Let The Air Out Slowly

Pressure

2010-08-11T17:58:00.000-07:00

I took a look at myself the other day and saw that there were impressions on my skin from sitting in a wicker chair for a few hours. I found that if I were to dust these impressions with paprika, I could press a tortilla on my skin and create a kind of reproduction of the chair pattern. Eager to monetize this discovery, I sat in many chairs and on many impressionable objects. I sat on combs, coins, origami, miscellaneous hardware and on nuts and seeds. each produced a satisfying edible print. After documenting the imagery, these tortillas were packaged in plastic and carefully tucked into the deep freeze for eventual sale.
I found that I was running out of skin to impress. I had to impress my friends and family in order to press their skins into service. The deep freeze was starting to fill up.
After a while, I started to get press about my impressions. I pressed on with creating them. My technique was becoming refined, choosing patches of skin and angles most suited for the particular imagery. I branched out into other colors of edible powder: chlorella, turmeric, carob, and white pepper were among the new flavors for my palette.
When I started sitting on a series of devotional medals, business started to pick up. I found that, with care, I could get several copies out of a single impression. My skin itself was taking on the appearance of a tattoo parlor's sample poster.
I eventually branched out into gluten free imagery. I found that in this market, I could charge up to 30% more.

How To Do It

2009-12-21T08:18:00.000-08:00

The first thing to do is unscrew the valve and roll up the bottom to squeeze out all the air inside it. Then, it's relatively easy to stuff the thing into the hole in the wall. Make sure you've driven the picture hooks into the wall deeply enough so as to be able to hang the concealing portrait securely over that hole. Next, you must paint the wall a lighter color than the adjacent walls, and move a chair or credenza under the portrait.

Taking a moment to rest on the floor, you can then start work on the medallion. Remove the retaining bolts which hold it to the ceiling and save them in a teacup. Carefully wrap the plaster medallion with wool blankets as you remove it from the ceiling. A quick dusting with diatomaceous earth will keep the fleas from propagating. Reach into the cavity and locate the gas cap. Twist the cap counter clockwise two turns. You are now ready to replace the medallion by reversing the previous steps.

The rugs on the floor are next. They often conceal the fact that the floor has not been varnished in the center of the room - 19th century floor technology was expensive. Roll back the northwestern corners of the rugs (the least affected by sunlight in the Northern Hemisphere). Seek floorboards that were obvious replacements. Often these boards are loose and can be easily pried up. Remove the boards carefully and strew pebbles beneath them before replacing them.

Remember: you cannot be too careful or proceed too slowly with renovations. Be sure to map out enough time for this process!

CENSORED: A Variety Cryptic Crossword puzzle

2009-09-07T19:27:00.000-07:00

I really like variety cryptic crosswords.

I made this up more than 10 years ago: the date says Jan 20, 1999. I made it to run in my zine GLUM HOMEBODY. Rather than put numbers in the grid area, I use a kind of hex notation: add row and column to get the coordinate!

I might not post the solution unless I hear from YOU.

CENSORED!

Thirteen of the clues have had their definitions censored!

And for good reason!


0   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   A   B   C
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |                           |                       | 00
  +   +   +---+---+---+   +---+   +---+   +---+   +---+
  |                   |   |               |   |   |   | 10
  +   +   +---+---+---+   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +
  |               |   |                       |   |   | 20
  +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +
  |                               |                   | 30
  +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +
  |   |   |   |               |   |   |   |   |   |   | 40
  +---+   +---+---+---+   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +
  |                           |   |   |   |   |   |   | 50
  +   +   +---+---+---+   +---+---+   +---+---+   +   +
  |                       |                           | 60
  +   +   +---+---+   +---+---+   +---+---+---+   +   +
  |   |   |   |   |   |   |                           | 70
  +   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +---+---+---+   +---+
  |   |   |   |   |   |   |               |   |   |   | 80
  +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +   +---+---+   +   +   +
  |                   |                               | 90
  +   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +
  |   |   |                       |   |               | A0
  +   +   +   +   +---+   +   +   +---+---+---+   +   +
  |   |   |   |               |   |                   | B0
  +---+   +---+   +---+   +---+   +---+---+---+   +   +
  |                       |                           | C0
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+

To save space, the spots are described with "HEX" style

numbers.

