Just a typical day in the central Texas summer of ’07.
(Later, we did have scattered patches of sun.)
by James Brush
Coyote Mercury Posts
After tuning out of politics for months and just living in a kind of blissful ignorance, well, actually not ignorance, it’s more the kind of sickening certainty that requires neither updates nor commentary, I discovered that there is an election looming on the very distant horizon and there are a whole slew of puppets people who would like to lead this country the rest of the way to Hell in a handbasket.
I wish I had watched the Democrats debate last night. Perhaps the performance would have given me hope, though in perusing this morning’s paper, I find that the questions came from YouTube and one from a snowman who was concerned about global warming. A snowman? Really?
“Is this what political discourse in this country has come to?” asked the blogger whose own snowman suit is at the drycleaners, thus allowing only a trace of irony.
Okay, so there’s no reason to hope. We’re good and screwed.
Looking at the D side, I think I like Edwards and Richardson, but in the interest of staying in the real world, I suspose I’ll have to choose between Obama and Clinton. I like Obama. Clinton, on the other hand, voted for the Iraq war and therefore lacks the wisdom and foresight that I and many like me possessed in 2003 when those with open eyes saw this for the fool’s errand that it is. She is therefore unfit for the office. The president should be smarter than me. I guess that leaves Obama.
On the R side, it appears that McCain has lost his staff and his mind, leaving only some actor who might or might not run, that mayor from NYC and some flip-flopper from Massachusetts. My, wouldn’t that be a delicious little bit of irony if he gets the nomination. Perhaps, I’ll watch these bottom-of-the-barrel R’s try to defend themselves against the damning arguments of that snowman.
Only two acts with the *’s for having seen them live. The last time I saw the first one was at ACL and the next time I see the last one will be at ACL. And, I don’t know half of the others half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of them half as well as they deserve.
- “Looking from a Hilltop” – Section 25 – From the Hip
- “Loco De Amor” – David Byrne – Rei Momo
- “Swingin’ the Blues” – Count Basie – The Complete Decca Recordings of Count Basie
- “Stray” – Calexico* – The Black Light
- “Come in Alone” – My Bloody Valentine – Loveless
- “Blue Heaven” – The Pogues – Peace and Love
- “Mad World” – Tears for Fears – Shout
- “Gee, I Like Your Pants” – Frank Zappa – Shut Up ‘N Play Yer Guitar
- “Dead Flowers” – Townes Van Zandt – Road Songs
- “Song for Mahilda” – Yo La Tengo* – I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass
“The disgusting stink of a too-loud electric guitar; now that’s my idea of a good time” – Frank Zappa
Yes, Mr Zappa, how right you were.
If you use your thumb to break your fall, your fall may break your thumb.
(That’s what I get for ignoring the lesson about running up stairs two at a time in flip flops.)
I read Herbert Mason’s 1970 free verse version of the ancient Babylonian epic Gilgamesh last year as part of the Lost Book Club. It’s one of my favorites from the Lost project, so I decided to read a different version this summer. (Here’s the link to my post on Mason’s version).
I chose David Ferry’s 1992 version, written in unrhymed couplets in iambic pentameter. The basic story is, of course the same, but where Mason’s feels personal and cuts close to the heart, Ferry’s feels a bit more scholarly. Fine if you’re studying the poem, but not as moving.
Other than the poetic form, the biggest difference lies in what motivates Gilgamesh to go on his great quest. In Mason’s version he is motivated by the pain of losing his friend Enkidu, and he wants the secret of immortality in order to bring Enkidu back to life.
In Ferry’s version, Gilgamesh seems more motivated by fear of his own mortality and his wish to extend his own life.
Interestingly, this version seems more in line with issues on Lost, particularly since we’ve learned that the island appears to grant exceptionaly long life or slower aging or possibly immortality.
Gilgamesh was referenced in Season 2 as a clue in a crossword that John Locke was working on prior to meeting Mr Eko. Now that we have the perspective of Season 3 and Eko’s death (killed for angering the “gods” much like Enkidu), things seem a bit clearer as Locke is on a quest to know the island’s secrets including the one about longevity, though he doesn’t know that yet. I’m guessing Locke’s motivation isn’t as selfless as Mason’s Gilgamesh, though.
