Well. . .?

They say you should do this and you should do that.

• Besides that. . .

 I want to know who the people in Indonesia are who read my blog. I want to know who the people in Russia are who read my blog!

Camel

So, Here EYE am again, thinking. It seems to me that wonderland is so very complicated. North Korea is in charge of North Korea. Cancer is still not as commonly cured as I thought it could be, someday. Nuclear Bombs are still here for us to see what happens with unintended consequences. We shot these off to poison the atmosphere where everything is connected, you would know that for sure if you were only big enough or small enough. The tiles fell off of the old Space Shuttle. We do see farther into space to gaze at the beginning, maybe. Many people do not believe in science. People still starve to death. We can talk to anyone, anywhere, at the worst possible times. I can write whatever I want to write. I can read whatever I want to read. But how do I put all of this amazing technology onto a piece of lined paper, bound in a piece of politically correct cardboard? If I were only Laurie Anderson, she could do it. Her paper would have electronic devices embedded, I just know it. There would be recorded sounds in a chip so that when the book is open it would make amazing original meaningful sound. Oh Oh Oh Superman would be her assistant.

I drive into the thumbprint of God to see a camel.

I enjoy a perfectly beautiful day in the middle of nowhere. I am thinking.

Oh Superman

Digger Dudley, now that is a name to ponder. Mom says he digs the graves where we are going in the same conversation wherein she tells me that Aunty N's favorite thing to say is, "Isn't this the most elegant thing in the world, this mink collar feeeeeeels so nice."

Distination

The destination is not the goal. The journey is what it is all about especially if you might not know where or why. But I know for a fact that it is who is holding your hand while you are going somewhere that will mean the most to you when you do get there. Clark Kent sits down at your table in the dining car, of course, this part is absolutely true. He teaches you how to play cards. It does not take long to pick-up a bit of finesse and skill and strategy from someone who can fly when you need someone who can fly. It is that navigation skill that you keep close to your heart. You never know when you will really need it, it is good to feel that you can do anything like this, especially when it comes time to don a red cape and fly all by yourself. It is also great to be able to teach the other kids how to do this. It is a great thing when your little sis stands there with her finger in her mouth looking to see if you think this is a good thing or is this a bad thing. Responsible is how you feel. You can not ever ever let someone down. This is a good thing to hold close to your heart, too.

Mom would cry in her sleep. I made excuses for her to the other passengers. We never told her until much much later. I did not really know why she cried. I thought maybe it was that she did not have a lot of money in her purse. Mom never had a lot of money in her purse. She used to say that Dad thought if he doled it out a little at a time that she would have some money left, I mean. Dad was a rocket scientist. That is what my little sis always says. He did work on the space shuttle, the tiles, for sure, but I am getting far ahead of myself with telling this, right now. Anyways, to me he was my superman, for real. He taught me how to know where I am on this planet if I would just look at where the sun is or to observe what stars I could see, then I would know. He pointed out where they were shooting off atomic bombs in the desert. I saw the glow from one on a trip we took one year to Colorado in the car. We even drove through the fallout, for sure, really. This might be what is wrong with me. I just can not figure out why Dad is not with us on this trip.

It is a long way to go all the way to Chicago, first. then on to Grandmother's house. I see a lot of soldiers standing around in uniforms, so I ask somebody, "Hey Mister, What are the soldiers and sailors doing on this train?" It is so dark outside. I look up and all around at the lights and smoke is in the air from their cigarettes making it kind of hazy in the car. I am so tired. Superman is in another car. We met him upstairs where we could see for miles earlier this day. I wait for an answer. Mister Man ignores me. I am still wondering. This sailor with a cigarette in his hand almost touching me, I am afraid it is going to burn me or my mom who is asleep across the aisle from me, well he reaches over my seat to say, "Well, sweety pie, we are on our way to catch a ship bound for Korea." I ask, "What is Korea?" I wish my Dad were here right now. He would know. I wish I had my Encyclopedia Britannica nearby I would look it up. I hate to feel stupid about anything. My Dad always tells me to not be afraid to ask questions, but I am. Mom taps me on the shoulder and tells me to hush. So I do.              

Digger Dudley, now that is what I think about as I am falling to sleep.

Laurie Anderson on Delusion

Going Someplace?

The night came soon, too soon. The night was long, too long. Forever was a long time for two little girls thinking of the news that came yesterday. Riding the railroad was only on a game board. Thinking of 39 and one half hours just to get to Chicago is forever if you do not know what an hour is; how to measure time; what is Chicago?

Why does he want us to go? What is wrong with us? Why does he lock us out of the house? Does he love Mom and us?

