Day 78

Today is going to be a day of errands.  Have to get tux fitted for upcoming wedding, go to doctor, go to optometrist, all sorts of good stuff.  Tutor.  Binks will be alone all day which means, I don't know what.

I'm going to finish the trip report tomorrow or the day after.  Right now I'm going to go exercise before my day of driving around.  Nice dinner last night with wife at our local neighborhood bistro, but it involved me eating more, and later into the night, than I have been for at least a week.  I'm on a mini-diet right now, in preparation for our upcoming June vacation to Puerto Rico ("Port of Rico.")  So nothing big here today, I guess.

Day 77

Very tired after a late night working and poor, dream-confused sleep.  The Comedians is excellent but grim.  The last half of Get Him To The Greek, which I caught last night when trying to fall asleep, was fairly good.  It's very dark here now which is unusual for LA.  My 13 year old just took a second SAT.  He did worse on this one than the past two.  That is not at all good.  I meet with him tomorrow.  We'll see.

Day 76

Two more photos from the hike

A few things I forgot to mention about the events in the last trip report:

-After failed hike to sculpture garden but before successful hike in cattler rustler's canyon (rustle rustle) esteemed companion Johannes repaired both of our holey shoes using needle and thread.  I guess all those years he told me he was doing a surgery residency weren't wasted.

-J and I can't be around each other for any length of time without one of us (me usually) finding some subject to repeatedly mock about the other.  This time it was Google Maps.  For the first day we were together J seemed to be checking his iphone every ten minutes.  Then, on the drive, any time I wondered out loud if a gas station were near or where we should eat he would inevitably respond, "why don't we check Google Maps?"  After a while I had the idea that everything J did was based on google maps and that all questions that the world could offer could be answered using it.  So, for the rest of the weekend, any time either of us had any question about anything, I would say, "Check Google Maps."  What year did Proust finish In Search of Lost Time?  Who's the starting goalie for Manchester United?  What kind of bird is that, there in the road?  All of these questions, I suggest, should be--nay, must be--answered using Google Maps.  At one point, after telling J that if he checked Google Maps he could actually see into the future, I started laughing so hard I had to pull the car over.  I'm laughing now just thinking about it.

I'm not sure Johannes thought it was as funny.

-On our cattle rustler's hike, we got a brochure that showed photos of animals common to Joshua Tree.  Among them was something called the Dusky Chipmunk.  Because we are, basically, both of us nine years old, this also struck us as hilarious.  Everywhere we looked dusky chipmunks seemed to frolic.  In great thundering herds they ate up the horizon blacking out the land like locusts.

Well, not really.  But in our imaginations.

* * *

Okay, back to the narrative....

When we last left our two (dusky) heroes they had completed a grueling one-mile hike in Joshua Tree National Forest.  That over, we (they) headed to the festival.  The band we both wanted to see (El Ten Eleven) didn't go on until four pm, but we figured we'd get there early and enjoy the atmosphere.  Ogle the hippies, as it were.  I don't know.  (Originally, we'd planned to go to the festival when it opened at 11 am, but after Johannes found a video on YouTube of the morning's featured artist playing an instrumental piece on his guitar entitled "Dolphin Love Bliss" (really), we reconsidered.  Wisely, I think.  There's only so much dolphin sex I can listen to in the morning.)  

Anyway, we got the fest around two.  Here are some photos of what we saw walking in.

The fire truck was notable for having a plaque on it that said "Dr Bronner's Magical Soap."  As long-term blog readers will remember, I wrote at length about a documentary the wife and I saw when we first moved to LA about said Dr Bronner.  He is, to put it succinctly, a fascinating and fairly insane human being.  (He thought part of the secret of the history of the universe involved Mark Spitz.)  I have no idea how that fire truck connected to the good Doctor, but that's okay.  I still liked it.

The "Free Dancing" sign was in front of an area closed off by RVs and the fire truck.  Inside it, people were listening to a heavy-beated reggae and shaking somewhat rhythmically.

The giant rocking horse speaks for itself.  

I regret not taking a picture of the large purple amethyst-shaped structure where people could sit to absorb the healing energies of the planet.  It's probably because I was too distracted by the wind.

Because let me tell you: there was some wind.

We had prepared, in packing to go to Joshua Tree, for extreme heat.  We'd brought sweaters and jeans and jackets for the cold.  But we had not prepared to be in a sandstorm.  And unfortunately it was a sandstorm (or close to) that greeted us that Sunday afternoon at the festival.  Sand was everywhere.  It blew into our eyes, it blew into our mouths, it made it almost impossible to stand facing anywhere but away from the wind.  It was miserable.  There was no way you could watch music in that kind of environment.  That's not true.  You could watch it; you just couldn't enjoy it.  Standing there it felt like we were seconds away from being lifted up and taken away to Oz.   

So, after a brief debate, we left.  The plan was to come back in an hour and hope that the wind had died down.  Neither of us were especially optimistic that would happen (it had been at least moderately windy the whole time we were there).  Nevertheless, after scarfing down the chicken curry burritos we'd bought from one of the few food tents that hadn't shut down due to sand blasting damage we drove back to the house feeling, both of us, far far less dusky than we had on the drive in.

