The Flying Machine

So I get home last night at like 10 PM and I am tired and it is dark and as I'm sayin bye to E and digging in the truck for my filthy shoes I see that one of my apartment neighbors is hanging out outside. He says he's locked himself out. I offer to call the landlady, he's already done it, so I kinda shrug and say, sorry man.

A few minutes later I get a knock at my door. Is that your silver car? Could you, uh, move it so I can get a truck in?

So I move my car and his friend drives a big truck up to the front door of the building. He lives in the front of the house, on the second floor. His window, open, is tantalizingly located just above the little roof on the little front stoop of the house. He is trying to place a foot ladder on top of the truck cab so as to climb onto the roof. This man is pushing 300 lbs and the foot ladder is wobbling. Things do not look good.

I think about it for a second and say, Here, hold my flip-flops, climb up the trellis, over the gutter, onto the roof, and into his window. Piece o' cake. I think I now have a friend in my building!

Posted by Sarah at 10:36 AM | Permalink

It was a real good one.

YMSB live in Boise with E.
++ hippie dancing
- that one old guy with long hair who kept whipping it around - into my face
+ the fact that he had, in fact, washed his hair recently
+ 3 Fat Tires (on E's tab, saweet)
+ making it all the way up to the third row front an' center
+ did I mention dancing?
+ Pie Hole on the way home
- they didn't play Sidewalk Stars or their fun cover of Ooh La La

Lawn Chair Party at the Mystic Vine
-- the fact that it was MV's last night; it's going out of business
+ talking fair trade coffee with that public interest lawyer guy
+ talking gardening with Sherry, L's girlfriend
+ a nice $5 glass of cab

PADDLING THE MALHEUR RIVER with L and E
+++ not tipping!!
- a 3-hour float becoming a 6-hour odyssey
+ borrowed boat, borrowed wetsuit, borrowed drybag
- L's abominable music taste on the ride out
+ E's somewhat better music taste on the ride back
++ goslings!
+ swimmin' mule deer
-- not having my camera out due to the water splashing
+ L: ok E, would you rather eat 50 Big Macs in one sitting or 10 sticks of butter? E: uh, the butter. L: what if it was 10 sticks of butter or 10 cups of mayonnaise?? E: uhh...
+ (getting kayaks back to the truck) S: dude, Moses, you chose the worst path through the brush. E: uh, Sacajawea, yours isn't lookin any better.

++ phone calls from various friends who live far away
+++ being pleasantly exhausted and kinda sunburnt and windblown and happy at the end of a good weekend.

Posted by Sarah at 10:12 PM | Permalink

Alright, I know, I'm way slacking here on the blog. I been busy, y'all. Things should be back to normal next week.

As for tonight: tonight, for one night only, I am going to a jam band show. Yonder Mountain String Band, to be precise, who kinda straddle the bluegrass-newgrass-jam-acoustic scene.

Mostly I'm excited for the hippie dancing. That, and the fact that they've been covering Ooh La La and Tear Down the Grand Ol' Opry at recent shows.

Posted by Sarah at 3:15 PM | Permalink

I'm back out West. Well, actually I've been back out here since late Monday night. I miss home already, but there's plenty of good things going on out here too. I've got some photos and stories to share soon.

By the way, thanks for all the haircut comments, y'all!

Posted by Sarah at 9:13 AM | Permalink

My uncle took this picture and just sent it to the family today.

Me, my dad, and my Poppa.

Posted by Sarah at 3:14 PM | Permalink

I got a new haircut. It's shorter than it looks here, really.
I like it.

Posted by Sarah at 10:22 PM | Permalink

This is exactly how it is.

