redesign

I changed the colors around. I'm open to suggestions, so if anyone finds it hard to read -- or knows of a really cool way to incorporate the color pink -- let me know.

Bilder

This is the star that hangs above my crumbling balcony. I'm not sure where we found it. Maybe it fell from the sky.


I think that this "see no evil/hear no evil/speak no evil" monkey totem pole, currently the pedestal for my burrito tail cactus (an ideal plant because it requires next to no water), should be expanded or renamed to include a "blog no evil" category. Though that would disrupt the magic number, you could also just rename the other two to something like "fwd no evil" or "comment no evil." Part of my decision to greatly reduce online activity in 2008 stems from a disgust with the user comments I see when I read the newspaper -- or other blogs -- online. Whether it's racist blame-games, vitriol over local sports teams or embarrassingly poor spelling and grammar, comments on the local Internets do not generally engender goodwill among neighbors.


This was the slab of ice we used to escape a frozen Flush Creek near the Troost Bridge. Not big enough to support our weight, it nonetheless kept our boots from complete submersion in the stream.


What's up with this picture? I honestly don't know. It's part of Jenn's recent photo sets on jennybros.com and flickr, along with the rest of these shots shown here today. If you're willing to write a few sentences or more about what you think the story is with this picture, I'd be happy to post it here. I know there's some creative types out there reading this, and I want to give them a chance to shine.

If you came here looking for something intelligent to read, than I'm afraid I'll have to direct you elsewhere, like this story from the NY Times for example.

In the meantime, stay tuned for Giant Squid sightings and some more music-related stuff soon. A big hello to friends overseas, especially those in Swaziland.

cheers,

LW

Pocket Sized Moon

Did anyone see the moon last night? It was nice. It looked a little bit like this.

This picture is one of Liz's 365 PSPs currently on display at the Love Garden for one more week. I'm actually cutting something out of the frame here, but to find out what it is, you'll have to click on the picture itself.

For those of you who can't make it out to the display, we've set up a little flickr site where you can view each one of the works of art along with the poem that goes with them (there are poems for about 1/3 of the pieces -- any more than that would have been a bit much).

The best way to view them is probably to click on the set for each month. A few dates are still missing, but that will be remedied soon.

You can see those at www.flickr.com/photos/popplepower.

Take care.

LDHW

The End is the Beginning

I don't think I'll be posting much over the next few weeks. The internet around these parts is frozen, and it's too cold to do much except make a small fire in the living room and read library books.

Speaking of library books, I came across one of the finest rap songs ever written about the importance of reading, incidentally one of the first rap songs I ever heard. This is Run DMC in their 1986 Reading Rainbow appearance, which also featured Pete Seeger's performance of "Abiyoyo." (who could forget Abiyoyo?)

Anyway, it's probably about time I hopped off the blogcycle for a bit and got some exercise elsewhere.

I've got a little snail-mail campaign underway, and perhaps a few new projects to dive into soon. What exactly, I can't say, but I do know I plan to eat more soup.

I'll keep adding tracks to the online jukebox and I'll post something here before too long. As always, If anyone's got any ideas, feel free to throw one my way.

your friend,

Lucas Wetzel


Top photo taken by Peter at the rugby training fields in Stellenbosch, where several members of South Africa's world champion rugby team practiced. Above photo taken at Liz's Love Garden opening last week by Jenn, whose site has been redesigned. Also, happy birthday to Kyle the Seoulman and Big Baby T

There Are A Lot of Blackbirds Around These Parts Lately

They make a lot of noise.

A night at the Love Garden

If you're anywhere near Lawrence, Kansas tonight, you should stop by and check out Liz Gardner's "Pocket-Sized Pieces" art opening at the Love Garden. Art, wine and whores davores (that's a funetic spelling, I don't speak French) starting at 7 p.m. Ghosty plays at 8.

I contributed to the art pieces by writing short poems for about one third of the pieces, and they will be on display as well. Though my involvement is a small one, it's been lots of fun to assist Liz with this project, and just being able to say that my haiku line the walls of the Love Garden is kind of fun in itself. Maybe more so if you didn't know that the Love Garden is a record store at 936 1/2 Mass.

If you can't come to the opening, swing by the store anytime in the next month. They'll still be up.

