Hawk's Dinner

I've often enough seen herons striding along reedy ditches around Vancouver airport. Have seen them spear frogs, mice. Always from a distance. Raptors, too, from a distance, hunting over fields.

Spotted her on my way home the other eve. On the ground. In the green roadside verge. Eyeballing me, as if she had something to hide.

Son of Dada, Chapter 1, The Call

Da's world called, as if I belonged there, still. And was theirs to call. There, for the using. Fallen son of a fallen priest.

"Daniel. Mark. Fra Benedict said you're the one t'call, if we need one in your line of work."

Fra Benedict. I'd have hung up, except for that.

Mark said, "There are paper details. Perhaps we'll do tea, after matins."

Matins. St.Jude's filling up. Candlesmoke. Kneeling murmurers. Mark looked old. Offered his old hand. It cost me nothing to take it. Priest and stranger being eyeballed. He hid us in his private office, the confessional. Never subtle, old Mark.

"What?" I said.

Mark said, "Lucien's lost."

Lucien. Fra Benedict guessed right. I was the only one.

Breaktime: Tidying Son of Dada

Another month’s ending. Breaktime. Let’s see about tidying up those little textings.

Little experiments. Texting in a story in little installments. Too little, tho. Well…maybe not too little. Interesting exercises in brevity, sure. Might come out better with shorter words. Or simply very caringly picking words, for meaning exactitude. But. While a reader prob’ly will figure out quickly enough the posting order, the more recent at the top, said reader will have to hop over that ‘Sent by Text Messaging blah’blah’ distraction. And I can’t turn that off in the phone.

Had a vague plot thing going that the narrator’s a private detective recording his movements…just in case, dot dot dot. Too contrived. And I wanted each texting to be like a scene, a paragraph. That’s got potential. A single moment, and concise. Simple language, too. Less artsy…stuff. Real, maybe. Cleaner, at least.

Better just to assemble them together, like a chapter in something perhaps ongoing. I’ll leave the originals, for reference, tho not as 6 sprawlers down the page.

Son of Dada…

Break’s over. It needs a title, and tag, for easy finding. It’ll do.

Son of Dada…Text testttt

Never subtle, old Mark. "What?" I said. Mark said, "Lucien's lost." Lucien. Fra Benedict guessed right. I was the only one.

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 7:51 am

--

It cost me nothing to take it. Priest and stranger being eyeballed. He hid us in his private office, the confessional.

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 7:38 am

--

Matins. St.Jude's filling up. Candlesmoke. Kneeling murmurers. Mark looked old. Offered his old hand.

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 1:15 am

--

Fra Benedict. I'd have hung up, except for that. Mark said, "There are paper details. Perhaps we'll do tea, after matins."

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 1:06 am

--

"Daniel. Mark. Fra Benedict said you're the one t'call, if we need one in your line of work."

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 12:59 am

--

Da's world called, as if I belonged there, still. And was theirs to call. There, for the using. Fallen son of a fallen priest.

Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
Posted by Burndtree at 12:50 am

HubbleSite's Link Badge Woohoo!

It works...it works...it worrrks!
Fingers can't keep up and tap it down fast enough...just how gleeful I'm feeling.
Figuring the worst that might happen is the link badge doesn't work, so then I'll just remove it, I went ahead and pasted my little html poem into the blog layout using another of those handy html gadgets intended for the purpose.

As I did last week, plugging in the Protagonize link. In fact, that little exercise prepared me for this.

Already had the html string from HubbleSite for the link badge image source. And HubbleSite's url: the address to link to. And, thanks to Nick, the full beautiful html poem behind the Protag link to work from as example.

Three Women Standing

Dixie Chicks, in concert on PBS's Austin City Limits tonight.

Spectacular.

I'm not calling it a 'comeback'. They never went away, of course. Endured, that's the word. Endured the blacklisting, which is the other word. Three women remaining, standing, at the fading away of the Bush years not only the world outside that great democracy is trying to forget.

