Journals: 2005(7)by Ric Carter |
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OBLITERATED NOTES Etc:
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(( INDEX )) >> NEXT >> CONTENTS12/12, 12/11, 12/10, 12/9 12/8, 12/7, 12/6, 12/5 12/4, 12/3, 12/2, 12/1 ACCOUNTSRECENT STUFF SIGHTINGS(let's get seasonal & French) 
TO-DOs I've always wanted to get a tattoo. Just one. A sunburst on my left wrist. It's a Lucky Starr thang. | ||
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OK, we made it past Hallowe'en and Thanksgiving (USA). Alive and mostly intact. Now we face the long dark days. This is why I didn't want to spend winters in the Sierra Nevadas. Too bad we're out of money. NOTE: This is not a bLog so you don't have to read it upside down, except for the CONTENTS list, unless you really want to. Click here to see what happened before. | |||
No Fireplace to Stoke Up HereDecember's First Weekend
Friday 2 December 2005: Maureen's back for a couple days. We putter, cook, exhaust ourselves. More wild turkeys in our meadow look like grazing buzzards. Otherwise, small increments of change. But who notices? Meanwhile, I pour a cup of decaf from the focking stupid Mr Coffee pot that always dribbles down its spout. Another moronic triumph of form over function. Don't designers ever try out their own products? Likely not. Saturday 3 December 2005: A quick run down the hill to Sutter Creek, a tarted-up Gold Rush town that now mines weekend shoppers. Holiday Craft Fair time. Suckers crawl and drive everywhere. Is this viable economics? Meanwhile, I feel like I'm borderline Tourettes. Not in general conversation, just to myself. Some image flashes into my fevered brain and I curse quietly. At least I hope I'm quiet. Would you tell me if I slip up? Sunday 4 December 2005: A slow quiet cold day; some sunshine but no real warmth. The quantum froth boils over, creating untold micro-universes that exist briefly, then disappear in mutual annihalation. Aha! Meanwhile, I am plotting. I will invent a new logic system containing but a single term, a single operator, a single predicate. All other logical systems will be reducable to mono-ism. But nobody gives a damn.
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An Overactive Week Around Home | |||
Monday 5 December 2005, San SábasUp early for a long hurried drive, down to the far side of Copperopolis for RV repair, and back by noon. Like a Folsom round-trip but with slightly different scenery and far fewer options for spending time and money. At the north edge of Angels Camp, a large blue-grey heron claws across the sky just ahead of the RV, missing by inches. We return in time for our scheduled Bobby-hauling and succumb to fatigue, but we plot a journey: fly one-way to Antigua Guatemala, spend a couple months in live-in language school, then slowly bus back across Mexico thru San Cristobal, Oaxaca, Taxco, Guanajuato, Zacatecas, Hidalgo del Parral, etc. How soon? Meanwhile, I'm too tired and disgusted to comment substantively on the latest torture news. Condi Rice essentially admits that yeah, the US tortures people and sends people off to other countries to be tortured, but it's for everybody's good. You'll remember and appreciate this goodwill when it's YOU that's being tortured, eh? Of course you will. | |||
Tuesday 6 December 2005, San Nicolás de BariUp not so early, more Bobbie-hauling: down to Jackson for unstapling, pacemaker tune-up, etc. Gorgeous and warm down the hill at 1000 feet elevation, still chilly uphill at 3500 feet. This afternoon the eBay sales end: a few things sold, some not, but OK on balance. We'll relist and add a couple items for the next round. Then we read the water bill. Last year at this time, three (3) units of water used; this year, 927. What? Bill for two (2) months: US$2780. WHAT?!?!?! Ay yi yi. Sacre bleu. Holy shit. I guess we'll get up early tomorrow to read the meter and call to complain. Meanwhile, we get inquiries from our friends/neighbors Caroline (kayro-LINE) and Alan in Bisbee. They're getting ready to overcome their anxieties and visit Mexico for a few days, probably to Puerto Peñasco aka Rocky Point, which we understand is a thoroughly gringoized resort at the north end of the Sea of Cortez aka Gulf of California. How to talk, what to eat, how to stay healthy, what to expect. We haven't been there, but we know that places near the border are NOT like interior Mexico. We think that sometime in the future we'll propose to C&A that we all caravan down to Creel, Chihuahua, thense to explore Copper Canyon aka las Barrancas del Cobre. Now THAT would be a an immersive yet safe adventure. Of course, unless we fix the water bill, we'll be too broke for awhile. Yow. | |||
Wednesday 7 December 2005, San Ambrosio
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SIGHTINGS(you could be built WAY better) (full facts from a neutral source) 
IMAGERY | ||
Thurs 8 Dec 2005, Immaculada Conceptíon de María
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The Weekend Will Eventually End |
SIGHTINGS("justa goddam piece of paper") and Propaganda Presidency (dubya's gifts to the world) (Diddley Squat and Bupkes) and winter solstice festival and obscene Christmas carols JINGLE BELLSDashing thru the bush
SIGHTINGSfrom Odt.Org (map resources) (note: the Peters map SUCKS!) (and Mark Twain on Iraq war) MY XMAS SONGS Let's pray for a merry XMas Let's pray God's not on crack I hope we're not nuked on Xmas I hope all the troops come back The lights are blinking on the XMas tree I'll pump away just as rhythmically It's XMas Eve, let's screw like weasels tonight Santa Claus is drunk again He pulled his pants down, waved his weenie At a passing pack of nuns They whacked him with their rulers *X*M*A*S* [repeat 873 times, with sound effects, distortion, etc] It's Christmas in L.A. The shops on Rodeo are Glowing in an electronic storm There's surfers snorting dust at full moon midnight out in Malibu And bums crawl into boxes to keep warm How much repression did ya get for Xmas? How many troops were patrolling the malls? Is Santa tapping your phones and email? What's the best way to terminate life and death and life and death? And now it's XMas day I can't take it any more Pour me another 'nog Pour me another 'nog Pour me another 'nog And won't someone shoot that dog? | ||
Friday 9 December 2005, San Juan DiegoSomehow I awaken, barely. Those last two days of hard physical work were too much. I take today off. Sleep, stroll, keyboard, make funny noises, redesign reality. We need a reality without sore muscles. Yes. Maureen went to do more unpacking but she could have some drinks afterward. I just get ibuprofen and water. Sigh. Meanwhile, I am undergoing a photography crisis. Read about it here if you wish. Today is the feast day of San Juan Diego (Cuauhtlatoatzin). I don't know why. Does he cover photography or unpacking? (Oh, he's the guy who saw Guadelupe.) OK, I'll feast on quesadillas. Close enough.
