Only two hermits remain. The ninth hermit has been joined by a tenth. They live on a small ranch in Central Texas with The Dogs of Hermits’ Rest. He does not hang out in bars anywhere near as much as when he was trying to be Li Po.
Other than family and music and song writing, his interests include writing. He has authored many technical tomes, several short stories, and a novel. He does have a day job or two, and he re-publishes some of his writings for those here.
For more information, see the complete profile.
I said I would post more, but then I got sick. One good thing about being sick is that I actually had time to read a book, even if it was a very quick read.
I am really enjoying going through Suna’s library. More books as I have a chance to read them.
OK. I haven’t had a lot to say lately. After promising myself to write more I got sick. I’m better now. So here’s Friday’s Feast on Monday (but still dated for Friday).
I haven’t been posting much the past week or so. The job has kept the writing part of my brain exhausted. But I have been able to come home and relax a little bit tinkering around the house: building a new flower bed, cleaning, and painting.
And this weekend, I worked all day Saturday at a Hands on Housing event. I met some nice people, and we built a front porch and ramp for a family who couldn’t do the work for themselves.
Throughout all of this Buddy and Rose have been very well behaved. Gwen has been at the top of her game, hardly snapping at Buddy (only once or twice at Rose). Even Scrunchy has been the best dog he can.
So today, I am grateful for all four dogs—even if I can’t honestly say equally grateful for all four. I’m featuring Buddy’s picture here because he has been with me the longest and is one of the loyalist dogs I have ever lived with.
Update, 29 April: Jon sent me a photo of me working, at the HoH thing. So I posted it just to show prove I actually did something. Some of you may not have believed me. <wink />
I found this article to be particularly disturbing. It shows the current administration’s obsession with border security at the expense all else—including common sense, not to mention economic growth. Hasn’t free trade been one of the tenets of our economic policy for the last few decades?
While the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) hasn’t lived up to the expectations of any of its signers, the Bush Administration should not unilaterally decide to abrogate any of its conditions. But then, when did they ever do anything in any way other than unilaterally? They certainly don’t seem to take the will of the people into consideration in anything they do.
But am I paranoid to think that there is a deeper purpose at work here? Walls and fences that keep other people out, also keep us in. Is this a move to prevent the steady trickle of educated workers who have been moving north for the last few years in an effort to escape the totalitarian tendencies and corruption of Bush/Cheney? Are they trying to force Canada to retaliate by closing its border with the US?
Unless McCain “wins” the election this fall, I will be surprised if the current administration relinquishes power without at least attempting a coup. But I don’t really expect them to do that. It is so much easier to rig an election, as they have shown in the last two.
After work last night, I got a chance to plant the new babies we got at the home center Sunday. In a large green planter that was blocking a hole in the fence, I put:
Trey Bone played last night at the keyboard player’s birthday. It went well, and we were received much better than we deserved—probably because of the twin margarita machines. A singer in a band I used to play with once claimed that the band was sponsored by his favorite brewery. He would tell the audience, “The more you drink, the better we sound.”
One of the highlights was jamming with FRM. Somehow, we never did that when we both lived in the same house.
Another was finding a new nickname for the band. Since “Trey Bone” is a pun on
Today I am grateful again for music. I can’t count the number of times it has gotten me through rough times. Of course, it also helped me get into some of those rough times, but that is a different story.
I am never so comfortable as when jamming with musicians I trust—musically, that is. The intense listening that goes with playing something you are making up as you go is just wonderful. Music becomes a conversation. I remembered some of that last night. It reminded me that I would like to play more and rehearse less.
I finally finished reading
In many ways,
But
Still, I look forward to the third book. Maybe it will be better. Maybe now that Paolini has found his voice, he will remember what he wanted to say.
I went outside this morning to water the plants, and they were all covered in this horrid yellow powder.
Is it some new disease, perhaps related to powdery mildew? Perhaps it is some wasting disease of plants—one in which they turn to ash before your eyes.
But there’s a clue on my blue chair.
It’s covered in the same substance, and I sat in it last night. It should be clean.
What’s that on the seat? An oak stamen! There is no fungal outbreak here. The world is covered in oak pollen—just like the cars I spent hours washing yesterday.
Trey Bone has another gig!
OK, this one doesn’t count. It’s a short set at the piano player’s birthday party. But there will be real musicians there, and maybe I can get some work out of it. Let’s hope.
I have seen a disturbing tend in writing lately: ignoring or omitting punctuation. I think it started with newspapers dropping the comma before the conjunction in lists, but modernist writers have taken it to extreme. Some, like ee cummings, even do away with case. Lyrics in album librettos are seldom punctuated beyond line breaks. We seem to have forgotten how important those lovely little unspoken marks are in communication. Here’s an example:
As I was waiting for a traffic light to turn, I noticed the truck beside me. Printed just beneath the store logo was:
THIS TRUCK IS BEING DRIVEN UNSAFELY CALL (512)###-####
Actually, the truck was not being driven unsafely; it was motionless—waiting for the light to change, just as I was. But the first time I parsed the sign, I saw two distinct sentences, “This truck is being driven unsafely. Call…” I’m sure the lack of case affected how I interpreted the symbols. I’m sure that the funiture company meant to say, “If this truck is being driven unsafely, call …” But someone decided it was too expensive to pay for punctuation.
So I want to call and let them know that their truck is telling everyone it is being driven unsafely and asking for help.