I’ll probably have to read another Gilgamesh or two to see which of these versions hews closer to convention. Maybe this will be an annual event.
I shot this as I was cruising up 610 towards the 290 exit in Houston this afternoon.
It’s a nothing shot, a throwaway of a sign, but it’s a sign I love to see.
Whether it’s coming home from an errand to Houston as today or returning from a longer trip, seeing the Austin sign makes me happy.
There’s just nothing like a sign that points to home.
While we were in Orange, I kept seeing this fellow standing in a ditch by the road hunting crawfish. Finally, I stopped to take a picture so I could ID him. He’s a yellow-crowned night heron.
I love the name night heron. It’s such an evocative name, one that fires the imagination. Not quite as good as the Latin version of the black-crowned night heron (nycticorax nycticorax), which translates to night raven, though.
The picture here doesn’t really do him justice as his crown appears more white than the pale yellow it should be. Blame the photographer. The bird himself was living up to his name, which he claimed was actually Moe.
I also added another bird to my life list: the fish crow. I heard what sounded like a nasal quawking, but the birds flying over looked like crows, but the sound was definitely not the hard caw-caw. I listened to some recordings online and consulted many a tome to learn that I had seen fish crows, a fairly common coastal bird.
We did not wash away in the floods, though I’m still trying to collect two of every greyhound for the ark I’ve been building. Unfortunately, they are each individuals, so I’m only able to find one of each.
Mainly, I hadn’t blogged because I wanted to finish my book. I didn’t want to sit at the computer writing and not be writing that, so blog went by the wayside to meet my self-imposed end of June deadline. I made it with a few days to spare.
The manuscript came in at 249 pages or 66,ooo words. A short novel, called A Short Time to Be There, at least for now. When I went back and looked at the early pages written before I really knew the characters or the pace of the story, I found a few chapters and some scenes that I didn’t really need, so I found myself going with Stephen King’s dictum: 2nd draft = 1st draft – 10%. When that 10% comes from the front end, things start to move better. Redundancies disappear.
I finished the book last week. The next day R’s grandmother died so we had to go to Orange to help with arrangements before the funeral. She died in her sleep at her home without any illness or hospitalization a few weeks shy of her 87th birthday. It was a tough surprise, but then it’s hard to imagine a better way to go.
On the long drive east to Orange, we saw a coyote standing on the side of the road outside Elgin. He ran when he saw us. We spotted a red-tailed hawk perched on a power line near Houston. A bobcat ran across the road in front of us in Orange. I never see that much wildlife from my car. I had never seen a bobcat before. The weather was weird too. Powerful storms kicking up while we were in church, where she was honored, and also right before the funeral.
My mind kept going back to Caesar: “When beggars die there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”
Of course she wasn’t royalty or even a prince, but she was noble. She would help anyone who needed it. She took in the lost. She never gave up on anybody.
I took a twenty mile bike ride along the trails and roads around our neighborhood. I found myself keeping track of all the birds I saw along the way and saw 21 different species. Better than a bird a mile.
Great Blue Heron… flying over the creek, slow and beautiful
Snowy Egret… trailing the heron by a few minutes
Great Egret… swooping over the lake and landing
Green Heron… hunting along the edges of the lake. I wasn’t sure what he was. I had to call and leave a description on the answering machine so I could ID him when I got home
Common Grackle, Great-tailed Grackle, European Starling… foraging in a field near a basketball court
Northern Mockingbird… everywhere; it is the state bird after all
Northern Cardinal… until today I had only seen these guys at feeders, but today they were everywhere along one trail
Inca Dove, Mourning Dove, White-winged Dove… they have a trail where they’re the only birds I see
Purple Martin, Barn Swallow… martins in the sky, swallows along the ground, all patrolling the same trail
Blue Jay, House Sparrow… everywhere
American Crow… small flock congregating in the middle of a country road, flew off when I approached… kaw-kaw
Scissor-tailed Flycatcher…. watching from the power lines
Mallard, Muscovy Duck, Swans… feral domestic breeds hanging around the local duck ponds
And that’s just what I could ID as I blazed by on my bike. I know I saw a few that I couldn’t place, particularly sparrows.