Melange

Yesterday was crazy. The one landscaping project I've taken on is commercial-- for a restaurant/hotel here. It's great, there's diversity-- they're doing herbs, veggies, flowering plants and shrubs--it's not just dogwood, dogwood, cypress, arbor vitae stuff. It's also a fairly large property so they've got more plans for space as time goes on. I think I planted over 100 plants yesterday between that site and home. I expected to have a gardening dream a la Frost's "After Apple Picking" but I slept deeply and well; untroubled by dreams of trowelling, ferting and watering.

~*~

Across the street from the property is a halfway house...there's nothing too blogworthy yet, but I think there's potential for future crazy; I've been catching snippets of convos as I'm going about watering and weeding--it's not like I actively try to hear, but there's some loudness at that place. Today a work crew was in putting up a huge tent for an event this weekend. A couple of girls from the home decided to put on their skimpies and lay out on a blanket. They had their hip hop and reggae blaring, giggling and watching the work crew--I think all the bad tattoos reminded them of their time in stir. I was between the two groups, transplanting wild geraniums feeling like I was somehow eavesdropping.

~*~

I'll update on the funky tomatoes--I'm really curious to see how they fare, especially regarding blight and such things. If they prove to be hardy and tasty, I'll be more than happy to share seeds with any intrepid horticultural types who want em.

(Un)Intentional Irony (?)

While trying to fall asleep the other night I was flipping channels and came across the new Botox ad. It uses the song "Express Yourself" as the theme and then doubles up using "Express Yourself" as the slogan.

Uuuuummmmk.

Maters

I am obsessive when it comes to growing tomatoes (I know, I know...it's not like I'm not obsessive in other areas.) I tried my hand at it for the first time a few years ago and it's a yearly obsession now.

I'm not planting as many individual plants this year, but I'm trying a few new varieties. A local nuseryman that I've traded cuttings and plants with over the years has been getting in heirloom varieties the past couple of years and he has some interesting plants now.

Ananas Noire Whole


Ananas Noire Sliced

I picked up an Ananas Noire (Fr. for "the black pineapple") a red, green and purple/black striped beefsteak; a White Wonder beefsteak; and a Golden Gem orange sweet cherry. I still need to snag some romas and a regular beefsteak from the nursery but then I'm ready to go.

Intemperate

I'm an intemperate gardener. Some years I'm fastidious with weeding, fertilizing, pruning and deadheading. Other years I feed the plants and just allow them to grow however they will. The last couple of years, I've done the latter. I wasn't timely with separating and propagating plants so when the time came to divvy up the Hosta "Sagae", Pulmonaria "Roy Davidson," and my dwarf white Astilbe it was quite a job. They hadn't been divided in about 4 years and were huge clumps to contend with. So I took three clumps and ended up with 30 smaller ones. They're all planted now. I still have a clump of Pulmonaria "Mrs. Moon" and a peach Astilbe to divide...I shudder to think about tackling them--they're huge.

~*~

Almost everyone here calls today "Decoration Day" instead of "Memorial Day," because that's what a lot of them do--they go to the cemetery and leave flowers. Usually the local fire hall has some sort of lunch or homecoming thing set up for the out-of-towners and locals to get together and gossip or whatever they call it. I usually don't go to the cemetery today, even though it's just across the field from my place. I go later in the week when no one else is around and leave some fresh cuttings of whatever's blooming on my maternal grandparents' graves. I might have to buy cut flowers this year because aside from Spiderwort, not much else is in bloom.

An elderly couple from Ohio drove up to the house yesterday while I was in the yard. Bella, the shelter rescue wonder dog with separation anxiety issues went nuts barking; Fletcher climbed one of the maples. I was covered in filth from digging up and separating plants. They sat parked in the drive conferring for a few moments--I kept my back to them, replanting hosta. The
woman gets out of the car and says "This used to be the X homestead. My maiden name was X. Would it be okay if we walked around and took pictures--I have pictures from back when it was the X place." Actually, no; no it was not okay. This property no longer belonged to the Xs. It hadn't for at least 50 years.

They didn't say anything when I said, "no;" they just gave me a look indicating they thought I was rude and inhospitable and got in their big loud red truck and drove away. Although they were polite enough, I found the whole thing incredibly nervy and presumptuous. The property no longer belonged to a family member--whatever claim they thought they had to it was forfeited when it was sold.

Had I not been there working in the yard, I know they would have walked around and taken pictures to their hearts' contents--in short they would've reminisced and trespassed, commenting on how it all used to be, then gone to the fire hall for a nice lunch before driving back to Ohio, braking for anything even resembling a curve in the road.

