Homicide: Life on the Street

I love detective stories. Good detective stories. I think it started with an old Sherlock Holmes movie starring Basil Rathbone, which led me to read A. Conan Doyle's series of short story masterpieces. There have always been tv shows about detectives but my all-time favorite is Homicide: Life on the Street which ran from 1993 to 1999. Last fall the "collection to die for" was released on DVD at a bargain price, all six seasons, the final wrap-up movie, and extras neatly enclosed in a grey facsimile filing cabinet. Since McKinney is pretty far from the main broadcasting antennas in Cedar Hill I'm no longer able to get good regular tv reception and since I'm too cheap to purchase cable, I bought myself the set of Homicide DVD's so I could have something good to watch during my weekend down time. It's been money well spent.

Because of my work schedule I didn't even know about this show until it was well into its 3rd season. Last night I watched what I think was my first exposure to the show: "Cradle to Grave" in which Munch & Lewis investigate the death of a motorcycle gang member. I originally came in at the end of the episode in which two long lines of motorcyclists twine among the crosses and headstones of a cemetery to bury their comrade and Lewis, the only non-white person in the scene, makes his way through the gang to deposit the framed photo of a little girl onto the dead man's coffin, while Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders belt "I'll Stand by You" in the background. I didn't know what the scene meant, but I was intrigued. Later I caught a nearly complete episode with Lewis and his new partner Kellerman, and I was hooked.

When I got this collection I also began reading again my well-handled copy of David Simon's Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets the story of the year he spent with the Baltimore Homicide Unit in 1988, and the basis for the Homicide tv show. Reading this book gives a lot of insight into what the Baltimore detectives have to deal with. That year there were 234 homicides in Baltimore, and in the next two there were 567. I've long thought of Dallas as a dangerous city, but in checking some reports, the most reported homicides in a single year was only slightly more than 200. According to the Morgan Quitno Awards site Baltimore is consistently rated as one of the most dangerous cities in the U.S. For 2006 it was #2 while Dallas was #6 in cities of more than 500,000. They're close together on the list but when you compare the RATE of homicide, what a chasm between the two. The national homicide average is 5.7 percent (of what I'm not sure :). Dallas is much higher at 18.4 percent, but Baltimore is a whopping 41.9 percent, sandwiched right between Washington DC and Detroit. Suddenly Dallas looks a lot safer and I feel much for the war-weary homicide police of Baltimore. You go, detectives!

You can find some statistics for some major cities at InfoPlease.

blogging frontiers

Ok, I went & got my blog listed on the Delightful Blogs website. Thank you, Lynda, for featuring my blog. I don't know why I did it; I guess I just crave fame. Ha. Or at least attention.

I've used writing as a means to keep myself sane for a good part of my life, filling spiral bound notebooks with pages of drivel, writing a weekly music column for a local Bulletin Board (back in the day), doing research papers for college classes and co-authoring a genealogical history on my mom's family. Blogging seems to be the latest means of exercising my writing muscles, but sometimes I need a little kick in the pants to keep from slacking off and I thought if I think the blog is public I might be more likely to keep it up.

Here's a collage I did last night after reading yesterday's post by Tommy Kane. He described the creative process for his illustrations of the day wherein he picked up on things that he happened to run across, added some seemingly silly words, and came out with an integrated whole that was more than the sum of its parts. I decided to pick up a couple of piles of magazine clippings I have laying about and just pull out pieces until I got a composition. I also added silly and serious words with clippings and a gel pen and added some color with crayons. I was pleasantly surprised at the result. Practice is good for collage as well as for writing.

old houses

I drive past this house almost every day. It's just a few blocks from where I live and is affectionately referred to by a number of neighbors as the "Oh My God" House because the huge old victorian structure is such an unexpected sight after driving past nothing but single-story bungalows. The owners of this house have been renovating it for more than ten years and it's still not habitable. I guess I'm one-up on these folks; my house is nowhere nearly so grand, but at least my mom and I can live in it. Just barely. We had the kitchen rebuilt before we moved in and I probably would have had the bathroom done also but I just didn't have enough money at the time so I decided to do the work myself. Almost as soon as I had ripped out the crappy shower installation and pulled off the mildewed sheetrock cold weather set in. I insulated with fiberglass batts and screwed some hardibacker boards to the studs but the bathroom sat all winter in its twilight zone of disrepair; a depressing sight every time you'd go in. Last weekend I finally got the walls prepped and today I start installing tile. Wish me luck.

o, happy day

In Texas blue is the color of joy.
The bluebonnets are peeking through!

Some days I don't know whether to carry my camera or my art journal with me. Some days I just say "forget them both." Yesterday I picked my camera because the sky had turned dark and I hoped to shoot a couple of white water towers against a black sky. No such luck. The sky went light and started spitting rain but when I got to Irving I had to stop and shoot some of these yellow flowers that are covering fields and many slopes along the highways. As I approached the still-bare mesquite trees I noticed dots of blue in the greenery. It seemed too early but yes! they were bluebonnets. Soon these yellow fields will yield to the onslaught of our State Flower to become a mass of blue.

