Tuesday, July 7, 2020

AQP4 - Multicultural Collaboration



Shirin Katoozi

Division of Anatomy, Department of Molecular Medicine, Institute of Basic Medical Sciences, University of Oslo; 0315 Oslo, Norway

Nadia Skauli

Division of Anatomy, Department of Molecular Medicine, Institute of Basic Medical Sciences, University of Oslo; 0315 Oslo, Norway

Soulmaz Zahl

Division of Anatomy, Department of Molecular Medicine, Institute of Basic Medical Sciences, University of Oslo; 0315 Oslo, Norway;

Tushar Deshpande

Pascal Ezan

Physiology and Physiopathology of the Gliovascular Unit Research Group. Center for Interdisciplinary Research in Biology (CIRB), College de France, Unité Mixte de Recherche 7241 CNRS, Unité1050 INSERM, PSL Research University, 75005 Paris, France

Claudia Palazzo

Department of Basic Medical Sciences, Neurosciences and Sense Organs, School of Medicine, University of Bari Aldo Moro, 70124 Bari, Italy

Christian Steinhäuser

Institute of Cellular Neuroscience, Medical Faculty, University of Bonn, Venusberg-Campus 1, 53127 Bonn, Germany

Antonio Frigeri

Department of Basic Medical Sciences, Neurosciences and Sense Organs, School of Medicine, University of Bari Aldo Moro, 70124 Bari, Italy

Martine Cohen-Salmon

Physiology and Physiopathology of the Gliovascular Unit Research Group. Center for Interdisciplinary Research in Biology (CIRB), College de France, Unité Mixte de Recherche 7241 CNRS, Unité1050 INSERM, PSL Research University, 75005 Paris, France

Ole Petter Ottersen

Division of Anatomy, Department of Molecular Medicine, Institute of Basic Medical Sciences, University of Oslo; 0315 Oslo, Norway

Mahmood Amiry-Moghaddam

Division of Anatomy, Department of Molecular Medicine, Institute of Basic Medical Sciences, University of Oslo; 0315 Oslo, Norway

Dirty Cello - Don't Call Me Honey

Rebecca Roudman, Cellist

Believe it or Not: There was a time in the not too distant past when women weren't even considered for stringed instrument positions in symphonies. Succumbing to pressure, in the '80s several instituted "blind" auditions in which the player was hidden behind a curtain. Slowly, but surely, the incursion occurred. As you can see for yourself in the above video, talent ain't limited to those with a dick....um, 'scuse me: penis.

Saturday, July 4, 2020


I can't recall the title but it was about aging. She, the author, encapsulated her thesis as:  adaptation. Her focus was on the physical aspects: grab-bars in the bath, using a cane, a walker.

I started using a stick a couple of years ago. But even still, I've found myself, several times, after gravity suddenly having its way with me, on the ground. Fortunately, so far, nothing but a few scratches and tears in the pants.

The phalanx below encapsulates the current State of Affairs. I keep hearing the woman's comment from the other day when -- seated next to each other -- her husband came forth from the blood-draw lab and tottered down the hall. Watching after his receding figure she commented, "Old age ain't for sissies." "I'm in trouble." I rejoined.

The interesting part is the empathy that's emerged. I've always had a soft spot for underdogs, but since the heart attack it now goes deeper.

Trundling across the parking lot toward the library door, I recognized the woman I'd met several weeks earlier in the portico of a nearby church. I stopped to say hello and asked about the book in her lap. It was Michelle Obama's autobiography, Becoming, which she said was, "Really good." She added that there were several copies available; with her opinion as motivation, I determined to get one.

Entering the sanctum, a worker with squirt-bottle of antiseptic, mask tightly in place and obviously on a mission, let me button-hole her. I explained about Minerva's recommendation and without ado she took me straight to it.

After plucking the HOLD I'd come for: What Light Can Do: essays on art, imagination and the natural world by Robert Hass, I exited and re-engaged with Minerva. She was having dinner and told how several of the libraries have tower-like columns at their fronts. The architectural alliteration had caught her interest and she'd looked up the makers. She then told how four artists had been by earlier to check on the mural that spanned the face of the building. They were making sure that now, after fifteen years or so, it was holding up. Meeting them had been a high point of her day.

A couple of days ago I received a present: The Collected Writings of Robert Motherwell edited by Stephanie Terenzio. These three diverse and very different reads are providing solace in the early morning hours. Although the Smirket Room is cozy and Ms. Cook is nearby, I miss sitting in Phoebe, listening to the birds with coffee and waiting for it to warm up enough to attend to "morning bidness."