Across:

00 As she keeps old without tail.(7)

07 Train in record return.(6)

10 Heard Frost.(5)

16 Confused endless Simon in soup.(4)

21 Swimmer enthralled in Amalfi shores.(4)

25 Special:"Closeups on cruise."(6)

30 Let us in desparately with knife.(7)

38 Inside mask: unknown critter.(5)

43 I and few are jumbled with woman.(4)

50 Led astray, rebuffed snappy dressers holding horror comic.(7)

60 Newark perversion?!(6)

66 Italian eight-person footstool.(7)

77 Red spy in Masschusetts.(7)

87 Fish with $1000 returns happiness.(4)

90 Facial aspect Small knot.(5)

95 California bean soldier: "Right! Left!"(8)

A2 Covering any cop dancing.(6)

A9 Rusian River, old English reed.(4)

B3 Calliope sounded cat whines.(4)

B8 Standard reversed with old idiot.(5)

C0 Victory again thwarted.(6)

C6 Uneven in Georgia, besides Minnesota.(7)

Down:

00 Terribly legal to be headless.(5)

01 Confusing Shah diet.(8)

05 Convict holds copper backwards.(7)

07 Number three seconds to surround England.(6)

09 Negative - Affirmative, that is. (6)

0B The Queen alone is crazy.(5)

16 Hybrid College in blown-over elm.(4)

1A Be American, empty to delight.(5)

1C Psychedelics advocate busted neck, man.(7)

24 Pressure: amount of mystic energy.(3)

38 F--- This!(4)

50 Swirling snows envelope an actress.(7)

5B Explode Bohr atom.(8)

64 Cleaver hidden by naked geisha.(4)

67 Cry at Holly madly.(5-2)

72 Second hair problem: too much oil!(5)

73 Alma is nuts for sandwich meat.(6)

75 Membranes are medium type of turn with Italian thing.(6)

81 Capital Zen chant? I get it!(5)

86 Lancelot Link - Yawn?(4)

8A Cloth, Sex goddess with me in the middle.(3)

8C Close, Senator.(5)

On Being Buried 18 Sept 1978

2009-07-03T16:13:00.000-07:00

The earth doesn't kiss like a shy new conquest,
But suffocates you with the hug of a mighty aunt.
This is the great unreckoned thing:
the overall pressing of the soil.
Each breath, if not a struggle, is a puzzle:
one wonders why one breathes at all.
The wet sand tells you that your body ends,
But it seems to extend more widely beneath the soil.

The ground molds itself to you:
a hole forms into which you fit perfectly,
which soon becomes loose, collapses, and fits again.
Often beneath the surface you grasp handfuls of earth.
The earth holds you holding the earth.
It enters your ears and your eyes,
Your fingernails, your mouth.

There is a kind of pain in your prone stagnation.

On Farmas Flot: Dorian mode folksong in an invented Scandinavian language

2009-07-03T14:07:00.001-07:00

On farmas flot min lufa stehet
Magre bene o tyn carn insammet
Teth så gertist o mymtisk desut
Ved basseten en thermet vealant noe tilkren
Not verbi veynmer utmot textra ventral
vestrans werolm peoplen temtor fentrost
et emmtrenge trowbt theng ecte e
dust imgovervigs td ventrent verts thotu
hemeds kurtt tyr trygget venathengte
mattensk matter

Parable poem (1977?)

2009-07-03T14:05:00.000-07:00

On the great side
There are some who, like the cat
who triumphantly scaled a tree
have not the courage to descend.

Fragment: 1979?

2009-07-03T13:54:00.000-07:00

He writes with the glee of a man who, having hidden himself in a convenient place, watches a boy write his name with a stick in wet cement, and he, a few minutes later, repeats the action, carefully looking about for fear of the authorities. For the act is an obsession, even if it is as harmless and transitory as a daydream, and his life is a succession of many such acts, driven by impulses and stimuli which which tease and pull, explode and whisper, beckon, hide, and vanish. In the dim semi-consciousness of his half-sleep, the walls of his room are like Jello, and then glass, and then air, weather affects him inside as it does the grass and trees; falling fruit invariably makes him fatter during the harvest; brittle grass makes him rue his awakening and prods his short temper; the thumb-deep mud and cumulous sky mollifies him and gives him hope; if the sand blows about his feet, supporting him in a peculiar way, he walks seaward onto packed ground and stretches in the sun. His towel served as his chair., his bed, his table, his clothing,his comfort, his protection, his shelter, and it was unsatisfactory in all these ways.