I feel good!

focusing

I've been worried about the way my brain seems to dart hither and yon, never wanting to stay focused on any particular subject for long. I wondered if it was a form of Attention Deficit Disorder. Now I find I'm not alone - that the wandering mind seems to be a common occurrence. Some scientists have been studying the phenomona for several years trying to find out just why it happens and if there are ways to help us focus better. It seems two activities during which our mind wanders most are reading and driving (yeeow!) and that the mind wanders most when we try to prevent it from doing so. Here are a few articles about the subject:

Studies focus on why our minds drift
What happens when the mind wanders?
LIFE'S WORK; In the Age of Focus, How the Mind Wanders
Why the Mind Wanders

I wonder if we're seeing an evolution of the brain. These scientists say that the thing our mind most wanders to are mental "to do" lists. And that brings me back to thinking of ye olde caveman - what kind of "to do" lists was he thinking about?
1) find mammoth
2) kill mammoth
3) eat mammoth
3) butcher rest of mammoth
4) get back to cave with mammoth meat
5) draw pictures on cave wall

sorry, forgot what I was thinking about.

barbarians at the gate

Another recent page from my art journal. I'm taking some advice from The Image Doctors to help me out of my creative rut, which is to not take my collages so seriously. I have quite a few clippings of images that I like but I don't use them because I tell myself I've got to save them for some imaginary future masterpiece. I can't see me creating a masterpiece if I never practice so I'm trying to be more spontaneous and just put together elements that attract my eye without worrying too much about it being a "masterpiece." If I'm not having fun, what's the point of doing it?

A video of Hillary Clinton superimposed onto an old Apple Computer ad has popped up on YouTube. The original Apple ad aired only once, during the 1984 Super Bowl. Here it is. And Here is the rather clever take-off on the ad. Note that the hero in the clip is now wearing an iPod.

I know who I'M voting for!

things that scare me

One of the signs of spring is that first wasp you get inside the house. This one relentlessly traversed the front window for more than an hour, searching for a way back to the great outdoors. I followed it for as long as I dared with my macro lens only half an inch away, fearing I might touch the little animal and provoke it. It really creeped me out when it tilted its head and looked directly into the glass. That's when I had to walk away.

I'm not sure why wasps spook me. I don't remember seeing any of those black & white monster movies of the 50s with a wasp. Ants, yeah. Spiders, oooh, and how. But no wasps. I don't think I'd ever really seen a wasp until my family moved to Dallas when I was eleven years old. There were so many creepy crawlers in Texas that I never imagined really existed I was always getting freaked out by something or another. The wasps seemed so ominous, slowly circling with their back legs dangling beneath them; you never knew who they were after. My younger brother, too, was particularly frightened, and to this day he will duck and flee the presence of such a monster.

I got over most of my fears of wasps after I realized they were mostly non-aggressive.

Until I read "The Shining", that is. In a few visceral paragraphs, Stephen King undid years of good sense. You wanna be scared of wasps? and a few other things? Read this book.

back to the glue

Here's a recent page from my art journal, which I have neglected for some time. This is one of the first 5x7 collages where I didn't feel intimidated by the larger page size (my first journal was 3 1/2 x 4 1/2).

I've been really frustrated that my collages don't turn out how I think they should. The truth is I'm out of practice and practice is what usually allows you to get better at something. I've been listening to about half a dozen podcasts to improve my foreign language skills and it suddenly hit me: Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. Someone once told me, "Repetition is the Law of Memory." I don't know if it's been codified but listening to a skilled speaker and repeating simple phrases seems to be the key in all these podcasts for learning both pronounciation and vocabulary in another language and it was also a key ingredient of language classes I attended in college. So what I'm planning is to apply the same principle to collage. I cracked open one of my books on Art Journaling and I'm going to imitate the examples of those more skilled than myself in order to learn technique and eventually have my collages looking more like I would like them to look.

St. Patrick's upon us

I can't believe people still pinch those who don't wear green on St. Patrick's Day. I'm ecstatic, therefore, that the day falls on the weekend this year so I'm not required to endure the extremely bad jokes of a particular colleague at work. Dare I say, "bay, humbug!"?

Here's a guide to the origins of Green Beer. I particularly enjoyed this line from the article by Carolyn Heneghan (is that Irish?) regarding Saint Paddy's special day: "...it is also one of the most hated holidays in Ireland itself, no doubt popularized namely by North American partiers. If you plan on being in Ireland this Spring Break, please do not ask for a green beer if you'd rather avoid an Irish fist to the temple."

Ha!

Lunch Box Brief

I came across this old ad from a 1950s Sears Catalog for Roy Rogers/Dale Evans costuming for children and began to wax nostalgic.I remember watching his tv show when I was a kid, though now I think they were probably reruns, as I hadn't been born yet when the show first appeared. I'm guessing this was one of earliest marketing campaigns driven by a tv show.

I had a Roy Rogers lunchbox I used to take to school during the winter. I wondered if I could find one for sale but when I saw what was available I found I couldn't remember exactly what my lunchbox had looked like. I think it was the one I've picture here, which doesn't seem to be the original design.

The bidding for this rusty box on ebay starts at $32, while the original design goes for about $400.

Then I started looking for the Yellow Submarine lunchbox I took with me to high school. My friend CT had an identical box and every day we would sit in the lunchroom at Kimball High and flip open the metal lids of our matching tin boxes and extricate our matching yellow thermos bottles. I was making my first foray into vegetarianism as I hated sandwiches almost as much as standing in line for the awful cafeteria food peculiar to schools in those days. I would bring raw pieces of coconut in baggies to serve as my protein.

This version of the Yellow Submarine box goes for about $300 on ebay.

If you wax nostalgic over old lunchboxes, check out The History of Lunchboxes or Whole Pop Magazine's Pailentology page. Another interesting site is Wendi's Lunchboxes, which has many vintage lunchboxes for sale.

I Wanna be a Flintstone

Don't know what's wrong with my brain.

Is it early signs of Alzheimer's Disease?
Do I have A.A.D.D.?
Is it a P.M.T.? (post menopausal thing?)
Or am I just Plain Loco?