How to Like It

These are the first days of fall. The wind
at evening smells of roads still to be traveled,
while the sound of leaves blowing across the lawns
is like an unsettled feeling in the blood,
the desire to get in a car and just keep driving.
A man and a dog descend their front steps.
The dog says, Let’s go downtown and get crazy drunk.
Let’s tip over all the trash cans we can find.
This is how dogs deal with the prospect of change.
But in his sense of the season, the man is struck
by the oppressiveness of his past, how his memories
which were shifting and fluid have grown more solid
until it seems he can see remembered faces
caught up among the dark places in the trees.
The dog says, Let’s pick up some girls and just
rip off their clothes. Let’s dig holes everywhere.
Above his house, the man notices wisps of cloud
crossing the face of the moon. Like in a movie,
he says to himself, a movie about a person
leaving on a journey. He looks down the street
to the hills outside of town and finds the cut
where the road heads north. He thinks of driving
on that road and the dusty smell of the car
heater, which hasn’t been used since last winter.
The dog says, Let’s go down to the diner and sniff
people’s legs. Let’s stuff ourselves on burgers.
In the man’s mind, the road is empty and dark.
Pine trees press down to the edge of the shoulder,
where the eyes of animals, fixed in his headlights,
shine like small cautions against the night.
Sometimes a passing truck makes his whole car shake.
The dog says, Let’s go to sleep. Let’s lie down
by the fire and put our tails over our noses.
But the man wants to drive all night, crossing
one state line after another, and never stop
until the sun creeps into his rearview mirror.
Then he’ll pull over and rest awhile before
starting again, and at dusk he’ll crest a hill
and there, filling a valley, will be the lights
of a city entirely new to him.
But the dog says, Let’s just go back inside.
Let’s not do anything tonight. So they
walk back up the sidewalk to the front steps.
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing. The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let’s go make a sandwich.
Let’s make the tallest sandwich anyone’s ever seen.
And that’s what they do and that’s where the man’s
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept-
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.

Stephen Dobyns

Posted by Sarah at 8:15 PM | Permalink

I'm in Florida 'til Monday. Mom's birthday is tomorrow, and it's good to be home.

Posted by Sarah at 8:09 PM | Permalink

The worst mass shooting in US history happened this morning at Virginia Tech. My thoughts are with the victims and their families in what is an immense tragedy.

Though details are still uncertain, it seems that the shooter was looking for his ex-girlfriend - and that she may have been the first one shot. (UPDATE: turns out that was a false lead.

Posted by Sarah at 5:40 PM | Permalink

Here's some distractions for you on this lovely Monday morning. I'm busting it at work, which means, paradoxically, that I get both more working AND more blog-reading done.

- PEEPS DIORAMAS. It is as awesome as it sounds. Wow. My favorite: number eight (note the 'censored' sign - ha!), but the grand prize winner is pretty amazing too. (belatedly via Ellen)

- Some folks from Corvallis (which is, ahem, west of the mountains) got USDA money to do a feasibility study for a windfarm in Malheur County. It's about time! Man, have we got wind. And man, could we use some environmentally friendly economic development. (via the Argus)

- Fainting goats. Maybe you've already heard of 'em, but.. yeah. One of my friends out here has a brother who's about to buy some. You really need to watch this video. Hilarious. (via YouTube)

- TAP has a great short piece on America's Cuba policy. I particularly liked this quote from a WaPo editorial, which they highlighted: "We should unite around a principle that Democrats and Republicans have long embraced, a principle that aided the West's success in the Cold War: American openness is a source of strength, not a concession to dictatorships." (via TAPPED)

Posted by Sarah at 10:22 AM | Permalink

Good things about this weekend:

+ 4 lbs of strawberries for $5 at the grocery story.
+ New running shoes, finally.
+ Lovin' on Cali dog, who I hadn't seen in a while.
+ Watching Space Ghost with Z.
+ Climate change rally in Boise.
+ Reading by the Boise River, tucked into a tree.
+ Finding out that Barry Lopez is speaking Tuesday in B-town.
+ Helping out at the Food Bank benefit concert.
+ Coffee with chicory; making Vietnamese iced coffee.
+ Getting fbook props from two(!) friends for mixes I sent them.
+ A drafting table! A nice one! With folding legs!
+ An apricot tree.
+ A striped shirt.

See:

Not so good things about this weekend:

- Worrying that Barry Lopez's talk will be sold out.
- Majorly bungling a strawberry rhubarb custard tart.
- Discovering that my Chacos are missing.
- Wind so strong it almost blew me off my bike. In the middle of the road.
- Never getting everything that needs doing done.

Posted by Sarah at 10:10 PM | Permalink

Having implemented some draconian Internet-usage-control measures on myself, I suddenly have all this time with which to do fun stuff. Like draw a sanguine John Hartford, circa Aereo-Plain, for my wall.

I like it.

Here is a crappy photograph:

You can see him in progress here:
 

(Current plan: get at least 3-5 drawings up on the wall. Right now John's kind of alone up there.)

Posted by Sarah at 8:57 AM | Permalink

Don't know how I hadn't found this site before, but Strange Maps is fantastic.

Check it out! The The Free and Independent Republic of West Florida!

Meanwhile, new American settlers in the territory united with ‘old’ formerly British settlers from the British era to resist Spanish rule, leading to a rebellion in 1810. On September 23, 75 West Floridian rebels overcame a Spanish garrison of 28 (sleeping) soldiers at Baton Rouge, replacing the Spanish colours with the Bonnie Blue Flag (a single white star on a blue field) of the new nation. The fight left two dead and five wounded – sources aren’t clear whether these were rebel or soldier. Independence was formally declared three days later (and would last a grand total of 74 days.)

