Sometimes it stays with you

Destiny, not guilt, was enough
for Actaeon. It is no crime
to lose your way in a dark wood.
It happened on a mountain where
hunters
had slaughtered so many animals
The slopes were parched red with
the butchering places.
When shadows were shortest and
the sun’s heat
hardest
Young Actaeon called a halt:
‘We have killed more than enough
for the day…’
Actaeon, “making a beeline home from the hunt” stumbled on the bathing place.
He couldn’t help himself. He stared at the goddess’ naked body, and Diana
“blushed like a dawn cloud” and reached for a weapon. She had only water:
So she scooped up a handful and
dashed it
into his astonished eyes, as she
shouted:
“Now, if you can, tell how you saw
me naked”.
That was all she said but as she
said it
Out of his forehead burst a rack of
antlers
His neck lengthened, narrowed,
and his ears
folded to whiskery points,
his hands were hooves.
His arms long slender legs.
His hunter’s tunic
slipped from his dappled hide.
With all this
The goddess
Poured a shocking stream of panic,
terror
Through his heart like blood.
He had become a stag. Bounding away,
Actaeon was caught by his fellow hunters:
He wished he were among them
Not suffering this death but observing
The terrible method
Of his murderers, as they knotted
Muscle and ferocity to dismember
Their own master.



credit: Ted Hughes, reteller of 25 of Ovid's tales, and Anthony Day of the LA Times bringing it to me twelve years ago. Sometimes stuff rocks your world. This was one of them for me.

Attitude pt III

When the world seems big and out of control, and you seem little and insignificant, I think it's important to stop every now and again to take a snap shot of what's going on around you. A picture captured will give you time to look at the other little details in the picture, the looks on faces, the color of the sky. It will give time to reflect what was being said right then, or tasted, or shared. Replay a moment in time a couple of times over and I think the enormity of the world dies down to insignificance, and the weight of the moment becomes enormous. Of course I don't mean to pull out a camera out to do this, but just capturing in your mind's eye a snap shot of something meaningful that you're doing right now. Now stop for a few minutes and look at it. Really look. I'll bet you see stuff that eluded you at first glance. I wonder if you'll notcie how you're all of a sudden in the middle of picture. I know I did, and I didn't even know I was there. But funny enough I was SO there.

Attitude, part II

I miss partaking in the inanity of it all. I miss my old life when there was nothing but time and exploration. Even the stress of low income living seemed tolerable way back when, and dare I say, full of hidden joys. And inanities.

I thought about that as I drudged out front to pick up my empty trash cans from the curb tonite. I felt the black cloud and lightning bolts over my head. A direct cartoon reference to be sure but but one that this kind of mood always elicits and I smiled at the ridiculousness of the visual. I positioned myself between the rolling cans, spun around to face away and take one in each hand behind me ready to drag, I begin to trudge. Drudge. I listened to the roar of the wheels on the hard packed earth. Marveled at the feeling of cobwebs on my hands as I pulled the cans in the dusk unable to see but yet not panicking at the thought. I squeezed them together behind my back as I passed thru the tight space at my jeep and smiled at the success realizing they must not have actually fit but I never slowed down to find out. I rounded the corner of the house and smiled at the plastic Garden Gnome , fresh batteries lighting up his hat and latern in the gloom. The cat readied his attack and pounced at the perfect time, missing me and aiming for the dog who was happily trotting beside me. I laughed out loud at the dog's indifference. I parked the cans and stepped happily out of the dark yard into the warm glow that was pouring from the kitchen door, cat and dog at my heels. And sat down to tell you all how I love partaking in inanities. Sometimes it's the attitude, not the situation.

