Sophie and the social worker

My name is Sophie. Kind of strange for an old dog, but that's the one my mistress gave me. For I am getting old, just like her. When I happen to see myself in one of my mistress's mirrors, I scare myself. All I see is an odd looking big black dog with a tired -of -life look, wrinkles all over the face, actually the reason why I scare myself is that I look spooky, just like everything else here. How could it be otherwise? I guess my environment dyed on me. My mistress, who goes by the name Paulette, is an old French lady who is getting confused. She's been here for years, but now whatever she says is unintelligible for anybody but me: one word in French, one in English. One syllable in French, one in English. The social worker that comes to visit her doesn't get it and speaks to her as if she were retarded. A nice looking, polished, and disagreeably polite guy. He gets on my nerves, especially when he persistently asks Paulette if she wants to go to a retirement home. Bastard. Don't you get it? She doesn't want to hear about it, why do you keep asking her, you're the one who's retarded. I know what you're after, I heard it when you talked to her family before to leave, leaving your card "in case you changed your mind". She won't go, I tell you. I won't let you do that. Leave Paulette alone, here in the midst of her souvenirs, her statues, her odd lights, her authentic mummy sarcophagus, the masterpiece throning in a corner of the living-room, I told you it was spooky here. But that's home. Leave her alone.

Out of your comfort zone

Today Sunday was another gorgeous day here in the valley.I had a nap after lunch, then an artist friend visited me. We opened a bottle of home made wine on the dock, then I stayed home this afternoon to continue to work on my current project, a landscape painting. That is totally out of my comfort zone, at least for paint. I can do nice pastel landscapes, but never tried it with paint. So I started this thing and for the first 2 days when I looked at it I didn't like what I saw, and there was that little interior voice saying things like"what do you think you're doing? why don't you stick to what you do well?" So I had several tempations to just destroy the painting, since it was going nowhere. Because I'm also demanding, you see,I don't only want a nice landscape to look at, I don't want to paint a cheesy one. This afternoon I came back to it however, and tonight I discovered it was starting to look like something, that it was going somewhere. How painful, but wonderful hours I spent. This painting, if it does end up being nice, will have a special value for me, since it will have required much more effort pulling things from inside of me. I worked with my current favorite painting music"Le mystère des voix Bulgares", and that music alone lifts me up. Sometimes between that and the painful process of trying to create something from within, I'd feel like crying, the type of tears that come as a blessing. So I'd work for a while, then go in the garden, then come back. Till exhaustion, which I think is now. I need to let this thing sit and simmer for a while. How exciting to do something different!

Dog fight

"10.15am: Dog fight on 600 block south 4th St. Reporting party said aggressive dog attacked and injured his dog."

That's what they say, in the police report. "aggressive dog". Aggressive, me? The truth of the matter is, that bastard, my neighbor, has been peeing on my private property for months. I tried to talk to him, several times, told him he couldn't possibly keep on doing that, that it was an infringement on my privacy, that it was blatant misdeameanor, and lack of respect for me. Notwithstanding it drives my "master "crazy. And believe me, I'm in charge on this property, and I'm under pressure to keep my job as a watchdog. That's a function it took me months to assert and show my master I was capable of, quite an education I had to put him through to convince him I was the one for the job.
So my job was at stake here, you get it, so I talked to this guy my neighbor over and over, to no avail. I then issued several warnings to him, produced my best threatening growl,to make it clear I was not to allow anybody to do this on my grounds, that it was enough. Now this is not all. This arrogant loulou dog also committed the unforgivable when he started shamelessly courting my girlfriend right in front of my eyes. And you know what? she, treacherous little thing, was all beside herself and started giving him velvet looks, the velvet looks I thought were reserved for me, she was now giving them to him! You should have seen her, trotting on the sidewalk in front of his yard, swinging her hips like a showdog at a fashion show. Then of course he started dating her. She'd leave without saying where she was going, but I soon discovered where she was headed. They were seeing each other at the beach, how conventional and deja vu, this guy has no imagination. But of course it worked, those gals, that's all they want, romance.
So what do you say now, huh? What would you do in my situation? Wouldn't you go and knock the bastard out?

