Paul

He was wearing a brown stetson. As he went by I asked where he got it. He'd worn it tending a herd of 450 Spanish horse on the Colorado-New Mexico border, up along the Rio Grande.

They were checking DNA to keep the herd pure, but were up against an uncaring BLM who let the mustangs run free. He'd had an aortic anuerysm and after surgery couldn't wiggle his toes. After a while he made it to the bathroom and was now up to walking three miles. When I mentioned having declined the bypass surgery he rejoined with, "I had no choice." 

When I contacted St Mary's Hospital (DON'T go there!) about a copy of my Transradial Catheterization, their records say I left against their advice. Paul went around three times to my one. But that was my choice.

Albuq Montage

Self-described as a cook in name only, Michelle has, over the years, developed a finesse with the burrito. This includes, if you look closely, raw mushrooms tucked 'neath a layer of onion. No beans, just some avocado & tomato 'prinkled mit cheeez.

One of my Tuley's heel cups disappeared so Michelle gave me a pair. Suggested years ago by a podiatrist, they relieved the plantar fasciitis. He recommended the large. Their color, turquoise, goes nicely, dōnchewtink?

Many, many eons in the past, Michelle traded with an artist at the SW Arts & Crafts Show for several of his hand-blown drinking glasses. I chose the lavendar for my mix of 2/3 Dr Zevia & 1/3 orange juice (Simply, of course).

One year I was part of the selection jury for the SW Arts & Crafts Show. There were around 200 booths available for god-nose how many entrants. Each submitted three slides of their work. It went on for hours, but when this, titled: Safety of Three, flashed on the screen, I knew I had to have it. 

I interpreted it as an omage, talisman or some form of recognition of my commitment to polyamoury which, at the time, was still new. It still speaks to me. 

I may have included this in a recent post but it got knocked about when turning on the lamp and, I thought, deserved another showing. Michelle's humor atop my display case of heirlooms & treasures.

The cat in his lap is from the Alamo Gallery in Socorro. Among others, the gallery shows the work of the Alamo band of Navajo. They were banished for siding with the Whites and have their own Rez 30 miles north of Magdalena.

Below is my copy of Uh-Oh, Reality Draws Near, one of Michelle's serigraphs. Serigraphy is a fine-art form of printing using stencils and a screen coated with light sensitive emulsion. The process is tedious and most serigraphers, such as Andy Warhol, rarely include more than six to eight colors in their prints. Michelle often used over 35. Achieving the machine-esque similarity in each print meant the number in her editions rarely exceeded 25.

Moon Over the Sandias

 (After Ansel Adams)

One side of Altura Park has sidewalk. At the north end, someone zip-tied a cup of chalk to a post. There're many dogs out walking their owners, but...

Stan, Oliver & Mike

 

Billie Jean - Stan, Oliver & Mike Jackson

Turkey Day

 

The reason, the rationale: Pie!

Farmer's Market (brand) organic pumpkin with British double cream blended with heavy cream instead of condensed milk. Almost a quiche, but delicious.

Poodle Point

It's two miles around the University's north golf course and in my hey-day I'd go around twice, alternating wind sprints with walking interspersed with an occasional kata.

A poodle and an orange tabby kept an eye on things in the short deadend where we parked. Sometimes Michelle came with me.

Now, thirty years on, the sedentaryness of town life has sapped my remaining energy, but we have, on alternate days, managed small ambles in parks. The deafness of my right ear facilitates enjoyment by reducing the intensity of the city's roarings.

The poodle & tabby are long since gone, but there's a new sign asserting the golf course's demands for respect, your risk of being hit by flying balls and the reminder that there is no "Poop Fairy" and to pick up after your dog.

Fantasy Bats

It's not alot diff being here in Albuq. I'm spending almost an equal amount of time resting.

But there's something, a growth, a bat, an earwig, blocking my right eardrum and the left seems to be sympathizing so I'm almost deaf. This is a boon since it's the noise of the city that annoys the most. 

The increase in isosorbide boosted my energy but on the third day of revelry and frolic, I "collapsed," and spent all day, yesterday, in bed....and had no difficulty falling asleep around 10 pm.