Not QuickJot...Sat, May 23 '09

Groceries done. Tea's brewin'. Hard sunny sky. Windows wide open and fan's on the floor, its face tipped up and blowing cool morning air thru the place, while the cool air's for the getting. Cooling the place as much as I can. Won't be possible later. Gonna be warm out today. And like Death Valley in here, if last weekend's anything to go by. Building heat is still on, past Victoria Day, the long weekend kinda the unofficial start of summer. The building manager's away, just for one more week, and seems we'd rather all bake a little while longer than call the landlord, and have his nosy daughters poking around, chattering summer projects.

Thought to spend all last Sunday writing. No obligations. Everyone away. But the sun blazing all day thru the curtains cooked me. And not a breath of wind. That fan on the floor blowing air that tasted of summer and dust. And cat urine from the lawn. I scribbled. Wouldn't call any of it writing. All in all, frustrating. Felt like my brains were cooking. Like crab in the shell. Did work out a little plotting detail — one little detail in all of the long long day — and that came late evening, and the thermometer still a tall red line.

This Saturday...nice stiff westerly blowing. Whitecaps will be rolling across Georgia Strait.

Aeon Flux, Digested

Aeon Flux, movie, again, Friday night. Okay...Peter Chung might not have liked it one bit...but I did.

Reminded of the xbox game I played, finished, and enjoyed. And a review read ages ago. Do they assign games to reviewers who actually like the genre?...at least like to play and try, and don't pre-judge? Already know the answer: 'games industry', a business like any other, and same with games reviewing. Crank out content...move on.

Which explains some reviews, some in-game screen captures, too...ammo and health stats max'd...as if they used a cheat, so they could hurry thru the game they'll prob'ly review as 'short', and make that posting deadline.

Move on...I got Aeon Flux, the game. It's been pegged as a platformer, but a bit more 3D. Really, tho, suppose any game that sends your character climbing and jumping owes something to that moniker from arcade days gone by. I had enjoyed the dystopian story in the movie. Game reviewers figured the story timeline that spanned hundreds of years, and placed us as different incarnations of Aeon, would confuse players, and we wouldn't want to get into the story, or words to the effect. I thought it a great idea. Potentially an enlightening expansion on backstory the movie didn't need and didn't go into, apart from some flashbacks, and revelation or two, but might make for a fun game. A stagnating culture resisting change. Philosophy and sci-fi, and Charlize Theron. And the clones' lifetimes it takes to solve all the twists and turns of Bregna and neighbouring Monica, a world meddled with.

A meddled world's sights, sounds, tone, that made it fun for the hundreds of years I had to play to know the game's full story. At the start, controls took some getting used to. It took some play. Playing Aeon, she died...a lot. I believe that might even have been the point.

QuickJot...Monday, Victoria Day, May 18 '09

Past Friday morn, as I'm leaving for work. Kaitlyn Herbst, grinning on tv. Global 1, traffic chopper blattering above the Fraser bridges...

"...Traffic volumes lighter than usual. Lookin' like most people are getting an early start on the long weekend..."

Me thinking, so that's what I'm doing! I'm not actually going off to work then.

- - -

Shopping carts queued at checkout. Bumping from behind. Impatient, even in a supermarket check-out. Explains slow-speed fenderbenders in highway traffic jam, and no one can go anywhere.

- - -

Pretty brunette neighbour from the other side of the building...hula'hooping...outside on the lawn. Not round the hips hula'ing. Not like in a wacko movie comedy. Not suggestive. Dressed in jeans and long-sleeved hoody. Hair back in ponytail. Swinging the hoop up her arm. Like this is rhythmics. Gymnastics exercises. Her side of the building faces the busy street, I know.

Re: Canada Line Rant - Number Whatever (originally posted May 7 '09)

Comment posted May 8, 2009 - 10:14 AM
Mellenger said...

