thank you India, Sheila, Daryl, Cindy!!!
Deron in ER
Deron said my shot captured exactly how he felt.
If you want to see the unbandaged hand and you have a strong stomach, it’s below the fold. (It’s pretty gory — don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
what I did for thanksgiving vacation
My parents have 80 acres in north Texas. We spent Saturday walking the land, looking for fallen trees. I cut sections of water oak, red cedar, honey locust, and bois d’arc. The plan is to have it milled, let it air dry, and make some furniture out of it. Maybe pictures would do the wood justice. The water oak, deep red at the heart, with some ivory around the edges. This limb fell from a tree four or five hundred years old. It would take three adults at least to hold their arms around it. The cedar is pink and corral, neon almost when we first cut it. It smelled great in the Jeep on the way back. The locust is white with warm heart wood, shots of brown and yellow. The bois d’arc is vibrant, a shocking yellow that works toward green, the rings tainted white. Beautiful lumber, from fallen trees, cut with the help of my father, Amy, and niece and nephew. I’m thankful for that.
I’m Almost Popular: From the Editor’s Inbox
Dear my friend,
Katrine is what my parents call my naming. Your eyes it is who I am writing these note. You to see, it is me who is telling you about I am lonely girl who only wants to seek to meet nice guy who are feeling same.
For sure I am to live in Estonia and it is unstoppable in these remoteness and not too many nice guys so that I am thinking to use these English and talk to new friends I have not meeting on these Internet.
Missing
I’m a sucker for clever posters.
Went Missing On Saturday, 11-22, 7:00 PM, on the corner of Columbia and Degraw, while innocently waiting a piece of cornbread outside of Jake’s BBQ … Someone, with apparent good-intentions, picked up Mango (hardest working dog in the key lime pie business). We are seeking the return to his rightful master and his place in the pie kingdom. Reward for information leading to the return of our beloved mascot, constant sidekick, canine friend and family member. He is a 10-year old intact male (father of 32), brown on both ears, light-brown “mango” on left side of face. He answers to Mango, Crack-Pipe and Freak-Farm. To verify his identity, just ask him “where’s the rat?” If he doesn’t respond, it ain’t him.
(via Gowanus Lounge)
Found Photo: Fourni (Φουρνή, Κρήτη) Crete.
I went in search of photos and found remnants of a life.
Gordon Lish, Fiction Writing Class
I have word that Gordon Lish is coming out of retirement to teach his fiction writing class. For those not familiar, the classes are legendary. Our own Rick Neece graduated from a session, and I’m sure can add to the discussion. In short, if you’re setting out on the literary path, no person in the last forty years has done more to influence contemporary American writing, editing, teaching, or publishing.
Gordon says:
Arrangements are being made for my coming out of a ten-year retirement to resume my private class for one last go.
Anyone concerned to secure a place in the throng (is it?) should be in touch with Noreen Tomassi, Executive Director, Mercantile Library Center for Fiction, 17 East 47th St, NYC 10117.
6 hours, once-a-week, 12 weeks.
Not yet determined if the class will commence in the Spring or Fall.
Galena
Next time you’re over in Galena, Illinois, be sure you stop in at Pia’s house–Pia Ryan’s house. It’s not just elegant. It’s swellegant.
Chocolate Almond Torte Giveaway
I have one of those Trader Joe’s Chocolate Almond Tortes, bought it yesterday. Took a slice. Yak. Not my thing, but it’s got to be somebody’s. So if it’s yours, let me know, and if you live in New York or are willing to travel, then I will be happy to unite you with it. I am living in Brooklyn, willing to travel to Manhattan if need be.
Pray for my Element.
We are now getting hail in the thunderstorm.
We are having
quite a thunderstorm at the moment, down here in Alamo. The rain is pounding, and the wind is roaring. A little taste, I suppose, of what a tropical storm would be like.
Have I mentioned that thunderstorms terrify me?
Neighborhood Walk: The Territory | The Village
India documented her Neighborhood Walk yesterday, and I copied. Except that I combined walking and driving. I don’t really live in a neighborhood. I live in the Galena Territory, a place where I occasionally feel like Patrick McGoohan.
I’ve posted a few souvenirs of yesterday’s walking/driving tour of my neighborhood. “The Territory”. “The Village”.
Galena Territory. Jo Daviess County, Illinois. USA. November 11, 2008.
Some difficult choices
I’ve been eating a lot of sushi lately, I offer by way of introduction to this post.
I have been thinking about something for the past day or so, albeit intermittently, I will admit. Here is the scenario. Please place, to the best of your ability, in order of worseness, from least worse to most worse, the following ways of being killed by an animal:
(a) By Snake: The snake will either wrap itself tightly around you, suffocating you to death in your shock and terror, or it will poison you and you will die painfully over several minutes or hours. Either way, you will think while you are dying about the fact that you will end up a human shaped lump inside a snakeskin covering, you will think of those large snake jaws unlocking and consuming you whole, and that what the poison or the snakemuscle didn’t get, the digestive juices would finish off.
(b) By bear: Mauled, torn limb from limb, eaten alive. Most likely done quite quickly, with the possibility of being ‘left for dead’ in some abandoned place, to die of hypothermia or your wounds.
