Mothership Connection

I know I talk a lot of smack about my current home of Bellingham, Washington, but imagine my surprise to find out that Bernie Worrell (of Parliament and Talking Heads fame) had a house just up the road from us in Everson (blink and you'll miss it).

It's not the worst place to retire by any means.

"more spiteful than charitable"

"Like many intelligent men, Stone took a rather suspicious attitude toward his own brain, which he saw as a precise and skilled but temperamental machine.  He was never surprised when the machine failed to perform, though he feared those moments, and hated them.  In his blackest hours, Stone doubted the utility of all thought, and all intelligence.  There were times when he envied the laboratory rats he worked with; their brains were so simple.  Certainly they did not have the intelligence to destroy themselves; that was a peculiar in invention of man.

He often argued that human intelligence was more trouble than it was worth.  It was more destructive than creative, more confusing than revealing, more discouraging than satisfying, more spiteful than charitable."

-- Michael Crichton, The Andromeda Strain

"you call it a massacre because that's what it was"

Vox has an excellent write-up, along with a very good and informative video, on the Tulsa White Supremacist Massacre of 1921.

"then it goes out"

"Gould said something else that was interesting on the day I turned in my first two pieces: write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.  Your stuff starts out being just for you, in other words, but then it goes out. Once you know what the story is and get it right -- as right as you can, anyway -- it belongs to anyone who wants to read it.  Or criticize it.  If you're very lucky (this is my idea, not John Gould's, but I believe he would have subscribed to the notion), more will want to do the former than the latter."

-- Stephen King, On Writing

I Made A Funny

 

The larger context being, Mr. Rushdie was saying that some of his critics think he's too old to still be writing excellent fiction.

But he is my literary homeboy, and we vigorously disagree.

Bright Nights

 

Bellingham, Washington.

Eight p.m. and the sun will still be up another 30 minutes.

Of course, come fall and winter I'll be getting into bed around 4:30 p.m. to compensate.

"Don't let yesterday take up much of today"

"--I'll be sorry not so see what happens next, he said.  --I wish I could stick around a few more years.

--Yes, Loon said.

--You have to remember.  Take care of the kids.  They're the ones who matter.  You have to teach them everything I've taught you, and everything you've learned on your own.  It will only go well if we keep passing it all along.  There are no secrets, there is no mystery.  We make all that up.  In fact it's all right there in front of us.  You have to have enough food to get through the winter and spring.  That's what it all comes down to.  You have to live in a way that will gather enough food each fall to get through winter.  And you, you have to live your life, youth.  You can help Heather.  Be sure to do that.  The old witch will need it.  She's getting on herself.  She won't like it, but she'll need help.  You'll have to see that without her asking.

--I'll try.

--Good.  Listen to me now.  Bad things don't just grow on one path, they're everywhere.  So don't blame yourself when those things happen.  Don't let yesterday take up much of today.  You've always been good at that.  Just keep telling the stories around the fire.  That's what needs to be carried on."

-- Kim Stanley Robinson, Shaman

"standards to be set that are more realistic for the missions expected"

A long, in-depth, and very interesting article on how the U.S. military approaches language training, especially for elite troops who might go into areas where a base-level of language and cultural skills are a must:

"A Green Beret trained in Modern Standard Arabic and deployed to Iraq isn’t going to have many fluent conversations with his counterparts who speak an Iraqi dialect. But he can exchange simple pleasantries, ask about his counterpart’s family, and understand basic military terminology — all while getting a laugh out his new Iraqi friends who might describe his school-taught Modern Standard dialect as 'fancy Arabic.'

Once it’s accepted that in most cases the purpose of language training isn’t to achieve fluency, it allows standards to be set that are more realistic for the missions expected from today’s Green Berets. The Interagency Language Roundtable scoring scale notes that at a 1+ rating, speakers '[c]an initiate and maintain predictable face-to-face conversations and satisfy limited social demands.' Meanwhile, listeners demonstrate '[s]ufficient comprehension to understand short conversations about all survival needs and limited social demands.' This level of speaking and listening is more than enough for Green Berets to converse with a partner force that speaks the same language, get across basic ideas, and potentially work around a situation where an interpreter or English-speaking member of the partner force isn’t available."