Busy bee

Stealing a few minutes at the end of a busy day, while listening to a gypsy music CD... Woke up before 6am for 2 phone conference call interpreting with France. Invoiced calls.Then finally started catching up with a few administrative tasks such as my WA state taxes. I did it! Cleaned my office and workshop. That took me a while...
Cleaned the leaves off our boats and on the dock.A lost battle in this season, you'd say, but a necessary one. Washed the RV. That thing looked really trashy and needed TLC... Prepared the files for our boats insurance... Raked the leaves in my garden. That took a while too...
Finally brought some munchies and a glass of white wine from the boat to the garden, since the weather was so mild it felt like summer. Sat in the garden and enjoyed it there. Saw some geese starting to arrive in the valley. It was good to see those companions back. While in the garden, I heard a bald eagle, though I couldn't spot him. Since the trees have lost some leaves, I can see more of the evening light through. I LOVE that.
Tomorrow is gonna be busy too: Waking up at 5 am for another conference call.Laundry. Food shopping. Keep catching up with my business administrative tasks, such as bidding on jobs.
And in the evening, open no mike at the cafe, I heard from Ed that we're supposed to have a meeting to try and define what we want it to be. Good idea. So no musical instruments, more talk. Good!

Sun-day

Today we had 4 blue jays on the bird feeder on the dock. Those guys are pretty talkative. Even Mr.B doesn't approach them.
The Sun part of it eventually showed up as we were back from the dog wash. The 2 mutts needed it badly. Eddie washed Mr.B and I took care of Gonzalo, a.k.a "Goat". So we washed them and gave them a haircut.. It was high time, otherwise they were ready to be placed on a public thoroughfare with a cardboard sign and a hat. They sure would have provided us with a substantial additional income, since people generally tend to care more for dogs than for humans...
So I cut-or tried to cut- Gonzalo's hair. The whiner whined and wriggled so much it ended up with a 2 gin & tonic haircut- without the gin and tonic, that's no fun-
Gonzalo is a neurotic dog, and as he's ageing he's getting worse. I told Eddie he should take him to a dog whisperer. No kidding. So next time I'll take Mr.B - our star untamed Westy- and I'll let Eddie deal with the rat that thinks he's a dog- for that's Gonzalo's problem-
Imagine, you're a rat and all your life you're trying to be a dog. That would drive anybody nuts. Moreover, Gonzalo is a frustrated homosexual, he's homo, I've seen him trying desperately to shag Mr.B. Besides, the poor creature has never had the opportunity to exercise his sex life, since he was operated. Castrated. That's another cruelty that should be abolished. Castrating cats and dogs. I mean, what right do we have, we so called superior humans, to inflict that to our pets? Tell me, guys, how would you like it if we decided- for your own good(?)-to castrate you? Think about it, I'm serious. The right to have a sex life should be written among the inalienable rights of our pets.
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So when we came back the sun was out and we made potatoes and bacon on the BBQ on the dock.That's life.Then I had a nap on the Walela. I watched the golden light on the river and trees. Leaves are starting to turn golden or red on the opposite bank. I saw a couple of dead trees standing out, no leaves, white bark. Then I fell asleep. Dreamt, oh, dreamt.Dreamt awake, then dreamt in my sleep. Those dreams I won't tell about, they belong only to me.
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I woke up, had a coffee and a cigarette on the dock. Leila decided to make some "crêpes", so we went to the little market to get butter and milk. Had fun in the car listening to French songs. The light was awesome on Mann Road.
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Big logs are starting to come by more often on the river. A couple of days ago a huge one got stuck under the end of the dock, the other extremity under Mick's little boat. We had to call Nath, it took the 3 of us to dislodge the monster. It's high time I took care of our boats insurance.
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I wanted to do things today, finish a painting, write. Ended up taking it easy. The nap was a very good idea. As I'm sitting on my bed, watching the river going backwards and writing, I think it's good I didn't do anything more, good to slow down. I need to "gather myself" anyway: I have paintings that need to simmer for a while, I have to let my thoughts drift for a while, and let go with the "what to do's", "how to do it's", and "I have to do's". Also allow feelings to slow down for a while, -that's the tough part- just let them be.
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Leila is now making the crêpes. Mmmmm... smells good of France.
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The sun has now set, and I'm writing on the dock while there is still enough light, with a glass of white wine. Leila's piling up the crêpes, flavored with rhum, and the 2 of us are having French music. The opposite shore and the river look like a Dutch painting, and it's slack tide. A slight breeze is fluffing the trees, I like the sound of it. Watching these little nature happenings does pacify me. The river is so flat now, a perfect mirror. "Let it be!" she tells me. "Let it be!"
Beware of the Skagit river. She's powerful. She called me from Paris. Then the first thing she did 3 years ago when I settled here was to show me her worst -the flood- as if to make sure I wanted to stay- I accepted. I don't care when it gurgles furiously, even then I like her. Sometimes when it reaches flood stage and gurgles, on the boat it feels like you're inside a washing machine. All night. I learned to listen to her, and to follow her schedule. Away from over stimulation, she reminds me of what is really important, and makes me more humble, and more thankful.
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Tomorrow is gonna be laundry day. No, away, parasite thought!
Today, now, the night is falling: colors are almost gone, everything turning into shadowy ghostly shapes.
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The moon is out and coyotes are howling. Good night.

