“Let’s ask the white man, he’ll know.”
“Sir, will my arm grow back?”

I caught Lord of War last night. No other film except Hotel Rwanda emphasizes the point so well that the perceived value of human life is often very low. This film and Syriana both push the concept that Western Europeans and Americans move through Africa and the Middle East, corrupting it completely, and rarely personally facing the consequences of the corruption they spread. Yuri says, “They say, ‘Evil prevails when good men fail to act.’ What they ought to say is, ‘Evil prevails.’” Evil does prevail, because men are animals before they are philosophers. Americans and Western Europeans, here in our relatively safe world, are no less animals than the peoples of the Middle East and of Africa. The difference that separates us from them is need. Though we may not descend into barbarism in one generation, given significant time and significant shortage of our basic needs, we could be killing each other with equal zest. The people there in the hot parts of the world have known need forever. There is no longer any memory of civility. We strip the natural resources of the place, and we redistribute the wealth of the region. We take it out of the ground and place it in our own hands and the hands of those bloodthirsty enough to control barbarian politics. We provide massive amounts of weapons, so that the various factions of alien life can more effectively kill each other, for that is what they are to us. To our greed, the Middle East is like a dangerous planet, and the people are like aliens, mostly docile but occasionally violent, and primed for elimination, and the riches are lying there waiting in the ground. Is it any wonder that some of them have decided that perhaps the real enemy is not the people on the other side of the wall or the river, but perhaps the people on the other side of the world?

Like Cory, I've been suffering from insomnia, but I think I just don't try hard enough to get to sleep at night. (For instance lying down in bed with the lights off might be a good place to start.) The good news is that the American Heart Association gave coffee the all-clear yesterday. This comes only days of course after the FDA declared marijuana has no medical value, overturning scads of anecdotal evidence from people on chemotherapy whose nausea abated after smoking it. (Yeah, that "news" was delivered on 4-20 [cue Beavis laughter].)

Quote of the Day: "Sometimes it's not even the drugs that'll kill you man. What really kills you is looking for drugs." ~ Tommy Chong

I recently had a discussion with a friend in which I discovered she thinks my art is too easy to be considered legitimate. I can see where she's coming from. I'll point out that I believe the result is more important than the process, but if my results can't defend themselves, I'm not going to try to defend them. She's a visual artist herself, so I can understad her frustration with what I do. It really is a lot like cheating. I like it though, and I hope everyone else does too.

Random notes:

Harry Dean Stanton, most recently playing Prophet Roman Grant on Big Love, is from West Irvine. How did I not know that?

Some guy fell off Indian Staircase Sunday, which I found coincidental, since I actually spotted and photographed that particular formation for the first time Saturday.

My brother is coming in today. He hasn’t been up in a while, what with Lent and all. Actually I think his church just catches the last three days or so of Lent. He’s been very busy with the completion of his new sanctuary. Shouldn’t Freemasons volunteer time toward that kind of construction? You never hear of that, though.

Primitive camping weekend is this next one. It’s a build-up to survivalist camping later in the summer. I think we’re leaving just as early as I can be there Friday, and coming back on Sunday evening. If anyone knows where I can grab a used backpack frame on the cheap let me know. Of course I do plan to go primitive, but I’m not going without my camera and tripod. I may have to look into some kind of muslin or something to make a bug net with. I remember that August 2, 1990, was the last night I stayed outdoors with no tent, and the bugs nearly ate me, whole. I still have to buy a fishing license too.

Tomorrow is Anthony’s birthday. Everyone wish him a happy thirty-somethingth. It’s actually the first of nine thirty-somethingth birthdays for him. Feel free to gift, but it’s my understanding that Miracle Grow will not be accepted; apparently some legal indemnity clauses come into play. Of course I jest.

I stopped off at the Kentucky Music Hall of Fame yesterday. Finished the boneless wings from KFC I had been waiting to cool, threw my camera in my pocket, extra batteries, grabbed my wallet, jumped out, locked the door, closed it, shoved my hand in my pocket, didn't feel my keys, other pocket, still no keys, looked through the windshield, felt crushing dismay. I got out of that little pickle for the paltry sum of twenty dollars, which is five dollars more cash than I was carrying. Rather than let Mr. Tow-Truck Driver call in my check card number with his cell phone, I realized I had almost five dollars in rolled up coins in a plastic bag behind the seat. I kept thinking of The Weather Man, "You're a grown man, you should carry more cash." Luckily, the nice people at the Hall of Fame let me tour it for free, and even though the tour wasn't worth much more than what I paid for it, I did get this nice photograph. The subject was in a glass case, so I didn't use flash. This is where full manual mode is an absolute must.

