Morning Ululations
Once again I awake to the schreech of birds.
Yesterday morning when I went out to pick up the paper I saw two eagles being chased by an osprey to the tree in our backyard.
Or maybe they were racing for the tree in order to claim territory. At least they don't have guns.
The eagles spent the next half hour screaming at the air, either to announce thier "mission accomplished" or to pretend that they were never afraid of no osprey.
Today I just let them jabber away.
At least there are no crows playing dive bomber as of yet.
I am somewhat insulated from exterior cacophony here in the "studio" ("studio" Hah, that's rich) so the only cacophony I'm obligated to endure is that which my muse forces me to create. It's always sombody elses fault innit?
At least the cat hadn't dragged one into my room.
Actually, the real reason I am up at this ungodly hour on a Sunday (Sunday, ungodly?)
is that we have a guest staying and I didn't stay up till 1:30 watching Saturday Night Live and Almost Live reruns.
Usually I'm asleep till at least 10:00.
I don't know about that Saturday Night Live show, it's cute, but I have a hard time keeping from laughing.
Kidding aside, I am somewhat divorced from Mainstream America and I watch in order to keep an eye on, so to speak.
And, besides, it makes much more sense than the "news" which never seems to me to be very new. I've read too much history. I've compared too much real weather with too much predicted weather. And, get this, one team wins and the other team loses.
Almost Live is a sentimental favorite partially bacause it is (was) local and more because it featured Nancy Guppy.
I am a fan.
She brought some intelligence to the usual insulting comeback sort of thing that one would have to endure if one actually watched more than the promotion ads for the soi disant "humor" shows that litter the screen of AM television these dark days of human civilation.
I would say "I'm in love with her" but there are undoubtedly more lunatic lawyers in the bushes ready to make something ugly out of it.
Hey, looneys, make something out of this! (too bad you can't see the gesture that goes along with that invitation)
Anyway I've nearly completed my experiments in sub-atomic physics and you may look forward to my report soon. (you could hardly look backwards to something that hasn't happened yet, could you?) (Or can you? Stay tuned).
A confession, awhile ago I reported that I had decided to take a bicycle ride.
That ride never happened. I am sorry that I misled you. I hope I didn't spoil any plans you may have made. I did pump up the tires and got all ready, but "events conspired" as they say. Actually, I've never heard anybody say that, but I say that because it is a nice mixed metaphor.
You may want to skip the next few sentances because I am going to explain my what I mean by calling a mixed metaphor "nice" and you, loyal fans, already "get it".
This is for the "Parade magazine" level intellects who accidentally access this site due to some misspelling error in thier blog search endeavors.
A "nice" mixed metaphor is one that works on a metaphysical plane.
Of course "events" canot "conspire". A conspiracy is three people complaining about the government.
It's just that when things totally out of your control co-incide to prevent some silly thing you had planned, it feels like a conspiracy.
To say "It seems like events have conspired" is using a mere simile, which is an acedemic observation and doesn't have the blood and sinew of the metaphor.
To use the simile is to divorce ones self from the emotional reality.
Conspiring events excite paranoia.
Delicious paranoia.
Another "Mixed metaphor" that the english teachers and other "guardians of the tongue" like to whinge about is Hamlet's "Take up arms against a sea of troubles".
Any one who dosn't feel that thrust has never faced even a pond of trouble.
While I have never faced a sea the dimension of Hamlet's, I have on occasion known what it is like to whack away at never ending waves of liquid insolubilities with
a short sword.
Or a sloppy crescent wrench that won't hold it's setting.
Or a blogsite against the stone facade of a hick town Symphony Orchestra.
Well....I notice that time once again has raised it's cute little head and the hour is no longer ungodly.
Although, according to certain "Christians", I am.
Yesterday morning when I went out to pick up the paper I saw two eagles being chased by an osprey to the tree in our backyard.
Or maybe they were racing for the tree in order to claim territory. At least they don't have guns.
The eagles spent the next half hour screaming at the air, either to announce thier "mission accomplished" or to pretend that they were never afraid of no osprey.
Today I just let them jabber away.
At least there are no crows playing dive bomber as of yet.