When TransLink starts using smart cards I think the zone situation will be a lot better. TransLink has some public consultations and open houses coming up you should check out. Here's the link: http://www.bepartoftheplan.ca/upcoming-consultations/

- - -

Could've replied on the original thread, the usually proper place, but I've taken so long to reply that it might've seemed rude of me to seemingly bury it with the original post.

Before this, I did think to more personally reply you, Mellenger, tried to on your Blogger profile. Also, yeahhh, to have a looksie, see who you are, where you are. But, instead, got this: The Blogger Profile you requested cannot be displayed. Many Blogger users have not yet elected to publicly share their Profile.

Hmmm. Hmmm. Oh, well. Those were my little gears whirring.

Firstly, Thanks for visiting and reading my rant, Mellenger. And for your suggestions. Oh, I have felt frustrated, tempted to quit and no longer participate when Translink Listens comes calling. Quitting won't do any good, though, I know. So I'll be sticking around. Also do plan as well, in some way, to...'bepartoftheplan'. You know what they say...what was said..."If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."

The smart card.

Do recall hearing about the smart card, its potential benefits, but it's been lost in the public relations morass that's left the public I'm around with the impression it'll be $100-million for turnstiles. A misinformed state that wants extensive, gentle clarifying, if Translink is to ever win over hearts and minds.

I'll give it a try...

Translink wants to implement a smart card system. $100-million is, or was, the starting figure. Not including turnstiles.

Some Provincial money has been promised. Because Provincial money is in the pot, the Province believes it has a say. In the months leading up to the Provincial election (now done), the Province, and other interested parties, wishing to allay widely publicized public fears over station safety, and figuring simultaneously to solve the somewhat debatable problem of fare evasion, have been pushing Translink to fast-track turnstiles that were not in the budget.

And the rest is the rancorous, half-informed stuff of online forums.

As to how good the smart card may become...well, we'll see. Possibly eliminate fare zones...we'll see. Perhaps enable cheap'cheap fares for short'short trips...my dream...would be nice. Knowing full well, of course, a human, or boardful of them, ultimately will decide how much good comes from anything.

Got Me My Pretty Protagonize Link Badge!

Been playing some with html today. Those links to other web sites arrayed in the sidebar, while functional, looked ho'hum. They wanted gussying up. Nick, our wizard behind the curtain over at Protag, made it sound simple to do, even un'scary, and I'd been meaning to add a Protag link badge to start.

As simple and un'scary as copy-pasting the desired link badge html code into the blog template: Nick's instructions.

Blogger made the simple even simpler. No need for me to dig through all that html holding up my template, and trying to find...wherever it's supposed to be spliced in. And that precisely the kind of fiddling about I felt nervous over, because inexperienced and random fiddling's bound to result in Oopsie!, and prob'ly mess up the whole show. Turns out fiddling isn't necessary. Blogger has gadgets, y'see. Gadgets that plug into the template without need of going into the html to splice them in. From the Layout page. Simply select the gadget, and drag n'drop it wherever looks best. Might bring in a Links list, for instance, or a game, or news blurb service. I haven't explored all the gadgets yet, for usefulness, or fun factor. For my purpose today, plugged-in a gadget that inserted html code: just the thing for someone wanting to add, say, a link badge.

Simple, done, and functioning properly in seconds.

Then noticed some other Protagonists' blogs' links sent the interested not to Protag's main page, rather to the authors' profiles. Seemed a great idea: easy enough to correct by deleting the gadget if broken after my fiddling with. There was a sort of Aha moment, and I felt adventurous. The html for the link looked to be in two parts. The second: the image source for the badge itself; its dimensions in pixels the giveaway. The first part obviously being the address, the where the link would link me to. Already knew the url for my Protag profile page. Carefully added the bits. Careful not to stray. The whole thing enclosed like a poem, after all.