Amongst my papers: Summer 1979

2009-07-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

Carolyn,Shirley, Suzanne, Phyllis, Dolores, Francis, and Harriet Smith.
Dorothy, Theresa, Michelle, Annette, Beverly, Rebecca, and Marlene Jones.

These were the names that I had to remember this summer as a memory experiment. They had to be in that order and in that way.

[experiment was at either Horace Mann or the Rockefeller Institute. each woman was the mother ot the next in the list, and there were questions like is Annette the grandmother of Marlene? Is Dolores a Smith or a Jones? etc. I "cheated" not by writing, which was of course forbidden, but by making mnemonic sentences for them (since forgotten). ]

How it all works.

2009-06-06T19:59:00.000-07:00

It's almost a religious narrative:

1) You are to be born into debt. You shall pay your ancestor's debts, long after their deaths, to satisfy the legal rights of those who lent them the money to buy their houses, pay their doctors, and educate their children.
2) You take your place in the line of debt.
3) You "work." That is, you trade time and thought for the right to pay "your" debts.
4) Meanwhile, the unspoken debt to the earth grows, as you borrow from the earth to service your ancestor's creditors legal demands.

The Bastard's Lovely Daughter

2008-10-15T17:30:00.001-07:00

This is an old folk song I wrote in 1987, when I was a big fan of the Fast Folk Musical Magazine and their monthly shows at the Bottom Line, the Speakeasy and other defunct NYC venues.

The lyrics could stand a little updating, but it is a political - kinda - song! When I wrote it, I was thinking of ballads of beautiful daughters of thieves and robbers, just updated for their contemporary counterpart. And there's not a little of "Love Me,
Love Me, Love Me, I'm a Liberal" in there too.

Disclaimer portion: It's also not at all a song about close relative of mine who was briefly married to a famous (liberal) politician's daughter.

Verse:

It's six o'clock and at the factory gate
A man is smiling, shaking hands with the assembly line.
Here's the TV crew from channel Eight,
He'll help the factory close next month but now he's looking fine.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
We elected him, he's ours. Drives around in chauffered cars.
In exclusive Capitol bars, he's quite a bore.

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 2:

In fifty-two he found a commie plot
By schoolteachers and actors and some guys who owed him cash,
He thinks about those vivid times a lot,
When single-handed he could yank on Stalin's big moustache.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
He'll take take cash from any hand, can be bought for seven grand,
Treads on honor as on sand, sells out the poor -

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 3:

He's toasted by the racists and the mobs,
For writing them amendments which he puts in every bill.
He's given all his relatives their jobs,
And everyone he knows has got their hands deep in the till.

Have you heard the promises before?
Have you read the things he voted for?
He had bugged a circuit judge, On abortion he won't budge,
Cleaning up the toxic sludge Is not his chore...

But Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Verse 4:

I hope she isn't much like her old man,
I've seen her talk to blacks and give some quarters to a bum,
I saw her protest weapons to Iran.
I know she cheers the Skins whenever football season comes.

She hates "Dynasty" and MTV
Shops with coupons at the A&P
Though my income she won't need, She did not inherit greed,
When her dad has gone to seed She'll marry me.

And Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

// new verse 4 needed? after all, who knows what I'm talking about there!

Verse 4:

She's never shown an interest in me
Although gives to Greenpeace and protests the NRA
She's virtuous and also quite PC -
I saw her march with lesbians on last St. Patrick's Day!

She recycles plastic, glass and cans
Never air conditions, only fans.
Though she's living off her trust, It don't mean that she's unjust,
When her dad has gone to dust I'll be her man!

And Oh that bastard has a lovely daughter,
The sweetest woman ever came to Washington D.C.
A cultured tongue, a mannered hand, a well-kept figure
Think she'd ever come to love a liberal like me?

Questions I posted for the Candidates on Bill Moyers' site

2008-09-30T06:19:00.001-07:00

There are six major related crises impending and in progress right now:

- climactic instability
More intense weather in places not expected, drought, melting polar ice, rain instead of snowpacks...etc.
- the end of cheap oil
basically, the end of the 20th century version of civilization.
- air, soil water degradation
brought on by non sustainable farming practices and externalization of industrial waste responsibility.
- financial turmoil
brought on by the replacement of investment by speculation.
- population explosion
brought on by people themselves and the means to sustain them.
- lack of political will to address these issues
Oh, so many elephants in the room.