There's a lot more going on in the article that's worth looking at.

I also appreciate an educational model where perfection isn't the goal, but basic communication is.  Maybe it's the military's version of "ELF," or "English as Lingua Franca."

One Way of Looking at FOX

Living with a very right-wing 92 year-old Dad, I get exposed to a lot of FOX News.  To paraphrase Ron Burgundy, "I'm not even mad, actually I'm impressed."

The most amazing thing about FOX isn't the cavalcade of bullshit being slung on its programming (although that deserves its own three-ring circus for sure).  The most amazing thing are the commercials.  I haven't timed them, but I swear they seem to take up more time than on CNN or MSNBC (although it's been ages since I've watched either).  It's not uncommon for my Old Man to turn on FOX, then wait five minutes, then turn it off in disgust because it's one of the those in-between blocks at the top of the hour.  (I do not have any problems with this!)

And the commercials themselves -- oh boy.

The one that is on every single break is for home re-financing.  I mean, fine.  The FOX demo skews older, and that means mostly home owners rather than renters.  Makes sense.

Then the gold and silver stuff.  What's funny to me is that the stock market remains very hot under Marxist Comrades Biden and Harris, and of course the talking heads can't bring themselves to mention this fact.  Buying gold and silver now is dumb, plain and simple.  I'm no financial genius, but even I know for long-term investing any kind of market index fund is the way to go.

Then there are the charity commercials for wounded veterans.  I obviously have no problem with these commercials themselves, but it's interesting that you've got Mark Wahlberg begging for cash for veterans to properly pay their medical bills and live in housing suited to their needs.  Apparently FOX viewers don't see the flaming contradictions inherent in this -- fight all the forever wars you want, just make sure you're prepared to go begging, hat in hand, if you happen to step on a landmine or get shot, because the U.S. military will basically abandon you.

And finally, dick stuff.  Again, the FOX demo is old as hell.  And yes, older men have dick trouble, or more specifically prostate or urination or sex issues.  Again, that's fine, it's just sad to think that when White Supremacists stormed the Capitol on January 6th to try and prevent Joe Biden from becoming the lawful president, so many of them were probably desperate for a port-o-potty.

Onward incontinent soldiers.

Yes, this is my life for now.

Sunrise, Sunset

I think I've already tooted my own horn regarding the fact that I've been getting up at six a.m. every morning since I've been back in America to make breakfast for my Dad.  (If he had his way it would be me getting up at five instead, or even four.)

The crazy thing about living out here though, at least in spring and summer, is that the sun doesn't go down until after nine p.m.  These days it rises before I get up at six a.m.

I don't mind too much, but every day is a reminder at how dark and dreary fall and winter will get here, with the sun going down around five or so.

Time -- how does that work?

"the simian slouch of your spines"

"'Watch this,' I said, holding forth the bill but really extending my arms to hold the circle, because before the attack comes there is a kind of crowding movement, an encroachment on the natural territorial rights of the body; and taking the crisp bill in my fingers I folded it once lengthwise, and once again, and then tightly twice more to the size of a postage stamp and then I did a hocus-pocus pass of the hands over each other, snapped my fingers, and then the ten-dollar bill was gone.  Oh you miserable fucking louts, that I ever needed to attach my orphan self to your wretched company, you thieves of the five-and-ten, you poking predators of your own little brothers and sisters, you dumbbells, that you could aspire to a genius life of crime, with your dead witless eyes, your slack chins, and the simian slouch of your spines -- fuck you forever, I consign you to tenement rooms and bawling infants, and sluggish wives and a slow death of incredible subjugation, I condemn you to petty crimes and mean rewards and vistas of cell block to the end of your days.  'Look!' I cried, pointing up, and they tracked my hand, expecting to see me pluck the bill out of the air, as I had so often their coins and steelies and rabbits' feet, and in the instant of their credulity, as they stared upward at nothing, I ducked under the circle and ran like hell."

