Turban Times

The other day when I woke up but before I got out of bed I started thinking about blues turbans. In other words, turbans worn by blues musicians. I'd just seen Billy Cox wearing one in some of the footage of Hendrix's set at Woodstock, and I'm a big fan of Hannibal, who famously wore one on the cover of his record, "Hannibalism." And KK's partner BBQ has been known to sport a turban while playing the kick drum, cymbal and guitar.

Fortunately the search engines directed me to a fabulous gallery and analysis of famous blues turbans, courtesy of the funky16corners blog.

If I may, I'd like to borrow a passage from their intro:

When R&B performers started to wear them, it was a risky move. On the right guy (say, Chuck Willis) a turban could give a good-looking cat an intriguing touch of the mysterious. On someone else, say a maniac like Screaming Jay Hawkins, a turban is just another bizarre accessory, there to let you know that this is not a sane man. That dichotomy, a tenuous balance between the suave and the crazy is where turbans would teeter forever more.

To add a soundtrack to your perusal of the turban hall-of-fame, here's a favorite from The Mighty Hannibal himself.

Fancy that

Yesterday on the way home from centennial park I stopped at the phillips sixty six on ninth to get gas and buy a blue powerade and a hundred grand bar. The total came to three dollars even, which is exactly what I had on me. "Fancy that," I said to the clerk as I handed her the money.

Once I was back in the car I remarked to Jenn isn't it funny how sometimes things you say come out a thousand times more tart than you intended, thanks to a wavering of tone or perhaps just the outmoded nature of the phrase itself.

Jenn took a drink of the blue powerade and said I know why this is so good. It tastes just like those freezy popsicles.

How long can you freak the (dunder)funk?

Last night while playing Balderdash with the Brothers Sisters I happened to draw the word dunderfunk. Contestant guesses included "a state of apathy and dissociation," and "the sound made while beat-boxing," while the correct definition was given as "a dessert dish made of baked biscuits and molasses."

Which sounds delicious. Except as anyone who has ever sailed the scurvy-riddled seas knows, dunderfunk is not so much a delicacy as a poor man's dish also known as Scouse, Lob-scouse, Soft-Tack, Soft-Tommy, Skillagalee, Burgoo, Dough-boys, Lob-Dominion, and Dog's Body.

This information comes courtesy of a well-informed wikisource, though I, of course, typed out the following passage from my great-granduncle's autographed printing of Melville's, "White Jacket" before finding the text online. It reads, as follows:

One clear, cold morning, while we were yet running away from the Cape, a raw boned, crack-pated Down Easter, belonging to the Waist, made his appearance at the mast, dolefully exhibiting a blackened tin pan, bearing a few crusty traces of some sort of a sea-pie, which had been cooked in it.

"Well, sir, what now?" said the Lieutenant of the Deck, advancing.

"They stole it, sir; all my nice dunderfunk, sir; they did, sir," whined the Down Easter, ruefully holding up his pan. "Stole your dunderfunk! what's that?"

"Dunderfunk, sir, dunderfunk; a cruel nice dish as ever man put into him."

"Speak out, sir; what's the matter?"

"My dunderfunk, sir--as elegant a dish of dunderfunk as you ever see, sir--they stole it, sir!"

"Go forward, you rascal!" cried the Lieutenant, in a towering rage, "or else stop your whining. Tell me, what's the matter?"

"Why, sir, them 'ere two fellows, Dobs and Hodnose, stole my dunderfunk."

"Once more, sir, I ask what that dundledunk is? Speak!" "As cruel a nice------"

"Be off, sir! sheer!" and muttering something about non compos mentis, the Lieutenant stalked away; while the Down Easter beat a melancholy retreat, holding up his pan like a tambourine, and making dolorous music on it as he went.

HM, 1850

So do you any of you have any good recipes for the stuff? When it comes to a dish like dunderfunk, I've heard it's best to separate the good stuff from the junk.