The day was hot and sunny, the wind was blowing hard, these winds they make people crazy so the Indians say. I hear this from Mitch, he tells me so. The train is shiny and red in spots. Red is my favorite color, read is what I like to do with books. My library card is in my pocket book which I am upset because I cannot use it where we are going. I got it when I was four years old. Mitch says there are books on the train, though. My sis is too little to read, yet, but we are trying. She can play monopoly if we help her. She just won the beauty contest at the library auditorium, we took Can Can dancing lessons there, too. Dad is holding Mom’s left hand and carrying a large suitcase in the other while we follow behind. I do not like the smell of the train. It smells just like the bus smells and I always get sick and throw up. Oh man, this is too much. Why are we doing this?

And so it goes. . .the book thing. Sharing as I go. Too bad I have a flat tire.

The new Kindles came out this week. OMG what am I going to do? I want the 8.9". There is not enough band width to go around as it is. . .way too many gadgets dinging in the dark, already.

What a world I see, now. New glasses. Now I am full of mega anxiety knowing the dirt is there. I thought my abode was beyond clean, already. You say, "Take off the glasses?" Well, I called my honey adorable and his friends now call him doorbell. His hat I am knitting is almost done. It was started before I got sick. It is getting to look like fall.  His hat and the need for it.

xoxo Bat Bird

Time Transfixed

While my daughter is on her way to the radio station where she is to do a demonstration of how she cooks a gourmet fusion eggplant dish for a very famous chef, really, I am thinking about how I can get the above video to play on lined paper, real paper. . .It seems to me there is a collision of time going on here. I am stuck in time, really. Soon I will get the live radio program coming from the west coast while I sit here typing on the east coast via the internet. I am lol that I will listen to someone (my daughter) cooking on radio. Video would make more sense, right?

CHAPTER ONE

I recall a very warm summer day in SO CALI laying belly down with Mitch and Rhonda and my little sis on the cool raised cement porch playing monopoly, their dad was playing, too. I almost had a monopoly of the railroads. I took this game very seriously. I had to win! Strategy was everything. It was getting late and time to go home. The dad said so. We couldn't go home because our parents locked us out of the house.: )

I, meaning me, am waiting for my new glasses to come. If I mistake punctuation marks, it is because I, meaning me, can not see them.

Pure Fiction

AN OPPORTUNITY?

I really really love to read fiction on my Kindle Fire. I wonder what it would be like to be in Calgary creating this month? Hmm a month. How would I create a month? How could you create a motion book on a piece of lined paper bound inside brown cardboard?

What happens when Warren Buffet buys a railroad? 

What happens when Elon Musk builds a tube?

What happens when 2 little girls go to visit Grandmother on 

The El Capitan Santa Fe Railroad to Chicago?

In 39.5 hours 

What happens. If you divide 39.5 HOURS by thirty one DAYS? 

it

would be one with 8.5 hours left over.

APPLES AND ORANGES

What would two little girls do in 8.5 hours?

HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE TO GO IN A TUBE FROM LA TO CHICAGO IN A SUPERSONIC CARRIAGE STUCK INSIDE A TUBE?

XOXO BUSY BIRD

Petrified Bird :}

A piece of duct tape. . .is what I need.

Where I am getting off of BART then stepping in front of the super shopping center is a man who preaches about the end days coming soon. He always scares me like that feeling when I encounter yet another bear. Petrified is the word I use to describe what happens to me. It seems I am again petrified.
My Thoreau world as I have known it seems to be coming to an end. Or maybe I have to change, again, to accept it all?
A friend tells me not to resist for if you do that which you resist will surely come to you. Now that last sentence could use some punctuation, right?
Ok, I am not resisting!
Does that mean that the ATV park will disappear?
The sale was made final, yesterday, does this sound passive, in voice I mean? Truly, the acres, that join my wonderland, purchased by a man from North Carolina will be made into just another ATV resort.

So, I intend to go on as I always do, with peace in my heart, which is all anyone on this planet can ever do who already knows the only thing known for sure is that everything changes.

I am still wearing my $1.00 flip flops, but fall is around the corner and my cowgirl boots (red) will come back out upon my feet where I will still be walking in the woods. I imagine I still have some tranquility coming for a little while. I saw a tiny blond puppy yesterday hiding on an abandoned site which I am trying to catch and bring home. Somebody just dumped these puppies up here. Wish me luck.

xoxoxo The Petrified Bird :>

A Thank You

A link in my previous post is well worth watching. I love that guy. He makes me smile.