-- E. L. Doctorow, Billy Bathgate

Shot! Shot! Shot!

I got my first Pfizer shot yesterday at a local pharmacy.  They had a good set-up, and were very friendly.  The nurse who actually gave the shot was excellent, and obviously a pro.

That's it.  My sister is visiting right now, and that's part of the reason I scheduled my shot for now, a bit later than the rest of the civilized world I take it.  I woke up this morning and while my shoulder is stiff, I didn't have any fever or chills or anything like that.

I guess it's a good thing that this horrible, 100-year virus might go out with a whimper rather than a bang.  Then again, I don't live in India or Brazil.

"talk to my agent!"

"I had never been to the big house.  Gloriana and the gorilla always came to me.  But I knocked at the door.  A frightened, bewildered Hispanic maid in uniform opened it.  I gave my little talk: 'I'm Augie Kleinzahler from down the street and I would like Mr. [Buddy] Hackett's autograph, please.'  The maid, looking stricken, disappeared, and next up was a woman I took to be Mrs. Hackett.  She said something mildly discouraging but I didn't budge, knowing better than to return home without a result.

I immediately registered the cause of their apprehension when the famous entertainer himself came waddling to the front door.  He was barely taller than I was, and I was seven years old.  He was red-faced and breathing moistly and with some difficulty, like t toy bulldog on a sultry day.  'Whu da you want, kid?' he asked in on of America's most distinctive voices.  I identified myself, told him where I lived, and asked for his autograph.  He glared at me, incredulous, for a few moments (I could sense the wife and maid cowering inside) and said, 'Fuck you, kid; talk to my agent!' and slammed the door in my face.

I stood there briefly, considering my options, then turned and walked down the long driveway.  It was a pleasant summer evening, fragrant, the maples in leaf and the air filled with cries of terror from the nearby amusement park.  I found my parents where I had left them, on the back porch, reading.  My mother looked up from her book and smiled.  'Well?' she said.  'He said, "Fuck you, kid; talk to my agent."'  My father went back to his book.  My mother, for what seemed a long time, stared at me over her reading glasses.  'Well,' she asked, 'did you at least get his agent's name and phone number?'"

-- August Kleinzahler, Cutty, One Rock

"I'd have stayed in Tennessee and wrote poetry for a living"

"On the way to San Antonio they passed two settlements -- nothing more than a church house and a few little stores, but settlements anyways, and not ten miles apart.

'Now look at that,' Augustus said.  'The dern people are making towns everywhere.  It's our fault, you know.'

'It ain't our fault and it ain't our business, either,' Call said.  'People can do what they want.'

'Why, naturally, since we chased out the Indians and hung all the god bandits,' Augustus said.  'Does it ever occur to you that everything we done was probably a mistake?  Just look at it from a nature standpoint.  If you've got enough snakes around the place you won't be overrun with rats or varmints.  The way I see it, the Indians and the bandits have the same job to do.  Leave 'em be and you won't constantly be having to ride around these dern settlements.'

'You don't have to ride around them,' Call said.  'What harm do they do?'

'If I'd have wanted civilization I'd have stayed in Tennessee and wrote poetry for a living,' Augustus said.  'Me and you done our work too well.  We killed off most of the people that made this country interesting to begin with.'"

-- Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove

Romans de Gare

My Dad has a lot of books out here in Bellingham, mostly of the "Airport Novel" variety.  (The French apparently call them "romans de gare," or railstation novels.)

Of course, there's also Amazon.

The thing is, I'm absolutely flying through books these days, as I was pretty sure I would.  We have a T.V., we have internet (thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster), and we have a backyard filled with birds and squirrels and foxes and yes, honest-to-God coyotes.

But my free time is mostly spent on books.

The larger point being, I'm grateful my Old Man has so many books that I normally wouldn't read.

I'm currently working my way through 1985's Lonesome Dove.  It's 945 pages long.  It's good, but it's -- ahem -- way too long.  Nothing happens during the first 150 pages.