As president, you actually have little real power to address these issues - but you should use the "bully pulpit" to educate the world on these issues and work out whatever legislation and treaties and inspire action. These crises are international in scope - much work needs to be done removing international barriers to addressing these problems, and the president acts as our chief representative in the world.

The pointless war being fought today will pale like a schoolyard tiff in the face of these global crises.

How will you address these crises and what advisors will you bring to help you?

----
I like many others here hope that all the candidates will be asked this question.

From Time Warner to Me (1993)

2008-04-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

Here's a small book of poetry sent to me from Time
Warner Cable.
I have corrected the typography to correspond to contemporary poetic
layout standards. No punctuation has been changed.
— J.H.H.L.


  In a city
    of a thousand stories,
        cable TV has
           time to tell them all.


      CNN - Thought Provoking and Analytical.

10:45 pm.

   Barbara
   was helping Jerry
   pack for his business trip
   to Chicago.
     It was his fifth trip this year.
   Even after 25 years of marriage
    they still fought right before
     he went away.
   This way
    they didn't have to admit how much
     they hated being alone.
   They stopped fighting
   and listened to the news report
   about Bosnia.


      THE CARTOON NETWORK - Home to the Top Toon Stars.

3:51 pm.

   Grandma
   was watching
   Michael and Denise.
        After Michael wrote
         on Denise's homework with a red crayon
           he acted silly
     just like that dog on TV.
       They all laughed.
       They loved Droopy.



    HEADLINE NEWS - A Whole Day's News Every Half Hour.

9:32 am.

               Like usual
  the alarm didn't go off.
  Allison
                   jumped in the shower then
     threw on her blue suit.
  She didn't care if anyone
   noticed       the      wrinkles.
    She checked
    the ticker.
    She checked
    her watch.
    She'd be right
    on time.

   TNT - Originals, Sports and the greatest Movies Hollywood ever Made.

9:22pm.

   Tom and Michelle sat on the couch
   eating    beef and broccoli
     with chopsticks.
   They've been living together for two years. She's
         a lawyer. He's
         a social worker. They both
         had a terrible day and
           needed
             to
               escape.
         She       wants
                  to reminisce.         He
                  wants a score.



    T B S - A  Great Place for entertainment.

4:12 pm.

   Scott was practicing
      his swing with a 9
        iron in his living
          room.
   When he was a
     kid the things he loved
      to do were
                 go golfing with his Dad,
            watch a James Bond movie and
     look at the pictures in National Geographic.
         He          still        does.


At any given
   moment in your
    life, cable TV
      can
       make an impact.

Cyberspace Cowboy

2008-03-01T19:14:00.000-08:00

The kernal's full of patches and the protocols are slow
So I just hit the hardware and it doesn't even know.
As long as software's written by a team of lamer nerds
The hardware will respond to you if you just know the words.

As I strapped on my eyephones and I pasted on my 'trodes,
I drifted into alpha as I hacked away the codes.
I slipped inside the mainframe where the passwords all were blank,
And rustled 15 million from the Central Euro Bank.

My dataglove was flaky and my eyephones out of phase
The jitter in the timing pulse extended the delays.
My duty cycle lengthened and I felt the coming crash,
I loaded up some structures from the swapped-out data cache.

When all at once the Supervisor signals and events -
The Cyber interface police has found my evidence!
I squeezed the glove and clicked the mouse and tried to use the Force,
But they had cracked my virus with a hairy Trojan Horse.

I couldn't interrupt them or defer their tasks from me
Or re-assign their swapspace to a low priority
So I just took their task ID's and put them in a queue
And vectored them to address NIL and hung the CPU.

I flatlined by the access port to watch for their reboot.
I plucked the 'trodes and cables off and threw them in the chute.
The FBI came knockin' with a warrant three feet long -
But all they got was "Space Wars" and a moldy game of "Pong"!

