The Duck, The Dog and I

Thunder rumbles in the west. It is dusk. It is getting dark. There’s a ping, ping of rain drops on the roof. Their frequency increases. Thunder rumbles again. The dog’s head bobs up at the sound. Storms frighten him. He lies back down, curled in a ball. The thunder is far away. Sound carries far across water. The rumbling gets closer. I have the lantern on so that I can read. I have a burner lite on the stove for heat. I need to check and see if my carbon monoxide detector is working. I crack two windows for some ventilation.  The thunder is getting louder. It is not dark enough to see the flashes of lighting. Thunder crackles. I drink a glass of wine and munch on some cheese and crackers. Ping, ping, ping. Kapow! Crackle, boom – a rolling rumble. The dog gets up and stares at me. I beckon him to come over and sit beside me. He does. He is shivering. Now the storm is upon us, in earnest. The dog shakes. I put my arm around him. He lies quiet but continues to shiver. It is dark. Lighting crackles, thunder rumbles, the trailer quivers.

Blue sky – sunshine – it is warming up but not as fast as my spirits are. I take off my overcoat. I sip at my cup of hot tea.

The grass is turning green – it is grown again. The tips of trees are swelling. The elms are in flower, nothing showy – you have to look closely. The beginning of the greening is not flashy, which shall come with the first jonquils.

If you want to live, you love; if you don’t want to live, you hate, that’s all. It’s as simple as that – Louis Zukofsky

Time is money

Money is time

            Which doesn’t mean

            That time equals money

Yet money does equal time

We can spend money but not time

            Spin money

            Send money

We can’t spin time

            Except with two hands

Money is both a thing and and idea

            Time is no thing

            But it is not nothing either

At the roulette wheel

            Both time and money spins

The more time there is

            The further away things are

The more money there is

            The closer things get

Whoever doesn’t know what he wants himself at least has to know what everyone else wants – Robert Musil – The Man Without Qualities, 1956  p1254

For the conservative the sacrifice is small, but the reward great; for the liberal the sacrifice is great and the reward small.The natural advantage is with the conservative but time is on the liberal’s side or there would be no need for a conservative.

[He] had been accustomed to expect that politics would bring about not what needed to happen but at best what ought to have happened long since – Robert Musil – The Man Without Qualities, 1956  p1492

The race to the bottom – a concerted effort to eliminate labor organization in order to create the lowest labor rates and attract investment away from other states (and even from China). Gain a “competitive advantage over your neighbors” (Jon Huntsman).

The masters always have an indelible and therefore deeper knowledge of their roots than their disciples can every achieve – Martin Heidegger – What is Called Thinking?, 1968 p184

Nationwide teachers in high-poverty districts earn a third less then those  in low-poverty districts. School in high-proverty districts tend to attract less experienced and less educated teachers.

We’re all on each other’s food chain… Welcome to the meaning of ‘individual’ – David Foster Wallace  - Infinite Jest p112

Right to Work (RTW) does not create jobs. Companies looking for cheap labor chose China or Mexico, or South Carolina. What RTW does is lower the average income of a worker by $1,500 and reduce the chances that a worker can get health insurance or a pension through his job. In the ten years since Oklahoma adopted RTW, the number of manufacturing jobs in the state has fallen by one third. The number of companies that relocated to the state was one-third lower in the decade following adoption as it was in the proceeding decade. RTW is irrelevant in terms of job creation in the face of broader economic forces.

If a man brushes past me in a dark alley, I step aside, but if in the same situation he asks me in a friendly way what time it is, then I not only reach for my watch but grab for my gun too – Robert Musil – The Man Without Qualities, 1956  p1220

I once met Karen Finley, Dave said. “Yam What I Yam”, I said. “Dr Seuss”, be asked? He goes back to his reading his poetry and I go back to reading Umberto Eco. Then he looked up and asked, “so what is the connection between Karen Finley and fired chicken?” “Honey”, I replied and went back to Umberto. The whole world is looking for a neighborhood bar. The only problem is that they are all looking in someone else’s neighborhood.

A group of women, noisy women, enter. One of them seems to be in charge or at least is looked to by the others to assume that role. “Here attending a convention”, I ask? “God, I hope not”, she replies and orders a round of Spattens for the ladies. “What’s a Splattan”, one of them asks? She had been careful to poll all of them and made sure that beer was OK them. Carol did not want a beer. “You sure you don’t want an orange soda or something?” “No I’m fine,” Carol replies. Dave turns the sound system up Bomda - Boom - ba  and then it slid into a nondescript electronic monotone. The Woman’s Building is only two blocks away and where else were they to have gone, the 500 Club - oh yeah..

“So”, says Dave, “do you sort of listen to their conversation or what?” “A little of this and a lot of that”, I reply. “You just catch the surf and ride it for all it worth.” He seemed to be satisfied with that answer. Now I needed to catch the #22 back and buy ice cream. I finish my beer and Dave deposits another scoop of pretzels into the tray on my left as I slide off the stool.

The next morning the taxies are out early prowling for clowns. It’s Bay to Breakers today. The less than serious runners like to dress up. Many dress up as clowns. A clown can run better than a cow which takes a lot of coordination. And bees can’t run fast they have those antennae that bounce around throwing off your concentration.  I had a dream about a song last night. The lyrics went something like this: “The girls of Tokyo are mighty cute, they carry things on their heads and are as good looking as the girls of Santa Monica. The broads from Oakland go without  any tans.” It was supposed to have been a rock song with a male chorus singing in harmony and with a lead voice that didn’t match with the choir. I don’t think I would want to hear it on  the radio, but Walter tells me that I should finish it anyway. I showed him my dead goat and my cave painting pictures. He said that the cave painting was from a site in Africa – he wanted to know if the spear was aimed at a mammoth or something else. Hell, I didn’t know. I had just made it up. I didn’t even know that it was from Africa

The calling calls thinking to the crossroads of way, no way, and wrong way. But the way of thinking is such a kind that this crossroads can never be crossed by a once-for-all decision and choice of way, and the way can never be put behind as the way, every moment – Martin Heidegger – What is Called Thinking?, 1968 p175

Good is up, bad is down

Good is in front, bad is behind

            They’ve come around the last corner

            They are in the final stretch

Look forward to better times

            Let’s put this behind us

Up, down, right/left, front to back

            Hupp two three four

Things are looking up

Don’t let them get you down

Profound melancholy, moreover, is not black, but dark green or dark blue, and has the softness of velvet, it is not so much annihilation as rather a rare, positive quality – Robert Musil – The Man Without Qualities, 1956  p1741