I'm beginning to think Attention Deficit Disorder is a byproduct of modern society's requirement that a person, even a child, must be able to multi-task at any given time. Those who unthinkingly drive, talk on the phone, chew gum and juggle at the same time are "normal". Those who freak have A.D.D. I don't think it's human nature to want to multi-task. Can you imagine the proverbial "cave man" hunting a t-rex while trying to learn another language while worrying about what the price of gas will be when he gets back to the cave, while wondering if his paycheck will clear in time for his bills to get paid without incurring overage charges, while figuring out whether he can get from his son's soccer practice to his daughter's track meet?

I think A.D.D. occurs because people are trying to to things in a linear fashion rather than simultaneously. They're guilty of reminding us that computers have not made our lives easier, have not given us more leisure time, and have not made us a paperless society.

I must be an Anachronism.

Neon Bible

Arcade Fire

This CD left me breathless. Twice already.

I liked the few tracks of Arcade Fire's first CD, "Funeral", that I heard but never got around to hearing the whole CD so I can't rightly compare the two. This one was on sale at Target last week for $8 and I got 10% off with a coupon so I bought it, sound unheard.

The dark religious theme is paired alternately with a wall of anthemic sound or acoustic guitar which includes violins and a pipe organ crescendo Saint Saens would die for. Angelic children voices sail over a pulsing bass line. . My own dark attitude toward religion probably accounts for my attraction to many of the tracks, especially "Windowsill":

Don't wanna hear the noises on TV.
Don't want the salesmen coming after me.
Don't wanna live in my father's house no more.
Don't want it faster, I don't want it free.
Don't wanna show you what they done to me.
Don't wanna live in my father's house no more.

Arcade Fire was part of the huge wave of musicians that surged out of Montreal in 2006 and from the reports I've read this album has exceeded expectations. Neon Bible will likely require multiple listening sessions for those who want to get to the bottom of the many layers of vocals and music.

Highly recommended.

springtime for hitler

Whoa! almost a week since I posted. Time flies when you're busy, especially when you're accompanied by gorgeous scenery like these Bradford Pear trees that popped open all over North Texas last week. I didn't need this sign to tell me to "Stop and Look!"

As for Hitler....er Bush.....er Cheney.....er, oh yeah, this week it's Rick "governor" Perry, our worthless republican state ruler who's finally getting some come-uppance. First he tries to saddle Texas with 11 more dirty coal plants from the evil TXU (electric) people and then issues an edict that all school-age girls MUST get the new HPV vaccine to prevent cervical cancer. Even his republican henchmen in the state senate have taken offense at "teflon hair" Perry's attempt to exert personal power. Thing is, in Texas, the governor has no real official power; it's mostly through influence of his personality that he gets things done. Perry was Bush's little protege, and like Bush, he looked good in a crisis. His high profile during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and throughout the approach of Hurricane Rita almost made me like him, much as Bush's appearances after 9-11 made folks like him. Then they both overstepped their positions. Here's hoping Karma takes its course.

my loving protector

I ain't religious.
I AM superstitious.

so should I credit the successful sale of my house in Dallas to faith or luck?

I heard about the Catholic tradition of burying a statue of Saint Joseph in your yard to sell your house from a co-worker who had friends who swore by it. Since I never got even one offer when I had the house on the market for 9 months in 2004 I thought I would take help wherever I could find it.

I bought an "official" St. Joseph House-Selling kit, which included this tiny plastic statue of said saint, a page of instructions, and a prayer card. Per instructions I buried the statue and every day made a special point to recite the prayer, which is really rather a poetic request:

Remember, o most illustrious patriarch St. Joseph, on the testimony of St. Teresa, thy devoted servant, never hath it been heard that anyone who has invoked thy protection or sought thy mediation has not obtained relief. In this confidence I come before thee, my loving protector, chaste spouse of Mary, foster-father of the Saviour of men, and dispenser of the treasures of His Sacred Heart. Despise not my earnest prayer, but graciously hear and obtain my petition.

I used the prayer card to recite the proper words and after a few days I had them memorized. After two weeks there had been 11 showings of the house and I had an offer. I continued to recite the prayer daily, sometimes more than once, and yesterday the house was sold.

Oddly, this transaction occurred on the anniversary of the date I was "saved" by "asking Jesus into my heart" in 1972. I remember this date because a lot of strange things happened afterward relating to the day. I'll just say my relationship with Jesus ended badly and I haven't practiced religion for many many years.

Christians might say this occurrence is God manifesting himself to me.
Some eastern-religion-fan might say the prayer was really a mantra in disguise.
My new-age friends might say my focus on the prayer was really me focusing my energy away from the worry of selling the house thus preventing negative energy blocking the way.

Some might say it's Fate.

this is my brain

at least this is what my brain feels like.

Cracked.
Empty.
A Shell.
A Shadow of its Former Self.

I worked a nearly normal afternoon shift Sunday. Then I had to decompress, sleep fast & get up at dawn for an hour and a half drive to work in Monday's Rush Hour. Ha! Doing 20 on a 65 mph freeway is not my idea of Rushing. This was so I could attend a boring mostly useless corporate orientation about stuff I already know or don't really need to know. No wonder we're so inefficient. Meetings meetings meetings. I hate meetings. At least my butt got plenty of sleep during the day. My inner time clock is all screwed up. I came home in the afternoon about the time I should have been going to work. Couldn't stay awake til my normal bedtime so my brain is in a funk.

If I can just hold this position til Sunday I'll be all set for Daylight Savings Time.

