For a number of reasons - or maybe just one, technical - I abandonded this blog. I first off want to apologize for the vulgar ad running just above my barcode logo. Actually the ad is not vulgar, it's just vulgar having an ad. Blogdrive has gone free, and the ads illustrate what it costs to be free.

Anyway, I've decided to resurrect my blog as I'm off on new creative projects and I thought it'd be fun and interesting (the latter solely to myself) to document new pursuits via photos, music, words, etc.

I've been putting together a recording studio here at the house and so look forward to posting to the blog some mp3s and the like. Perhaps you'll even be willing to buy a CD should I devolve into the world of tatty commerce.

So...happy to be back. I have no idea at this point who my audience might be. I expect I don't have one at all after so long a hiatus, but if you're out there, say Hi. You can be certain I'll say Hi back.

A truck just pulled into the drive. He's delivering a cord of firewood. I'm expected to stack this at some point?

Best....

On July 7 I wrote about CLUI, The Center for Land Use Interpretation. A week or two ago I received from a blog visitor a comment related to Felicity, Arizona, Center of the World. This visitor wrote to say:

Re: Town of Felicity- yours of 7 July 2005 just read.
The mission of the Town of Felicity is Remembrance. At Historyingranite.org
you may view the granite monuments built at Felicity in the last decade. Mission
of our museum: "To engrave in granite highlights of the collective memory of
humanity." Currently engraving (slowly) 416 granite panels of the History of
Humanity.
Regards. JAI

The historyingranite.org site is every bit as interesting as The Center for Land Use Interpretation.

Thank you for writing, JAI.

This by Banksy

Today, after a fruitless 20-minute quest for lunch,  I began thinking about some of my favorite food combinations. What follows is a list of those combinations. I invite you to prepare for me any or all of these items, anytime, anywhere.

Pears and toasted almonds (think pear tart here)
Cantaloupe and port (on the latter, Portuguese is preferred)
Bloody prime rib and horseradish (for which I am entirely unapologetic, just so you know)
Cucumbers, red onions, and red wine vinegar
Grilled peaches with Roguefort cheese and balsamic vinegar
Sushi and wasabi soy sauce
Smoked bluefish and soy sauce
Grilled chicken and mandarin oranges

And here is a picture of a pear tart, included for its sheer pornographic intensity:

Last night a group of us joined a few hundred people in a trodden, bug-infested field to hear some live music. This is an annual affair, a fundraiser called the Blues-B-Que (Don't blame me. I didn't name it.) I didn't go for the beer or the music. I went because Elizebeth's 20-year-old son Nathan was coming along. Nathan is new member of the United States Army and I thought it'd be interesting to talk to him. He had a friend along, a bulked up recruit named Mark. They're stationed at Fort Bragg. I had a look at the camp's website and learned that it had recently (and awkwardly) been rechristened Fort Victory - Iraq!

I never did get around to asking Nathan about the war in Iraq. I made do instead with some general talk about their time at Fort Bragg, which sounded pretty shitty all around. That didn't surprise me, of course. I was stunned, however, to learn that in today's army, recruits are required to pay for the most basic accoutrements. The boots they're issued, for instance, are substandard, taking on water, causing blisters, and rendering their owners worthless for soldiering. Those who can afford to, buy their own boots and socks at one of the Army/Navy surplus stores that have proliferated around the camp. Field jackets, vests, packs, insignia, etc. are likewise the responsibility of the recruit. When Nathan was enrolled in a leadership class he was told the required textbooks would be paid for out of his own pocket. And here's the real kicker. Upon arrival at boot camp all recruits undergo the ritual shearing - off go the curls, the ponytail, the dreads.... You would think if you signed away a span of your young life to the U.S. military you'd at least be entitled to a free haircut, but in America's new Army this'll cost you five bucks.

No longer, then, is the military America's great social leveler. By requiring its members to pay for the necessities of army life, the military has created a new class system, a microcosm delineated by the haves and the have-nots.

When I looked at Nathan and Mark sitting there, feet up, beers in hand, I was filled with a renewed loathing for Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Bush, and the rest of that cynical dishonorable gang in the White House.

Peace and love

I'm back from vacation, a week spent supine in the hammock. Here, then, is my vacation photo.

 

Sam Jones's film about Wilco. Sam Jones is a photographer whose work appears in Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, and other such magazines (God, Vanity Fair is an awful magazine). I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, shot in Super16, is SJ's first film. It's a "rock-doc." And there you have it - the real reason I've created this entry: I've always wanted to use the term "rock-doc."

This, from our Maine correspondent:

I have no interest in Astrology. I think there is something to believe about horoscopes, but it's not what the astrologist hopes you'll believe, meaning I believe they're a load of shyte.  Nevertheless, I will read them when I see them.

On balance, though, I think horoscopes are a bore. They bore with their generic optimism, their one-size-fits-all assessments, their now-get-out-there-and-get-it-done! high-five enthusiasm. This is why the horoscope below - found this weekend in a free "Arts and Entertainment" paper - is worth including here. I'm a Gemini, by the way.

Gemini
(May 22 - June 21)
You are a delight! Oh how I wish I could reach out from these printed words and just give you the warmest hug right now! Then I would wander into your kitchen and make you a cup of hot cocoa or a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade (depending on the weather outside). Next up would be a decadent, luxurious hour-long foot massage followed by a soothing avocado facial. Then I'd kill you with my bare hands, smear my naked body with your blood and disappear back into this magazine. And no one would ever know who did it.