Posted by Sarah at 11:09 AM | Permalink

Front page news in the county:

Ontario police are searching for a toothless, middle-aged man who they say robbed the Ontario branch of the Washington Mutual Bank across the street from the police station Wednesday around 1:46 p.m.

Not sure if it's worse that he chose to rob the bank across from the police station or that they didn't then catch him right away.

Posted by Sarah at 9:59 AM | Permalink

One of my favorite music videos.

So tonight I spent most of the evening working on a drawing (you'll see it later) but then I made the magical discovery that YouTube has many of my all-time favorite music videos. Not just the ones with artistic and musical merit (ha!) but the ones I watched over and over on VH1 and MTV until they became so ingrained that upon seeing them I can still recognize every scene and recall how new and kinda... dangerous it all felt. I mean, I had a pretty sheltered childhood. "Push," anyone? All the drama about Rob Thomas's eyeliner and misogynistic lyrics? Ooh, or "Pink"? Steven Tyler's head in all sorts of strange places? That was good. And it reminded me of this... Holy shit do you remember 10-year old Macaulay all blinged out and dancing with Michael Jackson? I didn't.

Posted by Sarah at 10:46 PM | Permalink

danah boyd, whose academic work I admire tremendously, put together a list of 5 of her 'secrets' to success. It's worth checking out. I particularly like this one:

2. "Learn the rules. And then learn how to break them." I was a punk kid who refused to follow by anyone's rules. I got kicked out of everywhere. I thought that this was radical. When i was in high school, my mother explained that one of her best skills was telling people to fuck off and go to hell in a ladylike way so that they didn't even know how to respond. Over the years, i realized that there is immense power in understanding the rules and norms and tweaking them to meet your goals. Rejecting society is fun as a kid; figuring out how to circumnavigate barriers to entry is more fun as an adult. Do it with grace, kindness, and sincerity.

Posted by Sarah at 2:34 PM | Permalink

Posted by Sarah at 10:55 PM | Permalink

You know that feeling you get when you see something that involuntarily and irrationally bothers you and all the blood in your body turns cold and you can feel it moving all icy through your limbs and your head feels faint and your heartrate skyrockets and your vision starts to go black? And then as soon as you distract yourself it goes away and you snap back into reality and forget it ever happened until it comes along days months years later?

It would be real sweet if that would stop happening in regard to various and sundry shit that's way in the past and way out of style.

It's the irrational bit that's the pisser. Paging Rob Fleming...

(I wonder if he'd approve of my soundtrack today.)

Posted by Sarah at 12:02 PM | Permalink

"The years of 1860 to 1870 found more settlers homesteading in Morrow County. In 1863 William Y. Cecil, who was born in England, built a home at the Oregon Trail crossing on Willow Creek. This was the beginning of a settlement that took on the name of Cecil and became the stopping place of the emigrants on their way to western Oregon."

Megz took this one. Cecil, OR, on the Oregon Trail.

Posted by Sarah at 3:00 PM | Permalink

My boss is on the cover of the local paper today. There's even a picture! Only the Argus could make someone so interesting seem so not:

Besides riding motorcycles, Beal said he enjoys meeting people who ride motorcycles.

“We have a lot of common interests,” he said.

Posted by Sarah at 4:09 PM | Permalink

Picarello hit the top of the escalator just after Bell began his final piece, a reprise of "Chaconne." In the video, you see Picarello stop dead in his tracks, locate the source of the music, and then retreat to the other end of the arcade. He takes up a position past the shoeshine stand, across from that lottery line, and he will not budge for the next nine minutes.

If one of the world's best living violinists played, free, incognito, in a subway station, would people stop to listen?

The Washington Post went and found out; the results are fascinating.

Let's say Kant is right. Let's accept that we can't look at what happened on January 12 and make any judgment whatever about people's sophistication or their ability to appreciate beauty. But what about their ability to appreciate life?

(via WaPo)

Posted by Sarah at 1:15 PM | Permalink

Portland kicked ass. Actually, everything about this weekend kicked it. I got stories and I got pictures. I am good and life is good. Come back soon.

Posted by Sarah at 9:32 AM | Permalink

When I walked outside early this morning the air smelled of new onions - sweet and sharp and earthy. Fresh, like spring.

I told you I live in onion country, right? The fields that surround this little town are full of onions, some 20,000 truckloads worth on a good year, in addition to some corn and wheat and mint. But mostly it's onions. I rode my bike to the coffeeshop, loving the tiny bit of moisture in the morning air and the fragrance it carried. By noon the air is always dust-dry.