What is up with DST coming in early March, anyway?

new adventures of superman

Superman decided to get a new job. The disadvan- tages of having multiple personality disorder, er, an alter-ego were becoming more apparent as each day passed. Clark Kent was tired of being out-scooped by Lois Lane. Every time he had to sneak out of the office to save the world he missed a big story while Lois would be covering it and getting her by-line on the front page. While it was true Superman adored Lois, (Noel? Margot? Teri? who was it this year?) Clark felt spending so much time with her was a ball and chain. He wasn't ready to settle down. And the incessant belittling by that micro-manager Perry White was getting on his nerves.

So Clark quit the Daily Planet and opened a restaurant. At last he could use his superpowers to advantage on the job, checking the souffle in the over with his x-ray vision and using his heatray vision to ensure those dishes were delivered piping hot to expectant diners. He had to hire a chef for each shift and waitstaff to cover the place when he was out fighting crime but Clark was ecstatic. At last HE was the boss.

It's a wonderful life!

don't believe everything you hear

Yesterday the dj on the "oldies" radio station said it was "National Wear-a-Smile Day". Now, I'd never heard of this special day but it got me to thinking about the point of it. It seemed like one of those pointless redundant type themes concocted by some ad agency solely for the purpose of selling greeting cards. Why designate one particular day for this event? Is it because the majority of people do NOT wear smiles? Do people need to be compelled via a designated day that they must wear a smile? Will those folks who are depressed or angry flash a fake smile because of this day?

I don't know, but it was a good excuse to display this photo I took while practicing backlit macro shots. My eyes are so bad I can't seem to focus the lens properly. Oh, for a pair of glasses that would focus my eyes and not fall off my face. That would make ME smile.

By the way, I googled "wear-a-smile day" and could find no mention of it.

archeology

Friday before the wind and dust set upon us I played archeologist out in the back yard. A dilapitated shed was removed before we ever saw the house and the number of rusty nails, nuts & bolts, pieces of broken glass and china seems unending. Apparently someone also used the area as their personal dump. There are remnants of an old carpet (only the stringy parts remain) and partially decomposed pieces of clothing and innumerable pieces of shredded plastic, probably bags or sheeting. I've also been told there was once a barn and a chicken coop somewhere on the block so there may be parts from those buildings. I keep hoping I'll find something cool, like an old medicine bottle or interesting buttons or maybe a tin can stuffed with money that hasn't dissolved. Yeah, for cash I think I'll keep on digging.

Gust Storm

Finally I'm able to get back to blogging. Our phone's been out since about noon Saturday after our neighbors' ancient oak tree was split by 60 mph gusts of wind and crashed into the street, downing power, cable and phone lines. A firetruck arrived about 3 minutes after three brilliant electrical arcs between two poles successfully fried the transformer. Our short street was blocked at both ends and the fire department requested we stay indoors since there were live wires dangling from the pole at the end of our driveway.

I can't remember having such high winds for such an extended amount of time. They started about dawn and never relented during the daylight hours. About 3 pm the DUST hit. The sky grew dark and orange as the dust grew thicker and thicker. I could taste the grit in my mouth and could literally smell West Texas when I opened the back door to peer out. Even the dog didn't want to be outside. The next day I learned it was the first time a Dust Advisory had ever been issued for North Texas.

My mom went to bed about 6:15 saying there was nothing she could do without light. About 7:30 the power company sent trucks to repair the electrical lines and a gang with chain saws and a front-end loader to clear away the tree. Today it seems like it was weeks ago. That's the trouble with time when you don't have a timepiece - it's a matter of personal interpretation.

Time spent at the dentist = Eternity minus ten. I had a root canal done today and lost all track of time. Now an eternity later it's time for lunch and to get ready for work.

old-skool portable phone

yeh, it was portable if you were a weightlifter. Notice the guy in the back changing the batteries. Need I say its sales weren't much to write home about. But ya gotta start somewhere.

seriously, though, yesterday I made what may be my last trip to the Dallas house and was glad I brought my camera when I spotted this box. It looks like something by Calculator, but there was no tag visible. In the olden days I used to hear that this many drips was a sign of sloppy artwork but now that Dallas has a "Graffiti Czar" the cops are more busy looking for spray-paint artists than drug dealers so lightning-fast throwups are the norm.

Dallas graffiti is one thing I do miss.

thru the looking glass

(better viewed large)

Which side of the glass do YOU prefer? Me? I don't know.

It's been weird this week. Great weather - finally sunshine and 70 degrees and flowers blooming but the buyers' inspection of the Dallas house turned up numerous deficiencies which sent my stress levels soaring. Never knew what a firetrap I was living in. And I don't know who has contrived to make buying or selling a house one of the worst experiences of your life.

The worst thing is that the showerpan leaks and has left rotted subfloor underneath so part of shower must be demolished and replaced. Other than that, the process seems to be moving forward and the house is to be appraised today. Maybe I will be making my last trip to the house this week.

almost spring

I couldn't stand it. There wasn't much to do at work today so I stayed home and played at gardening. I raked up about 6 bags of leaves and cut back a bunch of English Ivy that's dragging down our 100-year-old cypress fence. Along the way I found these very tiny violet flowers that appear each spring. They're called corn speedwell and are part of the Veronica and Snapdragon families. I had to literally place the camera on the ground to get level with the little wildflowers.

ghost rider

I almost didn't go to work yesterday. The sun was shining, the temp was 65 degrees and I stopped at a traffic signal and saw the ghost of my youth pedaling furiously across the intersection. Of course we didn't have helmets or knee pads or elbow pads in those days. We didn't even have child-size bicycles. How is this kid ever going to learn about pain if she's not allowed to fall down and scrape the skin off her legs?

towing enforced

Where was this Tow Truck during the last two elections when we really needed it?

