I would be sane

Relative to this man. See.

It Sleeps 'til Noon

A bloody stain opens the sky with the wilderness pressed against it, tearing the day into being, It's the hour of the Pearl, the first of the day. The predative feast is ending, the first bird arrives at the feeder. Its a new day; yes, we made it through another night. Lights from the neighbor's truck breech the dawn, ok "everybody up." Grumble. It's chilly this morning and the coffee is good. I went out for coffee this morning, in the before dawn time. Down at the local cafe -- the cafe of the beautiful people -- the sports cars were out. Early morning Thunderbirds and Corvettes lining up to feast on the prey around or of the coffee -- then add me in my beat up truck. Hand me the paper sir. "Thank you." I guess not all of the predators are resting now.

A song about Tuesday morning creaks out of the radio -- "I admit there are times when I miss you, especially right now when I need someone to hold me, ... but there are some things that can never be forgiven." The rabbit and the doves feasting in the predawn light -- just a few feet from me -- I believe the rabbit is in the same pecking order as the doves. They seem to get along pretty well.

I daydream about sleeping till noon. It's hard to sleep till noon in the desert -- the workday is over by then. What I long for I can't describe -- it's not really sleeping till noon -- but rather the lazy morning shared. Alas. there was a girl at the Cafe yesterday -- I didn't actually meet her -- but there was something, a familiarity was there. That thing that promises to deliver emergency late night sex later. Or that lazy morning shared. I think I will make some coffee, and see just what shows up at the feeder.

Free From Impunity

Impunity ...
im·pu·ni·ty ( P ) Pronunciation Key (m-pyn-t)n. pl. im·pu·ni·ties
Exemption from punishment, penalty, or harm.
[Latin impnits, from impne, without punishment : in-, not; see in-1 + poena, penalty (from Greek poin. See kwei-1 in Indo-European Roots).]
from the American Heritage Dictionary -- thanks to http://www.dictionary.com

I have none actually. I want to talk about the people around me today. This morning. I can't actually. I can't mention the woman with tattoos who appears to no longer work here (we could call her "tattoo girl" if we were so inclined). Nor even mention the woman here that I would love to flirt with. I can't mention these people. Other people I work with and know will see this, and there will be consequences. They will know I am talking about them on my blog and I will be punished repeatedly.

The person sitting across from me is Ron Burgundy, Anchorman (you know -- he was also in that movie). I can talk about him, because he's not a real person, he's a Dilbertism. He's a wholly ficticious character (in this context) created by one of my co-workers through the simple act of adding a nameplate to an empty cube. His cube has gotten cleaned up -- his trash gets emptied (more frequently than mine, it seems) -- and an assortment of appropriate desktop items has shown up, including an "easy" button, calculator, glasses, etc. People are starting to ask for him. Apperently he already has some responsibilities.

Yesterday he actually showed up, laptop in hand, and sat down and did some work. We were all pretty surprised.

Moonrise over Siphon Draw

Copyright 2005 Shawn Kielty. All rights reserved.

Superstition Ridgeline

Saturday November 12, 2005, I am standing near the top of Superstition Mountain. Photo © Dale Perry 2005. All rights reserved.

My Life's a Book

I took the book quiz over at Blue Pyramid. To wit:

You're Lolita!

by Vladimir Nabokov

Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with
sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every
way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes
this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and
probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real.
Please stay away from children.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Co-opted from here

Rose's Blog

No Credentials

In the Translation

I found this article about my friend Josee Kamoun. There's more I could say ...

Basquiat Dismantled, or why I so like

Robert hughes at his best.

It's Wednesday Morning, August 10

In San Francisco -- They never call it "Frisco" -- you must know; it's the local code. Technically it's Saturday morning and I am reading the San Francisco Chronicle, drinking heavy swill from a sandblasted grand canyon discovery coffee cup. This is something I have done most Saturdays for most of my life. Except for the last year and a half. Today though, I am longing for the familiar faces that have fed me for most of my adult life.

The internet changes the way get the world, and I find that I am more in control. I have always enjoyed Adair Lara, so I set out to find what she has written lately. On an earlier day I would have went out and bought a copy of the chronicle and sat in my favorite local cafe, and leafed through it. Since she is not in it on Saturday, I would have been stuck with Jon Carroll, which would have been ok, but not what I wanted.

In looking up Adair Lara I found out that she is 51 and find myself daydreaming about dating her, since I now know what she looks like, and that she is basically my age, and probably helps to explain why her candid prose has resonated with me. Never mind that though, I am sure she is busy. In my search the most recent article I found was August 10, and it's a story about birdnesters (I never knew), and about a guy who got a restraining order for sneaking into his house to make his kids pancakes on a Saturday morning (I should try that). Birdnesters are folks that both move out and leave the kids in the house when they split. Nice idea.

I miss the pink section too. This leads me to take on Kenneth Baker's latest scribbling, which reminds that art is mostly a reference to other art these days. What could we possibly be as artists if not for Jasper Johns and Franz Kline giving us something to talk about. I'd like to hear Robert Hughes take on that, the thought of which leaves me thinking something like this (to quote Orwell): "You have to be an intellectual to believe such nonsense."

Living here in the desert has it's moments -- and Saturday morning is indeed one of them. The rabbits are nourising themselves on the flowers outside and the quail are eating rocks in their morning spot. Maybe I should make some art that isn't about Georgia O'Keefe. I think I will warm up my coffee first.

