Monday night

***I am numbering my thoughts, in honor of Jean Robbins:

1) I just had a delicious meat pie and am really sleepy, though i still have this paper to write. Actually, first i have to finish the book in order to actually write the paper.

2) Today i was thinking about how horrible it would be to be trapped in the ground. You know, you dig a tunnel about 10 feet under the earth, say like a rodent. Except you're human still. But then someone fills in that hole from above. That would fucking terrible. Maybe i'm somewht claustrophobic too, but what an awful place to be trapped. Plus, you'd probabaly start sniffing up some of the dirt, and then start sneezing, and then use up your oxygen a lot quicker.

3) Is it a leap year this February??? Does anyone know? Please tell me, because secrets don't make friends.

4) So, i listened to the 6-11-1994 You Enjoy Myself (Red Rocks, CO) today for the first time in many months. Man, that really does it for me. I was heating up my leftovers rocking out hard to that final jam. Oh, Trey was so ON with those YEM solos in july 94. man! Also, listened to the whole show of 2-17-1997 Amsterdam; great Bathtub Gin in there, and that second set is soooo good.... way experimental, and Fishman nails it all through. Do you think they allow the crowd to smoke hash and dope out in the crowd at the Paradiso in Amsterdam? I would assume they would. Man, i bet there were some really stoned heads at that show.

5) I wish more people would leave me comments on my blog. Please?

6) I am going to see Mel Brooks' The Producers tomorrow at the ? theatre (i can't remember right now, though i was just talking about it), and am really pumped about this. Reportedly, many have burst skirt seams and pant buttons laughing so hard. How can you go wrong with Mel Brooks... i am thinking about History of the World, Pt 1 right now. So funny.

7) So, apparently this weekend, Wilds' house in Chapel Hill caught on fire in the middle of the night??? How crazy is that. I wonder how; I don't think they know yet. But, man, how freaky. I hope that entry floor bathroom with the trippy wallpaper was not damaged, because that room was tha heat!

8) So, i have taken a break from my poems (i have been way busy), but don't worry children, I've got ideas...brewing up there in my head, soaking up flavor, waiting me to take that immortal draught, and strain out the gems. Boil down the sustance, and cork the essence.

9) So, here are some pics from my weekend up in the Lake District... beauty unfathomable. These pics do not do it justice. Oh, an i went to the Wordsworth Museum and his old abode, Dove Cottage. I really loved the original manuscripts they had in there. Even had Wordsworth's old pair of socks !!! (they were gray) hahah, I shared a good laugh with myself about that. Behold, children of the night! ...

"If the mule don't pull, you got to carry the load"

Sale!

New titles available from the acclaimed author Patrick Chappell:

- Animal Dander and its Modern Insutrial Uses
- How Facebook Conquered Terrorism: A Study of Group Think and the Taliban Social Tradition
- Display Techniques for the Modern Poultry Exhibition
- How to Waste Time


On another note, the earlier post of capitalization has been curtailed, after 3 separate people mentioned it. Ahhh... adl;goqiervoirva;mrolhidden0messages;alkjga;ijrpg[oamvc

Confession?

Well, i don't think i have been fair to my blogger. I have been neglecteing him.

You see, the trouble is this... Am i expected to keep an extensive journal, log, and art/poetry collection, and THEN go back and type it all up on this blog? Is that really what i need to be doing with my time, while in London? I don't think so, and I haven't been doing it. It is more like a random forum (well, i guess i'm the only one in the forum, though... hmm?) where I can jetison the absurdities of my mind.

Also, i am limited here. I cannot be as personal as i want in my own journal. I refrain from spilling darker secrets. Some things are simply not appropriate for a blog (which by the way is a shortened form of web-log ...yeh, i looked it up).

But, nevertheless, it is a useful beast. I can share thoughts, fellings, pictures, verse. I'm really not sure who reads this thing, but certainly appreciation is due to both Gaya and Leyla, my two most faithful readers.

OK, so on a different subject, what is the deal with people who type/write and refuse to use capitalization? Is that hip or something? Are you too cool to capitalize the beginnings of sentences or proper names?