A Smirket is a black cat. This is where Dana & Fox, Susan's two Smirkets,
spent much of their time after Susan, Michelle's mom, died in 2015.
Dana & Fox have since also gone on and I now have it to myself.

(The painting on the paneled wall is an acrylic by Michelle called Bigger & Better. A parody of cultural influence, the miniature poodle appears to be enjoying its blow-dry from a woman with big hair, big breasts and big everything else. The fellow in the background looks a tad unsure as he checks to see if he "measures up." Another dog, also a poodle, Michelle's metaphorical icon, looks on with trepidation.)

Minerva's been on the street for several years. She has several paper sacks that contain a variety of foods and a couple of other bags with clothes and other items. She dresses casually, in jeans and a t-shirt, though I noticed her undershirt, as it was the time before, was purple. As she looks over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses, her eyes have that incisive look reminiscent of your third-grade teacher in the first few weeks of school.

We chatted a bit about our previous encounter. Michelle had joined us on the portico where we'd lounged on the concrete discussing the collective unconscious and -- an interest of Minerva's -- the importance of a healthful diet. When we got up to leave I gave her ten dollars. This time, in anticipation of a meeting around fungi, I happened to be carrying a wad of twenties and it was easy enough to part with one. She accepted it gratefully and as I turned to make the trundle to the car, we smiled at each other...sharing the pleasure of giving and receiving; giving away money has been a life-long source of pleasure.

Maybe some day I'll get the chance to tell her she's my model of adaptation; her attitude is amazing!

Friday, July 3, 2020

Morning Light

There are various protuberances -- hooks and handholds -- that'll hang a trash bag.

And it's serendipitous moments such as this that, for me, lend magic to life in a car.

Color & Form

With Steering Wheel

Thursday, July 2, 2020

That Time of Month

Homes on Wheels Alliance (HOWA) has a number of programs, but it was their Emergency Fund for Nomads that helped me make it through a rough spot last Spring.

I like to move every day or two, three at the most, and though over the years, in an effort to save money, I've managed to lessen the distances, it's still an inexorable compulsion. I've forgotten the details of how and why, but in the 3rd week of April my wallet was empty. The HOWA Emergency Fund gave me $100.00, enough to get me through. (If you scroll down on the above link you'll see a Compassion Award and a Gas Fund distribution, both on 3/21/19; one of those was me.)

Bob Wells - Co-Founder

Now, at the beginning of the month, when my ship comes in, I make a small donation. I plan to do it the rest of my life. Their goal is $15k and they're just under $9K. Perhaps you too could give? Here's the link to their DONATE page.

Thanks HOWA!!

Their 2019 Annual Report (pdf).

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

Niner Delta Whiskey

Michelle (Double El) and I meet with Dr. Khoo, the cardiologist today. I hope to get some idea of my condition so something like this

doesn't happen. 

And though Phoebe's never been airborne and I rarely have a passenger, I don't want to endanger anyone.

Tuesday, June 30, 2020


Crossing Guard For People On Acid
(Halloween 1997)

Eggbert on The Trunk Road 
East side of the Rockies, Canada
July, 2010

The Poodle & the Pinzgauer
Canada, 2010

Phoebe at Cochise Stronghold

Friday, June 26, 2020

Delta On Another Planet

We met in '68 at Spring School in Boulder, Colorado, an alternative high school for dropouts. After a stint in New York City doing heroin, she was on methadone. Introducing me to Jimi she said: "He plays Delta Blues, but the Delta is on another planet."

Below is the link to the song she was referencing. (The uploader has stipulated it can only be watched on Youtube, so no embedding.)

She wanted a child, but I was barely 17 and she a venerable 19; too young I thought, for us to begin a family. I later learned she'd gone ahead, but when her parents forced her to give him up for adoption, she shot herself.

A lifelong navel-gazer, I've eagerly anticipated this period, Erickson's Stage Eight, when I could feel fully justified. (Of course, as you've prolly figured out, I've never needed justification.)  But here's the synopsis und rationale....

Erikson viewed life review or reminiscence as vital to the task of stage eight, the stage associated with old age. Life review can help older individuals acquire ego integrity and avoid despair. A life review, according to Erikson, can help create an acceptance of one's one and only life cycle with few or no regrets.

Joan Erickson, Erik's spouse, added a 9th level.

Make Mary as Much as Possible!

Tolerate it; give it a chance

Thursday, June 25, 2020

Iz Tym 2 DANCE !!!


