June 10, 2004

• Wandering all over the Map
  
  

  ZAP!
       |     /
  \        | |  /     //
  \   \     //  ///
  \ ####### ///
  \##           ##//
  –   ##              ##   –
  –  ##   squish!!  ## –
  //##           ##\
  //   ###       ###   \
  ///  ####### \
  ///   //     \  \
  //      /  | |       \
  /     |    
  That’s a metaphysical snowball for you from the great formerly frozen
  North, probably welcome in some climes right about now.  Pass it
  on.

  
  You’re a Dialogue/Character Writer!

  What kind of writer are you?
  brought to you by Quizilla

  I got this comment on my recent astroblog from astrotica:

  “…it’s always nice to see astrology-in-action…and you’re really putting your blueprint into good use.”

  Thank you.  It’s astute of you to notice and generous of you to comment.

  I really liked James‘s
  comment to an earlier entry, the one with the Buddha quote about
  beliefs.  James said something like, “Believe nothing; investigate
  everything.” 

  Astrology, I was taught as a child, is superstitious nonsense. 
  I’m glad I had the independence and curiosity to investigate it for
  myself.  Many people in this culture, ones who call superstition
  and denial by the misnomer of “skepticism,” won’t check things out for
  themselves, but lazily or fearfully accept what they’re told. 
  Even many of the people who believe that God micromanages our lives and
  controls our every step on our Path, can’t understand or acknowledge
  that He might have left us a map.

  This morning, I was following some of my own links, here and at KaiOaty,
  checking to see if they still worked, and just reading some old
  stuff.  At KaiOaty, I followed the error loop all the way around
  to the setup and punchline and still got a laugh out of my own
  practical joke.  It’s that absurd anime that does it.

  Reading my old blog here about my
  “curse-blessing” astrological chart, I found a comment from one of
  those “skeptics”.  That was before I took my walk, and I don’t
  recall who said it, but I think he was trying to use Shakespeare to back up a
  contention about the invalidity of astrology.  He took a quote
  from Julius Caesar out of context, distorted it, and impelled me (just
  as the stars impel and do not compel) to go into the Immortal Bard’s
  works and show how Will thought and felt (and how much he apparently knew) about astrology.

  I found this, HERE:

    Happier the man, whom favourable stars
            Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!
                  The Taming of the Shrew

            Which welcome we’ll accept; feast here awhile,
            Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.
                  Pericles, Prince of Tyre

            The stars above us, govern our conditions.
                  King Lear

            Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars!
                  Romeo and Juliet

            I must be patient till the heavens look
            With an aspect more favourable.
                  The Winter’s Tale

            Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven’s beauties,
            But little stars may hide them when they list.
            And little stars shot from their fixed places,
            Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
            And, constant stars, in them I read such art
            Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
            Let those who are in favour with their stars
            When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st the even.
            Co-supremes and stars of love,
            Like stars ashamed of day, themselves withdrew;
                  Julius Caesar

            There is a tide
  in the affairs of men which, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune.

            The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
            But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
                  Julius Caesar

            When beggars die
  there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death
  of princes.
                  Julius Caesar

            Who, being as I
  am, littered under Mercury was likewise a snapper-up of ill-considered
  trifles.
                  A Winter’s Tale

            I find my Zenith doth depend upon
            A most auspicious star: whose influence,
            If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
            Will ever after droop.
                  The Tempest

            But I am constant as the Nothern Star,
            Of whose true and resting quality
            There is no fellow in the firmament.
                  Julius Ceasar

            Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says the almanac to that?
                  Henry IV

            Helena: Monsieur Parolles, You were born under a charitable star.
            Parolles: Under Mars I.
            Helena: I especially think under Mars.
            Parolles: Why under Mars?
            Helena: The wars
  have so kept you under, that you needs be born under Mars.
            Parolles: When he was predominant?
            Helena: When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
                  All’s Well That Ends Well

  
  Will I never learn?

  I went out there into the bugs again this morning.  When I opened
  the door to put Koji on his chain, I could hear a whooping crane in the
  muskeg.  I threw on a jacket over my thin pajamas (already had
  boots on from an earlier trip to the outhouse–which should have clued
  me to the buggy state of the environment out there), grabbed the camera
  and headed for the cul de sac.

  The crane had moved on.  I could hear it still whooping, off in
  the distance out there, heading towards the spring.  They’re
  probably nesting in the big muskeg across the highway from the
  waterhole again.  It’s getting so green out there now, but still
  the pale green of spring, not yet full, deep, obscene green.

  I
  kept swatting skeeters that landed on me, waving them away from my
  eyes,  blowing them out from under my glasses, snorting them out
  my nose, spitting them out….  I decided since I was there, to
  capture a few choice images anyway.