So, I really had a good day today. By that, I don't mean i got a huge load of work accomplished, though i did attend to my immediate responsibilities. I say it was a good day because i got the greatest feeling tonight, riding by myself on the tube, from Kensington to my tube stop in Holborn. I felt more content than i have in a while, and really felt in place. Not an American in London, but indeed a Londoner myself. It was very satisfying - a powerful feeling. Between the Oxford Street stop and the Tottenham Court stop, i just kind of started nodding my head, like i understood some grand enigma. I looked around at everyone (a fairly uncrowded tube ride for the time of night, i thought), and just kept nodding. To myself.

I'm not sure why i got the feeling right then and there, but it was quite visceral as well as psychological. My limbs buzzed and the physicality of my mind was elated. But a mysterious elation. Me, sitting there with my brown bag of wool socks, pens, and contact solution, with my shoulder bag of notebooks from class, bundled up in scarf and jacket, smiling and nodding my head over and over again, and mumbling to myself. Yes, i'm sure i looked to be dabbling in lunacy, but I really did get the feeling that i was part of the fabric - that wonderfully cosmopolitan tapestry dancing about London and the Thames Valley. This really is a marvelous place.

-
-----------

Right, so, maybe some haikus to round off this post? Yes, please Patrick.

-I-

Dribble and drabble;
Splish, splash, and rippled ripples
Such is memory.

-II-

Here stand prison bars
Of water, Poseidon bless’d.
What is stopping me?

-III-

Hail! I am iamb!
Loved by the Occident,
Relaxed, later stressed!

(^ haha, that one is pretty ridiculous, but i do like it...yes i know the second line has only 6 syllables...)

-IV-

A fluttering fugue
Dances on the breeze, then soars
Into the jet-stream.


goodnight, children.

Old Picture

I think from 2004 ... Gray and I in Uwharrie Nat'l Forest, at a riverbend campsite. By fire.

There was a huge storm that night, and our three man tent was almost impaled by a 40 pound limb that landed straight up, lodged in the ground only a few meters from the tent.

stones, baths, smells

Yesterday, Rob, Sam and I took a train to Salisbury, Stonehenge, and Bath...in Wessex...an area in southwest England. Beautiful country, terrible weather.

We saw the highest cathedral spire in England...the Salisbury Cathedral. Now this is Gothic! A righteous helping of stone and tradition, built in the perpetually green dale through which the River Avon flows. The towering ceilings of the interior are enough to stir religion within any being.

But, even so, i was far more moved by Stonehenge, which is only 15 or so miles outside of Salisbury. How mystic...stunning and simple - I cannot believe the years of effort these peoples went through to create this pagan stone temple. And we basically have no idea about any of these people. The alignment of the heel-stone with the summer solstice was especially interesting to see...i can only imagine seeing the sun's shadow actually falling upon the middle of Stonehenge in late June on the solstice. An eerie respect was paid by us three, despite the drizzle and whipping winds of the plane. Unfortuantely, there were a fair amount of tourists there along with us, which at first irked me. But, then, i realized that they have just as much right to be there as me.

And Bath - oh, that was my favorite! This ancient Roman city, built over a fault on the Earth's crust, features a spring that constantly brings forth water at around 100 degrees F. So, what did the Romans do? Built a giant hot tub on top of it! Perfect! The ancient bath's feature the sacred spring chamber (whose goddess was Sulis-Minerva, a combination of the Celtic goddess, and the Roman), and the very large main bath area. Here you can walk about and see the steam rising from the sumptuous bubbling of the gaseous waters. There were also private bathing chambers, a frigidarium, a tepidarium, sauna-like rooms, and altars of sacrifice.

So, in Bath i got a lot of great pictures, but it really got me thinking how much i wish i could preserve smells of different places...they have such an effect on people! and are so closely related to memories...much moreso than visual imagery. I want to be able to capture odours in a bottle and keep them forever, always being able to take whifs and remember travels. The baths smelled like minerals, limestone maybe? moist, and thick; like old stone-lined closets, and kind of like the smell of the well-water at my house when it would come out bubbley and hazy after it hit a phosphorous deposit. ..."old" mostly, and with a little bit of that dewey vegetation smell you find in caves. Must capture smells! Maybe one day our Flat screen High Definition Smell-o-visions will solve the problem for me...