It worked. Wanted to play some more. But the HubbleSite's link badges must be level 2 in this game. And that one will have to wait. Did as easily plug-in a HubbleSite news link, tho. Eventually will have to figure out html enough if page element dimensions are tweakable.

SW Kent Ave. Goin' Grocery Shoppin'

SW Kent Ave shunting yards. Grey Saturday dawn. Black braided rails. Dingy yellow graffiti'd CPR caboose alone, waiting.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
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Good!
Got rid of that 'You can contact me at...' and cel number.

First Ever Text Message!

Have added the HubbleSite link in the sidebar. A longtime fave site. THE place for Hubble telescope images.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Sent by Text Messaging from a mobile device.
Envoyé par messagerie texte d'un appareil mobile.
----------------------------------------------------------------

It worked!

Just about wore out my thumbs, but it worked.

Am gonna have t'go into this pretty basic cel phone and change that setting, tho. It displayed, 'You can contact me at...' AND THE CEL PHONE NUMBER...for all the world t'see! And in French. Okay - gotta do some scribbling before bed. 'Night All!

Gordon Campbell...uhh, Liberal...Wins 3rd Term as BC Premier

There are a few contested ridings remaining. A few mandatory recounts, likely. However, the British Columbia Provincial Election is done, done for another four spins of our bluey world 'round our yellowy sun, and they who call themselves Liberals hold the majority in the Legislature. Again. Gordon Campbell...uh, Liberal...returned as Premier-elect, for a remarkable third term.

Astounding me only a little that he's still there. And his...Liberals. Despite the dirt I'd have thought should cling, when dirt sprays.

Once upon a time, then-BC Premier Campbell was arrested for driving drunk on Maui. Mug-shot'd. Compelled to sniffle and fight back his tears during his televised Sorry to the people of politically polarized British Columbia. Too busy, for he was BC Premier, after all, he sent his lawyer to stand before the judge in Maui, and say whatever wanted saying. The Right Honourable Gordon Campbell won that next election. And now this one.

Also once upon a time, came word of alleged dirty business dealings involving the sale of BC Rail and one of Premier Campbell's ministers. RCMP tramped from the Legislative offices, dollying out file boxes enough to fill a rail car. Only slightly exaggerating there, about the quantity of file boxes. Liked the 'rail car' bit, y'see.

And that's that. For another four spins, et cetera. Yup. Yup.

Except to say, as in snark, that it says a lot about the leanings and values of BC's electorate. Yesterday's 51% of BC's 3 million registered voters who actually voted. And about those who didn't. Probably scared away, those who didn't...by the death squads lurking about the polling stations.

Sumatra, or Bust!

Karta, Adelaide Zoo's ingenious orangutan, sussed'out how to short out the electrified fence around her enclosure, by applying rather advanced tool use. A stick.

Heard a snippet on the Sunday mid-day news. Couldn't not play a little with that! Wrote up the playful little something Sunday night. Sumatra, or Bust! It needed enough editing, and I wasn't confident I could edit properly Sunday night, so that and any plan to post it had to wait 'til Monday.

But Monday was a workday. I got in early to work. Started a quick look around Protag, while the office printers warmed up. Saw the Monday, May 11, was RiverTalker's birthday. I logged in, and had only just tapped in Happy Birthday wishes when the phone rang, this immediately popped up, and that. Quickly tapped 'publish comment', glimpsed that it looked okay for RT's eye, and shut the browser...not even able to log-off properly. I did find time at day's end for posting Sumatra.

Also, figuring it long past time I paid at least a compliment to Elorithryn re her Sarah's Tale, I said so. Even as I'm still playing catch-up, reading her chapters in proper sequence.

--

It's begun to annoy me. The gadgets...Dictionary thingie...Hubble pic...not fitting the page just right.

