You Don’t Like That, Do You?

September 28

I know, I know-I promised you science, and telescopes, and theorists, and observers, and all manner of sfnal things... and if I’d been able to write an entry two weeks ago, I would’ve written about all those things. I had the chance to go to Lick Observatory up on Mt. Hamilton and walk around inside the dome, gawking, and I was pretty enthused about that... but so much time has passed, and there’s other stuff to catch up on, and I feel I wouldn’t address the subject with the proper enthusiasm. So I’m going to write about other stuff, instead.

This is known as a bait and switch.

You don’t like that, do you?

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Where to begin? I went to the National Trails Symposium in Redding, California. The conference was nice, though Redding is a stinking sheol of chain-stores, strip-malls, and asphalt. You could see Mt. Shasta from the front door of the hotel, which was nice, and last Sunday I went to Lassen Park and hiked around some, looking at fumaroles and mud pots and the devastated area, which isn’t so devastated 85 years after the eruption. So there was a little nature involved after all. My company does... well, lots of trail-related stuff. Go to BD’s home page if you’re interested, check out the Trail Explorer and UTAP stuff. I enjoyed the conference over all, but it was loooong. We did workshops before and after the conference, which is why we were there for 8 days. About three days too long for comfort, I’m afraid.

I got lots of free food out of the deal, though. And met Tip Ray and Mike Passo of Wilderness Inquiry, a couple of great guys who run wilderness trips for people of varying levels of ability.

The most notable impact my job’s had on me so far is that now I notice whether or not places are universally accessible... that, and I know that a 100% slope is equal to 45 degrees. Ah, objective knowledge.

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I read lots of books in Redding. Finished Straub’s The Hellfire Club (not as good as Mr. X, but pretty good, and very interestingly structurally complex). I re-read The Forever War to see if it would impress me more at age 23 than it did at age 15-and it did, I have to admit. I know a bit more about my history, now... Also read Matt Ruff’s Fool on the Hill-- Mmm, mmm. Wonderful. It’s a big nifty contemporary fantasy set at Cornell.... I could’ve wound up living at Cornell, actually. Scott was torn between going to Grad School here in Santa Cruz, or at Cornell, up in Ithaca... he picked Santa Cruz, and I followed, but if he’d gone to Ithaca, I probably would have joined him there, too. Fool had some loose ends and some inconsistent tone (ha-I’m one to talk) and a couple of sadly unrealized characters, but as far as I can tell that’s just par for Ruff... Sewer, Gas & Electric was the same way. Still, I really enjoyed it, and will read it again in the future... the good bits are very, very good, and the not-so-good bits are forgivable. Presently almost done with Stan Robinson’s Red Mars, with the other two books in that trilogy lined up and waiting.

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In terms of my own productivity while at NTS? I wrote about 5K on the cowgirl story... it’s getting frighteningly long. But I think another 3 or 4K will finish it. I hope to get it done this weekend. I also decided on poems to make into chapbook manuscripts, so that I can try to publish a little book or two... one of the wannabe chapbooks is an expansion of my senior thesis, Other Altars of the Heart, with a relationship-theme, and the other is speculative poetry.... I think I’ll call that one Talk About The Mystery. They may not sell, but at least I’ll try-- and since about half the poems included in each chapbook-in-potentia have been published already in assorted places, they’re probably not total shit.

I got stuff done in Redding, even hit sort of a rhythm. There was a vending machine right down that hall that sold Starburst... and that took me right back to Clarion, writing and riding on a wave of sugar... wasn’t “Catch the Wave” the Starburst slogan for a while? Ah, how foul advertising saturates my every cell!

Which reminds me of Paul Bunyan.... but I’ll save that rant.

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So at the conference we taught workshops at a place called Turtle Bay, which is a park/museum/playground sort of place. They had two exhibits: “Snakes Alive” (right up my serpentine alley) and a Butterfly Pavilion. That was lovely. I got to sit on a turtle-shaped stone bench inside a gauzy tent full of flowers and fountains and watch two dozen kinds of butterflies flitting merrily around. Really good for me.

The mascot of the kid’s playground area at Turtle Bay is Paul Bunyan, that towering piece of fakelore... that annoyed me. Many of you have already heard this rant. The rest of you will hear it in a day or two... I plan to post it here (I’ve been inspired by John’s recent furious entries... I do occasionally feel the need to rail against trickery and corporate nastiness... though it is perhaps typical of me that I look back to a situation from nearly a hundred years ago as the focus of my wrath...

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More random happy notes: Years ago when I first got to college I got involved with a social MU* (Muds, mucks, mushes, moos- you know, all those virtual environments of differing structures and character and goals) and made some fairly good long-distance friends, mostly writers. Since I stopped frequenting the MUCK, I’ve lost touch with all but a few of them (where are you, Strixy? Samaelle?), including a lovely lady I used to do call-and-response poetry with. She’d page me a line or a couplet or a verse, and I’d respond in the same form... she’s got a real gift for form, she tosses off these perfectly metered and complexly rhymed poems in no time, it’s truly awesome... we did a couple of big epics, mostly dialogues between a fairy lady and a mortal man in love (that’s actually been something of a theme in my life... but that, too, is an entry for another time). I had her email address, but I hadn’t been in touch in months and months and months. I made a list a couple weeks ago of people I need and want to get in touch with - some of them I know how to locate, some of them I don’t (Aubrey, where are you? Sarah Kelly?). My poet-friend from the MUCK was one of those. Before I got around to contacting her, though, she sent me a poem, just the lines, with no comment-a mournful piece about a lover abandoned. I replied in kind, and she replied, and now we’re talking again (by talking I mean emailing, natch). Doing poetry with her was always good for me... I don’t intend to lose track of her so easily again. This is a good thing.

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And I think the last random note... I started running yesterday with some friends. Running. Me. Barefoot on the beach, pounding down the sand. It’s not too hard, I don’t collapse and puke when I’m done or anything, but I’m so sore. Still, it’s a good sore, and I actually like running... it’s nice, to see the ocean every day.

My enthusiasm may wane when the rains begin. We’ll see.

Take care, all. I’ve missed talking to you. Hope you missed me, too.