Five Minutes

Five minutes was all I asked. Five minutes was all I had. In that time I reached up, grabbed a handful of mane, bobbed on one foot careful not to pull the saddle toward me and climbed aboard. Heard the familiar creak of leather. Patted his neck and smelled the familiar smell of sweat and hair on my hand. Gathered up the reins to “put the horse in gear” and stepped on the throttle with a light stab of my heels. The bunching of muscle and twitch of skin told me he was listening and ready to take us forward and true to his nature, left the direction up to me. We walked for a few minutes to establish a working relationship, your moves, my moves. Before we attempt to try out the throttle, we try out the brakes and with a light tightening of the reins, a shift in my balance toward the back and heels ahead and a quiet ho-hup from me, we come to an immediate stop. Loosen the reins but maintain contact we're off again, this time a little brisker. This time the stop a little more immediate. And this time the go is in an opposite direction, just to find out who was really holding the steering wheel. Your wish is my command he seemed to say. A few minutes of that and we're satisfied, ready to walk back to his owner and do what riders do best, sit on their horse a few minutes, slack reined, while just hanging out and talking. No pestering. No fidgeting. No nibbling. Just hanging out. Hold the reins taut in one hand perched on the horn, swing over and balance on one foot for a nano second, and climb down. A scritch on the neck to say thank you and assure that the familiar scent of sweat and hair is on both hands, and hand the reins back over. Five minutes was all it took to realize what's been missing and what will be coming in the coming months.

Beyond Exhaution

"Beyond exhaustion". Adv. Adj. Verb Noun Def: A weekend class which required predawn alarms, long hours, responsibility for the entertainment, safety, and success of paying students. (historical note: predawn alarm in the past 48 hours which did not activate caused oversleeping so now when it's crucial, the lightness of sleep is commenserate with the weight of the responsibility of not oversleeping again) Also of note, this being the "last" class of the season which represents my guilt and responsibilty of my having to explain and justify why there wont be another for so long, and more description of work I will have to find to do during the down-time as I report this information to the boss(es). Further definition of exhaustion: this being an "away" class which required securing a truck (borrowed), trailer(borrowed), lists of materials the length of your arm, man power to pack said truck/trailer/materials, requesting a check for the rent, justifying payment for the manpower/help/rent (because of still paying for first rent), new area to run a class in that's full of unknown obstacles and pitfalls to contend with (ie: Labor Day weekend overflow parking from Lake Perris on OUR parking lot and plumbing in the classroom which has now twice left us with overflowing toilets on OUR time making it OUR responsibility). Man power of said away-class to drive the borrowed truck trailer is me, and in my limited experience find that pulling said 28 foot trailer loaded with 9 bikes, 18 tie downs, various ez ups, chairs, coolers, file boxes, cones and lumber is treacherous at best and downright terrifying, especially when being maneuvered through a) check point charley DUI station #1 on Friday night, 2) through an 8'1" wide gate with an 8' wide trailer. Numerous times. In the dark. With Fair traffic coming toward you and Norco sheriff behind you holding a light on you demanding that you "move this trailer off of the road" "Now". 3) Driving through 2nd DUi station on another night with said trailer after having stopped after a 12 hour day for some dinner. And beers. 4) Manuevering through said gate once again at night but this time with less direct angle to begin and getting tangled up in said fence. 5) Going no more than 55 mph at any given time because of the warnings and experience that the tongue weight is incorrect and there is "some opportunity for swaying". "Which would be bad".
Of note of course would be the class itself which housed an opportunity to host an unannounced Quality Assurance audit from the State, a summer day predicted to be 93 degrees but instead is 103. A class full of what I would describe as "anchors" for anyone familiar with the term, and then of course a fairly unassuming "tip over" requiring an incident report, followed by a dismissal of that student from class, closely watched for propriety by the auditor of course, then immediately followed up by a complete passing out, fainting, loss of conciousness by said dismissed student which required a call to 911 to have said unconcious student checked over by the authorities. Note to self: Good news, the check by paramedics was clear, and student refused any further attention. Note that will be being supplied to the authorites by said auditor: "exceeds standards". "Especially because of the handling of the emergency".
More definition of "beyond exhaustion": Should I even begin to add to the effort and emotion already expended in the past two to three weeks of moving out of a recent residence, m0ving out of a recent relationship, moving back INTO a past residence which carries ghosts and memories having to be contended with. Nah, that wouldn't even begin to describe the amount of discord that lays lying around in my immediate vicinity. I have nothing solid underneath me right now, nothing within my control or comfort in my surroundings, nothing solid in the "mobile" class I'm trying to put on. All I know is the tangible feeling of exhaustion. And to that end it is very real. And actually kind of welcomed and respected for all it's worth. If I do say so myself.