(circa 1988)

Unemployable Feathers

2007-11-01T19:02:00.000-07:00

Lakes hold a special fascination for the dry.
The subtle lapping water, often carrying leaves and pine needles with it, the delicacy of the wetness, which is not at all like the pulverizing crush and spray of the ocean, coyly invites one to join it in its gentle pulse. Lake plants, growing richly but stopping inches below the surface, cluster by the rocks and in submerged gardens which can be best discovered with a submerged foot.
There are days when the partched air rattles the cane curtains and dust balls scatter over the newly swept patios.The corners of my mouth hurt. I don't need much convincing. The lake is audible. Water striders are practicing their moves in pairs by the roots of the shrubs by the water's edge.
Most people would prefer cautiously wetting their feet, imagining that the feet would convey a sense of what a more complete immersion would be, but I prefer the whole body approach. I step back. I make sure there are no floating branches or hidden rocks. I slick back my hair. A hot breeze eggs me on. I rise. I straighten out.
But I do not sink. I am repelled like oil off the surface of the lake, as if it were made of rubber.
The force of it bends my nose. I reach my hand into the water to use as a salve. Oddly, I hold a palm full of water like a melted ball. As I squeeze it, it acquires a clay-like texture and weight, which is not unpleasant. I found that I was floating away from the shore, which would be disturbing if I thought I were going to sink, but I rather felt that the situation was under control. The mass in my hand became birdlike. It grew down, a beak, and a tiny pulsing heart. Claws scrabbled at the ball of my thumb. Gently, I released the bird, and blew life into its feathers, whereupon it passed away, flopping over the water's surface. Now I was alone. I also had lost sight of the shore and the sky was a uniform mottled gray.

SLOW FOOD Nov 12, 2004

2005-12-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

A soupçon of soup's on the stoop, son.
If I am whistling, it's because I'm about to boil over.
I'm ready.

Waiting for eating's,
not grating, defeating,
we're hating the speeding,
berating the seating.

You are what you eat.
Be slower ... eat slower.

Where is my order? And what is my order anyway? Primate?

If that tomato has no living relatives,
I don't expect to find it by the smell it gives.

Let's relate.
Let's talk a lot about what we ate.

cannoli, carciofi, cannelini,
panucci, prosciutto, panini,
lasagna, legumi, linguini,
zabaione, zuccotto, zucchini.

Maitre d'! How I hate your tea!

Over 30 Billion Served .. slowly.

A l p h a b e t i c a l

2005-02-21T17:43:00.000-08:00

Abandon abbreviated abdomens! Abduct aberrant Abigail! Able Abner
abnormally abolished abominable aborigine. Abort abovementioned
abrasive, absentminded, absurd, abusive academician! Acapulco
accelerated accessible acolade, accompanist accosted. Accra accrued
accuracy, accused acetic Achilles' acidic acorn. Acquaintance acquired
aquittal. Acrobat, across acrylic actress, acts adamant. Adam added
additional address. Adieu, Adkins, administer admiralty! Admonish
adolescent Adolph. Adopt adreneline, Adrienne! Adroit adult advises aerobics.
Aesthetic affairs affect affirmations. Afghan's aflame. Aforementioned
aftermath: afternoon afterthought afterward again. Agatha's agenda
aggravates agressor. Agribuisiness, Ahoy! Airline Airman's alabaster
albatross - albeit alcoholic - alienated Allah. Allied alligators
allocated allspice. Alongside aloof Alpert,

A L P H A B E T I C A L

alphanumeric Alsatian , also
alternate alto altogether. Am amateurish, amatory, amazed, Ambassador.
Amelia ameliorates American amethyst amidst ammunition. Amoebas,
amphetamines, amphibians, amplifiers, amputees, amulets, an anaconda,
analysts, anarchic ancestors, anchors and Andean anirons animate
annapolis. Anneal, annihilate, annotate, announce, annoy annual anomolies.
Anorexia - another answer. Antarctican anthology anticipates antipodean
antique antlers. Anyone - anyplace - anything, anyway, Aphrodite's
apology appals apparent appearance. Apple applicant applies appropriate
appoval. April: Arabic arachnids arbitrate aboreal arcades. Archaic
archbishops are areas, aren't arenas. Argentinian argot: aristocratic arse!
Artichoke article's arty as asbestos. Asexual Ashley's ashore! Askew
asparagus assails assassin. Arsonist associate astounds astronomer.
Astrophysicist at Atlanta ate athletic, atomic attache. Attica attire
attracts atypical audience. Audiotape augments august aunt Aurora.
Australian autobiography avenged average aviatrix. Avocado awakes!
Awesome! Awful axolotl ayes Aztec azure.
--- Nov 5, 1995