I am somewhat insulated from exterior cacophony here in the "studio" ("studio" Hah, that's rich) so the only cacophony I'm obligated to endure is that which my muse forces me to create. It's always sombody elses fault innit?
At least the cat hadn't dragged one into my room.
Actually, the real reason I am up at this ungodly hour on a Sunday (Sunday, ungodly?)
is that we have a guest staying and I didn't stay up till 1:30 watching Saturday Night Live and Almost Live reruns.
Usually I'm asleep till at least 10:00.
I don't know about that Saturday Night Live show, it's cute, but I have a hard time keeping from laughing.
Kidding aside, I am somewhat divorced from Mainstream America and I watch in order to keep an eye on, so to speak.
And, besides, it makes much more sense than the "news" which never seems to me to be very new. I've read too much history. I've compared too much real weather with too much predicted weather. And, get this, one team wins and the other team loses.
Almost Live is a sentimental favorite partially bacause it is (was) local and more because it featured Nancy Guppy.
I am a fan.
She brought some intelligence to the usual insulting comeback sort of thing that one would have to endure if one actually watched more than the promotion ads for the soi disant "humor" shows that litter the screen of AM television these dark days of human civilation.
I would say "I'm in love with her" but there are undoubtedly more lunatic lawyers in the bushes ready to make something ugly out of it.
Hey, looneys, make something out of this! (too bad you can't see the gesture that goes along with that invitation)
Anyway I've nearly completed my experiments in sub-atomic physics and you may look forward to my report soon. (you could hardly look backwards to something that hasn't happened yet, could you?) (Or can you? Stay tuned).
A confession, awhile ago I reported that I had decided to take a bicycle ride.
That ride never happened. I am sorry that I misled you. I hope I didn't spoil any plans you may have made. I did pump up the tires and got all ready, but "events conspired" as they say. Actually, I've never heard anybody say that, but I say that because it is a nice mixed metaphor.
You may want to skip the next few sentances because I am going to explain my what I mean by calling a mixed metaphor "nice" and you, loyal fans, already "get it".
This is for the "Parade magazine" level intellects who accidentally access this site due to some misspelling error in thier blog search endeavors.
A "nice" mixed metaphor is one that works on a metaphysical plane.
Of course "events" canot "conspire". A conspiracy is three people complaining about the government.
It's just that when things totally out of your control co-incide to prevent some silly thing you had planned, it feels like a conspiracy.
To say "It seems like events have conspired" is using a mere simile, which is an acedemic observation and doesn't have the blood and sinew of the metaphor.
To use the simile is to divorce ones self from the emotional reality.
Conspiring events excite paranoia.
Delicious paranoia.
Another "Mixed metaphor" that the english teachers and other "guardians of the tongue" like to whinge about is Hamlet's "Take up arms against a sea of troubles".
Any one who dosn't feel that thrust has never faced even a pond of trouble.
While I have never faced a sea the dimension of Hamlet's, I have on occasion known what it is like to whack away at never ending waves of liquid insolubilities with
a short sword.
Or a sloppy crescent wrench that won't hold it's setting.
Or a blogsite against the stone facade of a hick town Symphony Orchestra.
Well....I notice that time once again has raised it's cute little head and the hour is no longer ungodly.
Although, according to certain "Christians", I am.
Labels: crescent wrench, Nancy Guppy
posted by Lane Savant at 7:36 AM
9 Comments:
So, you take advantage of the fact that I am dead to go carousing with actresses.
..................Emily
Emily, my love for you is undiminished. I am in love with Nancy's art. I've never actually met her. I'm sure if I did my perception would change.
You are still foremost in my heart.
Well sirs, Lane and Anonomann, the fat boy is back after 6,000 miles of asphalt passed under my buns.
Gee, I wonder if the two eagles are a nesting pair, and your tree will be singled out for a love nest? That would be cool. So the lovely librarian and Meredith are doing some yardwork, getting their hands knuckle deep in the damp earth, and stained green from pulling those pesky weeds? Great stuff, gardening and yard work. I gave it up for Lent, or maybe because I can no longer bend over easily, or get up off the ground without a prop or a post. I do so dearly love a cacophony. The city throbs with them on a regular basis. They are harder to find and to hear in the wilderness.