Now, for today I want to talk about this blog. It is an experiment. I had a blog previously which had many readers. I got sick and stopped for quite a few months. I would not tell you this because I do not want sympathy. I do not need that. I tell you this because I want you to know that I have changed the way I see life now. I saw THE white light. It was just a slit of incredible light shining through. I do not know what it was or is and that is not the point. To me I felt it was a very visual message to me. I got it. Just live the way I want to live and that that is so OK. And I am still here.
Now, these are my thoughts, today:
I wonder how many people are swayed by the counters we have on our blogs? Do you write to get comments or do you write what YOU want to write? Do you show your work?
As a visual "artist" I put it out there, some of it. Some I do not. I like to tell how I do things in case it helps someone else. I am no expert on anything. I just have fun. I like to see an idea become concrete, as in something that is here on this planet, that was not here before, maybe the molecules were here? but they are re-arranged by me.
I was a teacher of children for quite a few years. Now I am not because of health reasons but I still love doing that and it really makes me feel sad knowing that that is not my life, anymore.
This is part of my life, the blog, I mean.
I get so inspired by things that other people do show to all of us in this blog world. I love the freedom we have to do whatever we want to do. I enjoy reading and knowing that there are people in the world, all over the world, who do so many interesting and exciting things. Thank you all for this!

xoxo Grateful Bird

▶ Neil Gaiman - Inspirational Commencement Speech at the University of the Arts 2012 - YouTube

▶ Neil Gaiman - Inspirational Commencement Speech at the University of the Arts 2012 - YouTube

Endless Brain Chatter

Inside the trunk we found three sheets of paper with

some images tied in a pretty but old and stained Satin bow.

 

 

 

October 1906,

I don't have much paper left.

I find myself stuck in a gully of The Rio thinking I hear a flash flood from off north of here. I expect this is the last thought I might have. I believe it will be saved in the cloud. My foot is broken but not the spirit dwelling somewhere in what is left of me.

The last human being I saw had a blazing fire going, smothering some pots with layers of dung and shards. I picked up a few along the way, shards I mean, tiny black line work reminding me of my sweet mother and her perfect little writing style. Once, I met a china man who wrote with black ink and a brush, purely beautiful, I thought. What a waste that he was a slave to the opium den. I guess the railroad left behind more than just metal rails and wooden walkways and houses from the Sears and Roebucks Catalogue.

I am thinking of a vessel I saw in the front parlor of a lawyer. It was about 6 foot tall made of porcelain. One of the most remarkable things I will probably ever see. I think about the idea that someone painted with care this thing which is just another thing, not even good for holding water which is what I really need, right now. Cool clear water now that is such a simple thing given to us for free. But, when you cannot get up to even get yourself a ladle of water a container ain’t much use, after all.

 

 

I was to take the train in the next town into Santa Fe where the Indian Market for the fall is going on. The pawn jewelry that I bought on the North Rim is to be sold there. The Blue glass beads from Russia and the African beads I trade for Navaho blankets will be good for nuthin if I can’t get some help pretty soon. I don’t know if a prayer could even be heard out here where there is not much but Buzzards flyin in a circle way up there right now, but not for long.

I think how every living thing has a purpose on this earth. I guess all I am is food for those blasted buzzards.

The muslin sack I keep in my pocket has enough tobacco for a few last smokes. The paper is still dry and I can still flash a spark for the matches on my denim pants. I’m thinkin to ration these out to track the time or is it the other way around.

The last fire before that other last fire was something to behold. That black as sin fryin pan has seen its days full of trout. Last time we caught 150 in just a couple of hours. The water itself was almost freezing come down from the snow covered mountain near Flagstaff. We gutted those fish and put them on the stringers of rope one guy just made that day. We took the whole load of fish up to the cookfire. When we threw them in the pan full of mutton fat they sizzled and sent sparks a flyin. Sure wish we coulda had a photographer along, what a thing to think upon right now. I guess I must be hungry too. So I see are those blasted buzzards. You would think I am the only live thing around. Well, come to think of it I must be just that, otherwise, someone would come to help. I forget whilst I am thinking that it is inside my head and not out loud. A mistake I am makin by not sayin what I am thinkin. Now that would bring a laugh to those who left me behind because I converse in this diabolic manner with no real point or end.

 

 

 

Open

 

I heard somewhere that you can dream

I read somewhere that you can affect life

by what you intend

I want this

My Dream

 

This is real

 

NOW

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I should die before I wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take

 

When I was a little child I used to lay in bed for hours

and worry

I worried about if I were going to die.

I always thought about this prayer

It really scared me

I never told a soul

Of course

Everybody

Does.

Die.

 

I am really glad that I am alive today!

 

I am really glad that all of you are, too.

 

Cherish the moments we have.

 

xoxoxo  Glad Bird

A Voyage to be Forgotten - Journal

 

November 18, 1887

 

 

 

The captain put us off the boat on the west coast of Africa where we explored for days looking for provisions. The journey has been a nightmare until now. Hunger and thirst consumed our frailties to the point of our disappearances. I search for meaning every moment of every day as I watch my teeth drop out upon my bloody pillow. The dream time is better than wake time. Days we walk searching until we can search no more.

 

 



 

 

If we had gone aboard the balloon to sail for 80 days the only difference would be time for we would be exactly where we started. Around the world would still be a promise of that dream, of what might be, instead.  This Nordic blood within my veins longs for the smell of pine and my eyes the sight of pure white snow.

