This is an attempt at doing a video haiku, basically using Dave Bonta’s approach, which I really like. In this case, it’s almost documentary. It’s from my day in Central Park last week. One thing I noticed while birding in The Ramble was that whenever I stopped for a few minutes and just watched, the ground started to move with squirrels, sparrows, and all sorts of other critters. To see it, I had to stop. I tried to capture a little bit of it on video and the haiku came from notes I wrote at the time. Sitting and watching (or in this case, standing and watching) and that quiet openness to experience that ensues is the essence of both birding and haiku. At least for me. I don’t know if this video captures any of that, but it at least documents the process.
Lately I’ve been trying to clean house. Not the physical house where I live, but the metaphorical house of my writing. It’s easy to write a bunch of poems and not do anything with them or send them out and not keep track of where they’ve gone and so they never get submitted or posted here.
It’s harder to forget a novel I’ve written, but easy to forget where and to whom I’ve submitted queries and pages. So I’m getting organized and in the process I’m realizing I have a lot of projects hanging: three chapbook manuscripts, two novels and one short story collection finished. Various poems in need of polish, submission, posting or all of the above. One novel halfway finished. A Place Without a Postcard in need of digitizing for ebook readers. A couple of videos to make.
That’s a lot to square away and finish (starting is so much more fun than finishing) and I’m also considering doing NaNoWriMo again. The question on that one, then, is what to write next month. I’m vacillating between finishing the unfinished novel I started last November and have hardly worked on since, or starting something altogether new that I’ve been thinking about for a long time.
In the meantime, while weighing this decision, I’m trying to get the non-writing portion of my writing house in order. Trying to figure out where to begin. I suddenly realize I’ve opened all these doors (or perhaps cans of worms) and now have so many open, I hardly know where to begin. This is why companies hire project managers. Or maybe why they invented Ritalin—wait, gotta go, there’s something bright and shiny outside my window.
We spent a few days in New York City last weekend and early this week, and I spent Monday exploring and birding Central Park. I’d read that the park is a major stopover point for birds migrating along the Atlantic Flyway and since this is migration season, I figured it would make for a good day.
A guidebook in the hotel suggested that The Ramble would be a good place for birding since it’s the wildest corner of Central Park, featuring landscapes similar to what might have existed in Manhattan before Europeans came. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but the area certainly was wilder than the rest of the park and to my surprise the birds most common in the rest of the city—pigeons, starlings, and house sparrows—were virtually absent in The Ramble.
The weather was beautiful, a cool and crisp autumn day, of the kind I especially love and haven’t seen since leaving Rhode Island 22 years ago. I’ve been back up to the northeast several times since then, but never in the fall. Unfortunately, the leaves were only just starting to change, but some of the trees had come into their fall reds, oranges and yellows and after all these years in Texas, that was a real treat.
We were staying in Midtown so I came up Park and entered the park at 59th, bought a map and headed toward The Ramble to lose myself. I’ve been in Central Park before, but this was the first time I’ve been able to spend time slowly exploring it, and discovering for myself what a treasure it is.
Once I got to The Ramble, I immediately noticed that the pigeons were gone. You can hurry through those looping and winding trails and probably not see much more than the ubiquitous gray squirrels, but when you stop for a few minutes, quiet and patient, the ground comes alive with white-throated sparrows digging in the leaf litter or jumping onto weed stalks to shake some seed loose as they ride the stalks to the ground. At first, I saw only the occasional weed dipping and then popping back up, but on closer inspection, I realized that it was the sparrows doing this.
White-throated Sparrow
It wasn’t long before I forgot the city all around me; I suppose that’s part of the point of Central Park, creating an illusion of wilderness and a connection with nature that I think would seem pretty dear to me if I lived in a place like New York. Occasionally I would notice the tops of the big apartment buildings of the Upper West Side and feel almost surprised by the sight… oh, yeah, that’s there. I’m in the middle of this giant city.