I did not realize that they still rerun ALMOST LIVE. I never watched it, but I felt like I would have liked it if I had. Nancy Guppy sounds hot and hilarious. The latest on her is:
(August 2005) Part of "The Waking Crew" on Ichabod Cain's morning show on KMPS 94.1FM in Seattle, Washington.
In 1999, Guppy said:
"I'm going to miss having the outlet - this automatic platform. It's fun to get to perform," said cast member Nancy Guppy.
Guppy is one of a dozen people who now must find other employment as a result of the cancellation. She and the other cast members now spend their time in their soon-to-be-former offices at King 5 studios, where they are assessing their options. Although few have specific plans, many of the cast members have side businesses that they are now free to pursue.
Guppy is hoping to start her own program or segment on a local show that would highlight local artists and their work. She said there is currently no forum on television to publicize artists' efforts, apart from the occasional community calendar item.
Her show would consist of mini-features discussing upcoming projects and events taking place in and around Seattle.
Gee, I wish I actually knew who she is. She sounds cool enough. I did remember that John Keister and Pat Cashman were in the cast. Hey, won't Emily, or the girl from SSO that shall not be named be jealous of your ardor for Ms. Guppy?
You never actually said what "ungodly hour" you to up in. You signed off at 7:36am, so one can conclude that it was fairly early for a Sunday morning rousing. Because I force myself to get up at 3am on week days so that I can be at work early enought to get ahead on my paperwork and get caught up on my blog buddies, I must say that it is always a struggle. I get to bed at 8pm or thereabouts. But my more natural rythmns, practiced only on weekends, is to stay up past midnight, and sleep in until 9-10am. I will, post-retirement, try and reset my internal clock to embrace such a schedule.
One can only surmise what in hell your sub-atomic physics experiment would be about. Hopefully it has nothing to do with caa-caa or solid intestinal wastes, cuz that would be a shitty waste of time; yours and ours.
It must be wonderful to have your Euro-company, your esteemed guests. I am saddened by the fact that you never got around to telling us about your road trip, just teased us with semi-particulars. Our road trip was a gas, several hundred gallons probably. The hybrid Camary came through like a champ though, averaging 39mpgallon. It just seems to be a super car. It rides like a Cadillac and is kind to the enviroment. Our first day out we drove for 12 hours and made it to mid-Montana. We have a cafe in Deerlodge, MT that we love to order chicken fried steak at. We stopped there and the steak was still great. By noon the next day, we stopped in the southeast corner of Montana to see the goings on at Little Big Horn. It was like the 130th anniversary of Custer's death and the tourists littered the battlefield like locusts. Actually it was kind of interesting to cruise through and look at the hundreds of soldier's tiny white gravestones, those brave and foolish lads of the Seventh Cavalry. They had some of Custer's clothes in the museum. He was about 5'5" tall, just a little shit; talked about his being the youngest general in the Civil War, and how he felt invincible, having had 8 horses shot out from beneath him, and never getting a scratch. That night we stopped by Wall Drugs outside of Rapid City, SD. Melva bought some jewelry. We stopped in a small SD town near the Lakota reservation, where they filmed DANCES WITH WOLVES and THUNDERHEART. We shot straight as an arrow the 3rd day down through Kansas and Nebraska, and through the panhandle of Oklahoma, and honestly it all looked the same, just prairie and more prairie; although I never did find or see the "Little House" --perhaps because it is on a backlot in California with old pics of Michael Landon on its interior for wallpaper. So by the third night we were sleeping in Texas, the northwest corner, in its panhandle. Tuesday afternoon, on the 26th of June we arrived down on the Gulf Coast in Lolita, TX, at Melva's mother's. We were only going to stay 3 days, but it turned into four. Melva wanted to visit with her sister, who was out of town until Saturday. Some of you may have noticed all the flooding in Texas last week. Somehow we had a travel angel on our hood, because we would slink through a town, or an area just before the torrents hit and the rivers flooded. Even at Melva's Mom's place, the day we left it, on Sunday, 6/30, it rained like 3 inches. In some places it rained 8-10" in one day. The creeks and rivers flood immediately. We stayed at Ft. Davis, at Indian Lodge center, at a motel that was built originally as a CCC camp during the depression. Melva loves to stay there. It is