  Far off, out in the wet part of the muskeg away from the road, I could
  see some yellow flowers blooming, but wasn’t close enough to identify
  them.

  I did, however, see the first ‘shrooms of the season, the Boletus
  edulis that everyone and everything around here seems to find
  delicious. 

  My old
  friend and longtime neighbor, caricaturist and chainsaw sculptor,
  “starvin’” Marvin Elving, has even tried finding a commercial market
  for them, but I think he’s now gone back to just selling the berries he
  picks to Alaska Wild Berry Products for their jams and candies. 
  They don’t want ‘shrooms.

  This little clump of boletes was one of several I saw, and the only one
  that hadn’t been nibbled to pieces by something.  I did not pick
  them.  My guys don’t like them, and fungus is not on my diet.

  As I turned at the end of the cul de sac and headed home, I could hear
  Koji barking on his chain in the yard, and could see what had him and
  the other neigborhood dogs excited.  Two tourist ladies were
  walking a big blonde retriever around the block.

  How,
  you might ask, did I know they were tourists?  I didn’t
  know.   It’s an educated guess.  My first clue was that
  I didn’t know them.  I know my neighbors by sight, if not by
  name.  They were wearing bermuda shorts, fairly common vacation
  attire among tourists and rare as hen’s teeth with those of us who live
  here and value the protection from bugs and brambles afforded by long
  pants.  With their shorts, they were wearing jackets. (“Gee,
  Myrtle, it’s June already, how can it be so cold?”  “Well, Jane,
  this is Alaska, y’know.”)  Also, they were coming from the
  direction of the RV park up the street.  Elementary, my dear
  Watson.

  Still craning my neck and peering at the yellow flowers as I walked
  back, I spotted a single Siberian iris in bloom.  I said to
  myself, “I have to get a
  picture of that.”  It wasn’t as far off the road as the yellow
  flowers, but it was in a wet area.  I figured I could find a path
  to it without getting my feet wet if I stayed on the hummocks of
  shrubbery.

  Carefully
  stepping from hummock to hummock, I got myself close enough to shoot
  the iris.  That blackness at lower right above is a water-filled
  hole the depth of which could be anywhere from a few inches to a few
  feet.  By this time, my physical exertions and the stress of the
  mosquito swarm had me short of breath.  I hadn’t pocketed my
  asthma inhaler when I left the house, silly me.  I know better…
  should know better.

  I turned around and there behind me was the BIG wet hole at left, that
  darkness among the greenery.  I stood balanced on a little hummock
  of shrub, listening to little branches crackle and feeling myself sink
  slowly as they did.  I could not recall, nor could I see, whether
  I’d gotten to where I was on the right side or to the left of that wet
  hole.  I hadn’t even seen the hole as I approached the iris. 
  I picked a likely-looking path and crunched a few more shrubs and got
  back to the road with dry feet.

  I did
  not enjoy the bugs or the respiratory distress.  I got a great
  deal of pleasure from seeing the greenery and flowers and hearing the
  birds, and felt triumphant over the dry feet accomplishment.  When
  I noticed the gray splotches that indicate the presence of leaf miners
  on all the aspens, a greater and more wide-spread infestation than I’ve
  ever seen before, I felt both minor sadness for the trees and major
  relief that I’m not faced with trying to keep a garden alive this
  year.  That’s my curse-blessing life.  The beauty never
  blinds me to the blight and the crap doesn’t spoil my pleasure in the
  rest of it.  Thorns on the roses and silver linings in the clouds,
  that’s life.  As far as I can tell, I got only two mosquito bites
  (not bad), but they’re in a couple of sensitive spots:  the
  popliteal space (hehe, look it up, expand your vocabulary) and nape of
  my neck under my hair.

  [Wee side note here:  as I sat here writing, the garbage truck came and
  stopped.  I heard some unintelligible shouting between the (male)
  driver and the (female) picker-upper, some thumps and clanks, then the
  grinding of the compactor punctuated by a few emphatic metallic thuds. 
  Our old crippled ergonomic chair, which Doug had left beside the one
  full can and one empty can, hoping they'd take it, is apparently gone
  now.  If I seem to make a big thing out of this garbage-collecting
  service, that's because it is a big thing.  When we moved to this end
  of the valley no such service existed here.  Such civilized amenities
  are so luxurious to me!]

  People, please go give rosabelle
  a warm Xangan welcome.  She has been lurking around here a while,
  commenting occasionally, and has just decided to come out of
  hiding.  From the few hints she has dropped, I think it’s going to
  be an interesting story.
  
      

  • 6:39 pm
  • 8 Comments