Acit Cràt Na

2005-02-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

Antarctica's Monologue

My back is curved, the days and nights flicker on my covering of ice.
the winds blast across my dry skin down to the sea.
Are there others like me?
As I sleep, I feel the rhythm on my covers move with my breathing.
Life at my scale is grander than the lives of my parasites, but yet I wonder.
Are there others like me?
The ice calves, the winds circulate.
I have been bent by my ice coat, the glaciers flood down my spine.
Can I recall a time when I was not broken, not burdened?
White, and cold because of it.
Auroras wash and tickle my center.
At my edges, many trails bend the rocks and curve them.
How do I call from the bottom of the earth?
And who will hear?

Is the ice causing my life or deadening it?
So much subtlety is missing - so essential is my life - I can do without food,
I can do without air.
Yet, there is the spinning of the globe, the precession of the axes.
My day and night - so very extreme - causing my breath, but am I breathed?
Separation.
I was separated.
I tore off the other continents and floated south.
the river on my back became a sea; the whiter I got, the whiter I became,
and as I hug the bottom of the earth, whiter shall I become.
- - - - - - -
This is related to the Acit Cràt Na project.

The Light Of The Moon

2004-11-27T02:35:00.000-08:00

When the moon rises, it clings to the horizon for a few minutes, the horizontal clouds glowing with a pregnant light, giving off cold rays, blue, white, rouge, and the shape of the moon, like the yolk of a just-cracked egg, bleeds out beyond those clouds, slowly coming together as it rises, becoming more circular, and, if a day or two beyond fullness, a tiny chip off the corner may be visible, a chip which causes you to doubt its roundness, its simplicity, and replaces the childlike circle with a more complicated and real planet - a planet that exists not by itself, but in a community of planets, each receiving light, each casting shadow, light that may never reach another planet's surface, though it may travel for more years than the earth has existed, and shadow, complementing the light, which, ironically, does tend to disappear as long as the diameter of the casting object is less than the light source, for the annulus of a perfect eclipse grows with the distance from the light source until the obscuring object is subsumed in the penumbra of the light emanating source, which could be a star, a glowing gas cloud, a comet, an exploding or imploding mass, or cold light, invisible to human eyes but not to our sensitive electronic senses - shadows of all different sizes cast not only by the Earth, the Moon itself, countless rocks and ice clouds and the mountains of the moon themselves, their shadows lengthening in a month-long cycle, and so more slowly lengthening, but, as the crags reach high of the flat maria, the shadows stand distinctly defined in the airless world, blurred only by our remoteness and our atmosphere, and the craters like frozen circular waves of water, with a peak in the center, intersect each other, which we can see, so many miles distant, as patterns of rings, not nice, evenly shaped patterns, but splattered patterns such as one sees in the first few minutes of rain on a sidewalk or a birdbath, the craters, which , if measured precisely, tell of basoliths below the surface of the moon, remnants of the original meteors which struck the still liquid mass, absorbed in the crust, but not deeply, rather, they too, flowing into the crust in the way the moon itself will flow into the horizon after it completes its transit, first caressing the edge of light with its limbs, bending in the refractive air and spreading again behind the clouds of dawn, one body retiring and ceding its reign in an orderly fashion, to the other, which itself is the sole source of the inert sphere's luminosity, pale, a gray that seems blue, visible on a cold night, where you can read about the color of the moon by its very light, in a line that goes from the center of the sun, past the earth, to the moon, through the atmosphere and down to the page, where the ray makes its way to your eye, sensitive to such subtle light and deducing the similarly subtle shadow.

Variety is the spice of lunch

2004-11-16T01:09:00.000-08:00

There was so much food there now, and , knowing much more was coming, Evan didn't know where to begin.
Fortunately, the setting of the table helped a lot., for all the flatware was arranged in such a matter as to clue him in to which item should be eaten first.
A small pincer like device - I see - that can be used for plucking the flesh of this ... claw?
And the two thin silver chopsticks - they must be for picking up those salmon eggs - or whatever roe they actually are.
A hammer and set of chisels with successively fine points?
At the top of the plate was a small pair of reading glasses, which he put on and , sure enough, he could see that some of the food was so tiny he might have missed it. It looked like tiny berries, but they may have been popped blowflies for all he knew.
Salt and pepper were not on the table - instead six bottles with differing colored powders and liquids were placed nearby, and Evan noticed that there was a different set at the next table. The bright green - was that some kind of ground pepper or was it a seaweed? The deep red - paprika? - or the brown - ox blood? In any case, each combination looked to make for an unusual flavor!
The air itself was going through courses, as the smell went from cardamom to sesame, to a hickory smoke and - yes - even tobacco.
The napkins had been laid in a series , one per course, and each in a different fabric and color. A set of tiny cups made of different metals held aromatic liquids, some to drink, some to dip food in, some just to be there to neutralize the one it was placed in back of.

