Archive for the 'Variations In B-Flat' Category

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A crow came by and landed on the back lawn yesterday morning and caused a rarin’ ruckus because the jays and the robins and the starlings and the doves and the squirrels and all the other one ones didn’t know just didn’t know how to react to this big black what it isone all of a sudden all of a sudden coming in for a landing. But all for sure for sure all everybody was moved to a new and ‘cited hoppin’ jumpin’ jive. With that there crow arrive.

And on the front lawn yesterday morning a torn butterfly ripped to final fatal shit by somebody—maybe; who knows; the crow—the butterfly aching and in pain with ants crawling all over its torn and tattered body and I brushed them away and placed the writhing pain-wracked dying creature in an oregano pot and observed, over the hours, over the hours, over the hours, over the hours, helpless, helpless, helpless, as it writhed, helpless, from life unto death, death, death, death.

Yesterday was my birthday.

And you want me to another year go through this again.
And you want me to another year go through this again.
And you want me to another year go through this again.
And you want me to another year go through this again.
And you want me to another year go through this again.

and you were standin’ there
and you were standin’ there
and you were standin’

there

in all your revelation
waitin’ for me to come

ain’t nobody
gonna stop me from lovin’ you baby

Who Knows Where The Time Goes

I have a recurring fantasy that if one were to dial the telephone number of someone in the past, one would hear again a familiar voice, and time would instantly rewind from now to then. I still have Orson Welles’ telephone number in my book (213-851-8458). Do I dare ring him and talkstill here to him back in 1982, where he is busy trying to convince Jack Nicholson to play Pellarin for two not four million dollars? Should I tell him that he’ll not get the picture made? No. That would be too harsh. I’ll pretend that I have somehow got a copy of it, and that I think it marvellous though perhaps the handkerchief was, from so prudish a master, a bit much? Even incredible.

“Incredible?” The voice booms in my ear.”How could it be incredible when I stole it from Othello? But now I have a real treat for you. Standing here is your neighbour . . . Rudy Vallee! Overcome that ‘quiet reserve of shyness.’ Sing!

From out of the past, I hear, “My time is your time,” in that reedy highly imitable voice. The after-life’s only a dial tone away. “What makes you think that this is the after-life?” Orson chuckles. “This is a recording.” Stop story here.

—Gore Vidal, “Remembering Orson Welles”

Sleepers Awake

As someone said to me—I can’t remember now who it was—it is really remarkable that when you wake up in the morning you nearly always find awakeeverything in exactly the same place as the evening before. For when asleep and dreaming you are, apparently at least, in an essentially different state from that of wakefulness; and therefore, as that man truly said, it requires enormous presence of mind or rather quickness of wit, when opening your eyes to seize hold as it were of everything in the room at exactly the same place where you had let it go on the previous evening. That was why, he said, the moment of waking up was the riskiest moment of the day. Once that was well over without deflecting you from your orbit, you could take heart of grace for the rest of the day.

—Franz Kafka

I Am A Peanut Farmer

A fun thing, when you’re trying to grow things, is seeing what might decide to grow, that pretty much has nothing to do with you, and your sweet amusing gentle intentions.

Here, I have to, daily, feed the squirrels and the jays. The favorite let there befood of each, both, is peanuts. So, every day, I slather the brick rail, with said nuts.

Many things, here, I would like to grow, but they die on the vine; never come up; are chewed back to nothingness by invisible insects; are thrown out of their holes by raccoons; are slob-hooved trampled by deer; are just too frightened and depressed to even much try to grow.

But then, there are peanuts. I have not planted even one of these. They are not supposed to even grow here. But the jays and the squirrels—in their world, some of the peanuts you eat; some you bury.

The bury peanuts. Are now busting out all over. They are boldly, bravely, sprouting, in every nook and cranny, here on the grounds of the Manor. More, I find, every day. And I am bringing them along. I did not plant them. But I am, now, a peanut farmer.

No Ways Tired

from & for sugar

Nose For News

All day I have been seeing these headlines about some racehorse and “nasal strips.”

Do I even want to snortknow what this is about?

No. I do not.

All I know is that yesterday I bought a pink plastic watering can in the shape of a pig; when you water, the water flows out the pig’s twin noseholes.

This, clearly, is the zenith of both the industrial age, and the information age.

As they say in scripture: “It is accomplished.”

Both ages: they are over.

Now, we can move on to something else.

As we can move on to something else from “riding” a horse in a “race.”

When you are with an animal, when an animal is with you, you are only, who you are, when it’s an island.

Just you two.

And you are an animal. All of you.

I Am A Gnome Farmer

07/14/13

This place is $522 a month: 656 square feet, but with three bedrooms. Maybe a home for gnomes? There is a glass-topped table in the living room, convenient for snorting cocaine and/or other substances. There is a strange object on the counter, next to the sink, that may be from space.

07/30/13

I have decided I am going to paint an oil painting of the piano, and then happyhang it above the piano. I will be like a painting gnome, in the basement.

01/07/14

Eventually I see the truck entering a tow-yard. I go to the little booth and tell the gnome in the booth that the truck must be released at once, because it belongs to Pete. He asks if I’m Pete, and I say no. He asks for Pete’s full name, and I say I don’t know his full name. The gnome is full of sneers, but at last he says if I pay the full tow and storage fee I can have the truck, no matter who I am. He quotes some price so outrageous my mind refuses to remember it. I pay it, and he lets me into the yard. Which is like a graveyard of elevated trucks, in various states of dismantlement, except they’re all orange. None of them are red. “Pete’s truck is red!” I cry. “Where did you put it?” Tow-orcs sneer that they only have orange trucks in that yard, as everyone knows, and if I couldn’t even get the right yard, that was my problem, not theirs.