Here are the ten most influential albums (or collections) of my life:

Tears for Fears – Songs from the Big Chair
Bruce Springsteen – Born in the USA
Roger Waters – Amused to Death
The Beatles – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band – Eddie and the Cruisers [soundtrack]
The Beatles – 1967-1970
Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell
The Rocky Horror Picture Show [soundtrack]
Shaver – Tramp on Your Street
Julian Cope – Peggy Suicide

I was inspired to do this because I was lying in bed last night, listening to a few selections from Songs from the Big Chair, and I thought, “This album is my favorite album ever!” Having been able to define the number one spot, it only seemed natural to try to go for the complete top ten list. I realized almost immediately that there are albums right now that I like better than some on this list, and if it was really a list of favorites there might be at least two more Beatles albums on here, and certainly a couple each from The White Stripes and A3. That’s why I chose the term “influential.” These albums helped define what I like about music, and that’s why they’re posted here. Mere favorites should be kept to oneself. Please tell me what albums formed YOUR taste in music.

[This is the long awaited Friday post. I don't think this is the best picture I got that day, but the subject is more recognizable for most people than the subject of some of the better shots. Be warned, the majority of this post is just journalling. Skip to the last paragraph unless you really just want to hear about my day.] After working half a day on Friday, I decided to spend the afternoon taking a few pictures either in the gorge or in Natural Bridge State Resort Park. As it happened, a friend of mine had recently mentioned riding the sky lift up to the bridge. I decided on the way up the parkway that sounded like a fine idea. Seven dollars later I am standing on a platform with tripod bag and camera bag in arms, trying to make sure that I don't lose one or the other as the chair comes up behindme and forced me to sit down. Unline in the old days, the operator has a little stop button that seemes to slow it down just enough that it's just a matter of sitting down comfortably. As a matter of fact all the equipment has been completely relaced since I was there last. It was all pretty and new. I had an enjoyable ride up to the top of the cliff, and I took a lot of pictures.

Just before I reached the top I met a man coming over the edge who said, "You can really lose your hat up there." It seemed rather non-sensical that he would say such a thing, as the wind wasn't blowing particularly hard, and I wasn't even wearing a hat. As I cleared the lip however, the change in wind speed was phenomenol. It was having quite a good blow, with gusts around thirty-five miles per hour. I was a little glad I wasn't wearing a hat, because I can say from experience it's a long hike to the bottom of that particular precipice, from either direction. I stepped off the skylift ad immediately began setting up my tripod at the edge of the lookout, right beside where the chairs come over the lip. My tripod bag was an immediate problem, because when my tripod is not in it, it's just a lightweight piece of cloth essentially. I looped my arm through it to make sure it wouldn't fly away, and even though it was a little awkward, I got a lot of shots form that angle.

After a while, I decided to head on out to Lover's Leap so that I could get a few pics of the bridge proper. The trail was guarded in most places with a fence constructed of four to six inch logs. It was sheltered from the wind, being in what amounted to a ditch heading out the ridge. The heat was noticeable, and it felt like the sun was baking me just a little, since the bare dirt and rock reflected it back to me. I realized the 36 ounces of Diet Pepsi in my bladder were making me uncomfortable. There just wasn't a place to get far enough off the trail to take a leak. I soldiered on for a couple minutes until I came up on a rather interesting family. I walked up to within a few feet of them, as they were struggling. The father was well-equipped to deal with the trail, but the oldest daughter, who I'd guess was about six, was strapped into metal braces, and she had a walker with wheels on it, that she was just pushing right along. The mother just appeared to have recently learned to walk without a similar contraption herself. The problem was that this trail was stll basically a ditch, and it was narrow in places, uneven in others, and filled with mud and water in still others. I followed for only a few seconds until I realized that the way forward was essentially blocked from oncoming hikers. I remembered there hadn't been anyone in my near vicinity behind me, and I walk pretty fast. I quickly backtracked around a bend and emptied my swollen bladder, just off the side of the trail. I caught up just before the trail emptied onto the cliff at Lover's Leap. It was then I noticed the perfectly healthy three year old leading this merry band by a good fifty or seventy-five feet. I imagined a terrible scenario in which she got to the edge and just kept right on going, but the father reined her in just as I was about to say something. The father and mother let me around, but then came an awkward moment as I was between them and their hurried handicapped daughter, whom I could just not manage to find a way around. I was about to surrender to the awkwardness and let her mom and dad back around when she came to a particularly difficult place in the trail where dad was going to have to do some heavy lifiting. I skipped up on a rock outcropping, said "Hi" as I went past, and made it to the edge in time to get a premium spot.