Cat toys at your feet

I saw a story on Nat Geo about a rescue dog in his new home who arranged his toys in very distinct patterns (ie: triangles, all one kind of toy, all face up or all face down, etc). They time- lapsed video of him doing this and sometimes it would take a very long time for him to make his choices, pick them up, set them down, pick them up again until he was happy with the end result. Spooky. I thought about this when I saw a picture a friend took of toys his cat would bring in and leave near the bed as he slept. Jack tries to do that too, but with real "toys" it's way more disgusting than intriguing. Here's a link to that nifty dog story. It still gives me comfort and the creeps at the same time.

http://dobermansden.com/donnie-the-doberman-arranges-toys/

Tonights walk

Walking with and watching the dog learn and behave in a calm submissive way makes for happy companionship on a walk around the block. It's not a good neighborhood I live in, and as I turned down a street I'm unfamiliar with and began to make my way in a direction I knew to be toward home, I found myself on a quiet undesirable back street. The dog begins to be more aggressive in her role, walking ahead, nose down and unnaturally interested in every smell along the side of the walk, pulling forward, falling behind. Her attention is on anything besides me. Now I'm aware of a car parked along the curb that I am fast approaching, 2 young men inside. My attention now is on anything besides her, and I pull out every trick in the book about looking and seeming unlike a target. My posture is now more assertive, shoulders back, eyes ahead and looking towards and at the car to let them know I see them. Like I will do when I pass an aggressive dog, Caesar tells us to just keep walking, don't stop, don't even hesitate, eyes ahead just continue doing what you're doing. Nothing happens. Past the scene, the dog goes back to just walking, I go back to just walking. It makes me wonder who set off who, the dog preparing me, me preparing the dog, or just mutual respect to watch out for each other because of our happy companionship.

Sid's Angel

Some 20 years ago, a family went to the pound to decide on a dog. There he was in his anonymous splendor, defying identification of his breed. So home he went and the first order of business was to get him checked out at the vet. The diagnosis was sound health, needs his nails trimmed and his, well, you know what dog-hood disarmed. The vet went on to say what a good looking dog this is, is he a Catahoula Leopard Dog? Who knows, this was in a day and age before PetCo Dog DNA tests, which as we know now would have better identified him as a wire-haired-Plott-hound-Brussels Griffon then anything else in their limited baselines. But that’s another story. So we take our new “Cat” home and look him up in the dog breed books and sure enough he very well could be one and it’s a fun story to tell when showing him off to friends and family. That is, a fun story to try to tell but to do so required using a mouthful of long words, and even longer explanation of this non-AKC recognized herding dog from the Louisiana Bayou back country. So we eventually stop making reference to his breed and just go on to know him as “Sid”. Skip ahead 15 years, after a life well lived and a friendship borne of constant companionship, it’s now time to make the hardest decision ever known to mankind, at least to those who have been touched by the truest friendship and purest emotion only a pet can elicit. The loss it will create is what is so hard about the decision, it is actually an easy non-decision because of the trust he has put in me and the dignity and respect I will bestow on him not to suffer or be less of the dog he always strived to be. There is the doubt that you will know the exact moment when to say when, but when that time actually does come, you just know. Skip ahead to that day. I go to my regular vet where we’ve come for the past few years and we know them and they know us, but yet the man that appears in the little room is a stranger to me. He’s large but gentle. He’s competent but kind. He’s thorough in his descriptions and preparations so there would be no misunderstanding during the sequence of events but somehow in his demeanor he has made me feel comfortable. But the coolest part of all was that before he proceeds, he takes a few minutes to talk to me, ask about Sid, ask about our lives together, Sid and I. And then, as if he accidentally revealed himself to me for the angel that he truly was, there to help both me and Sid know that this was the right day, the right decision, he said, “now that’s a good looking dog. What is he, a Catahoula Leopard Dog?” This time I just said yes. And then we said goodbye.

My life as a toon

I should have read between the lines last December when I volunteered to help take down the Haunted House in the parking lot of the amusement park where we lease space to work our Motorcycle Safety classes. I described the hours of prying nails out of the asphalt, gathering the corpses and cobwebs for storage, and posing with the tortured waif in the laboratory.