I leave Thursday for a four day trip around The Lake District, maybe Yorkshire? with Dad...i hope he can adjust to British roads and shifting with his left hand.

I'm just not sure

So I just made a snack of toast and honey, and the bread had some mold on it. Not a lot, just a little bit of green on the crust. I thought that maybe i shouldn't eat it, but i was really hungry. And then, i decided that toasting it would be enough to make it OK, so i did. And my moldy bread was delicious.

Also, how about Dick Cheney shooting a guy (yeh, news travels slow) ? Man, i hate that guy; i wish someone had shot him instead. Hello Republican party gun control, maybe ?

That's all for now, i am sleepy. Soporific effects of the mold most likely.

Update

Right, so it's been awhile since i've updated...busy with papers and such.

First, some haikus that i wrote awhile ago:

(1)

My television
Likes to play tricks on me when
It's humid outside.

(2)

Two lilting lillies
By the mossy brook's bank are
Whispering lovers.

----

So, i went to the Chelsea football match last Wednesday, so great to see some football/soccer again! Really made me want to buy a ball here and kick it around in Regents Park or Hyde or something. Chelsea stomped Everton, 4-1, with Everton's only goal coming on a fluke handball by Chelsea in their penalty box. And, we had 4th row seats! How about that? ..yeh, you like it. There was one header by Crispo that was especially nice.

My coffee addiction is picking back up...it's been over 5 weeks in London, and at first i stuck to tea and only tea, since we don't have a coffee pot in the flat, and everything is blindingly expensive here, even a cup of joe. Plus, i've really been enjoying my tea. But, i knew i couldn't hold out long. Had two cups today, one being an uber-powerful double shot mocha. woh! i was talking a lot of gibberish this afternoon. alone, to myself, mostly.

Saw the Tom Hunter exhibition at the National Gallery last wednesday, and was very impressed. The artist, Hunter (who lives in Hackney, in East London...partly an artists' community, but even moreso a slummy run-down place, but certainly not lacking in aesthetic character), uses scenes of the Old Masters or other notable oil painters in the past, like Vermeer, Millais, Velazquez, and di Cosimo... Scenes that encompass some universal aspect of the human experience. So, using these as a model or loose frame at least, and often inspired by the Hackney tabloid-news headlines about death, rape, etc., he adapts the original scenes into modern settings with modern perspectives on the original masterpieces. Really fascinating. He is the artist-in-residence now at the National Gallery for 2006, and a fine choice i think. The exhibition is entitled, "Living in Hell and Other Stories."

For example, he takes Millais's painting "The Vale of Rest," which is actually housed in the Tate Gallery not but a few miles from the National Gallery. Anyway, so this painting shows two nuns, in a graveyard, one digging a fresh grave, the other holding her rosary and looking directly at the viewer. The figures are unknown in identity, so this mood of mortality is the most prevalent aspect of the work. A pastoral landscpae with bell-tower is in the background.

MILLAIS - "The Vale of Rest" .....

Now, Hunter takes this scene and places two female "squatters," (migrants, basically) dressed in cheap plain clothing, set against a similar beautiful glow of a sunset sky. But, they are in an abandoned industrial lot in Hackney, with a burnt-out motor bike and chain-link fence in view. They sit about a fire, one looking directly at the viewer (like Millais) and the other feeding the fire, similar to the other nun digging the grave. I mean, already so many themes could be drawn from this comparison. Also, significantly, Hunter keeps the same title, "The Vale of Rest." I'm not going to break down too much here of what i think (it is only a blog, children, take your seats), but what a haunting photograph Hunter has created! And the blonde dreadlocked woman's stare...certainly draws painful pity, at the very least. Hunter mentioned how he loves landscapes where man has left the area after ruining a plot, and then Nature slowly begins to reclaim her spirit. That is the case here, where weeds and shrubbery are growing up through the cracks of the asphault and rusted piles. The women are not burning sticks or wood from actual trees; rather, they are burning old lumber, treated and shaped by men....almost as if they are helping Nature reclaim her area, by eliminating that which man has distorted, the lumber. BUT, it is a fire, whose real purpose is to keep these women warm. THAT is what is important to them...they need light and warmth for the night - two vulnerable females, wandering and destitute. The red lighter on the ground makes me wonder if it was only made to light the fire...maybe they smoke cigarettes?...robbing them of what little money they have anyway. Ahhh, so IS this their vale of rest ? Is it their graveyard ? Digging their own graves? Hunter raises so many intricate issues here. And this is one of maybe 25-30 photographs (which by the way, are blown up to HUGE size) in the exhibition.