I'm not an experienced clifftop photographer, but I knew I wasn't comfortable with setting up the tripod, making it top heavy with the camera, and then putting it on the edge. I solved this little difficulty by only extending the legs a short way, making it lean back toward me, and then sitting down near the edge with my legs wrapped around the feet of the tripod. Just before I attached the camera, a gust of wind came along and my tripod bag which had somehow come dislodged from under my butt took sailing off along the cliff. Grabbing the tripod and pulling it toward me as I jumped up, I took off after it. Unlike the fellow who paid for his TP with his life, I made a conscious decision that I was going to start slowing down way before I got to the far edge. Fortunately for me, the gust died as quickly as it had come up, and the bag came to a stop in the direct middle of the clearing. Seeking a better solution I looped its strap with that of the camera bag, even though that induced a terrible fantasy of a black kite-like object containing my brand new camera flying away toward a long drop. I settled in for fifteen minutes or so of shooting, both of the Bridge and of the cliff that forms a triange with Lover's Leap and the Bridge. I took a few manual shots and a few set with auto, and a few set with landscape, but I think the sky was too bright just over the bridge for me to get the kind of quality I really wanted. We'll see what Photoshop can do for them, though. As I got up to leave, the family from earlier asked me if I could take a picture of them standing near the edge of the cliff with the openness behind them. I laid my own equipment down and obliged them. I grabbed my stuff and headed out the trail toward the bridge, but I hadn't made it more than maybe two hundred feet when I started hearing a chorus of people yelling, "Sir, sir, your camera, sir!" Looking down at my camera bag, which I felt so lucky to have since it was free and it said Canon on the side, I saw that its velcro enclosure had beccome, um, unenclosed. Red-faced I went back and retrieved my camera, and thanked all the people there for their commendable integrity.

A brisk walk later I am standing on Natural Bridge itself. It had been years too. I think Ethan was about four the last time I actually hked up there, so that's been about five years ago. I repeated my procedure and got some great shots of Lover's Leap. Really I don't know that are any GREAT shots of rock formations and trees. Not from that distance anyway. People seem to like them though, and I've been trying to mix a little of what people actually like into my pure art photography. I got some more shots on the way down, but I don't think I ever got the angle right to demonstrate what a sheer drop it is as the little metal chair goes over the side and the rider is suspended over a LOT of space. Come to think of it. I'd love to know what the actual steepest incline on the cable is.

After a nap, and then a ride to Winchester with the kids to pick up their mom from work (through a strange set of circumstances the Jeep was at Park and Ride in Stanton for three days last week, luckily without incident), me and the kids headed to a birthday party at Hood's Skating Rink. Ethan didn't even try on a pair of skates, but Delaney made me hold her hand endlessly as she tried to get better and better at skating. She isn't gifted at it, but I can see shed be okay if I took her down there very often. Eventually she could walk around in them without scaring me too badly that she would fall and catch the corner of something in her head. The highpoint of the evening came when I was talking to a relative of the birthday boy. The relative's name was Robbie. A little boy of about five years old came up, unremarkably holding a helium balloon in his hand, and shouted exuberantly, "Robbie, here, stick this in your mouth and suck on it!" I had to take Delaney for another trip around the rink before he saw my grin and heard my snicker and was offended. I was still occasionally involuntarily giggling twenty minutes later.

Still no major updates, though I did realize that I now am in possession of a 16 meg SD card that would work great as a floppy drive between my home and work computers if I'd let it. I wonder if carrying one of those in my wallet will hurt it.

I wrote about two pages concerning the events of Friday afternnon and evening, but I didn't bring them in to post them. I don't want to start on Saturday until I get Friday up, so here'a little something I did Sunday.

I've updated my movie watch list with six movies I've watched recently, and I've also put the list in reverse order so that new entries are now at the top.