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

A neighbor down the bock is a "Road Avenger." He drives a huge dark blue flatbed truck that roars up and down the street at 40 miles per hour. You do NOT want to be out walking the dog when this guy heads for work in the morning. It makes for a nice alarm clock at 7:15 a.m.

Except That's NOT what time I want to wake up.

Vivian Refused to Check Her Fish at the Door

I've started following the collage themes posted at Scrapiteria, a Collage Collaboration. I thought it might get me out of my rut to try to follow along, as I really don't know what I'm doing, and these folks are pretty much masters at their craft. Besides, it's still cold outside and you know how much I don't like that!

herminio

I had a wisdom tooth pulled on Tuesday and stayed home from work that day. I stayed home Wednesday as well because there wasn't much to do at work and it was cold outside and I just didn't want to get out. I played indoors.

I found many of this collage's elements on walks around my Dallas neighborhood. A coffee-stained photo of a young lady dated Feb 14, 2005; Texas Lotto tickets (no winners); Camel Cigarettes poker chip; a torn check; a crushed beer bottle cap. The objects just seemed to capture what life is like for many people in the area.

I'm very much out of practice with all of my arts. Our "new" house isn't very warm and my office is still in a state of confusion from the move so I haven't puttered much this winter. I'm trying to get back in the habit, though.

heart apparatus

I have valentine issues.

I had some leftover bits from the postcard I made for a valentine's day swap and this is what came out of it.

secret admirers

A couple of years ago I developed a crush on a co-worker who had recently divorced. Knowing that office romance can be difficult my head was hesitant to explore the situation but my heart was dying to proclaim my attraction. The attraction seemed to be reciprocated but I waffled. As Valentine's Day approached I thought I would explode if I didn't say something to my co-worker. I can't remember if it was Valentine's Day or the eve before, but I remember it was cold and it was raining a little as I left work that night. It was about 9 pm or so and I was the last person to leave. My car was the only one in the parking lot. As I approached it I noticed something on the windshield. It was a large cellophane bag full of potpourri. And not cheap potpourri either. It turned out to be the best-smelling longest-lasting potpourri I've ever had. There was no card, no note, no indication of who had left it on my car. I got very excited, thinking it was from my latest crush. But no, when I asked, he didn't seem to know anything about it. I was crestfallen but I asked my other co-workers, first my male friends, then my female friends, then a few other people. No one knew anything. I never found out where it came from. Still, it made for a really nice Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was payback for something I had done years before. In college I developed a crush on a guy who habituated the class ahead of mine. I would see him each Tuesday-Thursday as my class filtered into the classroom and his class departed. Several women in my class also had crushes on him and I learned his name. No one seemed to know for certain if he was single or married. Again, Valentine's Day approached. I had the guy's address and I thought it would be clever to send him an anonymous valentine just to make his day. I found a lovely romantic card with a single rose on it. I wanted to disguise my handwriting so I addressed the envelope using newspaper clippings. It looked like the proverbial "kidnap note" from old gangser movies, but I didn't think about that at the time. I had done collaged lettering for small art projects and it just seemed like a natural contrast - the pretty card concealed by the rough-hewn lettering on the envelope. At the last minute I printed a short message on an anonymous dot-matrix printer (I told you it was years ago!) with my phone number and paper-clipped it to the card, just in case the guy was available and mailed it. I had the satisfaction of then seeing him twice a week knowing he had had a wonderful valentine arrive in the mail. A year or more went by and I forgot about it until out of the blue I got the phone call I'd hoped for at the time. We talked and I found out what had happened to my card. I guess the guy was unusually paranoid because when he saw that collaged address (the kidnap note) and felt something solid inside the envelope (the paper clip) he thought it was a letter bomb. He put it in the trunk of his car and drove to the police station where he reported it to the bomb squad. They gingerly removed the thing and x-rayed it. The officer told him, "it's a paper clip." So he opened the letter there in the presence of the (probably highly amused) officers and sure enough, it was a pink paper clip with a phone number attached to a card of hearts and flowers. I don't remember what his reaction was but he did save the card and eventually called the phone number. Things didn't work out, by the way.

is that a real sky or is that a Sears sky?

It's raining today. No sun. Snow predicted for Wednesday. I'm impatient for spring.

I guess if I really need to look at a blue sky I could head over to the Studio at Las Colinas across the street from where I work and stare at this wall. This is where they shot the Chuck Norton TV series "Walker, Texas Ranger". I often wonder now how many skies on tv are just painted on the sides of buildings. Life mimics "The Truman Show".

cabin fever

My mom is going to drive me crazy if winter doesn't end soon. She's been poring over all these seed catalogs for the last few weeks, making lists, and ordering seeds and plants. It wouldn't be so bad but she has to tell me every single item she wants to order and ask me where she should plant it. I just want to rest my brain; I don't want to think about designing a garden that she won't plant. It won't really matter much where I want things planted. She will plant them where she wants. She's also got dozens of pots and tin cans in the sitting area with little seedlings growing out of some of them and mold or rust growing in others. I can barely move around to get to a chair so I can read the newspaper in the morning.

