out of the nest and went through the same process.

At one point, one of the adults brought a worm to the nest, went in and then left again with the worm, as if to say, “You want this? Come out and get it.”

By the end of the day, the first 3 (maybe 4, I’m not sure how many there were – 5 at least) had flown and only 2 remained. They flew away early the next morning.

When I cleaned out the nest box, I inspected their nest as I broke it up and scattered it on the ground for other birds to use and was surprised by the amount of dog and cat fur in there. I guess regular brushings of all the beasts is good for the birds too.

The Lost Book Club: The Invention of Morel

Somehow, I forgot to post this after I wrote it 2 months ago…

I had to resort to interlibrary loan to get my hands on an English translation of Argentine writer Adolfo Bioy Casares’ 1940 novella The Invention of Morel. The book I received also included six short stories from La Trama Celeste, a few of which I enjoyed more than the novella.

The Invention of Morel is about a man stranded on a bizarre island quarantined due to some mysterious disease. He has fled to this island to escape prosecution, and believes he has found the perfect hideout. There are strange machines on the island along with a chapel, museum and a swimming pool. There are also people who seem unaware of presence as if they occupy a reality all their own.

As the tale progresses, the narrator comes to understand that the people on the island are reproductions coming from a projector that one of them, a man named Morel has invented. His invention records every aspect of a person even, possibly, his soul and then replays that person over and over throughout eternity.

Morel had invited his closest friends and the woman he loved, Faustine, to spend a perfect week on the island. He recorded their perfect week so that it would run in an endless loop for all eternity. Since the machine also captures soul, it effectively made those who were recorded immortal.

The side effect, of course, is the problem. Once recorded, the subject suffers dissolution and death. Morel thought that this was a fair price for his immortality, and the strange deaths would create the illusion of disease that would keep people away from the island so his machines could run along happily forever.

It takes a while (and the appearance of two suns in the sky) for the narrator to understand that the people on the island are not really alive, but rather, that he is witnessing the superimposition of Morel’s recordings on his reality. In this time, though, he too has come to love Faustine.

By the end of the story, the narrator chooses to record himself so he can live forever with Faustine in the perfect eternity of Morel’s recording, knowing full well that he will die, but by recording himself he will also have everlasting life.

The other stories in the collection are equally interesting. They tend to involve elements of the supernatural, particularly temporal paradoxes, dreams and visions, and alternate realities, “The Idol” and “The Celestial Plot” being particularly good. I’ll definitely read more by Adolfo Bioy Casares.

On to Lost. Sawyer is seen reading The Invention of Morel in the Season 4 episode “Eggtown.”

“Eggtown” is a Kate-centric episode. Like the narrator in The Invention of Morel, Kate is a fugitive from justice trapped on a strange island. I didn’t notice much in this episode that directly relates to The Invention of Morel, but it does provide hints about the island.

After reading The Invention of Morel, I began to wonder if the visions of the dead (and from the past) that we see on (and now off) the island are really projections that, like those projected from Morel’s machines, appear real in every way and even appear to have souls. The island, of course, does not need to record the person while he or she is living as it can possibly extract things from people’s memories. Thus we have Christian, Charlie, Libby, Dave, Yemi, Kate’s horse, Sayid’s cat, Ben’s mother and the others (lowercase o).

These projections are not hallucinations; they can be seen by more than one person, and they can slap people upside the head as Charlie and Dave have both done to Hurley to verify their reality. This also explains why Richard Alpert doesn’t age. He’s not immortal. He’s dead. The island projects him for reasons yet unknown.

Since we know the island can project a Charlie that can be seen by others, it’s logical to assume that it can project Richard into the off-island world to recruit people like Juliet who would never have any reason to suspect that Richard died long ago. It also explains why Jack still sees his father in the Season 3 finale.

I also suspect that the voices occasionally heard in the jungle have to do with the superimposition of one reality (the projected one) over the real reality that our survivors experience.

The Invention of Morel leaves me wondering if the island’s strange properties are not so much supernatural as they are the result of some technology. Of course, sufficiently advanced technology would appear as magic to those who do not understand it.

* * *

Now that Season 4 has concluded with the excellent three-part finale “There’s No Place Like Home,” I am more convinced than ever that Alpert is dead. I think the appearances of Claire and Horace Goodspeed in “Cabin Fever” are further proof of the island’s ability to project the dead.

It was especially interesting watching Goodspeed repeatedly chop down the same tree. Even if it was only a dream, the repetition and circular nature of the scene was very much like The Invention of Morel as well as another Lost book from way back in Season 2: The Third Policeman, in which the characters are all dead and in Hell where everything repeats (“Hell goes round and round. In shape it is circular and by nature it is interminable, repetitive and very nearly unbearable.”)