Toksha ake wacinyanitin ktelo

There are many legends about the white buffalo in Native American culture, one for just about every tribe. This particular specimen is named "Old Joe," and we saw him on a recent Flint Hills field trip at the Hays House in Council Grove, Kansas. You can read a 1994 Houston Chronicle article about the return of the White Buffalo here. You can get to the Hays House by driving west on 1-70 to scenic highway 77 and heading south through the Flint Hills.


Building in downtown Council Grove


Native American riders just before this month's Symphony in the Flint Hills concert.

All photos taken by Jenny

midsummer nights

It's been a big week.

My dear friends Andrew and Liz are getting married in a few hours.

I lost in tennis three times.

Midsummer night is just around the corner.

My building got struck by lightning and five firetrucks came but the only thing that burned was a fried fuse box.

I tried yet again to write a graduation speech, even though it was 10 years ago.

I ate some pretty fresh tamales.

I'll leave off with a quote from a true sage of the class of 1999, who cut through my whole pseudo-intellectualizing of high school with the simple excellent comment over drinks that high school was a great time.

"Think of all that emotional electricity flowing through us at that time," Damon said (more or less). "That was our sixties."

Friends are on their way and I've got to begin trying the tying a tie process for now, but I wish you all the best with your lives/weekends.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. On Thursday night a few of us sang karaoke.

In case you need a pygmy up

If you've read this blog at all in the last year, you know I love me some hedgehogs.

Well tomorrow is a big day. The Mid-West Hedgehog Show will be taking place from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at Shawnee Lodge #54.

What is a hedgehog show? Here's the answer given on the website, where it's written in big red, purple and blue print:

A Hedgehog Show is a show where the Africa Pygmy Hedgehog is put on displayed and judged based on its Coloring, Markings, Age and Gender. Just like a Cat or Dog Show there will be a judge and ribbons given to the "Winning" Hedgehogs" in each of our Classes (Solid, White and Pinto)For those needing more information on the Hedgehog Show Classes check out our page labeled "Show Standards"

We will also being having what is called a "Kid's Class" where children and their hedgehogs are judged based on how the child holds the hedgehog and the hedgehog's behavior to being held which each child will be given a ribbon for.

Also we will have our "Games" Class where you can see how your hedgehog rates compared to other hedgehogs in the different hedgehog games like Hedgie Bowling, Let's Go Hunting, It's Race Time, just to name a few.

This show is open to the public and with or without a hedgehog everyone is welcome to come and join us.

And yes, there will be hedgehog bowling.

Warwickshire Menagerie

One of several "hear/speak/see no evil" displays at my house. Though this one looks more like a close-up shot of two onlookers at a circus who have just witnessed something terrible take place in the motorcycle cage (for example).


Hedgehog candle brought to you by Waxman


Our one real (guest) animal. Kiki is staying with us for a few days and maybe a month later in the summer. At first I was not thrilled about the idea of pet-sitting, but Kiki is easy to love.

Top two photos by Jenn, photo of Kiki by sister Jess

WREX VS. HEXE

A new track from Ree-Yees recorded yesterday. James on drums, Eric on vox and effects. Or as they put it, James = time, Eric = space. Photo taken in Galesburg circa November 07. Careful it will put your speakers to the test.

The end of analog

What an old TV looks like on film

Godesberg at sunset

Godesberg sunset

Triple Triptych

planes plains ducks bench duckshadow


new mission to generate ideas


gasworks

Fashion Lady

One of the more enduring portraits left behind last Friday. Fashion Lady wears orange bows on her ankles and an orange boa. Between nature and city, her blue/green hair at home in the stars. I don't even know who drew it, either. Erica? Camille? Jess?

Presprectvies

I probably spend a couple hundred bucks on shipping fees every two years or so. From now on I'm going to just save up that money and make periodic trips to Powell's World of Books.