We're suppposed to get another "winter blast" this week, possibly with a bit of snow, and I'm hoping winter will just blow itself out this time around. I'm longing for sunshine that lasts more than a day or a few hours.

finding a needle in a haystack

Here is part of my very messy office. It isn't so bad unless I am trying to find something I really need. Like today. I got a call from my realtor in Dallas who said someone has made an offer to buy my old house there. But I needed to find the old survey of the property or I might have to pay to have another one made. Not exactly small change. So I started with the grey filing cabinet back there in the left corner and went through every file folder and then started sifting through all the books, magazines and papers on my shelves looking for just one particular sheet of paper. I had been looking for this paper for two weeks so I wasn't sure I would find anything but I tried to stay positive. The little bit of sun we had this morning faded and it was getting a little chilly so I made a coffee cake and some strong coffee and my mom and I had a cheerful "tea time" about 2 pm. We are so happy someone wants to buy the house. I was rejuvenated by these thoughts as well as from sugar and caffeine and whaddaya know? I found that little piece of paper! Now it's safely tucked into a brown envelope so I can take it to my realtor tomorrow.

opportunity

I started carrying my camera with me again. I've been missing a lot of photo ops by not doing so. I drove by an electrical box off LBJ Freeway with some great graffiti & stickerart that I meant to photograph. I couldn't quite figure out how to get to it and I was always too tired to stop and investigate and last week someone covered the art over with black paint. Sunday there was a fire at some apartments that backed up to the freeway and I kept thinking I could exit and photograph all the firefighters that were still hosing down the ashes. Probably I would not have been able to get that close, but I didn't have my camera anyway. So a few days later I decided my camera would be my traveling companion.

Yesterday I stopped in Plano on my way to work to shoot this '57 Chevy that's in front of Hooters. There was a lot of fog and mist in the air but it seemed appropriate for the orange. I may have to tweak the exposure a little in photoshop but it turned out pretty well without any editing.

tired

We're finally back to eight-hour days at work after about 6 weeks of nonstop overtime. Plus there were the weekly drives to Dallas to work on the other house. I thought I'd be less tired this week but I'm not. So I've done the logical thing and increased my caffeine intake. On top of the pot of chai tea I drink every morning I've added a shot of instant coffee courtesy of my mom. It's not "real" coffee but it does the trick. It's probably a good thing I don't have any decent coffee beans lying around or I'd be drinking pots of that instead of the tea.

I've continued listening to "Drugs and Behavior", the Psch 119 class from Berkeley, and one of the ideas that's been emphasized is that the only difference between a poison and a medicine is the dosage. Any plant stimulant (like tea or coffee) that you ingest is "poison". Part of the class centers on the metabolic effects of poisons and how we build tolerances to them. All I can say is I'm going to have a whopping headache when I disengage from my excessive use of caffeine.

rodrigo y gabriela

Last week I kept switching from an old Supersuckers' CD to this more recent one by the Mexico City duo Rodrigo and Gabriela. They got their start in music by playing thrash metal in Mexico City in the mode of Megadeath and Slayer. When that didn't work out they buskered around Europe for a few years, just the two of them and their guitars, Rodrigo on lead and Gabriela on percussion, often creating new songs by ad libbing old metal songs with most folks none the wiser. They finally settled in Ireland where this album went to that country's Top Ten almost immediately on its release.

This album has no lyrics to get in the way of the wonderful instrumentals. I found it in the jazz section but don't let that classification put you off; it's a passion-filled collection of enlivening pieces. My favorite is "El Diablo Rojo" and their unique rendition of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" is a wonderful homage to their metal roots.

You can find out more about Rodrigo & Gabriela at My Old Kentucky Blog (Scroll down to January 17) or at the duo's homepage, RODGAB.COM. You can also hear an interview with the duo as well some of their music at World Cafe at NPR.

car chase

I watched two vehicles play a dangerous game on the freeway last night. As I drove north on US 75 a Scion entered the freeway from George Bush Turnpike. The road veers right & left due to ongoing construction and creates unusual blind spots for drivers, especially at night. The Scion didn't see the big Ford pickup traveling in the right lane and the truck had to quickly swerve into the next lane to avoid hitting the Scion.

The driver of the Ford pickup is pissed. "You sonofabitch!" He immediately speeds up, passes the Scion on the left, and cuts to the right directly in the path of the Scion. He then slows down so the Scion is riding his bumper. The driver of the Scion says, "What the hell??" and eases over one lane to the left. The Ford cuts quickly to the left in front of the Scion and slows down again. The Scion again attempts to move over and speeds up to try to get around the Ford. The Ford also accelerates and again cuts off the Scion. The Ford outweighs the Scion by at least 3000 pounds but it has enough power to more than compensate for any agility the smaller vehicle might have. I am going 65 mph and their speed is gradually increasing as they get farther and farther ahead of me. It's not yet 10 p.m. so there is still enough traffic that these two vehicles must also dodge several vehicles as they dodge one another. From Plano to McKinney is an almost straight 20-mile stretch of freeway so there is no telling how long they will play this game of russian roulette. Before I reach the city of Allen about ten minutes later the players are lost from sight.

As I watched this scene unfold I felt it could only end when one or another of the drivers was dead. It was scary. It's why I hate driving in Dallas. Some locals say there are two reasons they call LBJ Freeway a death-trap: 1) death 2) trap

Back in the 1980's the state of Texas promoted a "Drive Friendly" campaign by placing happy yellow signs along the highways and byways. You can still see a few of those old signs but they seem to be relics of a bygone era. Texas has become notorious for having worse drivers than California. It's odd how people can be so friendly in person and then turn into vicious sociopaths once they get in their car.

