Symbolism lost, refound

Cool post on the blog of my friend and collegue Daniel Abraham. <--That by the way is a link to the wikipedia article on Daniel. You have to link to that.

Don't Stop

Don't stop, sweet lips. Lie, lie.

Camera phones

Camera phones. We are Big Brother.

Big Brother isn't who you think

I'm going to post a six word story each day (sure). The title of this post is today's story.

Bias tape

It's just a phrase I like, bias tape. It's a sewing term.

Tricks of the Painting Trade

This is a particularly cool post over at Value Added Paper. Jae taught a figure painting workshop a couple weeks ago, and she used these two pictures for instruction.

"The Boat"

This summer I talked frequently about our new porch. This is a picture of it at night. One of its great features is a light. We spent most summer nights out there, reading or playing scrabble or dozing. It has a roof and we enjoyed being under there in the rain. We refer to it as "the boat", because it was so relaxing that it reminded us of lying on lawn chairs on a houseboat.

3 late berries

My photo is a little blurry, but hopefully you can make out the 3 blackberries in my hand. Believe it or not, I picked them today. Out of the 2 dozen or so berries we got this year, these were the sweetest.

Borrowed Words

You make your heart a decoration
It's like a broken violin
So carefully made empty
Taking only silence in
Taking saccharine to kill your pain
Won't you help me stripping cane
Won't you help me stripping cane tonight

Jeffrey Foucault, "Stripping Cane"

Turtle dream

Giant wooden turtle crushes quaint alpine village. Skiers flee with Starbucks.

Cool posts on Jae's blog

I dont' have any stories for you today, but Jae has posted some new stuff on Value Added Paper, including a picture of her in her booth at the Weems show.

Someone to watch over you

I rode the bus to work this morning. It was a fine November morning, sunny and warm. There was just enough chill in the air for me to wear a jacket. I had a book with me. A good morning.

I switched busses at Central and San Mateo. It is rare for me to ride the bus now, but I rode it to work every weekday for five or six years. I had no trouble identifying the huddle of figures on and around the bus stop as drunks. There were two or three Indian men and one loud white woman. The men never made a sound. They all had the dirty clothes and red, raw look of people who live on the street. The men had long, greasy hair and beards. The big woman had short, bristly hair and a harsh, nasal voice.

I stopped a distance from the bench, pulled my book from my bag and leaned against a light pole. I was trying to read Book 1 of _The Wealth of Nations_, but the woman's volcanic obscenity kept breaking through my concentration. I thought I had finally blocked her out, when one curse-free sentence sailed cleanly through my buffer.

"Momma had a dream that I won the lottery and they found me dead in a field."

I kept trying to focus on the division of labor, until the bus got there.

I positioned myself for early entry onto the bus so I could get a good seat. I did let the old man with a cane on in front of me. I was already in my carefully chosen seat when that loud woman started up the steps. The bus driver took one look at the red, glazed man following her and said, " No, I'm not taking him on the bus."

"Please, he goin' with me to watch out for me. They always cheat me."

"No."

"They always cheat me on my check. He's commin' to keep me out of trouble. Please."

The bus driver nodded curtly, and the two stumbled to a seat when the bus started to move. I never saw the man look up, his chin always resting on his chest. I returned to my book.

I was reading when we got to their stop. That voice grated against my eardrums.

"Thank you sir, he's comin' to watch after me. Yessir, he's gonna watch over me."

Her protecting angel.