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January 21st, 2010

making burlap

Today I dined at lunch on steamed broccoli and chicken at King Chinese restaurant. I finished the Robert Silverberg science fiction book I got at Big Lots--a really promising alien cultures setting somehow dissipated into a quick rumble to get the plot over with in the right number of words. This week the mail brought C. Reider and PBK's Discorporate, an album of quite varied and intriguing abstract/noise music to which I listened during my drive time. I liked when I turned the dial over to the radio, to transform from the abstract genre into a Mozart piece played on a cello. I love juxtaposition.

The CD arrived in the mail four days after it was mailed from Colorado. I mailed a CD to a friend in Canada,and it took a month to arrive. Mail is a funny thing.

This month is proving very busy. I am glad I love my work, but my free time for hobby things I'd like to get done diminishes.

Get your head into the clouds

I am thinking about getting a new or new/used bicycle, or changing the tire inner tubes on the one I have. My current bike has those annoying tires that require a special attachment to the tire pump to inflate. This annoys me because although in theory this style should hold air better, my own praxis suggests the contrary is true. I am a patient man, but I cannot easily abide a bicycle which deflates (and which thereby deflates the spirit). I want to ride like the eagle in a bad 70s song, who rides like the eagle and lets his spirit carry him. DeGray Lake is having an eagle watch this Saturday, but that is a four hour plus drive, so I will watch seagulls instead. I am reading up on American-made worksman bikes and also on used bikes. I am all for sustainable re-use and domestic trade. We have lovely places to ride here--a side benefit of being so flat.

We watched them make dresses from burlap bags on Project Runway tonight. I would like to see a challenge in which they make burlap bags from dresses. I stopped by a Mexican-themed supermarket tonight. I saw the little ginger pigs for which I have a hankering. Ahead of me, though, were half a dozen people, with pastries stacked on each patron's large round tray with tongs, as is the custom. I could not endure waiting a long while in line, only to get that look of disbelief when my single ginger pig might cost, say, fifty cents.
Perhaps the idea of ginger pigs is the key.

I am thinking about the people of Haiti. I hope that recovery efforts make a positive impact on a very difficult and sad situation.