| elusive flower |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|10:51 pm] |
I read today about the world's tiniest orchid, found in a reserve in Ecuador, among the roots of a larger plant.
The flower is but 2.2 millimeters in size--a petal requires only a single cell. I know from the magpie way I live my daily life that Ecuador is a place which produces the premiere roses for Valentine's Day in much of this country. I think about the difference between cultivated fields of roses and a gentle forgotten orchid in the wild. All the allusion and metaphor, though, is so in-built that I need not draw the conclusions nor make the parallels. Lately I like listening to recorder quartets--harmonious interactions of simple instruments to create melodies which are often of complex beauty. I love to go in October or April to Tyler, in east Texas, where rose cultivation provides a living to a lot of people.
I think how things are rough out there for a lot of people. I think about hungry children and abandoned pets.
They think the meteorite from Mars may hold evidence of biological processes after all. I remember standing in Belize City, before it was quite so dangerous for standing as it is now, watching a toddler child carry a basket of fresh, warm bread to sell to passersby. I remember a woman who ran a dry cleaners and grew African violets. They thrived in the curious heat. The air is alive with chill and rain. People cover their personal privations with heavy coats and a profound quiet. I stack small marshmallows upon pumpkin frozen yogurt.
My dog brings me her toy to toss. I speak with a beloved niece. I eschew rice with my seafood squash.
The sky is white with clouds. |
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| on singing in the choir rather than preaching to it. |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|12:34 am] |
I freely confess to a penchant for superficial analysis and obvious conclusions, but lately I think that so many of the great debates of our day are less interesting than striving to have a good answer to the questions: "Was I kind?" and "Did I help?". |
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| chronological report |
[Nov. 28th, 2009|07:11 pm] |
8:10 a.m. arrived Crump's Nursery in McKinney, Texas. Observed tables of Christmas poinsettias and
kolanchoe. Purchased a pink kolanchoe, cost: 5 dollars.
10:20 a.m. arrived Fair Park butterfly house. Observed zebra longwings, julia frittillary and spicebrush swallowtail in an indoor two story glassed tropical facility. Observed skippers and a gulf fritillary
on an outdoor stand of flowers.
11 a.m. arrived Dallas Museum of Natural Science and History. Observed fossils of dinosaurs, giant turtles, woolly mammoth, ammonite and prehistoric fish. Saw stuffed fauna of a more modern vintage.
11:30 a.m. arrived Good Records, lowest Greenville Avenue, Dallas, Texas. Observed a vast array of unheralded alternative CDs, and a vast lack of array of customers.
12 noon Lunch, Blue Goose Mexican restaurant. Lunch menu: tortilla soup for this correspondent, a huge taco plate for accompanying individual.
12:45 p.m. flagship store, Half-Priced Books, Northwest Highway. purchase: a CD of recorder songs by the Flanders Quartet. Noted: Marilyn Manson book apparently came with an intact leaf of cannabis sativa
as a bookmark.
5:30 p.m. walked dogs. Watched them watch rabbits.
6:20 p.m. ate Wasa crackers |
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| pumpkin roll |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|11:50 pm] |
Did you ever see a ghost light? I have. They're like huge, transparent things, hovering in mid-air, colored
in primary colors. You see them above railroad tracks, on dark nights, off in the distance. They can't exist, they can't be real, and they can't be ghostly, but there they are, hovering overhead, just out of reach.
I think of lots of things the same way I think of ghost lights--amazing, impossible, and yet oddly real.
Take orchids, for example--an impossibility but a reality. The ring-tailed cat is another, as is as a deeply purple amethyst.
A wonderful holiday is much the same--unlikely assortments of people and food, linked by tradition and biological ties, somehow muddling through into an impossible but sometimes quite satisfying day. |
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| thankful |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:10 am] |
We set our plans in stone. We rise early Thursday and drive 180 miles to Texarkana, where we will pick up my father's wife's daughter, whom we like. Then we drive sixty more miles to Camden, where I finished high school, to have a Thanksgiving dinner. I believe that my brother and his family will be there, but my sister will be at her home in Alabama. We'll dine on turkey, which I love, but I will seek to be immoderate only in moderate ways this year. We'll drive back on Friday evening, and spend Saturday and Sunday upon rest and leisure.
I like these Autumn and Winter holidays. They have a harvest/renewal element that's appealing. They also have a great metaphoric angle, about looking for the light. I like the idea that we must recognize the darkness but look for the light.
I think lately about things I used to love to eat that I rarely eat anymore. Most of them are things I largely gave up for health reasons. Here are a few;
1. Mayonaisse
2. Bologna
3. Salami
4. Summer sausage
5. Chocolate chip cookies
6. Quarter pounders with cheese
7. Snickers bars
8. Moon pies
9. Chicken-fried steak
10. Chocolate pie
On any given day, I might choose to eat any of these things. On most days, though, I will no longer eat those things. I don't miss any of them very much.