Also, for you music fans, Ghosty will also be playing (as a 7-piece!) Saturday night at the Record Bar with opening bands Fourth of July and hometown hip-hop hero Miles Bonny.

To read the Lawrence.com article about Liz's art show, click here. For some recent local press about Ghosty, check out this from The Pitch and this from Lawrence.com.

Hope to see you out this weekend.

Pots and pans

There was a giant pot bust in the West Bottoms last night. Lots and lots of marijuana has been "recovered." I'm not going to make any comment about this except to say that Ray's revelations won't come as easily now.

Ice fountains and the closing of Corinthian Hall

This weekend was like a bit of spring in the middle of winter. Although it was Saturday, we came across this icy wonder in a Kansas City park. If Shiva has deserted his traditional ice-phallus dwelling in the caves of Kashmir, then perhaps he's found a new home in KC's historic northeast.

We were in the neighborhood to visit the Kansas City Museum before it closed for renovations until 2010. And I'm very glad we did. I got to meditate in Indian huts, hunt a stuffed buffalo and watch a 40-year-old filmstrip about the wagon trains of the pioneers. In the 1910 soda fountain downstairs I drank two big chocolate phosphates.

I was also pleased to find that the museum was much less boring to me now than it was as a grade-schooler. Back then I was sick of hearing about covered wagons and Lewis and Clark and the hardships of the plains. I just wanted to play Oregon Trail, and I don't think I was the only student who felt that way.

I enjoyed getting a glimpse of Kansas City in the olden days, and I was glad to see that this town really hasn't changed all that much.

It's a shame this museum will be closing down for so long, but I think the exhibits were more than ready for some spiffing up. I just hope the Fairy Princess (a female alternative to Santa Claus who enthralls children at the museum every winter) finds a suitable local alternative to reside in the interim. She's more than welcome to crash at my place, but I'm afraid my digs might be a shade humble for royalty, at least that of the fairy variety.

Meanwhile, more info about the KC Museum here, and a few more shots of the weekend are up on Jenn's flickr site.


Parting shot: I'd already mentally written the first line of this post when I found an inscription on a bench near Brush Creek that sums it up even nicer: "In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer" -- Albert Camus.

Have a nice week and go easy on the hell-broth.

LW

update: there's a nice lil' video on the Star site today of some kids enjoying the museum yesterday. The aforementioned Indian hut and buffalo can be seen in the background. Which reminds me: there was a kid on Saturday who marched into the gift shop behind us shouting "Me like Buffaloes and Cows!" repeatedly. Rather than correct his grammar, the mom actually repeated the kid's words back to him, as if to encourage it. Oh well. It's her kid, I guess.

Snowtime

Red is right. This has been one of the best winters on record. I've been out doing my best to give myself a cold, scouting out the pristine, Narnian grounds of the Nelson in the middle of a fresh snowfall, drinking wine in styrofoam cups, taking advantage of the holiday schedule to stay up as late as possible.

I tried writing a few blog posts in the snow, but it just kept getting covered up, and the only person there to appreciate it was the security guard, who kindly but firmly suggested I go home.

I've seen some funny things happen in the ice and snow, even a few events that border on the tragic. At the end of the semester, some art kids were wheeling home the makings of a giant sculpture from the studio. When they got to 43rd street they slipped on the ice and lost control of the wheelbarrow, which tumbled over and spilled the sculptural anatomy out into the intersection. One of the kids directed traffic around the wreckage while the others scrambled to toss the broken torso into the lawns on either side of the street. It's still sitting there right now.


There's also a giant head in the back parking lot, perched on a chair and partially frozen over. After the ice melted, I think it chipped away at the mouth a bit so that his expression is much sadder than it was just a week ago. I'm not sure if this is related to the shattered colossus of Warwickshire, but it, too, doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon. It reminds me of another bizarre Kansas City sculpture, seen here (below) on a warmer day.

In other news, I sold the minivan and don't have a car anymore, but I plan to be back on the streets as early as tomorrow morning.

2008 already and I'm not sure what the future holds for this here blog. I had plans to put it to sleep but might give it a reprieve until Groundhog Day, at which point we'll reassess the situation. For now I think I'll keep posting some pictures, words and songs a couple of times a week, though I think I'll lay off the lengthy essays and travelogues in favor of a few quick observations that won't drain my energy and eat up too much of your time.