If anyone missed it at Blogjammin’, Misty Wells’ birthday party is Saturday evening at Cody’s.

Aren’t all the election signs pretty? This election will probably be one of the heaviest voted on in county history. Seems like someone from almost every household is running for something. I want to encourage everyone with any friends or relatives in District 4 to vote for my dad for magistrate, as he deserves your vote and it’s preposterous to think that one of the other candidates could do a better job. He’s done a fair bit of campaigning but he hasn’t put up very many signs of his own. I think he’s going to get a quarter page ad in a couple weeks in the Times. Someone he knows, who supposedly isn’t voting for him, bet someone else money that he’d win by two hundred votes or more. That’s a pretty tall order in a 1200 voter district with six people running. The lesson to be learned if he pulls that off will be that he ran in the wrong race.

I’m still trying to find someone to give odds (or margins) on the county attorney’s race. Doesn’t anyone like Scott? Perhaps I should call Rednour Properties and see if they’d like to take some bets.

A person came to my mom and dad’s house yesterday handing out cards for three different candidates. Two of them are heavy underdogs (see above) and one is a heavy favorite. That made for some interesting conversation. The question in our minds was, “Does she know somebody is out here acting like she’s on a slate with these people?” I just can’t imagine she does. I sure hope she doesn’t.

With all the crazy things that go on that seem to cost people so many votes, it makes me wonder if any of it is someone using reverse psychology. I have to admit, I was kinda glad when someone painted my dad’s sign at Cat Creek with a paintball gun, and then eventually stole it altogether. If it was another candidate, what could they have been thinking? That kind of thing only helps. If I were running a race, I might very well take my biggest sign in my most prominent place and blow a hole through the middle of it with a shotgun.

Here's possibly one of the last things I will do with my archives from shooting with the HP Photosmart. I'm glad I decided to take one more look at those 2500 or so photos, to see if I could get one more thing out of them, because I really like this. It's finally replaced my "sunflower on blue cloth" shot as my background.

Here's the full shot, which I think says something about my lifestyle. You can see my friend's bourbon (I buy Old Fitz), my plastic cutlery, and my nice set of poker chips, all contained in my hand-me-down glass cabinet. I should probably find a better location to hide the plastic cutlery.

This is the side of pint bottle of Maker's Mark, as it rests in my cabinet some six or seven feet from my brand new camera. The lighting wasn't great, but as you can see, it's quite a jewel. It's a Canon Powershot A700, and it's the first camera I've used to feature aperture priority and shutter priority modes, as well as a full manual mode. I can't wait to develop skills in choosing shutter speed and aperture, just like on a much more expensive SLR.

Genital warts is a horribly disfiguring disease, and it is the leading (near 100%) cause of cervical cancer. The good news is that there is now a vaccine for it which is nearly 100% effective. The bad news is that conservatives are attempting to block it from being administered to pre-pubescent boys and girls because they think it might seem to encourage sexual promiscuity. If anyone agrees that we shouldn't administer vaccines for STD's, especially cancer-causing ones, I'd like to invite you to stop reading, because I don't want you for a reader anymore.

And after three days of drinking with Larry Love,
I just get an inkling to go on home.
So I'm walking down Coldharbour Lane,
head hung low, three or four in the morning,
the sun’s coming up and the birds are out singing;
I let myself into my pad,
wend my way up that spiral staircase
and stretch out nice on the chesterfield.
Pithecanthropus Erectus already on the CD player,
and I just push that remote button to Sublimity,
and I listen to the sweet sculptural rhythms of
Charles Mingus, and JR Monterose and Jackie McLean
duet on those saxophones
and the sound makes its way out the window,
mingling with the traffic noises outside, y'know,
and all of a sudden I’m overcome by a feeling of brief mortality.
'Cos I’m getting on in the world, coming up on forty-one years,
forty-one stony grey steps towards the grave,
y'know: the box awaits its grisly load,
and I’m gonna be food for worms.
And just like Charles Mingus wrote that beautiful piece of music,
‘Epitaph’, for Eric Dolphy,
I say ‘So long, Eric; so long, John Coltrane and Charles Mingus;
so long, Duke Ellington and Lester Young;
so long, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald;
so long, Jimmy Reed;
so long, Muddy Waters; and so long, Howlin' Wolf.’