When I told Brian about this today he offered to sit on the front porch in a wifebeater with a shotgun and bottle of bourbon, threatening any and all potential trespassers. Is that love or what?

~*~

Nurseries are bad places for me: too, too tempting. Today was especially rough--they got in a new delivery since I was there Saturday. So many cultivars and varieties that I wanted. So little space and cash and time.

ProFormative 2

Chales Nelson Reilly died.

That makes me sad. He was a fixture of my childhood--I loved him on Lidsville--and one of the most visible gay men on telly in the 70s. I loved game shows as a young'un--Match Game, Hollywood Squares, and The Gong Show were particular favorites. I didn't get the jokes, I never had an inkling why I liked CNR, Paul Lynde, Waylon Flowers and Madame or Jaye P. Morgan so much, but I did. I didn't enjoy those shows nearly as much when they weren't on the panels. Would anyone in their right mind prefer George Gobel or Kitty Carlisle?

When I was in grad school I was always threatening to write a series of essays about the gaying of America through game shows. I didn't recognize the panelists as gay (or myself at the time--I was barely in grade school) but I recognized that they were different and it appealed to me in a deep way. I could do without some of the camp trappings, I'll just chalk that up to a generational difference, but fundamentally they informed my sense of humor and my ideas of what's funny.

I think I'm going to check the Game Show Network and see if Match Game is on.

Because It's Sunday

It's startling what you get when you google image search with "cowboy jesus." Sadly the line art image of a bronc rider juxtaposed with the three crosses atop Calvary was unavailable.

~*~

Haven't done one of these in a while.

Is this satire? Parody?

Heliocentrism is an Atheist Doctrine

What’s even worse than the debate raging in American schools about the teaching of the soulless doctrine of evolution, is the non-debate over an issue that rational Americans have foolishly conceded to the secular among us: the issue of Heliocentrism, or the idea that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

Now, it has to be granted that there may be some mathematical evidence going either way; mathematically speaking, Copernicus may be on ground nearly as firm as that of Tycho Brahe. Right-thinking people know the correct doctrine, however:

Heliocentrism is the view that the sun is at the center of the universe. It was proposed by some ancient Greeks,[1] and became the dominant view in the 1700s and 1800s. It was abandoned in the 20th century.

Since the advent of relativity theory in the early 1900s, the laws of physics have been written in covariant equations, meaning that they are equally valid in any frame. Heliocentric and geocentric theories are both used today, depending on which allows more convenient calculations

It seems clear that it may occasionally be convenient to assume that the calculations of Copernicus and Kepler were mathematically sound. However, for both moral and theological reasons, we should always bear in mind that the Earth does not move. If it moved, we would feel it moving. That’s called empiricism, the experience of the senses. Don’t take my word for it, or the evidence of your own senses, Copernicans. There’s also the Word of the Lord:

“He has fixed the earth firm, immovable.” (1 Chronicles 16:30)

“Thou didst fix the earth on its foundation so that it never can be shaken.” (Psalm 104:5)

“The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.” (Ecclesiastes 1:5)

[snip]

I support the Bible, and I don’t want my children learning about Heliocentrism in school. I think this doctrine encourages atheism, Darwinism, and anti-Americanism. I don’t want my tax dollars going to finance this kind of false science. It’s complete rot, and I hope that those of us who come to realize this can ultimately prevail against its propogation amongst OUR children with the money from OUR salaries.

I can’t wait to hear from the moonbats and the Darwinists and the other rubes on this one, though. Go on, witch doctors. Preach to me how the planet hurtles through the ether, Scriptural and physical evidence to the contrary! Your false doctrines will be cast down on the day when America rediscovers its Christian roots. That is a promise.

Nope. It's from GOPer Sam Brownback's supporters. Praise!
There's more at the link if you can take it.

~*~

And here's an intrepid lil 8th Grader out to use a paper towel to prove part of the theory of evolution is wrong. He should be able to disprove all of it before his armpits are fully haired. He needs to team up with Mr. Anti-Heliocentrism and take over NASA.

Brian Benson, an eighth-grade student who won first place in the Life Science/Biology category for his project "Creation Wins!!!," says he disproved part of the theory of evolution. Using a rolled-up paper towel suspended between two glasses of water with Epsom Salts, the paper towel formed stalactites. He states that the theory that they take millions of years to develop is incorrect.