Move Day

Copyright 2005 Shawn Kielty. All rights reservved.

Tortured Conceptual Postmodernist?

You are a Tortured Conceptual Artist. Your fellow
postmodernists call you an anachronism, but
you've never cared much about the opinions of
others. After all, most of them are far too
simple-minded to appreciate the nuances of your
work. They talk, while you are part of a lived
tradition.


What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla

Stolen from Not Exactly Rocket Science. I did, however, take the quiz to come to this result.

Your Junk

Follow these instructions to send your junk off to snail mail spammers. Freshly stolen from CalTechGirls post on GutRumbles

I QUIT

I quit. July 17 2005. Mesa, AZ. I quit smoking. I have quit before. But this -- is different. I am inspired. And motivated. I quit to live. I quit because my daughter was coming to have a vacation with me. I quit because she hates it -- and she doesn't want to breathe it. I quit because she is right -- and because I care about her, and I care enough to want to live longer to enjoy her. The unprotected truth is that smoking kills people. It's killing my mother. And lung cancer alone will kill 140,000 smokers in America this year, and 3000,00 more from other smoking related illnesses (http://abcnews.go.com/WNT/QuitToLive/). I don't have any statistics for throat cancer, nouth cancers, or emphysema. I look at the side of the package -- and it says "smoking *may* cause birth defects" and it signed by the surgeon general of the United States.

I thought the surgeon general was probably a fairly bright person, Guess what -- probably not. Ok -- so you can use nicotine to kll bugs -- aphids for example. Make a solution out of water and a few cigarettes -- spray it on your roses - poooffft -- aphids die. Leave this out for your toddlers to drink -- they could die too. Why? Nicotine is a poison.

Let's go back to the Surgeon General. The cigarette package should say -- "This is a poison, do not drink swallow or eat these, or ingest the contents in any way, including smoking. If ingested seek immediate medical attention. Call 911." Anyone in their right mind knows today that smoking kills people, the people who smoke, and some people who don't. So -- what is the Surgeon General thinking?

Support our Troops

Have a look at this.

Shawn's garlic and hot pepper pasta

Jar of Classico pasta sauce
3 cheese tortellini
6 cloves Garlic
2 hot italian sausage
Bell pepper
1 small jalapeno chopped
parmesan cheese
Salt
Pepper

Cook the crumbled sausage to brown while starting the water for the pasta. Start the sauce in a seperate sauce pan. Crush and chop the Garlic and chop the peppers and onion and add to the sausage after the sausage is brown. When the onions turn translucent turn the whole mess into the sauce. Add about 2 T of grated Parmesan to the sauce and pepper to taste. Add the pasta to the water after it boils and keep it at a rolling boil until it is al dente.

Combine the pasta and the sauce ont the plate and top with parmesan cheese. Enjoy with french bread.

Unqualified

East of Mesa AZ -- So I hear -- I live too far from the phone company, now that I have finally managaged to escape from suburbia. the price of this escape may be high. I get well water now instead of the colorado river. I am "Unqualified" for the DSL service. The down side is -- My web site will be down for a bit longer. There is no sign of the pearly cat's sister bamboozle -- I fear the worst.

The Cat Owl.

© 2005, Shawn Kielty. All rights reserved.

PearltheCat is mighty upset right now and a bit bemused at the apparent loss of her sister Bamboo -- and her subsequent grounding (No more late nights out for that girl) -- what is a cat if not free? According to this article the horned owl can and will kill domestic cats. It seems that the site is ambiguous about the benefit and value of the domestic cat to humans, but really clear about the value of the wild birds the domestic cats kill. Despite the appearance of a large amount of credibility -- i.e. "The Raptor Center", the quality of the writing seems to defy that. To wit:

"Economic Importance for Humans
Positive
The great horned owl controls harmful rat and mice populations throughout the United States. They kill domestic cats which in turn would have killed wild birds that humans value.
Negative
The great horned owl is capable of destroying game birds and animals. Poultry is also a favorite of the owls because they are easily captured. The occasional domestic cat can also fall victim to the great horned owl."

Get out the shotgun camera comrades. I am sorry -- I fail to see the economic importance of a great horned owl eating my cat -- or what exactly about that is positive. Can we try harder next time?

He (the cat eating owl) is right in the yard -- every night except tonight. Maybe the rock band next door is interfering with his ability to hunt cats . Maybe the cat he ate the other night is keeping him so full he can share with the vultures and doesn't have to hunt. Perhaps he has died from indigestion.

Pearl the Cat was reading over my shoulder and suggested I post her picture on this man's map. I think that she thought that might make me feel better. I think maybe she is bored because I won't let her go out and play tease the coyotes.

Out of touch for a bit

I will -- for the most part -- be off line till Friday -- due to the move. If I ever find my cats -- I will be happy. Email will be sparsely responded to, but for the most part not read and thrown away. See you later in the week.

Coyotes

© Shawn Kielty 2005. All rights reserved.



... my cats are getting nervous. They don't know that they are in danger -- they are just nervous because the normal stuff in their home is leaving. They don't know that they are about to displace a family of coyotes. They don't realize that thier outdoor world is going to include real predators -- like great horned owls, racoons and coyotes. But they are nervous. I fear for them. I know that when they lived in the junkyard in Hayward, CA that they were in danger. Their psycho mother -- the black attack cat bitch -- protected them.