Playing with Gadgets

Ooohhh...Blogger's got gadgets...thousands of gadgets.
Pictures o'the Day.
News and Weather thingies.
Games!
Sudoku, even!
Been roaming fave astronomy sites, looking for some picture plug-in. And Blogger has a Hubble telescope space pix gadget.
Nice picture. Gadget frame doesn't quite size properly on the page, tho.
A bit too tired right now to start fiddling with html code, simple to fiddle with, so they say, they who've fiddled with html before.

Sun on My Face

Snapped that pic two winters ago, with my battletank Zenit SLR.

Walking the neighbourhood, and discovered the chair behind a warehouse. First pic I intended for posting here. I had intended to start up the blog with a character sketch. A burned-out, used-up, hopeless-feeling robot-worker's moment's rest. Would've prob'ly been some prattling rant...done stream o'consciousness'like, for the breathless quality. Maybe a clumsy poem.

AS A LIST — a to-do list would be the thing rattling thru robot-worker's idling mind...

Never did get to it. Got busier, and doing more pressing stuff. Protagonize happened. Other scribblings, too. Time ticked on in the blog. Earth spun around the sun, and the sun a spinning top itself, slow-turning in one outer arm of our galactic merry-go-round we're barely aware we're riding. That's still more than just a chair. But now I feel I'm outside, looking in. Pale winter's morning. Someone else's grainy life.

Not QuickJot...Sat, May 9 '09

Too tired Friday night to attempt anything much. End result of too many nights up 'til one: days spent doing the job, nights playing catch-up. So much fun happening in Protag, too. I need a list.
Rac7hel's started Woes of a Bublishing Combany.
And there's Craziantix's The Anjini Wars.
There are the ones I can readily rattle off the top of my head that I've had time to be watching:
Mage Hunting, of course.
And MHSofPS.
A Study in Nomenclature.
Jack's Clockwork: A World of Choice.
And GodSeed...Night Sky...East Wallingford Chronicles...Paddytum.
A Writing Exercise (not seeking a rating)...Tad's Clean or Go To The Gym?
Whenever I can, watching for the new and the updated anything.

On Friday, I stumbled upon Elorithryn's Sarah's Phoenix: Scouting(part 1). During a break at work, just to see a bit of what she's writing, I clicked her most recent post, Sarah's Tale, the chapter partway thru.

A wow of a read.

A contemporary gal, with her contemporary mind, transported by magic into a medieval fantasy. Fantasy and Scifi elements, one of my favourite mixes. Tension between the sexes and feminism. And who doesn't like a little romance, eh?

But I had only read that one chapter, mid-story. Opened the book and started reading where the pages fell open. Yup...so I have all her previous chapters to finish reading, so I can tell Elorithryn how much I liked it, and know what I'm talking about.

But too tired last night even to go online and copy off her chapters for reading. Instead, veged, viewed videos, some. Decompressed on Discovery channel. Spread those paper scraps, notes scribbled during work, made a little order from the scribblings, drew a mindmap, roughly, before BBC's Click, and bed. Midnight, again.

Does seem true, what them brain-parters say. Even after a long workday, and feeling done in, still I'll somehow find energy enough to draw something, like a mindmap, because I'm using the other parts of m'brain not as tired. The same obviously applies to those writing all-nighters, when it's all clicking along so right and don't feel I ever need to sleep. And finding from...somewhere the oomph that enables marathon gaming sessions into weekend wee hours.

Hmmm...really wanna game tonight. And sleep. And write. And chat. And watch a movie. Can't I have it all? Sure, I can...just..how much and in what order?

Not QuickJot...Kay, Thursday, May 7 '09

Held open the door at the top of the east stairwell this showery morning for Kay. I was headed down. She was coming up. Not wearing the green overcoat she'd worn all winter. And wet enough. And clearly wondering about her appearance. Clok'cloking up the hollow steps. Leggy, and lovely really, in tights and matching charcoal skirt. Thin chocolatey sweater.

Tried not to stare. Tried to be a doorstop. Tried to think of some polite something to say in passing.