Although the burritos, it should be said, were excellent.

To Be Continued....

Day 75

I am going to continue my trip report tomorrow, I think.  It takes more time to deal with the photos and today I'm going to focus on work.

I worked all day and into the night yesterday.  I have solved all the large to medium/large problems in the play and am now left with small to medium problems.  I had thought this advance would be welcome.  Instead I find myself missing the large problems.  The large problems intimidate because they seem unsolvable.  The small problems, however, seem so picayune as to be beneath one's effort and time.  For example, Sam, one of my characters, has gotten fired before the play starts.  The reason she got fired could or could not be important.  I mean, I could make it interesting and expositive of her essential flaws and character (and should, I know).  Or I could just say she did some random X and move on.  It's not a sexy question, at least not yet.  But I have to infuse her backstory with the same amount of effort and love as everything else.  Genius, as Henry James said, is an infinite capacity for taking pains.  I think about that quote often.  (I'm not saying I'm a genius, obviously.  But only that it's what I aspire to.. genius in the work, I mean.  In this work at least).  It's like in Pawn of Prophecy (another touchstone book in my life, believe it or not)--Durnik telling Garion that he works as hard on the iron joints that are under the wagon, that no one will see, as those above.

Actually that's not relevant here, now that I think about it.  Sam's backstory will be seen, albeit glancingly.  The point is, yes, big things are made of small things, and God is in the details and all that, but details are hard to engage for the very reason that they are details.  You want to build continents, not figure out the color pattern on the scales of the snake that lives in one corner of the barn in the hero's first girlfriend's barn.  But, in the end, that's how you build a continent.  By working out all the snake scales.

Day 74

Yesterday, my friend Johannes sent me some of the approximately 40000 photos he took while at Joshua Tree.  I'm putting a few up right now, with the idea that I'll do more later.

The hotels around the festival grounds were cheap and desultory so we stayed in someone's home.  (This seems the normal way, from what I could gather).  I booked the place at the last minute so I didn't have high expectations, but it turned out great.  This is the view from our back porch.  That's a fire pit.  There was also a hot tub, a horseshoe pit, and a charcoal grill.

Both nights we were there, J made fires inside that fire pit.  In so doing, he proved his barbaric machismo.  I grilled hamburgers, and onions, and zucchini.  J insisted we grill a cucumber.  I don't know why.  Well, yes I do.  It's because he's not very bright.

This was one of the numerous artworks inside the house where we stayed.  It was by far the most disturbing.  (Many were actually pretty nifty.  My favorite was a butterfly made by looping thread around nails, that hung in the bathroom).  It hung above and to the left of the TV and seemed to follow you about the house with its deep mysterious eyes.

After we got there, on Saturday, we went to the store and bought supplies.  (Wisely, we did NOT check before heading out to see what supplies the house had already, so we ended up buying a lot of stuff we didn't need.  Oh well.)  When we got back we decided to hike from our house to a nearby sculpture garden.  All the roads were unmarked and both of us had, for some reason, decided to set out on a hike on sandy roads wearing shoes with holes in them.  We quickly accumulated large coatings of grit around our feet.  After a time, we gave up the quest for said sculpture garden and turned back.  As we passed one of the houses on the way back, a fairly angry-seeming dog popped out from behind its fence and ran into the road behind us, growling and barking.  Johannes and I moved past it quickly, worrying somewhat that it might try to attack.  As soon as we passed its property, however, it stopped and watched us depart.

Oh, also, J kept trying to tell me it was a coyote.  Probably the thoughts of the upcoming cucumber-grilling had confused him.

The next morning we went hiking in Joshua Tree National Forest.  The first photo shows a large expanse of said trees.  The second shows one of the views of the hike ("Hidden Valley.")  The hike involved a box canyon where cattle rustlers used to go to hide out and rebrand their stolen cattle.  I made a mental note of the place, planning on going there with my next herd of rustled vicuna.

Here are a few more hike-related photos, taken from my camera:

To Be Continued....

Day 73

Got back from Joshua Tree on Monday afternoon.  Hoping to put up many photos as well as a blog post from travel companion and stalker of the dusky chipmunk, Johannes.  If not, I'll post about it myself, but not at this moment.   The very short summary was that the trip was great in many ways; the music was only a small part of the enjoyment, and there was much merriment and a certain amount of paintings of rabbits with antlers.  Jackalopes, as it were.  Also, an iron sculpture of the head of a bull.  And a large dodecahedral building (at the festival) painted purple, meant to represent an amethyst, that was supposed to channel and direct the energies of the universe to anyone who sat inside.  The inside was painted green.  Something to do with the different chakras that green and purple represent, respectively.  I don't know.  The festival, in other word, was a thing of for and by hippies, but LA hippies more than San Fran hippies.  So, more yoga and insane philosophy (something called the 528 movement, which I have to research) and less "groovy let's end the war by meditating."  Although there was some of that too.