(c) By crocodile: Depending on the appetite of the crocodile’s moment, you will probably be dragged and impaled on croc teeth for some time, maybe only halfarsedly eaten, maybe a leg pulled off of you and chewed up, the rest of you being left underneath a log or a large rock to be consumed at a more convenient time, later.
There is no hyena option.
I look forward to your responses.
Spectral Kine
Yesterday, returning from the Great Metropolis of Dubuque, we encountered a cattle stampede on Mount Hope Road. At first I was saddened on viewing the one quick camera-phone snap I was able to grab, as it appears that the critters were ghost cattle. Invisible. But now I kind of like the idea of spectral kine.
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Everyone’s terribly excited
Some candid shots of the core team on election night. Notice the lack of people milling about. The calm air. The lack of booze. A few bottles of water on the table. Muted.
In another flickr group, the Guardian invites anyone to contribute a message for Obama. Small curated view here.
Oh, Deron–Not Again!
A man stole lots of panties from a Victoria’s Secret in Dallas yesterday.
His name is “Chet.”
Nous volons des banques.
“How you? This here’s Miss Sheila Ryan. I’m Alek Lindus.
“We rob banks.”
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Playing with your food
Fun Food Fact: Myhrvold said the inventor of Dippin’ Dots is a scientist who normally works with frozen bull semen. Maybe that’s why I never cared for Dippin’ Dots.
Intriguing revelations from a panel discussion with forward-thinking chef Grant Achatz and Nathan Myhrvold. They also take a stab at renaming the molecular gastronomy movement and expound on the rightful place of lab chemicals in the kitchen and the importance of not getting botulism.
Via Serious Eats
Found
. . . floating down a canal.
A Ghastly Tale
The time: Mid-to-late 1960s. Summer holidays.
The place: South West England.
A disused civil defense structure on the playing fields. It had long fallen into disrepair and so was the perfect place for small boys in shorts to play. I was there with a bunch of friends, exploring unlit rooms deep in the bowels of the place, when all of a sudden we spotted ghostly shapes.
Arms. And legs.
We all stood riveted to the spot, each egging the other to go closer to look. I seem to remember being there for an hour, staring into the darkness. I would love to be able to say it was I who broke the ice, but I’m sure that it was one of the others. We all moved forward to look closer . . .
Here comes a flocker: Lucy Foley
Hello. My name is Lucy and I have stories.
I am from Ireland and I get around. I’m a writer, photographer and singer, and when things are going well I am actually doing these things, sometimes combining them together. You can see a little flavour sachet of my stuff over at Here Comes Lucy. I blog at Lucy Takes Off, and as of today, here at Clusterflock.
So last Saturday morning I woke up in Brooklyn, and I’m still here. This past year I’ve been living in New York, in Clare, Ireland and in Barcelona, and moving around a lot has become native to me.
My home in Brooklyn is a house on the edge of downtown Brooklyn and Park Slope that has my bloke’s recording studio on the ground floor and our living space upstairs. It’s quite a big house. We mostly play all day. There’s a hole in the roof and it goes drip drip drip when it rains heavily.
There are more animals in Clare than in New York, not counting the Brooklyn roof goats, of course. Clare also has more trees and wild grasses and fast moving water, matched in New York only by the cock-a-roaches that I sometimes squash with my bare fingers, and the humans who think at the speed of light. Oh, life is good. This city is becoming more local to me, and it feels like home, one of them at least.
Lately I’m busy doing things I don’t usually do. Things like writing proposals and making applications and sending things off in the post and giving people my business card. This feels good.
I am interested in the uncomfortable silence, the awkward social moment, the laugh, the celebration, the wait, the human ache. I’m interested in these things because they seem to me to be at the core of what it is to be human, and in exploring where they point.
Adventure Time
via shey.net
CSI, civil war reenactment
A participant in a Civil War reenactment was shot in the shoulder as he raised his arm in victory.
The shooting sent the 73-year-old to the hospital and left the Isle of Wight Sheriff’s Office in rural southeastern Virginia with a Civil War-style CSI case. Investigators used film to piece together what happened and have narrowed a suspect to one re-enactor.
The Sept. 27 injury also sent ripples through the tight-knit re-enactment community, which can be understandably sensitive to public perceptions of thousands of enthusiasts toting swords and firearms in roughhewn uniforms, often on horseback.
“We were sort of freaked out because this hits the hobby hard,” said Ed Hooper, editor of Camp Chase Gazette, a monthly magazine aimed at re-enactors. “It is so out of the norm.”
“Texas is over-run with wild hogs!”
Nothin’ says lovin’ . . .
Honeymoon Hog Hunt: Over the last few years, we have had several newlyweds choose our ranch as the place they want to take their honeymoon, and we think this is great! As our gift to all newlyweds, we are now offering a free hog hunt for both husband and wife. All you will pay is meals, lodging, guide, and gratuity of $375 each, plus $35 per hog to process. The hog hunt, valued at $299 each is free. This package is the same as our Jan. thru Dec.hunt. The only difference is the price. Also, we will provide you at no charge, the private “Sam Houston” room while you are on your honeymoon at the ranch. Call the ranch to schedule your “Honeymoon Hunt.”