04/01/14

The Bainbridge man is now in the new building. He has a small public booth upstairs, but most of his stuff is in a secret gnome room, upstairs behind a closed door, that he opens to humans only Wednesday through Saturday.

04/05/14

As I suspected, many people froth and foam that a fiddle should not be purchased online. However, there is a folk/bluegrass-outfit-only in Illinois, that offers fully guaranteed returnable vintage fiddles that are pre-“set up”: everybody says the instrument when purchased MUST then be “set up,” and this can only properly be done by some old gnome puttering around fiddlein the back of a violin shop.

04/06/14

Now that there are two gnomes, I have decided they are too scary to be in the house. I will get more, but then they have to live outside. Probably they should go in the fenced-in place, so they don’t get knocked over.

P.S. I think my gnome fear comes from the fact that the newest gnome is waving.

04/14/14

The little gnome spent the night outside. He is brave.

My latest thought is that the little gnomes might look bigger if I perch them on those disused white ant pipes. Not only will they look bigger, but they can change the energy. If I pursue this latest theory, I will have to count the pipes, and then maybe be forced to accumulate more gnomes accordingly.

04/14/14

So I put on shoes and socks and pants to go out and plant a pepper plant. And the “music” neighbor was playing a death metal song with a constant refrain of a man frothily shouting “son of a bitch! son of a bitch!”

So I went in the house and ate cheese on a bagel.

That music will make the little gnome get PTSD. And then maybe he’ll become a freeway shooter.

04/14/14

The nice lights have come on and there is a big moon in the sky.

There should be solar gnomes.

04/16/14

You need gnomes, because when K——- who can’t write has the meetings where she tries to boss the writers, she should be facing a window, and outside somebody will dance the gnomes, before the window, like in The Full Monty, and everyone else in the room de gnome de gnomewill say they don’t see the gnomes, and then K——- will know she is having a breakdown, and will go into a Home, and then she won’t bother you any more, and then you can be the Ruler, as is supposed to happen.

04/25/14

When I was in Canned Food the other day I saw more mosaic lights and gnomes. I am going to buy them. The waving gnome is now on the railing of the front porch, cheerily greeting people who pass by. I’m thinking I should just give up and litter the place with gnomes. I also believe there can not be too many mosaic lights. Last night I strung 30 Kesey bells. I am going to go by Michaels and buy several hundred more. Probably soon it will be time for those large see-through metallic wire sculptures of flying dinosaurs. Cables can grow on them.

04/25/14

I know I can’t look at my banking on the intertubes for some days, because I know the shock would be too great. But I suppose if you go out shopping intending to buy all the gnomes and mosiac lights in the store, you have to assume a descent into madness.

04/26/14

I went to Mabel’s and got two mushrooms. I put them with two gnomes and two mosaic solar lights and two pine cones by the four pink clovers, now supplemented by four purple alyssum and four white alyssum.

The waving gnome remains on the railing. Together with the two clover gnomes, that makes three. That means I only have three gnomes left for the entire remainder of the property.

I SUFFER FROM AN APPALLING DEARTH OF GNOMES. ; (

04/27/14

There is a Neil Diamond song that goes “stones would play/inside my head.” In my head it’s playing as “gnomes would play/inside my head.”

04/28/14

All the gnomes are here. No rototiller damage to the circles of light.

04/29/14

I like to sit out and watch the solar lights come out. And I really like my gnome array. I watered it at sundown, so tomorrow when the hot sun comes out, they will not be afraid.

05/01/14

I’m supposed to meet with S— and G—- and the orchard-shooting client tomorrow in the late afternoon. Then on Saturday they want me to go out with them to talk to some witness.

Don’t they understand I’m a gnome farmer? : /

05/02/14

Last night I unwrapped the gnomes and placed them together on the counter. They did not look menacing or threatening or anything. They just looked absurd.

This morning, however, in the light, they’re kind of unsettling. They will need soon to fan out across the land.

05/03/14

Gnomes are fanning out into the countryside.

05/03/14

While weeding I discovered I might have a modest little portal to another realm under my little stump. I put a gnome there.

05/03/14

I put the shocked and sagging green bell peppers by the gnome, so he could help them.

I think once the Protected Area is all landscaped some solar lights might have to go in there. It is also possible that each lone gnome may need to have a solar light.

05/06/14

I placed three more gnomes yesterday. The one on the white ant pipe nearest the road seems kind of far away and forlorn. I’ll probably have to get him a mushroom. And some plants.

Only three gnomes remain in the house.

05/06/14

I am going to dump the catbox and then be a gnome farmer. I am going to plant the hyssops that are growing in the baby tray because they’ve stopped getting bigger and I’m going to put them between the chewed-down serranos because the tubes say deer deer:evilhave a great Hate for hyssop and will flee it whenever they see it. I am also watering the lonely gnome and when the ground is sufficiently water-worked I am going to plant around him the remaining alyssum and one or more of those dianthus. He’ll probably still need a mushroom. I have one of those plastic whirligig pinwheels down in the basement: maybe I’ll plant that next to him. I had to put one of the three remaining house gnomes out by the volunteer daffodil by the pear tree because in my blindness I kept stepping on it. He will prevent that.

05/09/14

In the night a gnome was bowled over. I don’t know if it was the wind, or a marauder.

05/10/14

Here, the wind is not only ringing the fairy bells, it’s also bobbing the gnome heads.

05/10/14

I may be facing a gnome shortage. I have placed 14 so far, with only two left in the house.


When I Worked

September 2014
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