 

 

For the love of Mondays,

 

xoxoxo Wanderlust Bird

The Disappearing Spoon

 

Just where did it go? And why? What did I ever need a spoon to do? This question keeps me awake at night. Sometimes, I even dream of a spoon.



My attachment to this topic has become obsessive, in a few ways. My hand could be a spoon or a ladle. If it were but for the fact I worry about germs. Is ignorance bliss, after all? Who made or used the very first spoon? I saw a chimpanzee poke a stick into a hole in the ground in order to pull out some termites to eat, pretty clever, I say. So what is the difference between a stick to a spoon?  It, the spoon I mean, has a tiny bowl or vessel on one end and the stick does not. But, try to get a spoon into a ketchup bottle. Personally, I love silver spoons. I do not like to polish silver spoons, so in this case a stick will do. Notwithstanding (I really hate that word), I still want a spoon. But, I do not know where it went. I like wooden spoons, too, they do not scratch my cookware when I stir a sauce, would a stick do? I wonder what Forest Gump would think about this topic? Maybe his friend would answer my question like he does about shrimp. How can you eat spaghetti without a spoon? How can you eat soup without a spoon? I tried eating spaghetti at that Italian Restaurant we all know without a spoon, didn’t work too well using my knife as a spoon. How much money do these corporations save by not putting a spoon with the knife and a fork? My husband made a career by discovering tiny little things that make a huge difference in the bottom line for large corporations. He also is always picking up pennies from the pavement of any parking lot we walk across. This is where I guess the spoon has gone, into the space where a billion dollar sign goes. But still, I want a spoon. Do you suppose I could pick the phone up and dial a number to ask someone? Just how many buttons do you think I would push before a real live person would come onto the other end to tell me that they do not know but they would be happy to connect me with someone else where that same thing happens again endlessly?

I wonder if someone has a dissertation or a focus book already done on the topic. No, I do not want to Google it!

Ok I'm outa here. This is for someone who knows.
Gene Autry Poster alteration using Scratchcam on mini Ipad  camera
xoxo the cowbird



The Screen as a BOX

The screen as a box is just another box

To contain an object place or thing; a proper vessel,

I walk the streets or forest waiting to find

all that jazz,

That close encounter,

That indication for a happenchance,

The old train engine, a dining car and the caboose,

I see it as a mystery, a place for theater of the mind,

The orient express, a place to dine on white linen

To hold pure silver service eating Anthony Bordain exotica.

Five miles up and five miles back traces a portion of life lived

Long ago

As real as a cloud where photographs and words live.

In flight x0x0 Bird

 

Clarity Is Like Gravity

Clarity is like gravity.

You know it is there but sometimes it hides between the words. You know that feeling when something slips away, if you just move on or let it go, it will come to you?
 
Miss-spoke, now that is a word to ponder, it usually follows or maybe proceeds an apology?
Why is it that when you hit a nerve, it becomes obvious immediately, in a conversation, I mean metaphorically.

What is the purpose of having no spoon?

So Complicated
 

What if one falls on your head?
That is proof, right?

In that they both end with ity
as sure as I am writing this
as sure as the flat hammered silverware
hanging in the wind.

Well, I want to have a spoon in a restaurant
without having to ask for one,
I want to fall like the models in commercials,
I want to talk to real human beings
not to have to push buttons
to hope that this robot knows I exist
to know that my effort is rewarded
by a robot?
To not have to prove I am not a robot!

I want to know that I can.



XOXO  Just Thinking Bird 

What does "The Brooklyn" have to do with anything?

 

 

 

 

The Brooklyn, a sailing ship, left New York City in 1846 for a voyage around South America to finally reach the destination of Yerba Buena which was the name of San Francisco before it became part of the United States of America. The voyage was a six month sailing hell.

 

Elmer Bentonite was a descendant of the brave people who in their desperation to flee the squalid circumstances of the industrial revolution, sailed away from New York City. John Atlantic Burr, was born aboard the ship and he survived to grow into a prosperous individual who helped to build San Francisco and then later moved back toward the eastern United States. It seems that wanderlust is in the genes of Elmer Bentonite.

 

Going in circles and willing to risk anything in adventure, having a keen interest in artifacts along with his knowledge of geology, to Elmer, it seems he had it all.

 

His family, he left them behind on the farm. He loved them, yes he did, and they knew that one day, maybe, he might settle down.

 

He came at the world with fresh eyes every solitary day.

 

c. 1906 Postal Card She is the one who looks angry.

I treed a bear on the only tree for miles. I put upon my face a Kachina Mask.
He was screaming a roar. I jumped on my horse and high-tailed it.
c. 1906 Back side of card says above

The Bird on the horn of a saddle xoxo