HUNTER - "The Vale of Rest" ...

Millais and the Pre-Raphaelites were so obsessed with "truth to nature"...nature as an untouchable force. Hunter reverses this in a lot of the photographs, making nature a breathing and struggling force, Nature's struggle as almost humanized, if you will. A lot of his other stuff deals with sexuality, and defining the boundary between pornography and art. He jeopardizes a lot of our sentiments by sordidly manipulating treasured icons of human history.

----

This week has flown by, with two papers due, one for English class and one in architectural history. Long weekend ahead, so many possibilities ...still marinating on my plans.

Picture Time

These are some shots taken at HYDE PARK in West London ...yesterday, which was a gorgeous day - bright and crisp.

New Poem

“Chalkboard Sky”

Today, the sky was a dusty blue chalkboard.
Moistened splotches glazed the clean azure slate—
Splotches full of muddled phrases, scattered symbols, and broken words
Strewn about the atmosphere!
Dusty mists that tickle the Titan’s nose;
Ethereal haze to lessen the bright;
Sinewy smoke of a sunlit sky;
Wandering fog alift from the ground.

And, stunned, I sat,
Absorbing and reflecting the heavenly boon—
The beauteous bounty of the ether! To whom do
I owe thanks for such sagacity?
Some aged and impotent Jupiter?
Or the viewless lark, warmed with eternal rays,
Leaving wondrous cloudy code
For me to discern?
Or some green-winged faery to entice
The rapture of my weary mind?
Alas, I can do little but behold.

And, tomorrow,
Similar letters and forms
Will wash into a foam
Upon the dusty blue chalkboard sky.



[Feb 7th, 2006]

----------------------------

On another note, I was just thinking about this ridiculous idea that I've been laughing about (to myslef, mostly) this past week. Two weeks ago, we were at the National Portrait Gallery's exhibition on Self-Portraiture (a really fantastic show, i thought, with works from Velazquez to van Gogh, to Francis Bacon to Stanley Spencer, to Warhol, to Whistler). Well, afterward Mike and I were in the gift shop, and they had all these books on portraiture and self-portraiture, each focusing on one artist in particular. And, they all had actual portraits on the front covers, either a portrait of the artist himself or a distinct portrait of another. Except Hogarth. Hogarth's had a portrait of a cat. Haha, so this grand notion entered my head that Hogarth was actually a cat! That great British painter and moralist was in fact a feline imposter! It's hard to imagine how dextrous those paws must have been, to get such naturalistic detail. I can imagine that oil paint would be pretty hard to get out of his fur, too.

So, the joke grew a lot further in my mind, but i'll spare the full details. Anyway, that's what I've been laughing about for a while. Here's a poor reproduction of the detail:

Old Phish Promo Prints & YEM from Albany 1995

Hahahaaahha ... i forgot i had these saved on my computer

I can't decide which one i think is funnier; no doubt Fishman is the best in each:
Right, so I think I've wasted enough time...Good Evening.

--------------

On a related note, I can still not find any version of You Enjoy Myself that can top 12-09-1995 Albany, NY... oh, and i have searched. A lot. It has reigned as the penultimate Phish performance in my mind since i first heard it back in senior year high school. If only i could have experienced this live; what a treat!

I mean, my lord, please someone tell me how they cam together to make this 35 minute wonder occur??!? How? It is sheer beauty - supremely adventurous, harmonic, multi-faceted, and triumphant to the point where i want a cigarette after hearing it.