The flowers by your bed are wilting.
The sun is setting in the west.
A fog is covering your eyes,
Your stockings are attracting flies,
Decay is nibbling at the boards on which you rest.
There's someone waiting at your window,
Familiar face without a name.
One night he'll creep in like the mist,
To touch your forehead with a kiss,
And lead you back into the void from whence you came.
We've all begun to die, and don't know what to do.
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.
And we dance while the sky crashes down.
Like that the earth begins to quiver,
And all the oceans turn to black.
A ship of maniacs with knives,
Are playing Blackjack with their lives,
To kill the time until the giant rats attack.
It's raining leprosy and acid.
The saints were taken out and shot.
When someone proffers you a pear,
You sink your teeth in unaware,
That just beneath the skin lies pestilence and rot.
All that now breathes, and all that you love,
All that we weave, will find its way back to the dust.
A band of skeletons is playing,
Don't act like you don't know the tune.
Your part is echoed in the path,
Of every dead leaf blowing past,
Against a counterpoint reflected off the moon.
There is a banquet at the table,
Exotic cheeses wines and cakes.
And every one of us is damned,
Until we start to understand,
That living is to gorge ourselves at our own wakes.
When the stakes are high, best to play the clown.
And we dance while the sky crashes down.
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Jason Webley
Dance While the Sky Crashes Down lyrics © Tunecore Inc

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Saturday, June 20, 2020


I meet with Dr. Khoo on Tuesday sometime. The receptionist said she was scheduling for late August but after I submitted my New-Patient-Packet she apparently decided I needed to be seen right away. We don't have a time specified...just Tuesday.

It seemed like too much effort to load up and drive to the hills for two nights, but all the Friday night blatting (rumor has it a loud muffler gives the boys an erection) and incessant barkings convinced me otherwise.

Fenton Lake here I come! (There's dispersed camping outside the park.)

Friday, June 19, 2020

The Promontory

It was a boogerbear of a road out to the promontory, but that, of course, helps keep the traffic down.

At just over 8,000 feet it was comfortable even at midday while below, in the valley, temperatures came close to 37 degrees Celsius (100 degrees Fahrenheit).

Monday, June 15, 2020

In the Nick of Time

It was beer-thirty but what with this lame-ass heart condition I can only drink a few ounces. It's a pint (16 ounces); what was I gonna do with the other 12?

Like a pair of Super-heroes they rode up!

Conner & Harrison

Saturday, June 13, 2020

Northbound From ABQ

I thought Tuesday might be too early to start haranguing about renewing my prescription for my heart medication. I finally, after MANY HOURS over the course of the week, got it done at 5:00p.m. yesterday, Friday. 

Having wrangled suicidal ideation since age seven, and now having spent nearly the entire week facilitating my longevity, the irony prompts a look at myself with a derisive question & ridiculous answer: "Me...sleight-of-mind? Absolutely!"

More Walmarts per-capita than any other U.S. city
(It says alot about the [lack of] culture)

Rumor has it it's gonna get hot in ABQ today. Hopefully it'll be cooler up by Taos.

Any suggestions for dispersed camping up that way?

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Smirket Room

After Susan, Michelle's Mom died, we took in her two cats, Dana & Fox. Litter-mates, they were both black. Black cats, in the nomenclature developed by Michelle and her brother Steve, are known as Smirkets.

When I'm here, at her house, our house, I sleep in The Smirket Room.

There's a desktop computer and two lamps from Susan's estate and a trundle bed. As a devout trundler, it's apt.

A few years ago, when we put on a new roof, we added several skylights that throw rainbows.

Saturday, June 6, 2020

Leaving Abiquiu....Again

It was hot as an oven, the wind blowing to beat the band; I was alone and the beer had gotten warm. Life had lost all meaning.

That flat-topped hill on the right is Cerro Pedernal.

I arrived Albuquerque around 6:00 p.m. It too was hot, but Ms. Cook was there to greet me.

Friday, June 5, 2020

Recommended Reading: Damned If I Do

A great story of a courageous individual. Dr. Nitschke has spent the majority of his life tackling an issue you'd think would've been one of the goddess-given rights....the right to die.

Dr. Nitschke's autobiography, superbly written with Peter Corris, gives excellent insight into the travails & triumphs.

Nancy Crick's Story

EXIT International's Website

Dr. Milton Diamond - Pacific Center for Sex and Society

I learned of Dr. Diamond's work when I found his paper online about pre-contact sexual practices in Hawai'i. He was director of the Pacific Center for Sex and Society at the University of Hawai'i and was an academic sexologist for 35 years.