American Robin
I saw several birds that were new to me: hermit thrush, white-throated sparrow, winter wren, golden-crowned kinglet, black-capped chickadee, and (I think) rusty blackbird. I also saw a couple of species I have only seen once or twice before: dark-eyed junco and white-breasted nuthatch. I spent a lot of time focusing on and trying to watch these new birds that are rarely, if ever, seen in Texas.
Hermit Thrush
At one point, I heard what I think was a red-shouldered hawk. The gray squirrels bolted for the trees and the birds froze when the hawk flew over. The hawk’s voice was similar to what I’m used to hearing from the red-shoulders down here, but there was a slight difference in accent. I only got a quick glimpse through the trees as he soared overhead, but size and shape were about right for a red-shoulder.
Northern Cardinal
Coming out of The Ramble, I came to a meadow filled with dark-eyed juncos. I watched them for a while, trying not to appear too interested in the scene in the middle of the meadow where a guy on his knees was clearly proposing to a woman. It was a beautiful scene with the light slanting through the trees and golden leaves drifting down all around them. I wanted to try for some shots of the juncos, but the couple would have been in the background, and I didn’t want to appear to intrude on their moment, so silently wishing them all happiness, I moved on.
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
After The Ramble, I headed back toward the east side again to go to the Guggenheim Museum, one of the New York things I’d never done in all the times I’ve been up there and so I left the park at 90th and went to the museum. It was interesting, but my heart wasn’t in it. I walked quickly through the exhibits, stopping to study a few of the pieces here and there, but after a morning among changing trees, migrating birds, and foraging squirrels, the art in the museum seemed somehow empty to me and so I left the museum and headed back to the park. Perhaps I’ll give it a closer look if I ever find myself up there on an inside kind of day.
I walked around the reservoir back toward the west side. I considered, briefly, walking all the way to the northern end of the park, but I was starting to get tired and the hike back to Midtown already seemed like it would be long enough so I saved that part of the park as something to look forward to for next time.
After a tasty dog at a Shake Shack on the Upper West Side, I headed back for The Ramble, quickly losing myself in its meandering trails. This is where I found the golden-crowned kinglet and a blackbird that I think is a rusty. I got this picture and some good looks, long enough to tell he wasn’t a red-wing or a grackle. I’ve heard rusties are getting scarce, and I hoped that that wasn’t why he was alone.
Common Grackle or perhaps a Rusty Blackbird?
Eventually, it was time to go and so I left The Ramble and walked through The Mall and out of the park at Fifth and 59th back into the bustle of Midtown where I saw the damndest thing: a line of people waiting to get into Abercrombie & Fitch, which really surprised me since I can’t imagine waiting in line to get into a store that has a website especially when something as magnificent and lovely as Central Park is only a couple of blocks away and the day was so autumn perfect.
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Here’s my list with stars by the ones that were lifers for me:
My essay “The Minor Leagues” is up over at qarrtsiluni along with some hipstamatic photos. You can even listen to me read it. The latest issue is “The Crowd,” and it’s pretty cool. Check it out and be sure to have a look around while you’re there.
The lesser goldfinches haven’t been coming around the feeders the past few days. Unlike their American cousins, they’re permanent residents here and gold year round, but this time of year they abandon the feeders. I suppose it’s because the weeds are all going to seed and that wild food must taste pretty good to them. Better than what’s in my feeder anyway.
The goldfinch feeders are up on the porch so it seems especially quiet without them. That’s funny since they’re not noisy birds, but I get so used to them most of the year that when I come out on the porch now it seems odd—like a town that’s too quiet in a horror movie—when they don’t all flutter off at the site of the dogs and me coming through the back door. I miss that confusion of black and yellow that blows outward like a visible gust of wind toward the neighbor’s trees.
They’ll be back in a few weeks, though, but there will be fewer than there were last summer when they came with all their young in tow, and they’ll soon be joined by overwintering American goldfinches, though their gold will have fallen out allowing them to migrate incognito, disguised as plain drab birds, their gold just a memory, a vague dream of summer.
This is a poetry postcard that was originally published at Postal Poetry, which is now defunct. It was featured on February 25, 2009.