I'm gearing up for Liz's art opening on Friday, so check the Lawrence Journal-World next week for some more information on that. All 356 of Liz's pocket-sized pieces will be on display with some of my accompanying poems.

Also, my sister Laura is playing a concert at the church on Sunday just after noon. If you'd like information, let me know.

If you'd like to hear some other great music, then head over to the lukebox, where I just posted about twenty new/old songs that you can stream or download to itunes.

winter photos, as usual, by Jenn

Natalya's best of 2007

What it's like to still be a kid. With a camera.

I kinda wonder...

What will tomorrow bring?

December Sun

One of my favorite pictures from 2007.

Along the levee trail in Lawrence, untouched by civilization.

Llamas

Hey Anna, this is that weird-looking llama I was telling you about.


Photos by Jenn. Girl in pink skirt is Tara. Drawing below is by Anna W. For more llama art by Anna, see here. To find out how to help unite llamas with the children who love them, hit up Llama Love.



Llove,

Llukas

Thursday Tracks: Two-Dollar Shoe Archive

I got an e-mail the other day from Clamp asking about a "Two-Dollar Shoe" track I posted here a few months ago. He was looking to update the archive of the group that he played in along with a half-dozen or more talented bluegrass musicians based in Lawrence, Kansas. Fortunately I found the CD, and despite it being coated in scratches, it still played. Even more fortunately, this selected archive is available for all to see and hear. A chronological tracklist and a bunch of photos are available here, which is a real treat for everyone who remembers seeing them play and also those who never got the chance. I got to see a couple of these guys over the break and am happy to report that they're still playing music. You can hear some of Charlie's songs here and Adam's here.

The above picture was taken by Kinser, who has been posting a lot of great photos from Poland. Like this one below.

The Myth of Santaphus

"Yes, Virginia, there is an animatronix Santa Claus, and no, he will never, ever, ever stop laughing"

If you've ever been to Crown Center during the winter holidays, you've probably seen the ancient mechanical Santa Claus that jerkily slaps his knee over and over again while merrily chuckling "ho ho ho" amid fake snowy scenery in the company of spinning panda bears and magical elfkin friends.

I remember loving that thing as a kid, but also being just a tiny bit afraid of it due to its sheer immensity. You'd think that I'd see it now through nostalgic eyes, but I went there over my lunch break last week and the thing looks scarier to me now than it ever did as a child.

This mostly has to do with the Santa's appearance. His face, coated with nearly a century's worth of varnish, is covered in a pattern of fine cracks, giving it the distinguished antique quality of a Renaissance-era fresco. His unchanging smile and repetitious laughter grow unnerving after a few minutes, reminiscent less of a holiday totem than a man gone permanently insane.

The man has a history, as well. I read the sign chronicling this Claus's story, how during the transitions from one department store to the next, he sat for years in lumber yards and warehouses in a deactivated state. For some reason, the Santa's unnatural longevity caused me to view it as a mechanical monstrosity brought back to life through nebulous acts of technosorcery. Like an Urak-Hai of Happiness.

With a pang of guilt I realized that, for the first time, I was thinking of the storied Santa as a machine and not a Santa. I looked at the heavy red velvet costume draped over his massive forearms and imagined what the hulking figure must look like beneath his Christmas clothes. Probably like a giant rusty terminator cyborg, I thought. A morbid image, I know, but once it presented itself, I found it rather hard to dismiss.

I had to admire the man, though. The machine. The Santa. Whatever you want to call him/it. He simply never runs out of jollity. Though it's a bit unnerving to know the man's been laughing for generations (racking up an astonishing 267,840 knee slaps per season), it's sort of wryly humbling to know that through all the changes, school years, romantic fiascoes and travels I've been through, he's still up there slapping his knee for all we're worth.

Creaky and battle-scarred but mysteriously resilient -- if there's a better metaphor for my own Christmas spirit than this jolly but slightly unnerving old elf, I'm not likely to find it anytime soon.

How will they know it's Christmas?

I found out this weekend when I went to Au Marche in Lawrence that the U.S. has declared an embargo on Kinder Surprise Eggs. The FDA has declared them a choking hazards, so the delightful toy-within-a-chocolate-egg treat is off limits to the American consumer unless they have an alternate means of acquiring them.