While the state's Drive Friendly campaign seems to have mostly given up the ghost, it still maintains a website to help people fight road rage. Go to DriveFriendly.org for tips on what you can do about aggressive driving.

sincerest form of flattery

I hear Microsoft's recent release of its Vista operating software was met with less than enthusiastic reviews. One local mega-electronics store stayed open all night waiting for the invasion of loyal hordes and had about 15 customers who braved the night to examine the new packages. Some of these did not buy anything, saying Microsoft always had bugs and they planned to wait several months for them to be fixed. Folks, if Vista is anything like Internet Explorer, which is pretty much just patches held together with baling wire and spit, you'd be better off taking Consumer Reports' advice and buying a Mac.

"If dealing with a Vista upgrade is more than you want to tackle, there are other options....you can go with Apple.....Buying a Mac will get you a brand that offers & excels in technical support and reliability."

Yes, PC's are cheaper, but this is a case of getting what you pay for. I've owned both PC's and Macs and I believe if you "use a Mac, you'll never go back." And I love my iPod.

Speaking of MP3 players, Bill Gates once dissed the iPod, saying he didn't know why anyone would carry both a phone and a music player. So I'm wondering why the Zune (which was supposed to make us forget about the iPod) doesn't include a phone in its package. Recently Advertising Age published its annual glossary of media technology and the Zune made the Top 10 for 2007. It says that Microsoft’s Zune brand now means something besides a digital audioplayer.

“ZUNE: Microsoft’s new music player. Also [slang]: a poseur; a wannabe. Usage: ‘Dude, you look like such a Zune in that shirt.' "

Which brings up the point that Vista is so Zune. It mimics what Apple has been doing for years. There's finally something resembling Mac's oh-so-cool Dock. There's a search window in the upper left corner instead of the upper right as Mac's is. You can add "gadgets" to your desktop, which seem to be very similar to Mac's "widgets." Not very original. Of course these items will SEEM original to people who have never had the pleasure to operate a Mac.

poor Microsoft. I'd feel sorry for them if they weren't making so much money by being so pervasive. In the meantime here's food for thought: What if Bill Gates had designed the iPod?

ps: No, I don't work for Apple. I'm just a fan.

fat sunday

Today the masses collect in one another's homes to worship, huzzah and bow down to the Holy Pigskin that is National Football in the USA. They have been stretching their credit limits to the max and substantially boosting the National Economy in order to purchase food & party favors for their worship services and Wide Screen HiDef Digital Plasma HDTV's on which to view the Great Event. Inordinate amounts of cash have been illicitly changing hands in $5 or $10 increments as Football Squares are filled with initials, aliases and dreams that will most likely be unfulfilled. His majesty, the artist formerly and currently known as Prince will serve as royal entertainer. Spectacular advertisements are being readied for broadcast and Pepsi has created a silver jewel-encrusted can in an effort to best Coke's sales. Excited conversation wafts through hallways, break rooms and cubicles as fans joust with their team's strengths and weaknesses.

My friend at work wryly observed one such conversation: "If people would discuss the things that really matter with half as much passion, maybe they could get some real changes done."
(when was the last time you were invited to an election-watching party?)

My reply: "how 'bout that Obama?!"

kill your television

I'm sitting in my living room staring at a toilet. Yes, a toilet. It's a Kohler "Cimarron" "comfort height" with elongated bowl in white. We bought it for the bathroom remodel and there's nowhere else to put it. It occurred to me that it was appropriately stationed next to the television.

I've been without decent tv reception since November when we moved to McKinney. Reception wasn't all that good in our Dallas neighborhood but we moved 40 miles farther from the main broadcasting antennas in Cedar Hill so now it's almost nil. There's a 15-foot tall antenna attached to the to the roof of the house but it's not connected to anything and I haven't found a bonded handyman yet who wants to go up there to deal with the problem. So I bought a set of powered rabbit ears to use in the meantime. They help but I still find that the most useless channels are the ones that come in the clearest. I'm not willing to PAY for tv so I'm learning to live without it. I've found I can watch my few favorite shows on my computer through the broadcast tv websites. It used to be that when I would come home late at night I would turn on the tv to unwind before I went to bed. When I was tired on the weekend I might channel surf for an hour just wasting time trying to get interested in something. Now I'm much more likely to do something creative or constructive.

There used to be some graffiti sprayed onto the bike trail near the southeast bridge at White Rock Lake that you couldn't miss if you walked, biked or skated the trail.

K I L L

Y O U R

T E L E V I S I O N

happy pills

I've been a chronic depressive since I was a teenager. No amount of counseling, exercising or socializing ever gave me the relief I got from smoking pot....until I got prescriptions for strange chemicals to swallow each day. Over the years I've taken Prozac, Paxil, Wellbutrin, Effexor, and I don't know what else. I hate taking them. I have side effects. They erode my creativity. I've quit more than once and each time I spiral into dark depression. I truly believe my brain's chemistry is out of whack but I don't know what's happening to it when it absorbs all these pharmaceutical-created concoctions. So I'm elated to have found a college course in podcast format from UC Berkeley called "Drugs and Behavior." David Presti, the professor who lectures, is an interesting and knowledgeable speaker. He delves into the social and political implications of drug use/abuse as well as the physical ones. He weaves history, religion, mythology and poetry into what I can only describe at this time as an epic story. Check out this series at: Webcast.Berkeley or find it on iTunes.

Before I forget, I want to suggest you check out the wonderful drawings and short stories at Tommy Kane's Blog.


I thought this bug-eyed mickey-mouse of his was an appropriate accompaniment to my drug story of the day. You can find it in Tommy's collection of his journals and art at: TommyKane.com

spring's a'comin'

yes, according to the Great Groundhog of Pennsylvania, spring will be here in less than six weeks; i.e. he did not see his shadow. Now, here in Texas we generally depend on the predictions of Nonc Nutria from Lafayette, Louisiana since his latitude is nearer ours, but there has been no official posting from Acadiana today except to say the weather was predicted to be cloudy so it was expected Nonc would not see his shadow.