I am thankful that I do not long for these material things I used to crave. |
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| a little |
[Nov. 24th, 2009|09:30 pm] |
"Alfredo!", she shouted, by which she meant that she had just placed upon the buffet a newly-made cheese pizza with alfredo sauce mixed in with the mozarella. On the television, a cat in a hat held forth, though the lack of volume made the words indecipherable. In an article in a music magazine, a fellow named AM described how he did not describe his true name. A writer wrote about a concert by a band called Jesus Lizard with so many misplaced ideas (and adjectives) that in another era the article would pass for elaborate satire.
I thought about having Wednesday's lunch at Boston Market, where the staff treats me very kindly,but then I thought about the lines of people who will be picking up their turkeys. I celebrated an early Thanksgiving in a small way by eating a pumpkin muffin. I read about an audiophile stereo system, and thought about how when I was a teen-ager I read Stereo Review. I do most of my listening these days through equipment considered relatively primitive now, but which would have merited a favorable review 30 years ago.
I thought of people on the local freecycle, asking for free turkey coupons. Some posts featured the subtle twist of the knife: "if I don't get a coupon, we won't have turkey this year". I heard a commercial about a store opening at 4 a.m. on the day after Christmas.
I wondered to myself, silently, if the the goal ought not to be to increase the joy and increase the peace.
Then I planned how in small ways I could make this happen, just a little. |
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| late november day |
[Nov. 23rd, 2009|10:17 pm] |
Today the fog enveloped the trees:
I thought of leaves falling from a gingko tree, of the taste of gingerbread pancakes, of a Scots-Gaelic folk singer singing songs of the Hebrides, of the perfidies of sports pundits, of the sound of the kora, of
the taste of pasta, and the taste of a cinnamon roll. |
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| celebration park |
[Nov. 22nd, 2009|06:52 pm] |
Today I walked at Celebration Park here in Allen. I saw an immature great egret fishing by a pond. I saw a flock of wild mallards swimming in another pond. I saw a yellow flower blooming in an otherwise bleak landscape, but my pictures of its splendor proved less than splendid.
I love this late November-time. I wanted to go to Highland Park United Methodist church, where a huge new pipe organ is being played in concert, but I ultimately decided that to stay at home, to get things done, and to relax were a kind of toccata, voluntary, fantasy and fugue all rolled up into one.
Instead, I ate fresh fruit and two slices of cheese pizza, bought an issue of "Sing Out!" magazine, and
thought of the number "three". |
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| falling star |
[Nov. 21st, 2009|10:05 pm] |
I rose early and listened to a legal seminar about preparing one's practice for one's own death or for an office disaster. I found this thought-provoking. We have a number of the recommendations already in place, but it is good to hear more ideas on this important topic.
We started our morning at nearby Sonny's Donuts, eating cinnamon rolls. Sonny is a man about my age who immigrated here from South Korea. My wife mentioned to me one day that on rainy days, Sonny escorts customers in from their cars with an umbrella. We noticed that now someone wrote a chapter of a business motivational book on this same fact, which Sonny now has framed on his wall. "This book is about me", he said to me.
We went to the 10:05 a.m. showing of the new Sandra Bullock movie "Blind Spot". This movie entertained us very much. I liked that Sandra Bullock played a character with enough scope for her to show her comic gifts. I liked the cotton-candy Hollywood biopic feel of the movie, like a 40s biopic. I liked the way the movie did not take itself too seriously. I liked the way the movie gave a sympathetic portrayal of a red state Republican, in an era in which too many people in media of all persuasions tend to litmus test people based on political affiliation. I thought the movie showed in terms anyone can understand the huge gap between rich and poor in this country. The movie is cotton-candy, and yet good to eat.
We went to lunch at Elke's restaurant. My wife is a regular at this friendly lunch place, but she had not been in a few weeks due to a new work assignment. I had Carribean pulled pork and fresh fruit, while my wife had baked chicken and vegetables. We each had a fresh macaroon.
We talked together about the local French bakery Voila!, which recently failed. Whenever a bakery fails, an angel cries. I thought they had the traffic to pull through, but times are hard even in Texas,where the recession has been much less sharp than elsewhere. I think, too, that this form of business requires minimal outside staff and maximum owner-operator operation,which can be a challenging economic model to manage and achieve.
I fell asleep on the sofa, and woke up to watch a thrilling sports contest in which the University of Mississippi defeated Louisiana State University in football. I took the dogs for a walk in the park on a pleasant dark evening.
