Dave's Blog

Romance

Stumbled upon this shot on Flickr that features a tile from our old Romance kit, when we used to print it in red. Check out this woman's shots; she's good! Not particularly safe for work...

Lilacs

It's that one-week season again, when these are in bloom and it seems like every living thing (including people) is at its most beautiful. Usually my birthday happens during this time; this year the week came a bit later. Anyway, I don't cut flowers very often,  but I've got this cool vase that seemed to be begging for it today. I'm laying on that couch right now with this right behind my head, and the aroma is so heady it's putting me to sleep. It reminds me somehow of being held by my Grandma...

Six Months To Live!

No, I'm not telling you something dire; this rhymes with "Six Month's Arrived," as in my band, Horno, has been playing together for six months and now the time has come for our big debut and swan song, on May 30th. If I'm sounding cryptic, check out sixmonthstolive.net. Last year's show was a gas, and I don't expect it to be any different this year!

Recording Session

I'm still recovering from three long days of recording with my band, Horno. See that building over Mike's (our drummer) right shoulder? That's The Banks Building, Magpo's world headquarters.

We managed to get eight songs "in the can," as they say; if you'd like a copy, respond to this blog and ten bucks will get you a CD. It turned out pretty darn good, in my jaded opinion. All original songs, three of them mine...

Wooly Bear

I know that at some point I should blog about something having to do with Magnetic Poetry and language in general, but right now I'm all about little natural miracles. Today, a wooly bear caterpillar; I hadn't seen one in quite awhile, so he seemed like a long-lost friend. He was wandering across the the middle of a bike path, and after photographing him I plucked him up and placed him out of danger on the other side, roughly in the direction he seemed to be headed. He felt like a fat pipe cleaner curled up in my hand, and tumbled off my fingers down into the dry spring leaves...

There... a bad prose poem about a wooly bear caterpillar! Put that in your corn cob pipe and smoke it!

I Made My Own Bed

...but I'm not going to lie in it, because I just filled it with manure (boy, that play on words went downhill quickly...). Did you know that that stuff now comes in dehydrated, pelletized form? Still gives off a pretty earthy aroma as you fold it into the soil, though. I'm putting in five different varieties of heirloom tomatoes; come August, what the hell am I going to do with all of them? Give some to you, maybe...

Nothing Gold Can Stay

...by Robert Frost. It's that time of year again:

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Another View

...now that the snow has melted. I just love her face; so sweet and gentle. I even like her beauty marks!

Last Blast?

April 26th, and we got half an inch of snow overnight. Eighteen inches on the ground just a few miles north. Yeesh! But the Garden Goddess remains sanguine as she begins to grow out her chive hair.

By the way, I did nothing to protect her or her chives over this very harsh winter; she just sat there on the steps through months of brutal cold, and this is how she emerged. Beautiful.

Nursing Home, Sick, Dead

Our band (Horno, which is a type of Mexican clay oven, and no, we don't play mariachi music) played at The Minneapolis Eagles Club, a sort of legion hall type place mostly frequented by friendly, elderly barflies. I'm guessing that this sign you see on your way out the door is meant to have a sobering effect...