"Scientists say it takes millions of years to form stalactites," Benson said. "However,in only a couple of hours, I have formed stalactites just by using paper towel and Epsom Salts."

Pharyngula takes this whole bs apart here.

~*~

From the Denver Post.

Lightning damages Jesus statue

A bolt broke off an arm and a hand and damaged a foot at the Mother Cabrini Shrine in Golden. The sisters hope the 22-foot piece can be repaired.

Don't look for any religious symbolism here - it was only a freak act of Mother Nature, says Sister Ilaria.

The nuns at Mother Cabrini Shrine in Golden were thanking God on Sunday that no one was hurt when a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and struck their 33-foot statue of Jesus.

The lightning bolt broke off one of Jesus' arms and a hand and damaged one of his feet, sending marble plummeting to the ground during a Saturday afternoon storm.

"There were pilgrims up there on the hill," Sister Ilaria said. "The biggest miracle is no one got hit with the falling debris."

The statue of Jesus, which had one hand pointing to his "sacred heart" and the other outstretched, sits atop a mountain near the shrine in the foothills of Golden. Drivers on Interstate 70 can see the statue in the hills, and at night, light illuminates the white marble.

What's the difference between an act of Nature and an act of God, again? Or is your invocation of "Mother Nature" simple heresey, Sister Ilaria?

~*~

I'm Afraid of Americans, redux.

According to a new Gallup Poll, nearly 1 in 3 Americans believe that the Bible is the "literal word of God."

Yea...just gonna leave it at that.

Stuff

Bumper sticker seen: Billy Goat Gruff, Wild and Untamed.
This was on a car with some other granola-esque bumper stickers and I immediately thought it implied something about (ahem) intimate grooming. When I finally saw the person associated with said sticker my suspicions were strengthened and biases confirmed.

~*~

Pugsley Addams' cousin lives here in WV. His name is Dewey. I know because his polo shirt was monogrammed.

~*~

Why do people think Rascals are street legal? And why aren't they ticketed?

~*~

I went crazy at the nursery--scented geraniums, nettle leaved mullein, bleeding hearts (still have yet to find a white one and I must have one), vinca, jacob's ladder. I need to go back and get some million bells to fill in spacey bits of the rock garden.

I will never transplant or deal with prickly pear again. Even with gloves on I was picking teeny tiny needles from my hands for hours last night.

Separating astilbe, two pulmonaria, hosta and ferns today. I realized I missed out on separating my other bleeding hearts this year. That definitely needs doing next year. Between them and the sensitive fern in one shade bed, they're choking out other stuff.

I have a garden toad living in the semi-shade bed near the front porch. Hopefully my work there won't scare him away.

Furious Green

So much time playing in the dirt the last few days I've not felt like posting. But there's stuff upcoming tomorrow.

I've picked up a couple of landscaping projects to make some extra cash and have seen much that amuses me.

Hard to believe that I'm not burned out on digging and planting yet, but I'm strangely energized. I'm finishing up my shade bed tomorrow.

For those who are horticulturally inclined, Gurneys.com is having a crazy Memorial Day sale that ends Monday. If you're interested, leave a post in the comments and I'll give you the discount code.

On the level

I just took the Dante's Inferno Test and am a little surprised. I thought I'd be in level 4 or 8....maybe level 2...but instead I'm in 6. I never considered myself particularly heretical...it always seemed to me one needed to consciously disavow or undermine an orthodoxy to be a heretic...but who knew. Wanna see if we'll be infernal roomates? Go here.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Pro Formative

Aaron's thoughtful response to my 5 favorite songs tag reminded me that I've never blogged this.

I've mentioned my love for Annie Lennox here before, but I've never really gone into why I think she's so fabulous. Short version: Annie Lennox made me queer. Not gay in the "I like to kiss boys" sense, but queer in the "Androgyny is hot and dangerous" sense. Earlier this year I did an essay and poem about her for an anthology of gay men on their divas and I cite this performance from the 1984 Grammys as being formative.

It was--I kindasorta liked the Eurythmics before that night, but after watching their version of "Sweet Dreams" where she does her best drag--I was hooked. Something vague went off in my head and I felt connected. The discomfort and squirming my mom and sister exhibited seeing her pass as a man probably helped. Since then I've realized the value in making your audience just the teensiest bit uncomfortable and try to exploit it whenever I can.

What's fascinating to me, now, 23 years later, is that some people still don't realize it's her. Check some of the comments in the versions posted on Youtube. Really--astonishing.

Anyway, enough of this, on to the show.