Phil's Prediction

Here in McKinney, we got a bit of snow overnight but it's already melting.

look fast, it's gone

It snowed for about five minutes yesterday. The local tv weathercasters busted out their "Arctic Blast" banners again. That probably explains why there was so little traffic on the road last night. If I had turned on the tv I could have found some slim excuse to stay home from work. Pathetic, isn't it? I'm a kid hoping for a snow day. Common sense prevailed. I did not turn on the tv. The snow went away. I went to work. All that remains is the memory and this photo.

I've been thinking a lot about the human urge to "have the last word" in an argument. Every so often, usually in winter, I will surf the web looking for people I used to know. Usually I don't find them but about a month ago I found someone whom I once respected and on whom I had tremendous crush. We were friends for a time but it ended after an argument over something trivial. I apologized (even though I thought he was wrong) but met with a wall of obstinance. He would not answer my calls or respond to email. End of story. I felt bad until I found his blog recently and learned I was just one of many who met this response. I should be happy but I have this unrelenting fantasy of getting in the last word. I think about sending an email to the blog. Should it be anonymous or not? Should it be really evil or really nice? Should it be anonymous but hint at who I am? As long as I do nothing I can fantasize about "winning". If I do anything I will most likely "lose". I think as long as I think in those terms, I won't be satisfied.

thought compost

I received my list of names today of people to whom I'm to send my Valentine postcards. This sketch was what I came up with after doing my six preliminary drawings. I did this sketch actual size of the postcard. I originally envisioned a vertical format but it turned into a horizontal one after I added more elements.

I hope they will enjoy my final creation but they may find my interpretation of a "valentine" to be a little bizarre if not downright dark. I was talking to my friend L. about it and he asked me if it was satirical. First I said, "no" but then, "I don't know"; then I said, "yes". Then I got to thinking about the rock band R.E.M. and how people often asked them to interpret their enigmatic lyrics. I think it was Peter Buck who spoke for the band, saying, "They're just songs."

I often don't know where my art comes from or why it comes out the way it does. My experiences in life cause me to look at things a certain way and when I sift through scraps of paper some images take hold of my fingers and before I know it they're essential elements of a composition.

While thinking about why my valentine came out the way it did I've had to start thinking about what valentine's day really means to me and that turning-over process is generating some good ideas, just as turning dead leaves and garbage in an enclosed bin produces rich black compost that helps plants grow.

ethics give me a hotfoot

One of the hardest things about working on Sunday is that I'm usually the only person at a work station on this side of the building and the heat is usually not on. I have a blanket in my file drawer that I cover my legs with and I have a fuzzy jacket hanging on the wall that I use to cover my arms. I haven't been able to find a way to keep my fingers warm. It only takes 5 or 10 minutes before I have popsicle extremities. I sometimes get a cup of hot water or tea and keep it near me so that I can wrap my fingers around the warm china. It keeps my fingers from being truly frozen but doesn't help keep them limber. Someone up here has a portable heater hidden away and has given me permission to use it. Shhhh! no one's supposed to know. We're not supposed to plug these things in as they may blow out the server.

So is it ethical for me to use it? If I don't use it my health and my work suffer. There's a small likelihood it could blow the circuit but it's unlikely since I'm the only one with an appliance plugged in. Yet we've been told not to use heaters. I think the burden of ethical behavior is on the employer to give the employees a proper warm place to work. Don't tell anybody, ok?

early thoughts

ok, I committed to making some kind of postcard for the Valentine's swap. I don't think I'll have time to make ten different designs so I'll start with just one and see how things develop. I was too tired to think when I got home last night but I awoke a few hours later in the wee hours of morning and picked up my sketchbook and a pen. I was surprised that a few ideas came through my fingers and established themselves on the page. Surely this is a vote for the Zen No-Thought method. Think without Thinking. Draw without Drawing.

squirrel girl

Here's "Rufina" the squirrel stealing the bird food again. One of my first pics with the new lens I got yesterday. It's sharp!

The smallest things can really turn your attitude around. Last night on that 40-mile drive home I noticed 4 or 5 times I was paying more attention to the neon lights that line the freeway than I was to traffic around me. I realized I had probably come to the point of tiredness that I usually come to after days of working overtime that my brain and body are fried. As if to prove me right brain & body slept an extra hour this morning. Yep, I'm Fried.

Then I got an invite to a Valentine's Day postcard swap which would require some creative thought. I hesitated. I don't have time. My eyes are bloodshot. My brain is a turnip. Then I remembered that a deadline can sometimes wring blood from a turnip. So I signed up.

surprise

After many months of waiting I had almost given up on ever getting this lens. I wondered if every Nikon owner in the world was trying to buy the 18-200 VR lens. I had been on at least 3, maybe 4 waiting lists since last June. Many fellow photographers yielded to their desire to possess the thing and forked over several hundred dollars more than the retail price to dealers on eBay. I couldn't afford that luxury so I kept waiting. About 3 weeks ago I found another dealer who was accepting backorders. They told me delivery was averaging about 4 weeks but I hardly believed them as I added my name to another waiting list. Imagine my surprise when just 3 weeks later UPS delivered a very welcome package to my door.

Of course a few platitudes came to mind: "Patience is a virtue", "When you least expect it, expect it!" and "the meek shall inherit the earth" which I translate as "the patient shall inherit the bargain-priced lens."

Thanks, Samy's!