But it wasn't until I heard myself describe to the new instructor where to meet me last weekend, when I told him to go through the gate behind the Statue of Liberty and make a left at the gargoyls. It all makes perfect sense to me, it's a wonder I don't think the antics of novice motorcyclists seems out of the ordinary.

Spit and Polish

I carried my small goldfish bowl through the dealership on the way to clean their water. The other employees now know this as taking my fish for a walk. On the way back through the parts department, the fish and I stopped for a visit, then as we turned and headed back toward the classroom, me holding the bowl out in front as I walked, the two of them, Spit and Polish, swam to the front of the bowl, pressed their noses against the glass and wagged their tails, as if they were dogs on a car ride! I'm still smiling, hours later.

I had an idea

Remember when light bulbs used to *POP* when they burned out? Well, last night the one in the bathroom was flickery, so I turned it off then turned it on so that I'd be ready for the inevitable jump I always do. Nothing. Just out. Now, come to think of it it's been a long time since I've been surprized when reaching into a dark room and flicking on the lights. Years, really. Is this a new function of lightbulb technology? I hope so 'cause I just HATE when that happens.

Spring Cleaning

Spring is in the air, and soon enough in the ground around my new house. As some of my listening audience will recall I can be very optimistic when it comes to envisioning a yard full of growing glory. It's kind of pathetic actually when the sad truth is I have no experience, no natural ability and no connections. But O the visions of Tropical Wonders! I was actually quite close once, pleasant but a far cry from exultant, when I had come back from Hawaii and begun to accumulate bird o' paradises, bougainvilleas, and of course the famous plumarias. All kept in pots. The pot requirement was two fold, one that I could manage a plant in 44" of top soil, and two that I didn't own and didn't believe I would remain at the Norco property long enough to enjoy "real" gardening and I'll be darned if I'll put plants in the ground for somebody else to murder. So began the pot collection. And the plant collection. But with the passing of H. Plant and his progeny, so passed my desire and belief in my plant-y dreams. One by one each of the pets in pots began to go to seed, dry out, become gangly, and finally succumbing to neglect. Skip ahead a year and I find myself in suburbia, with a yard FULL of potential (real estate speak for unfinished). I felt the familiar tingle of hope. Empty pots begging to be filled and arranged. A faux veranda. A misting system. Ahhhhh, I can feel the cool and the green already! As I put the spade in to begin turning over some dirt I thought I heard a small yippee escape from below.

Sometimes, the best communication happens when you're on separate bikes.

I eat my peas with honey, I’ve done it all my life
It makes the peas taste funny, but They Sure Stick on the Knife!

I’ve done all my personal computing, 1997 to be exact, on AOL. It was for lack of understanding at the beginning, for familiarity through the years, but truth be told, even after all this time, it is because I am still a little afraid of the internet and I still feel like I will miss something if it is not pre-approved by AOL. So when AOL tells me that I need to do something, I’ve been loyal, they believe and respect me, right? And so I’ll do it. Upgrade my security and firewalls? Sure. Upgrade to the newest version for MY benefit? Nice. A new reporting system to capture where and when a problem with AOL has occurred? Hurrah! I’ll do it.

So just now as I was signing on, once again seeing the all too oft given “encountering a problem, AOL must shut down” but with it was offered a gentle maternal pat and the words that cooed “do you want to report this problem?” I dutifully and hopefully pushed “yes” and in a heartbeat an error report was
1) prepared
2) connected to the server
3) checked for the status of this problem
4) completed

What’s wrong with this picture? The report was generated because of system lock up on connection, furthermore they have now established shutting it down, and yet they are able to prepare/connect/check/send and complete in a flash? One of two things is afoot here: either connectivity is available to them when it is not available to me or… the report is a sham. A lie. A patronizing way to placate the uninformed. NO! Aol wouldn’t do that to a loyal customer. Would they?

ships on a peaceful sea

OOOO ! Two chips on a piece of cheese!

When I heard myself exclaim such a ridiculous statement tonight, it cracked me up and I can't quite put my finger on why. Calorically it was a naughty. Metaphorically it was naughty, Categorically it wasn't naughty but WAS unusual, poetically, lyrically, grammatically, symbolically. Each one had a place in that moment in time when I said it. Inane, maybe, but I like that I laughed over it. And oh yeah, it tasted good.