Update 10.20.10: Thanks to Dave Bonta, the Postal Poetry archive is back up at a new url and it looks better than ever. Here’s the link to “Time to Leave” along with the brief statement I wrote to accompany it. Go have a look around over there. There is truly amazing work to be found.
Another year, another Austin City Limits Music Festival, but this year’s ACL Fest was probably my favorite. A large part of that was the weather, which was October gorgeous. Warm, but mild days with cool nights. Fall is one of the reasons I live here. The ragweed was a problem for me, but that was far better than the year of dust, the year of extreme heat, or the year of mud. For once, the festival didn’t require any real feats of endurance and that made for a great weekend.
We arrived in the afternoon on Friday and saw a little bit each of Beach House and Spoon, but the next two bands were, for me anyway, the highlight of the festival: Sonic Youth and Phish.
SY's Kim Gordon & Thurston Moore
Sonic Youth is my favorite band. I’ve seen thema number of times and Daydream Nation is my favorite album. Needless to say, I was thrilled to see them on such a glorious day. Their set was largely material from their recent album The Eternal, which hadn’t really grabbed me until I heard them play from it on Friday. I kept thinking, my god, this is good stuff, so I’ll certainly be giving that record a more careful listen. The highlight of the set was the two closing numbers, both from Daydream Nation: “The Sprawl” and “’Cross the Breeze,” the latter being my favorite SY tune.
Sonic Youth is one of those bands whose music requires careful attention, especially when they tear away from what most folks call music and venture into those dissonant soundscapes where chaos sounds so savagely beautiful and fearsome. These are moments when time can stop and the music truly transports me. Then the noise begins to coalesce and it seems as if I’m waking up inside a song, the one we left, but different now. Changed the way maps look different after you’ve explored the ground they represent. Listening to Sonic Youth is to remember that anything is possible and worth risking when it comes to art. It is freedom and energy and life played loud.
Sonic Youth
As if Sonic Youth wasn’t enough, just as their set ended Phish was getting started over on the other side of the park. We hustled over and were treated to the kind of show where it’s impossible not to dance. We used to see Phish every time they came through Austin back in the ‘90s, but it’s been at least ten years since they’ve been here, and I’d almost forgotten just how much fun a Phish show is. The played some of their classics (“Chalkdust Torture” and “You Enjoy Myself”) , “Backwards Down the Number Line” from Joy and some crowd-pleasing covers of Talking Heads and Velvet Underground tunes as well as a wonderfully funky “Also Sprach Zarathustra,” also known as the 2001 theme. After Phish, we called it a day.
At LCD Sound System
Saturday we went down late as my allergies were really doing a number on me. The highlights for us were Silversun Pickups, a band we caught back in 2008. I really liked them then and they were even better this time out, especially since I’ve gotten to know their music over the past few years. After Silversun Pickups, we heard a little bit of The XX and then LCD Sound System came on and played an electrifying set as night settled over the park. We went home shortly after that, having decided that this was already the best ACL Fest ever (and I’ve been to all but the first one).
At Silversun Pickups
We went down late again on Sunday, which was for our group the least interesting day. The only must-see for us was The Flaming Lips. This was the first time I’ve seen them play, and it was a fun show, the band reveling in its weirdness, perhaps at the expense of the music, but it was still fun. Singer Wayne Coyne came out and rolled over the audience inside a giant beach ball during the intro. He sang one song while sitting on the shoulders of a guy in a bear suit. There were sing-a-longs and audience participation. The highlight, though, was the closer, a wonderful rendition of their song “Do You Realize” which opened the song up, expanding it and letting it fly, making it all the more moving and celebratory. As the song says, “happiness makes you cry,” and I’d say it could have possibly moved me to tears it was so good except the ragweed had already done that.