But it was all pretty great.  And I will post more about it soon including, I hope, some photos.  (Johannes was a madman with the camera).

Day 69

About to hit the road to Joshua Tree. Yesterday had some good mojo, including a visit to a 'doctor' who told me she liked to round down blood pressure numbers from odd to even ("I like to round down to the even number") and a store with a weekly fight night run by an amateur cage fighter (Johannes got in there and threw him around, just to show him).  Wife got home very late, unfortunately, but still time for good banter and shenanigans.

Idea for a skit we came up with: before (or after) the wave of beaver trapper come to canada, a wave of porcupine trappers.  Try to make coats out of the fur, find they're painful and unpleasant to wear.  Then, hit upon the beavers instead.

Back in two days.  Electric hippies, here we come...

Day 68

Well I put up an entire post yesterday about the Joshua Tree Music Festival (where I'm going, with Johannes, tomorrow) and now it's gone.  This makes me grouchy.  I had cut and pasted descriptions of some of the artists playing at the fest into the post.  Oh well.  Not sure what happened there.  Problem with blogger.  It was up for a while, anyway.

Going to get Johannes at airport, then buying supplies of all sorts.  Probably we should get javelins, I think.  And scuba equipment.  So there's a lot to do.  Right now am very groggy.  Worked all last night on play.  Watched first 2/3 of Floating Weeds, surely one of the best movies ever made.  (Last saw it circa 2005, so it's essentially new to me at this point).  Poor wife is working all day and all night.  Luckily she gets off service today.  She needs a break.

Day 66

Turns out my American History student is actually taking Modern European History and that she wanted help not preparing for a test, but writing a paper.  The subject?  Was Marshall Petain a patriot or a traitor?  (Her answer: the latter).  At the end of the session, I told her to rent The Sorrow and the Pity because, well,  it's so good.  The best documentary ever made.  (Really.  HIGHLY recommended.  Long, but easy to break into separate viewing sessions).  Also, it's about Vichy France.  So there was some relevance.

It turns out she got the idea to write about Petain through Lord of the Rings.  (She was curious about "You shall not pass!" which lead her to Verdun which lead her to Petain).  So, that endeared me to her, obviously.  Not that I much like LOR (I was never a Tolkein head), but that she displayed that level of geekiness.  It's what we like to see.

As I told her, it's not much of an exaggeration to say that every single French play written between the years of 1945 and 1970 deals in some way with the legacy of Vichy.  At least every one that I've ever read.  Novels too, I'm sure.  And since I was a French major in college, I had to endure quite a number of said plays.  Of course at no point during those studies did we actually learn the details of what HAPPENED in France during the War (events are so pedestrian), but still.  It's a subject near and dear to my heart.  And Sartre's.  "Do not be a collaborationist pig," was essentially the summation of my college studies in French Literature.  A lesson I still follow to this day.

So my reading up on the Grange and the Haymarket strike and the Taft Administration will avail me nothing.  Oh well.

More tutoring this afternoon and evening.  I've started reading Graham Greene's The Comedians, about the situation in Haiti in the 60s.

Day 65

Terrible day yesterday; Binks ate a half a bag of almonds on Sunday night (left on an end table; he pulled them down and chewed through the bag).  So yesterday he was terribly sick.  Profuse vomiting and diarrehia in morning followed by a long day of general physical discomfort.  I spent the morning and early afternoon following him around and watching to make sure he didn't get worse and occasionally taking him outside, to vomit and excrete.  A good moral for you kids out there: if you eat a quarter of your weight in roasted almonds, you will be sick.

Binks, I'm sure, had no idea why he'd woken up so sick.  The idea of connecting his Sunday night's depredations with his Monday morning illness would not occur to a dog.  And thankfully he's now back to normal.  But yesterday was stressful. Poor Bear!

* * *

Finished Howard's End, a book whose final 2/3 do not live up to the promise of its opening.  Not a terrible book, but one deeply flawed--by a semi-incoherent philosophical substructure; by a massive implausibility at the core of its plot (Margaret's marrying Mr Wilcox); and by a prose style that lurches dangerously between the archaic, the glib, and the sermonizing.

Watched Kurosawa's Stray Dog yesterday, about a Tokyo cop whose quest to find a stolen gun leads to a larger examination of post-war Japan.  Found the pacing tedious but still enjoyed a number of the set sequences.

Today I go back to tutoring American History.  Mostly I get my American History tutoring jobs at the end of the year--May and June.  That means that this time of year I have to reread American History textbooks to prepare.  Right now I'm reading about the Grange.  No one ever talks about the Grangers anymore.  Why is that?

Day 64

There's an emotional and spiritual vagueness to Howard's End, a kind of murky sense of half-felt emotion that I associate with Bloomsbury, turn-of-the-century literature.  Victorian certainty has begun to erode but it isn't gone altogether, and the hard clear lines of Modernism haven't yet emerged.  It's a strange era and the book has that strangeness about it.  I don't entirely know what to make of it.