Caught her catching one of my careless glances. Beautiful eyes behind those rain-speckled glasses. Brown, I could've called them. Hazel, if I was daring.

I wanted to say...anything.

Then I did. Because it was right to do so. She had got caught in the rain, was worried about her appearance, and shouldn't be. Even under these buzzing stairwell fluorescents. Pearls gleamed in her hair.

It should've come out like that, instead of "You've got pearls in your hair", along with my smile.

But Kay did smile at that. At me. Said "Thanks" as she passed.

"Sure." I said, filling myself on her perfume. Soap. Warm hair. Flowery something, too, like the rose in Turkish delight.

I stole a long look at the backs of her legs as she clicked along the corridor between the offices. It was but a moment, really. A fantasy. Kay, you see, I knew wore a talisman of warding against such as me. Upon her left hand. A golden ring.

---

Started as a quickjot. Got stuck when I went too enthusiastically into describing Kay. Plus half-hour.

Canada Line Rant - Number Whatever

Figuring I'd do my bit...as a conscientious citizen...I signed-up, ages ago, to allow Vancouver's regional transit folks periodically to survey me. Today, they wanted to know my views re their expensive toy train. But only if I'd ridden it recently. I hadn't, tho still want my opinion heard. So I left my opinion in the handy comments box provided. Now, because I actually do want to be heard, I copied my comments; and I'll post them here.
They requested survey participants be as specific as possible. I am grinning.

---

Unfortunately...the Canada Line runs along Cambie. I live in Marpole, over by Granville and Marine, and work at the airport. Just across that two-zone line in the river. Currently, the 100 bus makes the most sense for me: pick-up and drop-off around the corner on Hudson.

Now, I'd be willing to ride the 100 east each morning - yes, the wrong way - to catch a train to work, and not feel harried, thanks to trains running only a few minutes apart, but for the cost of crossing that two-zone line Translink has drawn in the river.

I've always believed 'transit' should be the preferred way for commuting about a city. However, I cannot justify paying the two-zone fare for covering that short distance: running my pick-up truck costs less.

I recall I'm not the only interested citizen suggesting fare reductions, zones re-structuring, rates-per-mile and such(even if that necessitates hiring conductors, and cuts into the turnstiles budget), so I will stop here.

Thanks!

Protag's Magnificent Seven

AnaCristina
cheshiregrin
darkliquid
Eloosive
JackRubashevskiy
jdxx
RedheadRose

Strangely exhilarating news. Like I might feel on election night, and my people won.

Nick has announced Protag's first ever seven moderators. Seven protectors of our online experience...for when Nick's off gettin' hitched come August. Good and fair souls, all.
I'm still smiling. And it's past bedtime. The world can't have too many moderates...
Haarrrh'Haaarrrhh!

QuickJot...Wednesday eve, May 6 '09

The quiet about lunchtime. Sunny truck yard behind Island Intermodal. Middle-aged warehouseman. Hasn't shaved today. He's not breaking a sweat, saunters over to check on the barbecue smoking outside the open bay door.

She rolls up, passes, fast like all messengers, parks her silver Honda at her office back door. Brunette. Sunglasses. Striped top. Looks great in jeans.

He looks away, fascinated suddenly with whatever's charring on the grill, as she notices him over her shoulder. She's just about dancing now, turning and dawdling, in those exceptionally well-fitting blue jeans of hers, and calling over words of warning she just caught off the latest news.

"It's not hot dogs, right?"

"What?"

"It's not pork, right?"

"Naww..." and mumbling.

"Huh?"

More mumbling, and "...hot dogs."

"Shouldn't eat pork, they said."

"Pork..." and mumbling.

"They said on the news. Don't eat pork."

Mumble mumble..."Burger."

"Hamburger. Ohh."

"Beef!"

"Beef. Okayyy."

Both laughed.

Eight minutes, this quickjot. Tea's gonna need microwave zapping.
So. According to WHO...'coz of this fluuu...now pork's off the menuuu. Next, coffee will be bad for me...or good...depending on when I hear it.