A series of videos produced by Dr. Diamond's daughter.

Pacific Center for Sex and Society link.

Dr. Diamond's Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/MiltonDiamond?reload=9

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Abel, Gillian - PhD Dissertation on Decriminalization of Sex-Work in New Zealand - 2010

This 422-page dissertation looks at the field of sex-work after New Zealand fully decriminalized the profession in 2003.

Professor Gillian Abel is head of the Department of Population Health at the University of Otago, Christchurch, New Zealand.

Professor Abel

Friday, May 29, 2020

Covid Sentiments

(you could be loved...or cunnilinged)

Hanging From (not mine) Rearview Mirror

Thursday, May 28, 2020

San Ysidro Eggs

There's a feed store in San Ysidro (New Mexico) at the turnoff from highway 550 to highway 4 where they have real chicken eggs...and a cat. I'm gonna have to go back to get pictures/movie of the cat.

In the meantime, for those in the hood....


BTW - This is the only food item at the feed store. There is a Dollar Store & a Speedway Qwik Market that have more.

Friday, May 22, 2020

Memorializing Shooting

The sign on the highway says: CABEZON.

Sheen Fit for L.A.

There's a smaller one that says White Mesa Bike Trails. It's prime desert, some of which is designated wilderness. But it's Memorial Day weekend and the shootists appear to have a majority.


Four-wheel drive lo enabled me to scale a short, nearly-vertical wall that got me onto a pipeline road. There are bits of chert scattered about as if someone, perhaps hundreds, or thousands, of years ago was busy at something. And there are blooming cacti. Or, rather, there are cactuses that're blooming.

The Rode In

In any case, the shootists are safely (we hope) on the other side of the hill and it'll take an equally stout-hearted vehicle to get up here; not likely. So, we'll settle in and hopefully the water'll last.


Thursday, May 21, 2020

Cultural, Christian or What?

I like to take highway 285 from Espanola to Taos. It's a MUCH longer route but, unlike highway 64, there're lots of places to camp.

The area is mostly inhabited by descendants of the conquistadors. One never sees these things happen, or erected, so it's impossible to know what their cultural history is.

Unfortunately for me, I've never found these expressions to be aesthetically satisfying. My conclusion is that christians just have more trouble driving than Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, agnostics, Lesbians or any other group with a recognizable icon that would serve for a roadside marker. AND, that people who live in rural areas will often drive LONG distances to dispose of their trash. It's at least 30 miles in either direction to a trash can and to private land.

Forest Roads are known to be deadly.

Less than 300 feet away.

She was 15

What might YOU conclude?

Friday, May 15, 2020

Rio Chama

I'd been trundling northward with a sub-cutaneous suspicion of a spectacular view overlooking the Rio Chama that someone who has a Capri Truck Camper (7th photo down) had discovered in an earlier exploration.

Suddenly!!!! There it was!!!!

And then, during the night, Phoebe got a bath (it rained). And she was proud.


She knew, if we wanted to, we could go to L.A. where, as the guy on the Moki Dugway said a couple of years ago, "In L.A. it doesn't matter what kind of car you drive; what matters is how shiney it is."

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Nine Gates

I've been reading Nine Gates, Entering the Mind of Poetry by Jane Hirshfield. She has a strong interest in Japanese poetry and though this prose poem is not by a Japanese, it illustrates an idea, a specific dimension of Japanese poetry, she is writing about.

Here's the link to the Wiki article about Robert Haas.

Monday, May 11, 2020

Ghost Ranch

The Garmin map shows a road leading north through Ghost Ranch, but the map on the Info Board at The City Slicker's Cabin a short distance before The Ranch shows a locked gate. Skeptic that I am, I went to see. There are red cones blocking the road...not always a deterrent, but in this case I decided for demurral.

Along the highway...

Photos just don't capture it.

Friday, May 8, 2020

Cerro Pedernal

Regional Haze - It covers the entire West. The sign outside the museum at the South Rim Grand Canyon blames it on particulates that've floated over from China. BASTARDS!!

Back in 2010 when I was in the Yukon, I was amazed at the clarity. You could see 30 miles as if it were two here in The States. Now that Phoebe's rebuilt, I'm thinking of going back.

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Splitting Spike

There're some odd things in the woods. A trail from a campsite led past this one. As with sculpture, walking around it provided different views.

I've heard rumors of fierce winds, but fortunately, have never been in one.

Perhaps the split one had given insult?