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Month: December 2009

Breaking Radio Silence

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in not worth publishing. No Comments on Breaking Radio Silence

I don’t have anything to say. I am only awaiting orders for my next assignment, which I know will be a dangerous one.

I have sympathy everything: my brain is not working and I haven’t had an original thought in months — I am not productive I am strictly gestative; I had lower back pain that transformed mid-run last week into the entire right side of my body being seized by one sixdaylong musle spasm; My left eye muscles keep twitchin’. This is known as a Toni Braxton hitch.

The only thing that has been saving me lately is the hippity hop. More specifically, three queens a joker and an ace: Eve, M.I.A., Gwen Stefani, Kool Keith, and Kanye West respectively (some may say Kanye’s more of an ace-hole).

I will let them speak for themselves (one last note: the eve deserves a full-screen viewing. It is quite possibly the prettiest video I have done ever seent.).

intractable fungus

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in cabinet of curiosities, plants. No Comments on intractable fungus

Two summers ago I cleared the understory in the back yard. I stacked all the long skinny maple trunks at the edge of the yard and forgot about them (after the next door neighbor bristled at my interpretation of the property line).

This summer, after months of frustrated desire for a back yard aesthetic paradigm shifter, I took a couple of the trunks from the pile and painted them (gradients of pink and blue respectively).

It was a pretty cool effect:
painted-trees

Last night I went out to wrap some lights around the blue one, and rather miraculously I think, some fungus spores had managed to either a). lodge themselves before it was painted and then poke out through the paint or b). lodge themselves into the tree through the paint and sprout out through the same holes whence they had inpoked. Either way: pretty!

blue-tree-fungus

eremurus like octopus

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in desire, gardening, plants. No Comments on eremurus like octopus

I am beginning to think that the octopus is my familiar, though I am not sure we’re supposed to enjoy our familiars as cuisine as much as I love mine.

Regardless, I like its style.  I like the cut of its jib. I like its inky defense mechanism and its stink-eyed seafloor stare. I like its sucky tentacular gelatinous reach and its super-slick swimability.

So naturally I like things that resemble the ‘pus. Exempli gratia Eremurus rhizomes. Check them:

eremurus-ruiter-cleopatra

I planted half a dozen of these bad boys when the ground thawed for a minute last week. Come spring: kapow!

the sun looking at me all cockeyed

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in navel gazing, not worth publishing, oh life. No Comments on the sun looking at me all cockeyed

several times already this year I have been gently arrested by the realization that all this cold, this snow, this bitter wind, and lack of leaves and flowers, all of this is thanks to a little teeny tilt of the earth on its axis.

But it’s not the distance from the sun that has us all bundled in fur and wool in the winter and stripped down to our skivvies in the summer like I for a long time thought. That’s only a 2 per cent distance variation from summer to winter after all, which makes for only a 4 per cent change in temperature. The real fweezing/buwning comes not from how far the sun has to travel but how it hits us.

Ya know when you’re out in the garden in July and you suddenly understand that the sun isn’t shining on you but at you and so you slather more SPF 105 over your face and raise your zinc-stained fist and swear the sun your eternal enemy?

Yeah, that’s b/c in the summer the sun is shining down and raining ultraviolet blows about your head and shoulders like Mike Tyson circa ’85. In the winter when we’re tilted away like Ali circa ’63 there are fewer hours of light and that light is hitting us all aslant so less of its punishment is absorbed. Glancing blows rather than a square wallop to the chops.

Being the übercracker that I am, I vastly prefer winter light to summer. That plus my metabolism is evolved from eons of long-cold-winter starvers. With enough fur and wool then I am ready for the winters I was born for. Verily I say unto skadi: bring it.

Cormac McCarthy’s Typewriter

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in cabinet of curiosities, desire, money, oh life, writing. No Comments on Cormac McCarthy’s Typewriter

Continuing with the spasm of materialism inhabiting this e-ournal* for the last couple of weeks (it’s the holidays, bub), consider Cormac McCarthy’s Olivetti for auction this friday at Christie’s.

cormac-mccarthys-typewriter

I begged and begged Courtney to buy it for me but no dice. I don’t know what I’d do with it anyway except look at it sitting in the corner.

And write letters to myself from him:

Steve,

What a slamming writer you have turned out to be.

– Cormac

Sigh………..

* Thank you A.H.M for lending this appellation.