It's funny though, because living here in the middle of nowhere and being a caregiver I can't help but think -- this book was made for me!

It wasn't though.  As I get older I really feel confident in saying that any decent author has to respect the time of his or her reader.

In any event, I'm also writing a lot and I'm enjoying the absorption of stuff -- not just authors, but whole genres -- that I normally wouldn't expose myself to.

I have no idea how long I'll be living out here, but things are good.  And when I have had my fill of Stephen King or John leCarre or Michael Crichton, there's always Amazon.

(I'd argue leCarre transcends his own genre.  Michael Crichton does not, but he's also kind of his own genre to start with.  Stephen King is really his own ongoing concern, forever and ever.)

Samsung Fighting!

My former Korean professional baseball squad based in Daegu, the Samsung Lions, is off to a really great start this year.  They weren't expected to do much any time soon.  Just my luck that they'd turn the corner once I left that country.

That is all.

Twin Peaks, Maybe?

 

Bellingham, Washington

Bellingham Sunrise

 

Bellingham, Washington.

I've seen the sun rise every morning since I moved back here in February.

If you knew what a lazy S.O.B. I am by nature you'd be shocked.

People learn to adjust, I guess.

Cedar Fever

 

It's not hard to find these old metal plates on lots of the bigger cedar trees out here.  When the logging industry was in full swing, they were used to mark trees meant for processing into cedar shingles.

Don't blink, because the plates are everywhere once you know where to look.  (There are multiple ones on my Dad's property, for example.)

Bellingham Coyotes

 

When I came out here on February 1st my sister mentioned that something was "singing" in the backyard at night.  She went to college in Arizona, and she thought it sounded like coyotes.

Well, it turns out coyotes actually live out here in Bellingham as well (to my total surprise).

It seems like a mom has set up a den for these pups on corner of my Dad's property, or near it.

I managed to scare them away with the flash of my camera, but I hope to see them again soon.

"the whole biosphere is in trouble"

Are there too many people on Earth?  Probably!

Can we feed them all?  Yes, but with great damage to the planet itself:

"Even if another 4 billion people were added to the planet, as was being predicted at the time, Lam felt confident they could be fed. At last month’s webinar, he pointed out that population growth had slowed since 2011, with the addition of about 850 million people since then, while poverty had continued to decline and per capita food production had continued to increase. This was true even in sub-Saharan Africa, where food production lagged behind population growth until the last decade.

Becker, of Johns Hopkins University, objected both in 2011 and a decade on, not that it was impossible to feed 11 billion people, but that this prospect ignored the collateral damage to other species and to the planet for which humans would eventually pay. He pointed to Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) statistics showing that nearly 70% of fisheries are already fully or over-exploited. Others mentioned the shrinking stock of fresh water and the erosion of biodiversity. 'The whole biosphere is in trouble,' Becker said."

Humans are very good at adapting, but not so good at recognizing larger, long-term threats.  There's plenty of room for more innovation, but innovation will always have limits. 

Jamie's Jalapenos

 

Stuffed jalapenos a la Jamie (that's me).

I didn't quite get the needed char on these that indicates you've roasted down some of the spiciness, but also brought out some of the natural taste of the peppers.  After three months I'm still getting used to using the Old Man's kitchen.  So these were good, but it's even better when you blister the skins a little bit more.

I'd serve these with sour cream, or even just some plain yogurt if it's too much heat.

15-16!

Let's see if I can get this straight -- Orioles pitcher Jon Means pitched a complete game no-hitter, but in striking someone out on a wild pitch he just missed a perfect game.  The base runner got thrown out at second, but having a single base runner on first invalidates a perfect game.  He only faced 27 hitters (the minimum possible) but the (IMO catch-able) WP ruined it.

Still pretty cool though.

"The Guy Fieri of Bellingham"

 

Beef chili made with grass-fed beef (our neighbor keeps a cow for slaughter sometimes).