Woke up this morning
Got yourself a gun
Your Mama always said you'd be The
Chosen One.
She said, ‘You're one in a million
You've got to burn to shine,’
But you were born under a bad sign
With a blue moon in your eyes.
You woke up this morning
All that love had gone.
Your Papa never told youAbout right and wrong.
But you're looking good, baby,
I believe that you're feeling fine—
Shame about it—
Born under a bad signWith a blue moon in your eyes.
You woke up this morning,
The world turned upside down— Lord above—
Thing's ain't been the same Since
the Blues walked into this town.
But you're one in a million
Cause you've got that shotgun shine— Shame about it—
Born under a bad sign With
a blue moon in your eyes.
You woke up this morning
Got a blue moon in your eyes
Woke up this morning
Got a blue moon in your eyes
So sorry. Goddamn—Goddamn shame about it
Mr D Wayne Love:
When you woke up this morning, everything was gone.
By half past ten your head was going ding-dong
ringing like a bell from your head down to your toes,
like some voice trying to tell you
there was something you should know.
Last night you was flying but today you're so low
Ain't it times like these that
make you wonder if you'll ever know
the meaning of things as they appear to the others;
wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers.
Don't you wish you didn't function,
wish you didn't think
beyond the next paycheck and the next little drink?
Well you do, so make up your mind to go on
cause when you woke up this morning
everything you had was gone.
When you woke up this morning (Woke up this morning)
Woke up this morning(Woke up this morning)
Woke up this morning You wanna be the Chosen One.
Yes, you know it. You just can't help yourself.
When you woke up this morning(Woke up this morning)
Woke up this morning(Woke up this morning)
Woke up this morning
[And you did it, girl]
You got yourself a gun.

~Love, Love, Love, The Doctor, and C. Burnette (A3)

Quote of the day: "Patriotism comes from the heart. Patriotism is voluntary... A patriot shows their patriotism through their actions, by their choice." ~Jesse Ventura

Quote of the Day: "In this Chautauqua I would like not to cut any new channels of consciousness but simply dig deeper into old ones that have become silted in with the debris of thoughts grown stale and platitudes too often repeated." ~ Robert M. Pirsig in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I've updated my movie watch list. At last.

Just in case you missed this late comment to the VFW debate, here it is. I will assume that it is legitimate:

The man that was found hanged at the VFW was my brother. He was a caring, loving person and does not deserve the speculation and thoughtless comments made by media and individuals. I understand the circumstances surrounding his death warrant interest, and am ashamed to admit I may have participated had it not hit so close to my heart by it happening to one of my own, but I pray with all my might that my Mom and Dad do not happen to stumble across this blogsite as I did. Mine and my brother's father, grandfather, and uncle served in the military. My brother honored and respected his country and our flag. He would not willingly nor intentionally do anything to desecrate either. The speculation of suicide and being at fault for the burning of the flags is just that at this point-speculation. My brother was the baby of five children born to our parents. He was the father of two small children. All of our hearts are breaking because of his death, and the manner of his death does nothing to ease our loss. Regardless of the circumstance, I wish we would all demonstrate compassion and remember that when terrible things happen to an individual, that individual is somebody's son or daughter, father or mother, sister or brother. Didn't those same veterans, including my dad, granddad and uncle, fight for american truth and justice? You can honor veterans more by witholding judgement and feeling compassion for those who suffer such a tragic loss. I miss my brother and he was a decent, wonderful man who got up every day dealing with the particular crosses he had to carry, just as we all have to deal with whatever burdens we each have. That doesn’t make him any more or less of a decent human being than anyone else that faces each day and tries their best. I will also pray that no one who may read these entries ever have to face a painful experience like this. God bless.

My response (the comment was left anonymously):Thank you for your contribution. Many tragic things occur in the world every day, and sometimes it is easy to make light of them or to speculate about them unemotionally because they occur at a distance. Whether this is immoral is not a question I care to speculate on, but I do regret that you were exposed to this speculation. I doubt, however, that the additional pain caused by this particular speculation easily compares to what you were already feeling by the nature of the circumstances. I do hope that you and your family eventually find the truth of what happened, at least for your own piece of mind. If I offended, I hope for forgiveness. I also hope for understanding, however, that to treat another’s personal tragedy impersonally is the nature of journalism, even here in the micro-journalistic world of blogging. You and your family have my deepest sympathy.