This is pretty f*&%ing sad. I'm not sure I'll be able to really even celebrate the holidays without those tasty treats and the tiny toys they contain. I'm inclined to agree with the guy at the consumerist who argues that the thrills Kinder Eggs bring to thousands each year are worth a few kinder casualties.

Europe just keeps getting farther and farther away, I guess. The dropping dollar, rising airline prices, and now the kinder egg crisis of '07. At least I've got some Karl Heinz (der Herbstee -- waermt sich von innen auf!) with which to sip down my sorrows.

Oh, and a bit of trivia -- some of you might have wondered during your trips to Germany why "Kinder Ueberraschung" products are still called "Kinder Eggs" and not "Kinder Eier." I wondered the same thing myself once. From what I gathered, it probably has something to do with the German word "Eier" being slang for "balls" or "nuts." So advertising a round chocolate product that translates to "Kiddie balls" or "Child nuts" is understandably worth avoiding.

So as you can see, a seemingly innocent product such as kinder eggs also has a lethal, pornographic underside. But hey -- it could always be worse.

Bonus! A stop-action video of the Kinder Egg experience, thanks to someone in Finland

New digs

I'll get back to the mini-travelogue about South Africa tomorrow, but I wanted to give a nod to 2008 and beyond by sharing this postcard and biographical info about the Boley Building and its designer, architect Louis Curtiss. The company I work for, Andrews McMeel Universal, will be moving into the Boley Building in the fall of 2008, and we're getting a tour of the place tomorrow afternoon, even though renovation of the space is yet to officially begin.

I've heard a fair amount about the building itself, how the glass curtain-wall Curtiss designed for the Boley Clothing Building was the first of its kind, how Boley was a former newspaper editor turned successful businessman, etc. But I had not read much about with Mr. Curtiss himself until I came across this entry of his life and photo of his burial site in the coffeetable book, "Here Lies Kansas City," which illustrates the final resting places of famous Kansas Citians.

If all goes according to plan, AMU will be in the building by 2008, almost exactly one century after the building was constructed. Reading about Mr. Curtiss gave me a chuckle. Though I doubt I'd be able to recreate his Canadian-Parisian-Kansas Citian turn-of-the-century decadence, he appears to be a man after my own heart.

See below, and click on the image to enlarge.


a brief biography of Mr. Curtiss


The architect's unmarked grave

South Africa: arrival, skeleton gorge, Lion's head

Arriving in Africa, I felt a familiar combination of openness and blankness, the same thing I experienced the first time I flew into Europe. As I looked out the plane windows while landing in Johannesburg, I couldn't help but think, these mountains are African.

The feeling of blankness comes from not knowing what to expect, though it might also have something to do with having been on a plane or in airports for 36 hours. The open-mindedness stems from wanting to see and experience as much as I can in my short stay in this country. So far I have not been disappointed.

The first thing I had to do when I arrived in Cape Town was figure out how to drive on the left-hand side of the road. This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It takes a certain amount of trust in the system not to follow your instincts and pull over to the right side, but the speed of the oncoming traffic on the highway leaves little time for hesitation.

Actually, driving on the left side is much weirder in thought than in practice. As a pedestrian, it's a different story. If I rely on instinct, I'm toast. Instead I have to look both ways repeatedly, like a lost schoolchild. It's also unnerving to look at other cars on the road and see that there's a 7-year-old in the driver's seat, and on top of that, he isn't even paying any attention to the road. Until, of course, you realize that that isn't really the driver's seat, and you should probably go because it's a green light.

I got very lost while driving into Stellenbosch the first night to meet up with Peter. He left me no exact address, no local number, no plan/time to rendezvous. In lieu of signs, the streets are labeled by scantly legible names painted in yellow on the curbs, so after looping through town several times, I found myself accidentally heading away from the lights of town and up into a mountain pass.

The road was narrow and dark enough that I decided not to turn around too suddenly. As the road's elevation climbed, however, I grew transfixed enough by the scenery not to want to even turn around any longer. The almost-full moon made the road shine like a ribbon winding through the shadowy outlines of the mountains. An unmistakable reminder to just relax and not worry about being lost.

I drove on past lodges, houses and wineries, eventually turning around in some industrial park driveway manned by a guard. When I knocked on his booth and asked him how to get back, he told me, simply, "You go over the mountain, you are in Stellenbosch."

