Day 10 - Blogabond

Was welcomed heartily by my hosts R and P. Old friends back from early 00's Burningman style. The two humans of the house serve kindly three cats, two of which I renamed (temporarily) to Stubbins and StepCat, see below. The third cat, who's royal sounding name I cannot recall. She was old (15 I think) and I think it best if I respect that cat.
Again it was quite the relief to get out from behind the wheel. This is the bedroom door in their guest house. As you can see it's lovingly covered with words and designs of thanks and signatures and funky awesomeness. I did my little doodle there too.

R is quite the painter I insist. We spent time trading stories in his studio down stairs, catching up on histories and sharing the joys and life. This is one of his first paintings. I definitely get a Vinny Van Go-go vibe from the foreground character, don't you? The little curvy lady off to the right, as she poses and blends in she elicits closer inspection and offers only mysteries. This delight was in the bedroom and greeted me in the mornings and saw me off to sleepy time. Dude also set me up with a Hip mix cd. Freakin' awesome. I'll definitly be coming back. So lovely gracious the hosts, thank you thank you.

This is StepCat. StepCat is on the step. There is no explanation. That's just where he wants to be. His eyes really aren't glowing, that's the flash. Maybe his cat soul shines out like that, but I couldn't tell you. At parties StepCat is on his step. At night, StepCat is on his step. In the morning? Yup, you know it, StepCat is on his step. I think this orange beauty is getting along in years too.

Everyone, this is Stubbins. He has a stubby tail. Don't no one know how it came to be, just another one of those cat mysteries. It is a fact that the ungrateful little tramp scratched me while I was feeding him toast. Seemed he wanted to eat off the floor. Well la-de-dah yah fuzzy bastard. Otherwise a nice cat, I'll give him 8 out of 10, just a small penalty for the drooling and scratching.

Helped out a friend of R's dump some refuse at the dump. A little hard labor is good. I stated that I wouldn't mind 2 hours a day. This was more like 5 minutes. I think a few hours would keep me in good spirits and fit. I read it in Aldus Huxley's "Island" and it stuck. Well, sounds like a good idea to me. Too much of this monkey puzzle sitting behind a screen and tap tap tapping away, not so good for the soul.

This is the dump. It's this big trough of filth and debris, a tractor rolls endlessly up and down the ramp pushing it into a container and compressing it. I thank the gods for the cold weather as it did not smell bad at all. I can easily imagine that during the summer months the miasma becomes truly fetid. It was entrancing to watch the garbage rolling over than through the tractor treads, something dry and fluid at the same time.

Anatolia, Traditional Green and Indian Food

R's friend D sprung for lunch at Anatoia, Greek and Indian food. I had the spanicopita. Too bad they were all out of the special, some indian dish. Greek and Indian, wtf? The decor was chill northWestern, wood everywhere and huge rugs and tapestries on the walls. We sat near the large bay window in the front, fishbowl out to the street. Big burly man on two crutches worked his way by, a woman with a trench coat made of ornate carpet and jogging sweats under neath, small clots of people walking, sporadic traffic.
D has a lovely house, sprawling space and a labradoodle and a pug.

Jump cut to later that night at a local used book store. Sure, they had your best sellers and new books, but where they really shined was their taste. They had featured things relating to living off the land and sustainable practices, poetry, languages, and a whole section on the beats. Yum.

As you can see I got some serious treasure here. Marshal McLuhan's War and Peace in the Global Village, I'm not 100% sure what the gibberish is about at this point, but it's strongly peppered with quotes from Finnigan's Wake. That book with a white spine is "The Manifesto" by Anonymous. There's no ISBN #, no publisher, no author information. It starts rolling on the first page and on the last page it's done. Sure, it does come with a little red mimeographed page foled into it with more specific informations, but the insert reads like the grandson of the Dr. Bronners bottle. Something about "dedrabbit". My goal was to pick up unique books, books that I would have a hard time picking up at the local library. Then there's "The Medium is the Massage" and "The Gurenberg Galaxy". Take a moment and look up Mr. McLuhan. I'll still be here when you get back.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marshal_mcluhan
The next thin little spines are three chap books for writers, two by Gregory Benford, woot! Some good looking stuff from my favorites over at the magazine "Fantasy and Science Fiction". I was raised on that stuff. After school at my grandparent's place, just around the corner from grade school. I would have a ham and cheese sammich on a plate and milk in a glass. The magazine would be turned to some thrilling tale of hard sci-fi or a stimulating essay by Issac Asimov. Then there's "Mind Parasites" by Colin Wilson. It looks intriguing, something about a horror from beyond or somesuch. Printed in 1972 in Berkeley, no ISBN # and amaturish pen and ink drawing on the cover. I'm not expecting "The Darkening Sky", that's a hope beyond hope. Finally a compilation of "Lively" folk tales, "Lovers, Mates, and Strange Bedfellows" compiled and edited by James R. Foster. Again, yum.

For those following with baited breath there may not be an update until after Thanksgiving. Just sayin' I'll see you on the other side.

written by

kleer001 on November 26, 2008 from Eugene, United States

from the travel blog: Tijuana to Vancouver

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How many guests will help you haul some other friend's junk to the county dump? Few, one suspects..
Drop in any time Clear, and thanks for the mash-ups!

written by Ralph Jaszkowski on November 27, 2008

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