Underwater Trees

A few weeks ago, I had an incredible dream.

In this dream, I was reading a friend's blog where he described a place where trees grew underwater. Several people had commented on this posting, saying things like "Oh that's so stupid, everyone knows trees don't grow underwater." I decided to go to this place, and see these trees.

And since it was a dream, I was able to sit on the floor of this shallow ocean, breathing easily and looking around at these gigantic underwater trees. My dreaming brain infused me with a (somewhat exaggerated) profound sensation of awe as I watched them. The ocean, where we were, was only about 200 yards deep, and the trees were very big. Light from the surface came through and created a silhouette similar to trees on land, though subdued by the water.

The trees all looked like the one in this picture (in the field). Big, solitary, impressive and green on a flat ocean floor. I observed one in particular, but there were 4 or 5 other ones scattered around.

Probably the most spectacular thing was that the trees must have been producing huge quantities of oxygen, because every 10 minutes or so, a giant bubble of air would accumulate near the upper branches and once it got big enough to, I guess, break away, it would float up to the surface and create a disturbance there (you know like when you fart in a hot tub).

Anyway, that was the dream. In an lame effort to find images that match my dream-vision, I googled "underwater tree" and got this one. It doesn't look anything like the actual trees that I saw, but if you imagine that instead of looking down onto this scene, you are sitting on the bed of this lake looking up at it, then you can begin to imagine my dream trees.

I don't want to pretend to "analyze" this dream...I'd watched a nature show about mangrove trees that evening so I'm pretty sure thats what inspired me. BUT, I have also been reading fantasy novels again and thinking a lot about common archetypes and the tree definitely appears a lot, usually as a metaphor for the immensity of time, as well as a symbol of interconnectedness. There's a Wikipedia page which sort of summarizes Tree of Life archetypes from several different cultures and civilizations. Enjoy.

Brenda

Here is this dorky picture I took of my dorky mom wearing her dorky capote. This is at like 10am at Bloody Lake (Rendezvous) so we are probably not too boozed up yet.

But the Women's Knife and Tomahawk throws are in 2 hours or so, so we're probably warming up our fingers, and filling up a mug with whiskey.

Boomer Yum

Ok I can't find it online right now, but I once read an essay which compared Tom Robbins' novels Skinny Legs and All, Another Roadside Attraction and Still Life with Woodpecker, and the relationships between their characters. For one, Ellen Cherry Charles actually appears in Jitterbug, mentioned by name once as a recipient of the Daughters of the Daily Special grant, which is referred to in the Seattle world of Still Life. I read Still Life immediately after Skinny Legs, and noticed right away that even the name Leigh-Cheri is similar to Ellen Cherry, and their characters fit into the proud, sexy Robbins lady mold...occupied also by Amanda. (I tried to read Another Roadside Attraction...but it was too late. I was sick of all the wit. Same thing with Half Asleep, though I DID make it through Villa Incognito)
But, the reason I'm mentioning this is because of the men. This particular article I read connected (listed in chronological order of their publish dates) Plucky Purcell with Bernard Mickey Wrangle and Boomer Petway. One stupid, but notable detail being that Bernard was an outlaw who blew things up and Boomer's nickname is an onomatopeia for...explosions. Personally, I'd go ahead and connect the rest the major male charaters from ALL Robbins novels: Alobar, Switters and even Tanuki all seem to be cut from the same macho mold. This isn't really a criticism...but it might explain why not many people make it through more than 4 or 5 of the 9 books .(10 in April!!). That or all the fact that the books are dripping with paragraphs about semen.

The reason I'm mentioning all this is because I've created an homage to Boomer Petway in my bathroom (and, by association, the Woodpecker, Plucky, Alobar and the rest). In contrast to Ellen Cherry and Priscilla, Boomer's oversimplified (?) idea of art is when you think up something that you've always wanted to see in real life that doesn't exist yet, and so you make it. Like a coat with hundreds of little pockets which have written in hundreds of different secret codes "Boomer Petway loves Ellen Cherry Charles." Or, more commonly, an airstream that looks like a big turkey.

I wanted to see what my (boring, white) bathroom would look like if I taped Onion headlines all over it. It is slow going, because I'm restricted to only Onion headlines that I think are funny, such as "Man Gets Into Mess Usually Reserved for Stars of Silent Film Era" or "Shitload of Math Due Monday" or "Dip Good."

But every time I put up a new headline, I think about Boomer. And all the rest of them (by association). Even little Spoon.

Fugly Horse, Smooth Character

Maybe you haven't seen or read Revolutionary Road. Maybe it looks like your job will make it all the way through this recession. Maybe, you're not depressed enough.

Then look here!

The purpose of this blog is to expose people who mistreat horses. She is most effective when she attacks horse breeders, the ones who keep making more and more horses, chasing after a pedigree or a perfect confirmation, and in so doing, leave more and more living creatures chained up in dark stalls. If being cared for means...being fed twice a day and not beaten, then sure, they're being cared for.

If you're not depressed enough, try to think about all the idle, lonely animals, chained in dark stables. Think about how some of them haven't seen the light of day in over 10 years.

(The horse in the picture is our Fugly Horse, Smooth Character, who, after having not left his 16x16 stall in 10 years, summoned the courage to ride in a trailer with me and my brother. He's dead now, though arguably much better off than he was. And he frolicked retardedly around our pasture for a month or so before he died of a hideously broken leg...which he did himself, accidentally, because he was so pitifully retarded.)

Oh Yeah Well...

This is a sidewalk near my house.

It's about secrets. My secrets, and everyone's secrets. That guy across the sidewalk, he has many secrets, too.

It reminds me of all of my secrets that I haven't recently catalogued.

And if it's not about secrets, then its about validation. Even if no one else knows, you know. And that makes it real.

I know. And I know that I know. You know, too. Ya know?