With a ringing of the dinner bell, our host helped ease the proceedings with a short introduction to the meal.

"As you may well recall, I returned last month from a "round the world trip" that took me five years and three months to complete, and I crossed the globe many times and went to all continents to find the rarest and most exotic foods.
Never has a single meal had all its ingredients taken all fresh within 12 hours - from the five continents, and many other places beside."

"We start as the Blue whales do, with a bowl of plankton, chilled with a light sea salt. We end as the bats do, with freshly
caught mosquitos from our own special bug zappers. And in the course of tonight's repast, we taste the outsides - hair, feathers, skins and leaves - and work our way to the bones and entrails, the eggs and sperm, the contents of a ruminants four stomachs and I even say, the four stages of a frog's metamorphosis. Liquid, solid and gaseous delights are to be presented in a gustatory poem of the senses. You may not be able to partake of all these exotica - the cryptozoans from Antarctica's Dry Valleys may prove too difficult to scrap off of the ventiformed rocks they are concealed in, and the interiors of a sea urchin's spines may not prove worthy of the effort to avoid the poison - yet I am sure that for each of you, at least one of these courses will prove a revelation and a reorientation of your idea of what is fit to eat. Feel free to pass on your untested food to a neighbor, who may better enjoy it."

"There is no better way to feel connected with the earth than to partake of it, as it is done not only by far-flung tribes of men, but by the animals they live with and the many forms of life which man takes no account of. "

While this was going on, a pressurized tank was being wheeled in, with a spouting black smoker and, surrounding this simulated hydrothermal vent, were teams of tall wormlike creatures and blind shrimp. How are we expected to eat animals that do not share our basic chemistry, that do not even use sunlight as an energy source? This is insane!

The plankton that started us off was given in whale-sized proportion. Many of the meats seemed purposely uncooked,
waiting for us to either eat it raw or to don the fireproof gloves and thrust it into the earth ovens which had been built in the center of the room. In fact, in the dim light, I could now see that some rabbits and voles were loose in the room, and I suppose we were expected to catch and kill them ourselves, explaining the tiny traps and nooses that also lay in our settings.

Over by the far wall were pens of brooding fowl, some of them only slightly smaller than an albatross. From these birds issued a stream of eggs, and also the same was provided by a simulated beach where loggerhead sea turtles had lain their eggs.
Yes, I even could make out a gravid platypus.

It was going to be a long, challenging night, but a free meal is a hard thing to pass up.

Elevator

2004-11-03T22:54:00.000-08:00

I heard the doors move before I walked in. That's because I was still facing the hallway, where a torn photocopied sign was telling participants where the Palomar Room would be for a meeting. I stepped in, sideways, and turned to the control panel.
"There's no 'DOWN' button," I said to myself.
"Right. There IS no 'DOWN' button," I heard from the speaker of the elevator.
"Well, how do you get down, then?" I asked.
"You have to know what floor you came from, first. Then push that button twice. It's a security feature."
"How does this work again?"
"What floor did you get in on?" he asked, impatiently.
"I don't know - fifteenth?"
"So, press the fifteen twice."
I did.
The elevator ascended.
"Looks like you didn't get in on the fifteeth floor. But it's going there now, and you can get off and try again."
I was annoyed. Also, the elevator smelled like old coffee.
The bell rang and the doors opened again.
I stepped out briefly, hit the call button again, and the doors reopened.
I stepped in once more and confidently tapped the fifteen button twice.
The doors closed and the elevator descended a few floors.
It stopped, and two people got on, both talking in cell phones, in a strange disconnected dialogue.
My phone rang.
It was the elevator observer.
"Hi, it's me .. don't let those kids get off the elevator."
"You mean these two women?"
"Yes. Don't let them off. You get off instead. And don't let them know I called."
"How am I going to do that?"
"Create a diversion."
"Hmm."
"I know you'll think of something. Fifteen is where Creative has its offices."
I shut off the phone. The elevator was slowing. I threw the phone suddenly as the left woman's feet, causing a loud clang.
The door opened and I stepped out. The doors closed. The floor indicator lights over the door now showed the elevator ascending
rapidly. But from the air being sucked into the door gap, I knew that the elevator was in fact descending to the sub-sub basement.