I'm pretty proud of how it turned out.  I mean, the Old Man has a fully stocked kitchen but not much in the way of frou-frou ingredients or spices.  Beef, chopped veggies, one can tomatoes, one can beans, basically.

We have a ton left over, and it's one of those dishes that should taste better tomorrow anyways.

Secret Knowledge of Backroads

 

Bellingham, Washington.

I've been walking a lot lately -- every day, to be precise.  My regular morning walk takes me down and back the private road my Dad and his neighbors live on.  Sometimes I skip out here, which offers a better view of Mount Baker (not visible today).  There's a "town" about two miles away that has a grocery store, a bank, and a Subway, so I'll head into there for a longer journey.  The problem is that part of it is on a county road, with no sidewalk.

It's still cool here, which is nice.

"some joy I know not how to name"

"When the golden sun has driven winter back down

Under the earth and opened up the sky

With the radiance of summer, then the bees

Fly everywhere through all the groves and glades,

Gathering from the beautiful flowers and lightly

Imbibing from the surface of the streams.

It's thus that, motivated by some joy

I know not how to name, they go about

The caring for their offspring and their nests;

It's thus that artfully they make new wax

And shape and form and mold their clinging honey.

And so, when you look up and see the swarm,

Emancipated from the hive and floating

Up to the starry sky through the summer air,

Or when you wonder at the sight of a dark

Cloud carried along and drifting on the wind,

Take heed, for there they are, on the hunt for leafy

Shelter near sweet water.  There you should scatter

Scents as I prescribe -- melisphyllum

And the common healing herb that's known as beebread;

And let there be the sound of tinkling bells

And the cymbals of Cybele, the Mighty Mother.

The bees will settle, of themselves, upon

The scented settling places you've prepared,

And of themselves will hide themselves within

The inner recesses of their cradling home."

-- Virgil, The Georgics trans. David Ferry

"cool as a motherfucker"

"Bill [Graham] and I got along all right, but we had our disagreements because Bill is a tough motherfucking businessman, and I don't take no shit, either.  So there were clashes.  I remember one time -- it might have been a couple of times -- at the Fillmore East in 1970, I was opening up for this sorry-ass cat named Steve Miller.  I think Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were on that program, and they were a little better.  Anyway, Steve Miller didn't have shit going for him, so I'm pissed because I got to open for this non-playing motherfucker just because he had one or two sorry-ass records out.  So I would come late and he would have to go on first, and then when we got there, we just smoked the motherfucking place and everybody dug it, including Bill!

This went of for a couple of nights and every time I would come late, Bill would be telling me about 'it's being disrespectful to the artist' and shit like that.  On this last night, I do the same thing.  When I get there I see that Bill is madder than a motherfucker because he's not waiting for me inside like he normally does, but he's standing outside the Fillmore.  He starts to cut into me with this bullshit about 'disrespecting Steve' and everything.  So I just look at him, cool as a motherfucker, and say to him, 'Hey, baby, just like the other nights and you know they worked out just fine, right?'  So he couldn't say nothing to that because we had torn the place down."

-- Miles Davis, Miles: The Autobiography

What an amazing book.  Everything Miles says about music and racism in America is still true.  His treatment of women is insanely horrid.

I couldn't put it down though.

And there are some much better passages when it comes to art and life, but dissing Steve Miller and CSN&Y this hard is a thing of beauty.

"can't stand people being any other way"

"There was a hipness in the black people back then.  After St. Louis closed down at night, everybody over there came to Brooklyn [Illinois] to listen to the music and party all night long.  People in East St. Louis and St. Louis worked their asses off in them packing and slaughterhouses.  So you know they was mad when they took off work.  They didn't want to hear no dumb shit off nobody, and would kill a motherfucker quick who brought them some stupid shit.  That's why they were serious about their partying and listening to music.  That's why I loved playing up in Brooklyn.  People were really into listening to what you were playing.  If you weren't' playing anything, the people in Brooklyn would let you know it quick.  I've always liked honesty and can't stand people being any other way."

-- Miles Davis, Miles: The Autobiography