Changin' my mind - you're doin' it wrong

That's when I realize how they got all that money.  They pinched every penny every step of the way till they could see it bleed.

Eleanor Longden and the Voices in her head

"Sometimes it snows as late as May, but Summer always comes," Eleanor's 'good' doctor tells her family.

Eleanor later advocates, "An important concept in psychiatry shouldn't be, 'What's wrong with you?,' but rather, 'What's happened to you?' "

Later:  "Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed; you cannot humiliate the person who feels pride; you cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore."
 
[UPDATE: the html embed got dropped; should be fixed now. 3 September 2013]

An evening Amtrak arrival

(Taken with my phone 25 August 2013 and converted to MP4 with VLC.)

Thursday Afternoon Trail Run

An automobile carrier (roll-on/roll-off) ship passes Point Benicia in the Carquinez Straight on its way to the AMPORTS dock 25 July 2013.

 

 

The base of an ancient bay tree has become ten or so trunks along the arroyo.

Looking up in a grove of old bay trees

About 500 feet higher than the spot where the picture of the boat was taken, we're looking northwest along the fire trail that locals call "the wall" -- that last quarter mile has most of the elevation gain!

And here we stand at the top of the ridge, looking southeast toward Mount Wanda.  John Muir hiked these very hills more than a hundred years ago!

My Dad used to listen to this stuff!

Firehouse Five Plus Two! 

That time I set a hummingbird free

One afternoon thirty years ago or so, at my previous place of employment, I heard a strange sound out in the warehouse.  A kind of buzzing noise seemed to be coming from the ceiling.  As I walked out and looked up, I expected to see some kind of electrical short-circuit.  What I saw was not what I expected!

Up in one of the skylights, I saw a hummingbird -- caught in spider webs!

The little thing was completely bound in silky webs.  It must have flown in through one of the roll-up doors, and gotten confused about the exit by the light coming in through the overhead. 

I managed to get a ladder that extended high enough that I could snag bird and mass of web with the end of a broom. 

I got down and carefully unwound the sticky spiderweb coating that had gotten wound around the bird. 

The hummingbird seemed to weigh precisely nothing.  As gently as possible I held it and walked outside.  Its tiny heartbeat felt like a vibration against my hands.  Out at the curb, I lifted and opened my hands.  The little creature stood for one second, then flew up and away into the sky. 

Writer's bottleneck

Some people talk about writer's block.  The idea is that you have a clean slate and can't seem to form any thought about what to put down onto it. 

For me, writer's block is more like what happens when you try to pour mayonnaise down a small funnel.  Or pour potato chips out of a bag with too small an opening at the top.  There is plenty of material in the queue, but it won't get in line and go with the flow. 

I started to write a post about grief a few weeks ago.  The words poured out at first.  I had all these things to say...  then I didn't. 

Have you ever mixed paint colors?  There is more technique than theory involved.  The result you get depends on the brand of paint, etc.  Last time I tried getting a creative palette with acrylics, everything ended up looking like mud.  Same thing with writing, I'm afraid: I poured a bunch of thoughts out into the open, and it did anything but clarify. 

Anyway. 

So maybe some day I will go back to those thoughts.  When I have thought funnel with a bigger nozzle.