I like the way this day has worked on me.

Morning sights and thoughts

The first thing I saw this morning upon opening my eyes onto the day world was the river, an extremely low tide that is now a daily occurence, revealing all the underworld at the bottom of the river, the soft mud, the boat wrecks sitting at the bottom, the turquoise glacial water,the logs and tree trunks lying there, huge ghostly shapes standing to remind us of the last time the river got really wild, in 2003. Trees on the other side of the river, particularly that huge cedar, which I like more than the others because it's probably been there for ages. It must have seen quite a few things here on the river. Now you tell me that's what I see every day when I wake up, but no I don't get tired of it, because it's the same without ever being the same.Nature is like us humans, it has its changing moods. Upon opening my eyes, seeing those morning companions draws me a smile. I like to stay a while looking at them. This morning I had an instinctive reaction, I got up to pick up my camera, and went back to bed with it. I shot a few pictures. I didn't try to make nice shots, I just shot what I saw from my bed, from whatever angle I was in. Then I stepped out on the dock, walked to the very end of it and took a few shots of the morning fog. In black and white. Maybe that would show the essence of it, without the distraction caused by the colors.
I am more drawn to taking instinctive, unplanned shots lately, maybe because light and colors are getting more subtle, veiled, and trying to make it better than what it is would spoil it. I'm also myself in a very epidermic, receptive mood, and that changes the way you look at things, and also the way you react to them. I think less about what I'm doing, and it will probably be a good thing for creativity.
Good morning.

Slam in Paris, Slam at Gretchen's

I just read another article in Le Monde about the slam phenomenon (reading poetry aloud in bars or community buildings) in France, particularly in main towns such as Paris, Marseilles, Bordeaux, and in suburban areas.
We know that Slam originally appeared in Chicago in the 80's and became successful in NYC in the 90's, to start in Paris in the mid 90's.
What this article stresses first is the alchemy that takes place in slam sessions that makes people who'd never known each other or never talked to each other otherwise communicate and share, and the incredible variety of people that go to these sessions. All social classes, all profiles.
The other point is that slam is now so successful in France , especially after having been depleted of its competitive aspect,(so American) that it is now crossing the borders of the genres, and it's not uncommon to see slammers and musicians doing things together.- that reminds me of cafe culture's open no mike -
Moreover, many slammers have now ended up as renowned artists, or spread their activity to volunteer work in hospitals, for example. Some rappers also resource themselves in slam.
"What urgency pushes a growing audience to come to listen and express themselves there? -In a society that is more and more driven by disembodied means of communication and speed, people find there a means to have a real break and to share a real access to speech"says Fabien Marsaud, aka "Grand corps malade"(Big sick body, an alias he adopted after an accident that left him half paralyzed), a successful Parisian musician, singer, poet, and ambassador of the movement,originally from a suburban area,who also presides slam sessions. His great bass voice and his lyrics inspired many people to go attend slam sessions.
Local authorities in suburban areas are now hiring slammers to talk to youngsters in disadvantaged neighborhoods.
Well here in our little town America in the Pacific Northwest we have something like that going on at the cafe's open no mike, with the same magic alchemy going on. Thanks to Gretchen, who made this place what it is. We love you Gretchen. And thanks to "MC Roberto!", who presides the sessions. (I here provide a link to his blog, where he sometimes reports on our open no mikes)
For those who read French, here is a link to the article:
http://www.lemonde.fr/web/article/0,1-0@2-3246,36-818553@51-818728,0.html