Cautiously, I called for the elevator. It didn't respond.

Walking over to a phone booth, I dialed my phone's number. It was busy. I dialed the phone's answering machine.
There was one new message, from the elevator operator. He promised I could get a new phone soon.

As I was deleting it, another message had come in. The was from one of the women.

"I don't know who you are, but they are taking us out the Mall exit. Gotta go."

I passed through the metal detector and out into the lobby. I pushed aside the glass doors and walked over to the side of the building, about 50 feet.
A white van was parked by a gray door, idling. The two women walked out, strolling and calm. They were unaccompanied.
One of them opened the van's passenger door. The other crossed in back of the van to the driver's side.
The gray door opened again, and the two women strolled out again. This time more rapidly. Again, they split up and went to opposite doors of the van.
Yet again, the grey door opened and the same two women got out. The one on the left was holding my phone. I ran toward her and managed to grab it back.
As I did, I felt an electric tingle in my fingers. They stopped walking, but didn't look at me. Then they continued to the van.
The phone had a text message posted on it:
GO THOUGH THE DOOR.
The gray door was slightly ajar and I could just get my fingers in near the latch and I pulled the door open. I cold, faintly rubbery smelling breeze passed me.
The rear of the door had a sign:
"WARNING. THIS DOOR IS ALARMED!"
Yet I could hear no alarm. Maybe I wasn't supposed to hear the alarm.
The phone had a new message:
"NO, I MEANT THE VAN DOOR!"
I pressed on the gray door's openng bar. Instantly a loud whooping noise sounded. I jumped. I ran out of the door toward the idling van. As I did, I had the funniest feeling of déjà vu. I felt my hand on the door bar again, but this time there was no alarm.
I ran toward the van again and jumped in on the passenger side.
"Going Down?"
Somehow, I found myself back in the hall. The copied paper was still on the wall, with the same tear in it.

Although it was hard to believe, I rang for the elevator again, this time noting that I was not on the fifteenth floor, but on 12A.

In the elevator, I pushed 12A twice, and exited the building without incident.

Blankly

2004-11-02T22:28:00.000-08:00

Widowed as a teen, then newly pregnant,
Due to a hurricane that crushed her uncle's car
and her new husband, who was underneath the fender.
Holding the jack, he'd tried to fix the tire.

And later, Minna, stunned and wrapped in blankets
the room sound blurred in the high school's gymnasium,
swore at the gods who still howled at the clapboards.

"I'll name him after Dan. He'll reincarnate."
But when the time came, she had borne a girl.
And not an easy birth by any measure.
A breech birth, with the cord wrapped round her neck.
Daniela she was called. She's a survivor.

All three of Minna's sisters had their own,
but her big brother came to town to help.

All through that autumn, winter, spring
She tried to find a life with her new baby,
who cried and kicked when Minna tried to sleep.
Breast feeding didn't work for her, and so
she needed formula, and wouldn't take it cold.
Minna spent hours loading and unloading
the diapers and the bibs. All food was ground
when she at last took solids. Cauliflower,
And cream of wheat were mostly what she ate,
and both of them were tasteless foods to Minna.

She wondered if she really was her child,
although she had to be. She sometimes doubted
if in that horrid night she had been swapped
and she was wandering somewhere by the stream,
while this ghost woman had her changeling child.

Daniela liked to pull things off the shelf.
She learned to walk by following the cat.
She didn't mind if all her toys were broken.
She grew to look for love, so hard to find
in her own mother. But she grew to love
the garden. Plants and vegetables grew
with her and she would play or watch the ants
while underneath the bean vines where the leaves
and fragrant blossoms summoned bees and flies.
And she would sleep there underneath them, tanned
and played out while her mother weeded.

When she was two, she was a ruddy girl.
She talked and asked her mother endless queries.
Once, when she had a fever, she cried out
"I see my daddy! See him?" Minna looked.
And putting down her head, near Daniela's,
A streak of light reflected in the window.