near Marfa, TX, where they have the mysterious lights. On 7/2 we dusted off New Mexico, stopping for the night at Gallop, NM. I had to give up the Taos trip because we lost a day staying in Lolita, TX. On 7/3 we drove across into Arizona, stopping outside Sodona, at the Walnut Canyon Indian ruins. Melva hiked for an hour down into the canyon looking at the Sinagua Inians pueblos, quite different from the Anastazi ruins in Mesa Verde, Colorado we visited last summer. Sodona, AZ is at the bottom of a beautiful red canyon, surrounded by high mesas and sculpted red rocks, cliffs, and mountains, but it is a tourist trap these days, covered with thousands of them, like maggots on rancid meat. I loved the area where like 80 movies have been filmed, like THE LAST WAGON, THREE GODFATHERS, THE ANGEL AND THE BADMAN, YELLOWSTONE KELLY, etc. , but I did not dig the throngs of people, the pods of condos, and the wealthy resorts; kind of like Whistler, B.C. We drove up to Paige, AZ that night, readying ourselves to see the north rim of the Grand Canyon on the 4th of July. We rose early on July 4, and drove the 80 miles down to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Along with several hundred other touristas. Turns out that the view of the canyon from the north rim is less than spectacular. Most of us go to the south rim, and from there one can view deep down into the canyon, barely able to see the Colorado River. It is an almost spiritual experience to just view it; but from the north rim, one sees the beginnings of the canyon, can see the floor. From the air the entire canyon looks like a great gash in the earth, jagged as hell, as if done by a behemoth spirit bear. We left a bit early, being hot, dehydrated (the north rim is at over 8,000 feet). Even though it was a holiday, we drove diagonally across northern Nevada, and into south central Oregon before we stopped. We drove into our driveway at 4:40pm on Friday, 7/6/07, and yup, there's no place like home. Melva did most of the driving, as she usually does, but I did drive sometimes, up to 2-3 hours. But I fatigue easily, so she had to be the primary driver. She loves it,so no problem.
Screw those certain Christians who consider you "ungodly". They themselves belong to various small "clubs" and clumps of religion. They buy into the dogma, tradition, and judgemental bullshit that constitutes their perception of the world, and the universe. You are a very spiritual dude, and despite being grossly misunderstood, you are gentle at the core, too intelligent for your own good, and too sensitive for our own good. Sometimes you mask it well, and other times you let it all hang out here on the blog.
So it is good to be back. I have begun to review the many postings you managed in my absence. I doubt that I will be motivated to comment much, but who knows; maybe the shadow.
Glenn
Oh Yeah, What aboutMY art? I'm a poet, in case you've forgotten, not some latter day comedian I....Oh, Im sorry ist's just that significant hormonal changes, like dieing, sometimes cause mood swings....Love.....Emily
I understand, Emily. Our relationship is important to me and I would never do anything that would threaten it.
Welcome back, Butch. I will post the trip one of these days.
It amazes me that you continue to "have a jones for a bag of bones". Sweet Emily Dickinson, as we have discussed in the past, was a freaky lady, probably bisexual or lesbian, who put off most of the men of her time. Your fatal attraction (fatally emotionally) seems to illustrate that in a past life you lived near her, or at least in her time, possibly in Mass.. Reminds me of that old joke about the older woman who was late to Catholic Church, and as she bustled up onto the steps, she asked an old codger who was sitting there, "Oh my God, is Mass out?" "No", he replied," But your hat's crooked." Maybe you just have a thing for lady poets, or poetry in general. As your Muse, Emily should drive you to great heights of creativity, more music, more poetry, more enthusiasm, right? Nancy Guppy does look and sound like quite a piece though, so you continue to hang onto your fantasies. We all need those images in our Spank Bank.
Glenn
Glenn, Look at the picture of her at "Emilys face" is that a hot chick or what?
once more
Well gosh, as it turns out my Bookmark for FFTL is on November, on Emily's face. So I actually look at it several times almost every day. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or some such dribble. No, she does not look much like a hot chick to me, more like the madam president of Dykes on Bikes. If Elton John can be called Alice, perhaps she was called Alan. Nah, just pushing your buttons, sir. Emily is one of the finest pieces of antiquity I have ever seen. Good on you for posturing up some passion for the old gal.
Glenn
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