Of course, what do I know? I was way the hell off on my analysis and theorizing after last year’s season finale. I suppose I was sort of right about the time travel thing, but not in the way I thought. Of course, being wrong makes it all the more fun because everything is more surprising than it would be if I had it all figured out.

Here’s a throwaway prediction based on Morel. Locke chooses to die so he can have the “immortality” of being resurrected by the island. Like they sang in Jesus Christ Superstar, “To conquer death you only have to die.”

For more, visit Heather for her thoughts on the Lost Season 4 finale. She was right about who was in the coffin.

Click here for my thoughts on the other Lost books.

Things Seen Outside School on April 2, 2008

Morning…

Yellow flower-dandelion-clovers-weeds, speargrass
That rooster crowing by the shed
Small tree-purple flowers
Cars on the highway

Yellow stars on green grass space
Tiny moth flying below the tops of grass-unseen & secret
Lines of trees-leafless, still asleep
Birds chirp and sing, unseen
Dandelions gone to seed
Vulture, distant, glides horizon wind
Pink flowers beyond the ditch, beyond reach
Stands of bluebonnet
Chilly breeze, gray skies, colors fading in the haze
Mockingbird silently flies between two trees

Afternoon…

Wasp buzzing under canopy,
Killdeer flying over ditch
Smoke from behind the trees, campfires in the air
Purple blossom tree

Ant mound pressed against cracked concrete
Ants stream from invisible holes
Airplane cuts gray sky

Buildings through the trees
Donkey brays, rooster crows
Tiny blue flowers in the grass-invisible from six feet up

Crisp on the grass, old leaves-autumn leftovers-punctuate the ground
Burnt leaf smoke carries on the wind
Drills call cadence while a tiny spider climbs a blade of grass

Chipped bark on live oak
Soft moss on the lower trunk, bird’s nest in the branches
Light green, spring leaves sway
Grass, tired and old, hasn’t started growing yet

In the distance a pile of rocks explode with purple flowers, yellow centers
Alone in the field, a daisy, lost in prairie sea

Scissor-tails Return

Soaring overhead,
scissor-tails returning
a long journey ends

I love the scissor-tailed flycatcher. So beautiful and elegant with tails forked wide or streaming long and thin behind like signs towed by toy airplanes. What would the sign say? Bugs beware, spring is here.

They’re the state bird of Oklahoma, and can be found on the Oklahoma statehood quarter, released earlier this year.

Fortunately, they can also be found all over central Texas this time of year, soaring over open fields, twisting and diving to come up with a delicious dragonfly. Watching their forked tailed displays is cause to stop the car and stare.

They migrate up from southern Mexico and central America, and then fan out across Texas and Oklahoma. Those journeys are especially amazing to me. What have those little black eyes seen? Seeing the first members of a returning migration is a sight to make one’s day. For a moment, at least, we can know that some things still work, still happen as they should. With their return, Nature’s clock chimes April.

They showed up on April 1st this year.

The return of the
scissor-tailed flycatcher
April has begun

Northern Cardinal for Now

Not much time for blogging and book writing. Guess what comes first?

So, here, another picture of a bird.

In a free moment at work today, I flipped open Beat Poets and found Kerouac’s advice for writers: “Belief & Technique for Modern Prose.”

Half lunatic love ravings of the self-professed angelic mind (see me vent my inner Jack?) half good advice, half (yeah, 3/2’s) scattered pearls, I found a few ideas I like, especially these:

24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge

29. You’re a Genius all the time

And, now, off to the labors of my genius…

First Day of Spring

Being a squirrel sometimes looks like good work if you can get it.

Today was a perfect first day of spring with deep blue skies and a nice cool breeze. I saw a barn swallow while out today, so the swallows are back as are the hummingbirds who are starting to show up at the feeder again.

Spring at last.

Overcast Day on the Trail

There’s nothing like an old stone wall, crumbling and forgotten, to make a gray day seem even grayer. I’m sure its builder would be as surprised to find it still here as I was to find it at all only a few steps away, though all but hidden from the trail.

These thick leathery plants are suddenly everywhere. A good reminder to sometimes look down.

Like a gate, these sticks block the way to a small clearing, owned by cardinals.

Downy Woodpecker

I saw this downy woodpecker banging away on a branch about ten feet above the trail yesterday. Everyone I passed on the trail was talking about the woodpecker. Did you see the woodpecker? Did you see him?

Loud as he was, he wasn’t hard to miss.