This weekend I'll be in Portland, where I hear spring is making a more riotous entrance. I guess that's the good thing about those rainy winters - luxurious, beautiful springs and summers. And then there's the Farmers Market, Stumptown, good friends new and old, and maybe some nice single-malt scotch. It should be a real fine time.

Posted by Sarah at 10:21 AM | Permalink

I got this poem in my inbox this morning and it reminded me why I love Jack Gilbert.

Getting Away with It

We have already lived in the real paradise.
Horses in the empty summer street.
Me eating the hot wurst I couldn't afford,
in frozen Munich, tears dropping. We can
remember. A child in the outfield waiting
for the last fly ball of the year. So dark
already it was black against heaven.
The voices trailing away to dinner,
calling faintly in the immense distance.
Standing with my hands open, watching it
curve over and start down, turning white
at the last second. Hands down. Flourishing.

Jack Gilbert
from Refusing Heaven

As some of you may know, April is National Poetry Month. In celebration, Knopf emails out a free poem a day for the month - if you'd like to receive them too, send a blank email here.

Posted by Sarah at 7:59 AM | Permalink

Now that the days are getting longer, I can cook in better light.

   
These eventually topped spiced green lentils.

   
The by-product of pruning my overactive mint plant.

Posted by Sarah at 9:21 PM | Permalink

How did I not hear that they're making The Golden Compass into a film?

I've read Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, of which The Golden Compass is the first novel, a bajillion times. Those books were some of my very favorites as a kid. And! now! a! movie!

Lest you think that these are just some dorky childrens' books, here's what The New Yorker has to say:

“His Dark Materials” may be the first fantasy series founded upon the ideals of the Enlightenment rather than upon tribal and mythic yearnings for kings, gods, and supermen. Pullman’s heroes are explorers, cowboys, and physicists. The series offers an extended celebration of the marvels of science: discoveries and theories from the outer reaches of cosmology—about dark matter and the possible existence of multiple universes—are threaded into the story.

Not to mention Milton, critiques of theology, explorations of morality... and giant armored polar bears.

There's something of a proto-trailer to watch here.

Movie stills are here.

Posted by Sarah at 3:03 PM | Permalink

So, uh, Blades of Glory - actually worth your time. I don't usually go for stupid comedy, but this one does it pretty hilariously. "Throw me some chicken!"

Posted by Sarah at 9:58 PM | Permalink

This is great news for Florida:

Gov. Charlie Crist said Monday that he hoped to persuade members of the Florida cabinet this week to end the practice of stripping convicted felons of their right to vote.

Florida is the most populous of three states whose constitutions require withdrawal of voting rights from all convicted felons, and it has the nation’s largest number of disenfranchised former offenders.

There are nearly a million Florida residents who would be affected by this change.

“I believe in my heart that everybody deserves a second chance,” Mr. Crist said. “And I’m hopeful that maybe later this week we’ll have an opportunity to restore civil rights for Floridians and give them that right to vote.”

Now he just has to convince one more cabinet member to side with him - Alex Sink, the Democratic chief financial officer, supports lifting the ban. The two Republicans on the cabinet don't.

(via NYT)

Posted by Sarah at 12:24 PM | Permalink

HOW BOUT THEM GATORS?

Posted by Sarah at 10:40 PM | Permalink

Highlights from meeting up for a weekend at the halfway point between Vale and Salt Lake City:

- Evel Knievel's ramp dirt pile, from where he tried to jump the Snake River Gorge.

- Shoshone Falls, even if it was almost dry and the rocks were kinda bulbous and strange.

- Talking to those kid punks downtown: "I don't really love Jesus."

- That Volkswagon bus-truck AKA dream car.

- The Grand Vu Drive-In.

- Ghost Rider, which was terrible, but in a really fun way.

- The Oasis, the only damn bar in town.

- That lonely cowboy in the corner with black hat, black pants, and white puka shell necklace.

- People on the dance floor: a middle-aged couple and a young man with Down's syndrome.

- Arguing at the bar about whether pomos are more or less inclined to like Prince. (toss-up)

- The "NUKMALL" vanity plate on a truck in the motel parking lot.

- Frankie's Oatmeal and sitting by the Snake River Gorge.

- Not needing a radio when you got a guitar in the car.

- Jumping off of hay bales.

- Talking to the farmer who came out to see what we were doing jumping off of hay bales.

- Jumping, in general.

- Good times and good friends, in general.

(more pictures here)

Posted by Sarah at 12:50 PM | Permalink