(I know this is boring as hell if you're here for "entertainment." I prided myself on sticking to tales of barroom brawls and pix of lovely women whilst relegating the mundanities to a separate journal. But it became too much and I've succumbed to keeping it all in one place.)

For most of the past year I've had to rest after each of The Three Bs....morning bidness, breakfast, bath; breakfast usually taking an hour or so to recover from and likewise the bahth. This morning I slept an hour and a half.

At times, resting, without sleep, is sufficient. It's then, when The Warrens of The Web beckon, that strong signal is important. A conjunctive condition, the deteriorating memory, makes everything new; so when I found Hesse's Fairy Tales in my bookcase (a 2008 gift from Michelle), it was as if it was our first time.

The Bantam Book (1995), paperback edition, is illustrated with David Frampton's woodblock prints. Wondering if David was related to Peter, I searched online....which led to Anne Nydam's, October 25 2023, blogpost:

Fantasy Bats.

If you go there, to FB, you'll see the print (below) of Miyamoto Musashi waving a sword at a bat. 

Musashi's odd grip.

Having forgotten David, I recalled Keaton, son of the Scipio, Utah mechanic who installed Phoebe's new fuel pump, and his interest in swords. As we'd talked, Keaton had, at one point, allowed as how he'd studied kendo and, as if he thought me unfamiliar, he made an iconic, downward, double-handed gesture. After Keaton, I tangented into the Musashi tunnel. 

It seems Musashi was a rōnin whose two-sword technique eventually resulted in saint-hood (similar to the British tradition of bestowing knighthoods, the Japanese recognize exceptional individuals with saint-hood). 

Musashi's method, as recounted in this Wiki article, was based on using one hand. Taking it further, he expanded (purportedly from combat) to the use of a sword in each hand.

Besides the almost heretical one-hand sword technique, Musashi espoused a philosophy of education for martial artists that included calligraphy and painting. Here is one of two "masterpieces" cited in the Wiki article.

Perhaps, if you read the Wiki article, you'll note the slight inference of incredulity that a samurai would care about writing and painting. This is, I think a suggestion of bias on the part of the article's author. In my readings -- that've coincided with over 40 years of studying Asian martial arts -- I've seen a number of references to the flower-arranging and poetry-writing skills evinced by high-level warriors. (Just yesterday I read of Cosmic Chambo's interest in Noh theater.)

In a closer-to-home example, when I asked Michelle how her grandparents met, she told of how, as an officer in the U.S. military, her grandfather was expected to know how to dance. It was at the studio where he went to learn that he met his future bride.

So, despite the lack of interest in the general (Uhmerikin) populace for dance, given the recognition of the skill's importance, and considering the competitiveness between the branches of the military and the nationalism of the day, it seems queer (may we now use that word?) there aren't major competitions.

 Can you envision -- perhaps during the half-time entertainments uv Der Foosball -- The Navy Seals vs The Buckingham Palace Guards?

Or, as with break-dancing's debut into The Olympics next year, we would watch enrapt as our military's finest vied with similar contingents from around the globe. Of course, with today's inclusive zeitgeist, each dancer would be accompanied by their partner-of-choice selected from the full spectrum of ethnicities & genders. Something to look forward to!

I never did find out if David & Peter are related.

Daniel Chamberlin

I've forgotten how I found Daniel, but I thought his work interesting enough to sign onto his newsletter Void Contemplation Tactics.

His latest includes tales of his time as an Emergency Medical Assistant in Marfa, Texas. As far as I've seen, it's the first he's written of that stint. The link in the article above from "The decade I spent as a writer" leads to further info about his history and art-making (and is the same as the one at the bottom of this post).

In it, the "decade" one, he talks about many of the ideas I've encountered. What touches me the most is his empathy for the marginalians -- to steal a term/label/title from another writer: https://www.themarginalian.org/

I'm mentioning Daniel here cuz the blog, mine, that is, now has enough depth in time to be a real resource to me...helping me remember. Daniel is one I don't wanna forget.

XanniBelle

Years ago I chanced upon her card tacked to a bulletin board. I'm not sure of the extent of her training, but for a while she worked in a small shop doing bespoke work.

She's done the interior panels for Phoebe, put gussets in my pant-legs and several other projects....all done perfectly. And Hell freezes each time a German acknowledges perfection. She's also the creator and host of The BPD Bunch.