My description, breifly (for I'm getting very hungry), begins with smooth sailing on an open sea, with salty gusts blowing back my hair (11:00 -17:00). Oh, this part is SO good. It is an exercise in simplicity and mutual harmony. They acheive a very balanced jam here, and i especially enjoy Mike's lines. Then, winds begin to pick up, giving a gentle (but not too gentle) rocking to the aged ship. The waves and wind start to create a rhythmic sway as the boat heads into more choppy and more blue waters (17:00 -20:00). Trey ends this segment with some glorious, and repetitive riffs, based around a theme he catches onto, and just milks it! And this dairy product is all kosher, kiddies. Fantastic! At 20:00, Trey drops out, and Page takes a subdued role, as Fishman and Mike lay down a steady and unique groove. Trey moves to his drum/percussion kit, and sounds like he uses some weird wood-blocks here. So, at this time, the audience had to be thinking, "Wow, that was fucking incredible jam segment, and this Drum and Bass section is far superior to most" - I mean, even at this point, it would be easy to rate this YEM at a A- (B+ at the least). BUT, at 22:50, Trey comes smoothly back in with chords for 4 measures, then it drops into some very groovy funk. Trey on his cry-baby Wah-Wah, and Page hits the Theremin keyboard, and plays with his magnetic fields during the stop-start breaks provided by the other three guys laying down what might be called some 97 cow-funk precursor material. I always laugh at what Page plays during this part...so good. I know he had to have a smile on his face when doing it, just looking at the other guys. At 25:05, Trey says a quote from Shaft ...over some low volume jamming along the same progression... Just sheer insanity. I'm sure I've listened to this over 40 times, and i still get shills from this masterpiece. And then, a SILENT JAM?!! Whattttt. The band continues acting like they're playing their instruments, but don't actually, prompting a huge crowd reaction (this AUD copy i have is great, btw). And then, at 27:25, comes the "race to the finish" (as Wilds aptly calls it). OH GODDD....My favorite part, So triumphant here. HUGE RELEASE at 28:20 from Trey and the fellows; and continued explosion and after explosion, with one of my favorite drum fills from Fishman coming in here. MAGNIFICENT. At 29:00, the Jam sprials out of centipical orbit, and winds off, led by inertia, into a slowed come-down. WUDMTF lyrics, at about 29:15. This continues until 35:00.

If anyone would like a copy of this, bt.etree.org usually has a version of this circulating, or i can try to help you out, because it is that special to me. Ribbit.

Mystery Fox

The Mystery Fox...well, I guess all foxes are pretty mysterious, really.

For the second time in 5 nights, I have walked out the front door of my flat late at night, and seen this red fox scurry about on the opposite side of Bedford Place. How queer! He must live somewhere in Russell Square park nearby. Surely it is the same fox that I've seen both nights.

Each time, I have thought him to be a cat at first, then seen his bushy tail and pointed skinny snout. A red fox in the middle of London... I do hope I continue to see him. I am thinking about giving him a name, but I really think I need three encounters to warrant that sort of amiable affection toward my furry friend. I hope one day he'll warm up to me, but i know that's not the sort of thing a red fox does. If he were to become friendly, he most likely would have a pretty harsh cockney accent, and i imagine i'd have to ask him to repeat himself a few times. I remember in high school that Mr. Pate used to differentiate between a red fox and a gray fox, saying that one of the species was able to climb trees and the other was not. I think the red fox CAN climb trees. So, you know, that's pretty sweet.

Danish Cartoon Protests

Well, I am stunned at how far this has gone so quickly. So, some cartoons were published in Denmark, and it nearly seems like religious wars are brewing around the globe.

Ok, so as of today, thousands are rallying in Afghanistan to protest these Mohammed cartoons; Iran's ministers have been recalled from Denmark; a Danish embassy in Beirut is burned in an out-of-control protest; newspaper editors in Jordan were arrested for publishing the cartoons (one very twisted notion of 'freedom of speech,' ehhh); and radicals in Iraq are calling on supporters to kill Danish and non-Muslims in the Iraq. Denmark has also issued an earnest statement demanding their citizens leave Iran immediately. ...WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

Ok, yes i understand completely that religions should be respected, but this is a severe response. The Muslim community (especially radical militants) are such a sensitive culture when it comes to religion. Yes, i understand that it is fundamental to their culture. This sensitivity isn't necessarily condemnable, it's just hard for Westerners (myself included) to absorb, understand, and empathize with such a religiously-founded culture. I think the Western world has already had their periods where religion has directed whole wars and countries' agendas....back in Europe up to the later Wars of Religion (and that was only based of different "versions" of the same religion). Now, Europe and America have settled into a culturally and religiously diverse acceptance. The Muslim world still is hot and ready to go, despite past religious conflicts. And of course, all the recent conflict and strife in the last 5 years isn't helping this cartoon situation (::understatement::). There is so much religious diversity within Western culture, yet very little in places like Iran, Iraq, and such.