Arches, Seattle

At Water Works, hole 18. Mike sinks the putt, bringing to mind his infamous quotation of the West Coast disc golfer: "Taste the chain, brah!"

A guest post from the Seattle parking meter

A good image to start the week on.

A prudent message from our sponsors

Fifth Fridays wrap-up

One advantage of our exile from Yurtopia was that we made it back in time for Fifth Fridays, which is a good thing considering the event was being held at my house.

Fifth Fridays is something I started to bring a few friends together in the hopes that all the assembled creativity would lead to some kind of artistic cross-pollination, inspiration and all-around good times. In the rush to try and figure out what cities or countries we'd like to move to next, it's easy to lose sight of all the talent and creativity that surrounds us here in Kansas City. Fifth Fridays was designed to be a reminder not to lose sight of that.

I'd have to say it was a success. Though the thing was necessarily limited in size, there were quite a few quality materials on display. Among them:

- lots of bottles of home-brewed beer, courtesy of Willie
- photographs of fireworks and a leaping, barefoot man, courtesy of Camille Nolan
- fragrances designed by cat voice specialist Jill McKeever
- some soon-to-be published prose by Craig Davis
- an anonymous poem lauding the beauty of an art girl seen walking by a crosswalk, as well as a surprisingly sincere verse tribute to ODB
- the latest issue of Jessica's Spirit Self magazine
- a first-person story about a young man who was raised by Jayhawks
- Jennybros photos and stipple drawings
- a drawing of a guy riding brontosauruses on Pluto that Dave drew on site
- an excellent hand-written chapbook entitled "On the Passing of Materials" by Colin Torre
- some found black and white images of old houses and an old laughing lady
- several short films by Audra Brandt, who also brought a home-stitched baby onesie
- original musical recordings by Ghosty, Jonathan Nagel and the debut of Toby Terrence's new track, "Explanations Tight."
- a sad, lonesome country tune submitted by some drunken cowboy in Friedrichshain
- several frighteningly cute three-eyed puppets made by Brenda
- some baklava I bought at the Habashi House


All in all, it was a delicious and stimulating evening (as you can see from Liz's expression) and I hope to do it again some time, perhaps at a larger and more public venue. Although Fifth Fridays only occur sporadically, their infrequency only adds to the event's uniqueness and mystery.

Tonight, of course, there are plenty of First Friday activities taking place in the Crossroads. It's a beautiful night for it and I'm sure there will be a lot of people. Tomorrow's West 18th Street Fashion Show should be even more exciting. Unfortunately my place in the fashion world has been somewhat compromised ever since somebody pointed out that I was wearing my shirt inside out, so I'm not sure I'll be allowed to attend. Still, I'll always have last week's event to look back on. Well you know what they say. If you can't find your place in the art world, make the art world come to you.


A few more images to follow. See you soon.

Escape from Yurt Village

As I mentioned a few posts ago, Jenny and I relocated to Yurt Village in May and had been staying here for some time. Unfortunately my lease was terminated once the proprietor discovered I was harboring wild beagles in the facility, which is strictly against Yurt Village code (wild beagles are a menace in the Castle Rock area). So unfortunately we were forced to high tail it back to Kansas Town. This post takes a quick look at all the various methods of transportations required to complete our exodus from the Pacific Northwest, which in those short weeks had become something of a second home to us.


First we flew by mountains


Then we took a train through the gorge (From Natalya's series of Portland-area pics posted one day before Mr. Frugal Traveler from the NY Times ran his piece about chasing Oregonian waterfalls)


Our friend Manfred led us on a spiraling motorcycle chase to Crown Pointe.


After that we followed the waterways into the Mt. St. Helens blast zone


And drove a rental car along the Spirit Lake highway until the snow kept us from driving any further


After that, a boat


Last but not least, an epic bike ride through the Presidio

Now we are back in the Midwest, where it's all green and lovely once again. More posts to follow. Photos courtesy of Jennifer Wetzel.