Obsessive Compulsive? Moi?

I'm spiralling into the dark space with this...as soon as I had my list of 5 obsessive listens, I started doing 5 other 5s.

5 Favorite Dance Tracks

1. "Get Ur Freak On", Missy Elliot
2. "Ray of Light", Madonna
3. "Blue Monday", Orgy
4. "Milkshake", Kelis
5. "What You Waiting For", Gwen Stefani

5 Albums You've Probably Never Heard (but Should Hear)

1. The Kills, No Wow
2. Dogs Die in Hot Cars, Please Describe Yourself
3. The Futureheads, The Futureheads
4. The Arcade Fire, Funeral
5. Angela McCluskey, The Things We Do

5 Albums I Keep Repurchasing

1. Damien Rice, O
2. Radiohead, OK Computer
3. REM, New Adventures in Hi-Fi
4. David Bowie, Outside
5. Elton John, Goodbye Yellowbrick Road

5 Songs that Make Me Write

1. "Myxomatosis", Radiohead
2. "Eskimo", Damien Rice
3. "Big in Japan", Tom Waits
4. "Waiting for the Man," Velvet Underground
5. "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes," Modest Mouse

5 Favorite James Bond Themes

1. "Diamonds Are Forever", Shirley Bassey
2. "The Man with the Golden Gun", Lulu
3. "Live and Let Die", Paul McCartney and Wings
4. "A View to a Kill", Duran Duran
5. "Die Another Day", Madonna

Five

Keith tagged me to do my five favorite songs. I'm doing my five obsessive listens for the first part of '07, in no particular order.


1. Wild is the Wind--David Bowie, Station to Station
2. Bouncing off Clouds--Tori Amos, American Doll Posse
3. Leaving it up to You-- John Cale, Fragments of a Rainy Season
4. Walk Away--Tom Waits, Real Gone
5. Shores of California--Dresden Dolls, Yes, Virginia

I'm tagging Aaron and Montgomery.

Poem for the Day

From Night with Drive-by Shooting Stars


Strip
Jim Daniels

She danced in front of the window,

snowflakes glowing behind her

under the streetlight. The blue silk blouse

slipped off her arms and floated out of sight.

Black slacks into a shadow, then

the quick shiver, the beautiful awkward gesture

into nakedness. Her skin startled me--

luminous or pale, depending. We didn't know



each other well, but it was my turn,

so I raised my arms above my head

and tried to shake. We both wanted to know

something about somebody. My clothes

piled beneath me in a clump.



The striptease didn't do much

for either of us, but by then

we were chilled and fell against

each other's skin.



Snow under streetlights landed

layer upon layer.

           We fell forward,

then fell apart against the sheets,

cold again, and wet. She whispered

in my ear, and I pulled the blankets

up over us. I knew her name,

so I whispered that.

Bienvenue à la Maison des Morts

Like a Peckinpah film or one of Shakespeare's tragedies, the body count keeps rising here. Avalanche paraded around the house with a mouse he caught last night until I managed to get him scooted outside. Today he tried to tangle with a huge snake sunning itself near the meadow (it was a little over three feet long)--I ended up whacking it with the machete because neither one of them was backing down. I shudder to think what else he's going to find in the next few months. I have to give him credit--he's not afraid to tangle with something significantly bigger than he is.

~*~

Last week's rains put a damper on some of the festivities but the plants are loving it. I'm going to be spending a lot of time the next few weeks dividing hostas, ferns and lungwort to transplant.

I'm not sure when this landscaping project is ever going to be done. So much to clear out and kill that I think I'm never going to be on top of it all, much less ahead.

~*~

An entree to the long poem I've been working on has presented itself--not sure if it'll carry through all the revisions, but it's given me a way to proceed.

Dream Snippet

I totally forgot to blog this this morning.

Wednesday night I dreamt about Robert Bly. I was in an archway between two rooms and he was approaching me, wearing an embroidered vest and cravat. We walked up to one another and shook hands and I said "You're shorter than I'd imagined." He was probably 5'4" in the dream, coming up just to my collarbone.

I've never (in my memory) dreamed about another poet (that I don't know personally) and am (more than a little) surprised that he's my first. Likewise--I have no idea why he'd surface now.

What Would Eva Do?

Sunday, when we were driving back to Buckhannon, I avoided a squirrel in the road. It was hunkering and darting beside another squirrel who had not been so lucky as to avoid a car. Actually it was pretty flat--it had not avoided a lot of cars. I had to avoid the skittish, befuddled, living one. I'm not one of those people who stops and helps box turtles across the road or who'll run into the ditch to avoid a bunny; but if weather conditions allow, I'll try to veer away or brake enough to avoid killing something.