Sunset on The Flaming Lips
After the Lips finished, we turned our chairs to the Honda Stage to watch The National. They didn’t play the one song of theirs that I know (“Lemonworld”) but I enjoyed their set anyway. When they finished, we could hear The Eagles on the big stage across the park. I was torn about this. Our friends had an early flight back to St Louis, R and I had to work in the morning, and my allergies were shutting down my nose again. But it’s the Eagles. So we listened to a few tunes. “Peaceful Easy Feeling,” “Hotel California,” “Witchy Woman.” They sounded great and as a festival closer, they were a good choice, though I still say, Austin City Limits needs to get ZZ Top in here one year to close this thing down.
This was my eighth ACL Fest and it was probably my favorite. The weather was the best it has ever been, and Sonic Youth, Phish, Silversun Pickups and LCD Sound System were all phenomenal. Did I say the weather was amazing? It’s a shame they scheduled it for September next year. Oh, well, I’ll be there. It’s too good a weekend to pass up.
The Eagles from the Far Side of Zilker
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Here are some links to other bloggers’ takes on ACL 2010: In Between and Chickster.
Five years ago today I began this little blog over on Blogger. Prior to installing WordPress, this was a static site I’d started back in 2003 where I occasionally posted short stories and poems, all hand-coded html, so Coyote Mercury has actually been around for 7 years, but the first post went up 5 years ago today.
It’s interesting to me how the site has taken shape and changed over the years and how it’s really become an important part of my writing practice. What I originally thought might be just a lark or a quick experiment somehow became more than that.
I’m all ragweeded out after a great ACL Fest (post forthcoming), so for today, I’ll just say thanks to everyone who has ever come around here to read, comment or link. I do appreciate it.
I took these pictures with my phone when we were in San Francisco back in July. They’re just random scenes done while walking around the city. I had my real camera with me, but was (and still am) intrigued by the idea of using the phone for snapshots, especially with the odd moody renderings you can get with the Hipstamatic app. Click on them to see them full size on the image page.
You don’t have much control over anything other than composition when you shoot with a phone so there’s a certain amount of surrender involved when you’re used to having the kind of control and instant results you typically get with a DSLR. Using a phone you give that up and you even have to wait a few seconds for the image to “develop.”
It reminds me of the wonder photography held when I was just starting out, the way I went about seeing the world in whole new ways, noticing light and shadow and shape. I suppose any new tool can make something new again, but when applied to photography, it allows us to experience the whole world in unexpected ways.
The past few weekends we’ve been getting rid of stuff. The kind of stuff we don’t need or even really want, the kind of things that make us ask why did we keep this? and then say I can’t remember. Old clothes we haven’t worn in years, books we bought and never read or only read once with no intention of rereading. We’ve been taking it one room per weekend and going through, bagging and boxing things up for Goodwill and Half Price Books. It feels good.
A colleague of mine recently said he thought it was a sin to keep things you don’t want or need. I don’t have his Catholic conception of sin, but I do find myself in agreement. We Americans collect so much, so much we don’t need, so much we don’t even want, most of which will just be tossed by our descendents. I’m not arguing for stripping down to the barest essentials, but it’s been good to go through the house, looking at everything and asking questions like ‘Why do we own this?’ ‘Do we want this?’ ‘Who gave this to us?’
Sometimes, it seems the artifacts of our lives pose as many questions as we might have hoped they’d answer beyond whatever perceived need prompted their purchase.
Books are like that and used to be hard for me to get rid of, but now even those are easier to part with. I tend to keep cookbooks, guidebooks and assorted references. Poetry books stay since I’ll pick those up and reread through them randomly. Novels I’ve read and don’t intend to read again are the first to go, which is odd since I’ve written a few novels and am trying to get one published, but as artifacts, those are the books I generally feel the least connection with, though I can’t imagine parting with my Lord of the Rings, Philip K. Dick, or Don Quixote. A few others. Enough to have a room full of books when random heady inspiration is needed.
Sometimes we find that the things we have carry some sentimental value. They were given by a loved one, they remind us of special times and places, and they are totems that aid travel through memory.
For many things, though, it just seems others can or will use them better than we will and so we let those things go. In doing so, we become a little freer and the house feels lighter and, strangely, more comfortable.