Fortunately, the ATM I hit up when I got back was in front of an international call center, so I dialed Peter's American cell phone and we met up for some food and Castle lager at one of the nearby pubs.


The next day we climbed two separate peaks. First we ascended Table Mountain via the Skeleton Gorge Trail. I used to think signs marking the trail as "strenuous" were directed only at asthmatic nonagenarians, but apparently they apply to me these days as well. We made it to the top in a few hours, though, greeted by a mix of stunning views and all-encompassing fog. The speed with which clouds travel at the height is astonishing.


We took a roundabout trek across the summit to the cable car station, trekking alongside drop-offs that made my head swim, even though I'm usually not afraid of heights. I so badly wanted to launch a frisbee off the cliff and into the city bowl below, and Peter thought it would be fun to fire a hot dog all the way to Robben Island using Slugger's Hot Dog launcher. But, alas, we lacked the means.

In the end, it was probably best that we were unable to carry out our projectile-launching plans. Frisbee golf discs fall hard and dangerous from 1,086 meters, and any cape baboon lucky enough to catch a hot dog would probably grow dependent on ballpark freebies and lose all desire to fend for itself. Plus, Peter told me that in August an American tourist fell to his death from the top of Table Mountain while attempting one of the upper hiking trails, so we decided stick to safe activities like eating dried mangoes and snapping photographs.



After riding the gondola back down the mountain, we drove into Cape Town to enjoy some french fries along the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.


After regaining our strength with pommes frittes, we headed back up Kloof Road to tackle the second peak of the day. This was the much-smaller but no less enigmatic Lion's Head, which Peter and I had heard was a popular spot from which to observe the full moon. We started out at a hearty pace, but were nearly turned back by a giant tree that had fallen in our path.

Fortunately, we overcame and took the trail around the base and up the ridge of the Lion's Head peak (so-named because its shape resembles a lion's head), affording us views of the sun setting over miles and miles of coastline.

We reached the top at the very second the first sliver of moonlight rose from behind the clouds. Several dozen people had gathered at the peak, many with their cameras ready, and I heard a man shout: "de maan komt!" to his kids playing on the other side of the small summit.

In the flash of cameras I saw couples with their arms around each other, friends sitting or standing around in groups, sipping champagne from plastic glasses.

We must have stayed at the top for at least 90 minutes, watching the moon rise higher over the lights of Cape Town. Though it was dark long before we began the way down, we passed a few groups of people still on their way up. By the time we got back to our car on Kleef Nok road, you could still see the distant flashlights of people filing both up and down the mountain.

That night I had dreams of falling off the side of Table Mountain. Nothing unpleasant or nightmarish, just semi-lucid visualizations of taking a liberating free-fall from the summit. A letting go of the caution and restraint I'd shown that day while hiking, and a subconscious release of tension from the long trip overseas. Or perhaps just a subconscious desire to become a Pteranodon...But enough for one day. More tomorrow.

A dozen photos from about as many friends

Photo by Jeff Bransted. Though I think it's a close-up of a sign, it looks like a grid showing KC as a stop on some futuristic transit system. Someday.


Taken by Jennifer in 2004 at the ArtSpace around the corner.


Photo from Jessica Brothers during Springfield's huge ice storm in January 07.


This is around the corner from the McDonald's on Broadway. Given the area, it wouldn't surprise me if somebody lived here.


A classic shot from Tara Sloan, taken in 2005.


Another shot by Tara in front of the now closed-down Yello Sub Campus.


Jon took this. No effects added, neither, just this lighter a homeless guy gave me that has a blue light on one end.


Photo by Moritz Piehler of two red habits that may enhance late-night relaxation but will also set things on fire.


Last year instead of watching the Super Bowl we went ice skating. Taken by David aka TyrannosaurusWetz.


The Space Race came to an inglorious end in the back of Mickey's Surplus.


This is that vision from Cape Town I was telling you about.


Ayla Kiran took this last month in Buenos Aires. It's purdy.

And some bonus shots displaying seasonal time-lapse:

Summer. Note evidence of so-called red habits.


Winter. The porch is going to completely collapse any day now.


Halloween.


Yesterday. As you can see, it's Madeira-drinking season once again.