I sometimes think we're like the couple in Green Acres--he's Eva Gabor, I'm Eddie Albert. I'm pretty adaptable. I like the options of cities: the venues, the anonymity, the restaurants, the shopping. At the same time I really love the space and quiet I have here. Sometimes it's grating, but overall it's a fair trade. We drove past people I knew and without thinking I'd point them out, oddly happy seeing them out running errands or whatever on a Sunday. Unlike Eddie A, I'd never ask Brian to relocate to an area like this--it'd drive him mad, I fear. But one of the things I'm gladdest for about this visit was that he got to be with me and some of my favorite people and see that part of my life.

~*~

Last night before bed I heard a thumping and clanking on the front porch. I knew it wasn't my critters, because they were all inside, bedded down and sleeping. I went to the door and turned on the light and there, rattling about the kibble and water bowls (during the late spring and summer I leave a few bowls out for the cats and dogs, because they're outside as much they're in) was a sizeable possum. It lurched off the porch and ran its odd jerky run off through the ferns toward the meadows. Hideous little beasts. I'll start bringing the kibble in at night because I don't want repeat visits.

Every time I see a possum I think of Gerald Stern's "Behaving Like a Jew" from Lucky Life.

Behaving Like A Jew

When I got there the dead opossum looked like
an enormous baby sleeping on the road.
It took me only a few seconds – just
seeing him there – with the hole in his back
and the wind blowing through his hair
to get back again into my animal sorrow.
I am sick of the country, the bloodstained
bumpers, the stiff hairs sticking out of the grilles,
the slimy highways, the heavy birds
refusing to move;
I am sick of the spirit of Lindbergh over everything,
that joy in death, that philosophical
understanding of carnage, that
concentration on the species.
--- I am going to be unappeased at the opossum’s death.
I am going to behave like a Jew
and touch his face, and stare into his eyes,
and pull him off the road.
I am not going to stand in a wet ditch

with the Toyotas and the Chevies passing over me
at sixty miles an hour
and praise the beauty and the balance
and lose myself in the immortal lifestream
when my hands are still a little shaky
from his stiffness and his bulk
and my eyes are still weak and misty
from his round belly and his curved fingers
and his black whiskers and his little dancing feet.

Back

Back to normal life now--the strawberry festivities are over; back to sleeping alone and not having breakfast with Brian; back to planting and feeding and mulching and weeding; back to working on the poems and seeing how to make them live.

~*~

It was a very full four days for Brian's visit. He pointed out that in Baltimore I'm usually really content to stay around the apartment and just do not much of anything. This is true--I do prefer staying in and keeping to myself. But this weekend I wanted to be social. I wanted to be out and see people and eat too much, drink too much, laugh and walk around. And we managed that.

~*~

I picked up the new Bjork album on Thursday--it's sort of a "meh" experience. I want to like it...I just don't, really. Not sure if this is something that'll grow on me or if I'll not even try future listens. I knew I should've bought the latest Modest Mouse.

What I'm Listening To

There's a bit of doggerel in Stephen King's Misery that has stuck in my head since I read the book eons ago: Annie the mom, Annie the goddess, when Annie's around you better stay honest; that's always somewhere in the back of my mind when Annie Lennox is involved.

Yeesh...

Palate Cleansers

Now that all that other stuff is outta my system here's some pop culture fluff for y'all.

In the grand (?) tradition of miniKiss, the Misfats and AC/DShe there's now Mini-Britney!

Terra Jole is a 26-year-old 4'2" little person who tours the country doing a 45-60 minute show as Britney. (I am refraining from taking any of Mrs. Federline's song titles and using size-ist puns for a punch line, but trust me, I have a few.) The Mini Britney link above is to DListed.com which has video of Terra in action.
(hat-tip to Brian)

~*~

Earlier I posted a L'il Kim video. As much as I love Kim, I'm crazy about Missy Elliot. I love "I'm Really Hot" from This Is Not a Test. Enjoy.

Kill Bill + subtitles + full-face makeup + krumping= Genius

My favorite lyric from the song?

Look,let me move to the left
Go head, let me feel myself
Touch my chest my sweat
Show that d.j. how I shake my breasts
Jiggle,jiggle,jangle
Watch how my gluteus dangle
I do a 1-2 step,STOP
No, I ain't done yet.