We drove to Genghis Grill and ate Mongolian barbecue. Then we went to Yogurtville for desert, where I had pumpkin yogurt covered with multi-colored marshmallows, graham crackers and a little granola. As we drove, my wife saw a falling star. |
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| dignity and enthusiasm |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|10:53 pm] |
Tonight I helped in a very small way at the Salvation Army, where I do intake interviews and give legal advice to folks who lack the money to pay for a lawyer. I won't go into details, though I think it's reasonably safe to say that over the years I've learned of many situations, each with its own details, flavor and nuance.
I meet people whose circumstances are difficult. People rarely seek out a lawyer because carefully nurtured iris flowers are in radiant bloom. Yet tonight I was struck by the quiet dignity among the many people I met, and realized grace is more than having the wisdom to know "the difference" in what is fixable and what is not fixable. I find myself in awe of people who live lives with a quiet lack of desperation.
I'm so impressed with the progress of The White Cube Remix, the soundtrack-an-art-exhibit-in-Norway project I am working upon with a collaborator co-moderating a remix project. We are over 49 fascinating remixes so far, with weeks to go. I am so impressed with my co-moderator, who is capable, musical and filled with inspiration. I tend to nuts, bolts, practical yet quirky ideas, and a reverence for oblique strategies. This is one of those rare projects in which everyone involved has been a complete joy to work with, and I'm deeply grateful for the friend who suggested it and ultimately curates it, and for the friend with whom I co-moderate the music. Of course, I'm also grateful to the mixters, of whom I live my life in admiration and respect. It's all a great dynamo of sharing culture.
I am sketching ideas in Logo, and feeling pleasure hovering around every turtle move. |
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| pretzel logo |
[Nov. 16th, 2009|10:40 pm] |
The mail brought a 15 dollar Amazon gift card. I received this card as a reward for taking a poll about something I would have answered for free, so I say "viva social science". What to buy? Maybe music, maybe
who knows?
The night air is chilly, so I am not out scanning the horizon for Leonid meterorites, which are supposed to be out in force betweeen 2 and 5 in the morning.
I puzzled some more on what angles to use to draw a pretzel. |
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| great crested flycatcher |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|08:07 pm] |
Today I went for a hike on Trinity Trail. I love hiking this time of year. The flowers depart, leaving darkened seed pods. The grasses turn from greens to vivid browns and yellows. Though we get a bit of Autumn leaf color in years like this, with chilly Octobers, the true north Texas Autumn and winter colors is in the vivid coloration of the grasses.
During my hike, one rider seemed concerned that I intended to appear to be hiding in the trees, causing a risk of fright for her horse. I explained that I was intending only to go to the side of the trail, and that I always talk to the rider, to let the horse know it is all right. We parted amicably, but with less than perfect sympathy of soul. I felt her tone a bit supercilious and didactic at the time, but immediately after the event, of course, I realized that I should focus instead on my own weaknesses, and upon how I could have, upon cold reflection, had a smoother encounter.
My best encounter of the day was with a great crested flycatcher. He perched atop a branch of a dead tree. This cool bird has a blue-gray-ish body and a yellow breast, but his head is a bit "buffed" (crested), giving him a name arguably more grandiose than his size might dictate. He did not perch long enough for me to take his photograph. I did get a great look at him through binoculars. I also saw crows, seagulls, and a great blue heron, which last bird was standing atop a dead tree in the lake. I enjoyed walking along, listening to cool music on my mp3 player.
Tonight I heard a great new tune which Verian Thomas created using my sample for a new Thomas Nunnally Ensemble piece. I myself created a song as well, which sounds for all the world like a cathedral organ at play. perhaps it is the Elgar biography I am reading. Perhaps it is that I bought an album on emusic.com by organ genius Frederic Champion. Perhaps it is a lingering Messieaen fascination I experience lately. Perhaps I long to be a human Hammond organ. I do not know. But I think the piece will suit its purpose admirably, where it will appear as a mildly weird(bient) tune amid more ambient and chill companions on a compilation. I like the preset that sounds like a British jazz amplifier.
I also heard from a friend who can sing. I had thought to have my friend put some wordless backing music to an ambient piece I hoped to create to The White Cube art exhibition. When I completed the piece, it came out not as ambient-perfect-for-ethereal-vocals, but as quirky, melodic music. We consulted about whether it is really possible/necessary to add a vocal to the track beyond its spoken-word source material. I sent off an instrumental version. We'll work together on this project, or perhaps upon another, which will be fun. I commit the sin of secret pride, because the tinkertoy tune effectively uses a kalimba sample.
This afternon it rained buckets, and I watched a sports team lose a game on television.
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gurdonark's journal