She makes all her own clothes. Today I dropped off my gray overalls to get gusseted.

Before

Solstice Cards

The list has dwindled to less than a dozen. Thus, it's a reasonable undertaking to make them by hand. Only thing is, the intensity of "making" is such that I'm exhausted after an hour. Still, we're off!! Out of the gate!!

See My Jumper Hangin' On the Line

by R.L. Burnside

Beginning

I Am Calling You

sung by Jeff Buckley

Pumpkins

It's Albuq; not much to say.

A followup visit today with Doc Wilder, age 31, to reassess my right ear. He's puzzled by why he can't see my right eardrum; something's in the way...not wax. No chance of being seen in the Ear, Nose & Throat clinic anytime soon, but I'm on the list in case they get a cancellation.

Michele only has two cat-sits a day and we've continued to "knock out" errands. Despite the mundanity of it all, we enjoy each other's company. Even after 33 years we hold hands, exchange ideas and laugh alot.

The increase in isosorbide has provided a modicum of more energy. But I'm noticing twinges of angina again, a symptom that's been kept at bay for the past eight months by a religious adherence to a dosing schedule. 

I dreamt of keeling over like a falling tree. There was the briefest of moments, as I hit the ground, when I heard Michelle calling for help, then I was dead. It was blackness; a void; nothing. Hopefully it'll be that quick.

In the meantime the weather's been perfect.

The terra-cotta figure in the background was a gift to my father from the mayor of Munich; one of six made of his daughter, age 16, she was killed in a car accident that year.

Lack of Light

I need to remember to ask. It could be thriftyness; it could be she only reads her phone; it could be she's able to see in the dark, but the only light is the low-watt, fluorescent in the poodle lamp. I need more in order to glean the finer points of care & feeding of my new electric razor.

You'll note the two meds boxes; they're never far from reach though administration is only 2x/day.

The tall figure atop my display case (we each have our own), is a Halloween cat found some years ago in a psychedelia-store in Cottonwood, Arizona.  At its feet is another of Michelle's tableau's. This one features a blue, glass cat - in the lap of the action-figure - she spotted at The Alamo Gallery in Socorro the other day when we were returning from our Get-away-from-The-Cat juant to Las Cruces. 

The whole poodle-thing is a response to the culture's insidious need to enhance peoples', specifically womens', appearance. In her younger day, her focus was on the mods (modifications) aimed at women such as "the 18-hour girdle," to breast implants, botox and on and on. She saw a similar attitude in the "dos" poodles were given and the breeding of "teacup" animals. And, of course, the action-figure exemplifies the physique expected of males.

Mélange & Meds

Today I increased the iso to five & five....putting me over the recommended max dose of 240mg/day. It was in July that I upped it to five in the morning and, at Dr. Marin's suggestion, keeping it at four in the evening.

This past month I've been groaning when getting up from a chair and realizing my thighs were weakening while, at the same time, the upper-body mass, now at 248 pds, is becoming too much for them.

I've had several "good" days of no groaning and renewed energy. And though I continue to need long rests between tasks, I've been able to transition from sitting to moving fairly easily.

FOR THE RECORD.

They visited Bosque del Apache where there were cranes and geese.

They went from Las Cruces to White Sands where they got to see the moonrise and in Mesilla, celebrated Dia de los Muertos.

Michelle sent this cartoon.

We went to dinner at a new East Indian restaurant where we weren't sure what we were eating...but it was good. (eating w hands)

Shirt by Izod ($5.99 at Goodwill) overalls by Carhartt ($47 @ Tractor Supply),

hair by MFH (free)

At Michelle's, I sorted through a box of stuff where I found a picture of myself with Uechi Kamei, grandson of the founder of Uechi-ryu karate. After 10 years of vigorous study, I went to Boston to test for 1st-degree blackbelt...basically, nothing more, at least with my lack of talent, than recognition as a student.

Later, preparing to read stories, I saw this photo of us on an earlier Halloween. Note Michelle's orange leggings, my orange & black bow, purple hair, helmet w flashing red light (from prev year's costume as Crossing Guard for People On Acid), and esp the purple-satin pants. Sophie, in my arms and Leroi, in Michelle's screaming, "Lemme outta here!"