Sure, I'd be mad about the cartoons if I were Muslim, but I just don't understand the violent reactions many have had.

Here, in London, there was a huge demonstration today outside of the Danish embassy. Signs were being paraded, glorifying Bin Laden and forecasting a new 9/11 for Europe...they passed on peacefully though. Still, how quickly it has spread... kind of scary that a few cartoons could do this. Makes you wonder.

- - - - -

On another note, i reread two of Salinger's short stories today, "Down at the Dinghy" and "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" from his Nine Stories ...he's so good with conversation and nuance. His short stories are among my favorites, along with Borges and Hemingway. I mean, you can really feel the inflections and see the body movements of the people talking, without Salinger having to give you anything but pure dialogue. It's brilliant.

Also, everyone smokes so many cigarettes in his stories....and i guess, in general back in late 40's and 50's when he was writing. I mean, it's just incredible - In "Down at the Dinghy" the mom smokes two cigarettes in the story, and the vignette can't really last longer than 10 total minutes! Same for Franny and Zooey and Catcher in the Rye .... just intense chain-smoking.

The Sidewalk Sweeper

The idea for this came to me today on the way back from the coffee shop, watching a sullen man sweep the sidewalks clean in the cold. This draft could use a little work, but i think it much better than the wine bar poem. Please comment, if you wish.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“The Sidewalk Sweeper”

To right, now back left,
His battered broom chafes the stony walk,
While the sidewalk sweeper grunts
His London song.

Stops long to gaze on the lipstick’d cigarette butt
To wonder how her perfume smelled, tucked ‘neath
Her checkered scarf, for warmth.
Then, eyes move forward, to scan the plane—
Plain like the frozen dust that dots his own
Grayed scarf, moth-eaten in time.

Silent in mouth, and muted in dignity,
The tall bowed man sweeps the day’s
And night’s trash into its ashen
Funeral urn. And, brushed into the sieve,
Hidden amongst cellophane scrap and frost,
Settle the collective memories
Of the past day, silent, grave, and still.

Meow Box

I was thinking about this idea again today -- "The Feline Box of Lucid Delight!"

I should probably sell this idea to an off-beat photographer; It goes like this:

First, i find a large glass aquarium prism, or some translucent box, of large size. Now, this project will work best in summer for the following reason. Cats naturally shed a lot more in summer, with the coming heat...so, in summer, find a cat (best if he's a friendly fellow) and put him in the box (no malicious intent, i assure you). Then, reach into the box with rubber gloves, and furiously pet the pussycat, so that his hair and dander are launched into the air of the box. You must be sure only to open the box's top slightly in order to pet him, so the flying fur doesn't escape. Then, soon after the box's atmosphere is choked up with floating hair, take 5-8 different high power beams of different colors (deeply saturated and bright colors are best), and shine them through the prism. So, the different beams are shining at different angles (obliques and diagonals and horizontals, from atop/below/and to side of the box...through the flying fur and strangely silhouetting the cat; creating a bizarre and magnificent scene, to be photographed. Light, fur, refraction, reflection, cats, and colors - all together - grand Art!

meow.

Wine Bar

I wrote this verse this evening, about a red-toothed fellow in the wine bar tonights, with whispy dirty hairs atop a flushed scalp.


"Waxy Cheese"

The character 'neath the hickroy plume--
His hair (or lack of) garnishes a dome that is
A magnificent cheese-wheel, Dropped on a dirty public bathroom
Floor,
That a scruffy Norwegian yesterday used to
Shave his four-day beard.

And wine-teethed chicklets, to utter
"Cheers" to his neighbor
Who fills his glass,
For a 2-pound Sterling.
And, then, bowed his head, to take on
The full effect, and say his
Evening Prayers, with silent fury.



- weeeeee, that one might need some work. Yoshi!