QuickJot...Tuesday eve, May 5 '09

Nine-thirty at night weirdness outside and voices visit through my open windows. Starts like a bark, addressed to the building.

"Can you let me in?"

Someone else...mumbling.

"Can you let me in? Forgot my keys."

Mumbling reply.

"Cummonnn. Can you let me in? I need t'get my boots."

Grumbling.

"Cummonnn, let me in."

More grumbling.

"You don't know me?"

Assertive grumbling.

"You don't know me? I'm your son."

It stops, just like that. Heard the side door open, close.
One minute plus to go for my four minute tea!

QuickJot...Saturday Shopping, May 2 '09

Jotting down...whatever...notes...observations, before they're gone. Just an exercise. All these from this Saturday morn, shopping at Superstore. Four minutes. While tea's brewing.
--
Dad passing, pushing cart. His little boy, yellow hair, waist-high, enthralled by green barbecue on legs, open'closing lid. Conversation.
"Daddy, what's this?"
"A barbecue."
"Can we buy it?"
"No."
"Whyyy?"
"Got one already."
"This one's new."
"Cummon, we haveta go."
"Nooo."
--
Seafood section. Sea critters in fresh water. No salty tang in the air. Fish tanks.
Tilapia tank: pale yellowy, school mostly headed left, broad ribbed tails slowfanning. One tilapia standing on its tail, bob'bob, gulping air at the surface.
English sole. Flat on tank bottom. No sand. Both eyes on top. Eyeballing me. No place to hide, guys.
Lobsters waving, feelers feeling about.
Crabs, claws rubberbanded, shouldering over each other, bruisers wanting a fight.
Yeah, lobsters also...claws banded.
Everybody's going to dinner!
** Four minutes done - tea stew **
Hose flooding Manila clams in black trays. Sandcoloured shells. Translucent siphons shrink back from the touch of my finger. Then a thin jet of water squirted two inches by one. I recall bright summer days, kayaking mud flats on Boundary Bay.
What are Savory Clams? Whitish shell, brown fringing, beautiful. Brown like tropical wood.
Oysters, looking like broken rocks. Small barnacles along for the last ride of their lives. Several barnies open, feeding, tiny fronds waving in this tray of fresh water. Bland water. Feeding on what? Waste?
--
Dairy section. William Roache's lookalike picks up plain yogurt, one litre tub. Unsmiling. Tan t-shirt. Grey shorts.

Head Clearing, May 1 '09

Time to clear my head.

What a week...the job, I'm meaning. Yes, job that pays the bills and bought me this means for blogging my headclearing whining about it. There, I can see more than the one side.

Always the same rushing about at month-ending. Every month-ending. From the day the previous month-ending done, preparing for the next. Head office accountants figuring every last bit of the current month's business must be finalized this one day. Not fun. How could anybody?...Okay, maybe an accountant might call it fun.

Or a gamer. Yeah, so okay, I admit for me it's not usually my blackest day. Month-ending's usually like a puzzle to be navigated. I have this to do, connected with what will be month-ending. I also have all this. The game's trying to find the tick'tocks of time for doing it all. And I can.

It was only so...unsatisfying to finish it this time. This long, brain-burning Friday. Funny, in fact, how busy it's been. In this much-blabbed about economic downturn.

I don't wanna go there.

I did finish my next chapter for Bolsheviki's Mage Hunting. Escape from Mages' School. Almost done Thursday night. Editing. But stuck: the beginning not right. Figured I might just sleep on it, as they say. And it came to me during my breakfast oats and tea, as I trusted it might. Quant so worried for reckless Steiffa that he can't sleep, takes his pre-dawn walk, more or less resolved to do a reckless thing himself. Poor old soul.

I posted it, too. First thing Friday morn. Before work, and all that. Even saw Bolsheviki log in for a look. No chance I could've said Hi, tho.