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Saturday 10 December 2005, San MelquiadesBack over to Sharon and Fred's. Start unpacking the Xmas stuff. Fat chance. A basement room twenty feet long, seven feet wide, ten feet high, absolutely stuffed with Xmas paraphenalia. I organize and stack the boxes, unpack a few, get totally worn out. Stop laboring before death. Aaaargh... Maureen's work is more decorative. Lucky her. Hoagies today. Then Beth (Maureen & Sharon's cousin) and Brad stop by, on their way to market, to buy poison mushrooms, which will be fed to an older-kinder Ebenezer Scrooge, whose murder will be solved by Sherlock Holmes. That's the latest play Beth wrote, being performed tonight. Can you guess who committed the crime? No ukuleles were involved. THE WAR AGAINST XMAS: OK, let's see if I understand this: fundy jeezoids (excuse me, USAnian Xian Conservatives) are big-time pissed-off because retailers mention HOLIDAYS instead of XMAS in their sales promotions. In other words, fundy jeezoids want INCREASED commercialization of Xmas. Didn't that used to be BAD? I remember songs by Tom Lehrer & Stan Freberg & others, ridiculing the use of Xmas as a marketing tool. Didn't old-line Xians observe Xmas as a HOLY-day? Jesu wasn't even born anytime NEAR the Winter Solstice; Xmas is a co-opted pagan fertility festival. The old Puritans suppressed Xmas, since it was 1) a Popish/Vatican feast day, and 2) a time of drunken revels. But modern Puritans are hardcore Xmas junkies. Don't some major contradictions lurk here? Seems to me that fundy jeezoids are blessed with abundant shit-for-brains. As always.
But don't let ME stand in your way. Go on and post your money-grubbing XMAS SALE signs, preferably near churches. (Forget what Jesu did to the moneychangers at the Temple.) Cut down your pagan Xmas tree. Decorate it with a satanic star and other pagan ornaments. Play your stupid Xmas carols, especially the ones about pagan reindeer. Have some pagan drinks and celebrate the NOTE: I'm not really such a curmudgeon. Xmas/Solstice is a great time for family gatherings, insane sales, ludicrous decorations, feasting etc. One of these years I want to do Xmas in Australia at a nude beach. | |||
Sunday 11 December 2005, San Dámaso ISHOWTIME: Today, I'm improbably wearing leather shoes and a dressy shirt, just to ride in an SUV to the Stockton Symphony for an Xmas concert. Who could imagine? Imagine the long (almost two hour) drive across the usual grey winter Great Valley and through grim city traffic to Delta College. Imagine the pale crowd, so polite. What, a scalper? Into the small auditorium, 80% full. About 60 in the orchestra, about 80 in the adult chorale; just one black face to be seen on stage. The tall lanky twitchy conductor (Peter Jaffe) marionettes to the podium in baggy white jacket and black pants — he *must* get a new tailor. The program is pleasant, semi-classical with pops and Xmas warhorses (Nutcracker, Messiah, etc), smooth but loud. My tinnitus ramps up and I insert earplugs. Soprano Amy Hansen sings from Bach's Cantata 51 and I somehow stay awake. Chorales chant a couple of African pieces, better done by Ladysmith Black Mombazo when heard at a county fair years ago. The children's chorale whips into Polar Express music — Santa blows his lines — is that part of the act? INTERMISSION: To the Gent's washroom. The wheelchair-level automatic door opener doesn't work. Empty miniature whisky bottles litter the floor. 'Tis the season... We return with a medley from the Nutcracker ballet, highlighted by the Pas de deux; under its embellishments, the harmonic structure is a classic 'turnaround.' It could be done as a doo-wop ballad. Then there's the singalong Xmas carol medley. Ay yi yi. During the Silent Night phase I think of a feminist version heard years ago, with Mary screaming in labor. No silent night there, eh? No irony allowed in this hall. Soprano Amy Hansen returned, was given a microphone. She can't project over the orchestra on Ave Maria (sung in German) (I somehow stay awake here too); her timing was off on Sleigh Ride; she almost hit the high note in Oh Holy Night aka Canticle de Noël. We survive the Hallelujah Chorus, and escape into the early night. FEAST ETC: On to a seafood house to devour marine crustaceans etc. We're all stuffed. Overstuffed, even. It's granola and cabbage salad (not together) for me for the next few days. Mmmmm. Then the long, painful, cramped ride back home in the dark, Venus tagging along close to the nearly-full moon. Nobody stole Xmas today. Whew. I think fondly of other Xmas music: Walking 'Round In Women's Underwear (*) and Oh I Yust Go Nuts At Christmas (*). And my own rude Xmas songs. But the concert was nice and the dinner was fine and we owe it all to Bobby. Thanks so much, and ignore my kvetching above. Please. Click here to see what happens next. If you dare. | |||
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