Gray Flannel

This is the time of year that has always stirred in me the urge to roam. I’m sure some people look to the heart of winter as a time to hunker down and pull the covers over their heads and hide, but for me it was passed down through family birthright a need to travel. This was known as: The Road Trip.

Mom's birthday was Feb. 2, and so it seemed was always at this time of year there was some sort of a visit in store, if not for me to get away from my life for a while, then it was she trying to escape from winter doldrums. The phone would ring, we would small talk for a few minutes then get to the real purpose for the call “I need to get away, how ‘bout you?” and I remember the thrill of either hearing or being able to say “I’M READY!” I cannot think of an instance when that wasn’t the immediate answer from either of us.

I remember an ongoing suggestion that in honor of her birthday on ground-hog's day, wouldn't it be fun to go to Punxatawny, PA and see the real Phil being lifted from his hole. And she would howl in protest that the LAST place she wanted to be was in the bitter cold of an East Coast winter! And so would begin another adventure off into Tony Hillerman Navajo country, or out to Cayucos or New Cayama on the Central Coast, or Death Valley, or any other such destination.

The excuse for going was cloaked in the need for warmth, open spaces, the therapy of change of pace and perspective, but the real purpose was for the sake of being together. Looking back, it always seemed to correspond to this dreary time of year. Man it seems cold and gray today, I think I”ll go pull out a blanket.

The difference is hot and cold

What is it about a hot shower?

And I don't mean a warm shower, or a comfortable one. I mean a hot one. Stinging. Steaming. And then there's that point where once your body becomes acclimated, turning it up JUST a little more and once again the rush of pins and needles comes over you. Ahhhhh. There's nothing like it. After such a shower, you get out with your skin mottled and pink, and the heat stays with you for the short duration of drying and putting on a robe. I wonder if it's that core temperature being raised that I crave so, because there's nothing I like worse than being in a luke warm shower, or worse a cold one and then that treacherous moment of standing in the now quiet tub dripping and goosebumpy while reaching for the towel. I hate that moment.

I would WAY rather be hot than be cold. I wonder if the dislike of cold water and goosebumps is biological or psychological? Even on a hot day and the joy of a cold pool, I hate that initial shocking plunge. Why is that? I don't particularly dislike cold weather mind you, but something about cold water just gets to me.

But Hot. Now THAT's what I'm talking about. I don't think there's anything I like more than a clean bright shower, good water pressure, ample hot water, a variety of soapy things and a sharp razor. I think that's what heaven is going to be a lot like.

Wheee!

Has anybody else gotten hooked on Guitar Hero?
Actually I keep saying that, parading around my addiction like a badge of honor to anyone else who has felt it and chimes in that they "know just what you mean", and truth be told, I’m not that hooked. I just like it. I don't really play it that often, and I still struggle at the medium level, but when the notes magically flow from my hands OH how it feels, my entire body keeping beat, time slows down and I'm wrapped in the song. Faux guitar. But is it really? If I've strapped the instrument over my shoulder against my body at a slightly raised angle, using my left hand stretched around the neck, fingers working sometimes together, most often independently and in time with the insistant beat, the other hand strumming a different action but in company, isn't that playing? Or is it really just glorified video gaming as I'm so afraid it to be? Have I truly just traded in a joy stick shaped controller for a guitar shaped one and shooting bullets at appropriately timed intervals. Faux guitar indeed. You should hear me sing.

Back in the saddle

I don't have a good reason for my absence. I'd love to give a great story detailing my recent lottery riches, fancy homes with large staff in exotic locals and wormholes to new dimensions. It's all true of course but it would just be an excuse. I have a lot of catching up to do. I'd really like to start at the start, I think I fell off the earth back in about October of 2007. I think it all started with the Golden Retrievers, but I haven't really allowed myself very deep introspection about that time so my spiral may have been before that or after. I don't know, I think I left the cliff notes in the worm hole. Instead of back tracking, I'd like to start with something happy now. I have a new job and some very cool new friends. Look what they did for me for my birthday a few weeks ago! I don't know if they realize what a gift they give me in their friendship long before the birthday song was sung at the restaurant. Jack and Jen, you guys rock!

Ps: did I win?