Meditations during October Bicycle ride

I drink in cool air,
autumn-scented beauty surrounds --
Sun sinks lower,
lights up color in tree tops and hillsides,
yellow light suffused into the browns, reds, greenery.

Summer's heaviness dissipates under
northern influences;
The blood quickens,
gives new energy for winter preparation
or other less productive pursuits.

Time to stash the foodstuffs,
seal up the lodge,
stack the firewood,
tuck in extra buffalo hides
or craft-sale comforters.

Winter's white chill will soon
be upon us –
the helpless shivering
times we must endure.

Hurry up and prepare,
before giving thanks,
then tucking in for the long
cold white blast.

The Sun will come back,
life will renew,
we will be able to venture out once again.
Years' cycle constantly repeats.

But today I enjoy October's crisp palette,
and give thanks for this world,
its endless variation
that I (still) live in.

-end

auto-correc

Thanks to the ever-handy spellchecker software, the previous post has been vetted and changed for accurate spelling.    You are welcome -    

                              - The Computer

Hu-memorial

We are controlled by our computers.
Auto-formatting, letter changes, etc
force us to put down
what we did not intend.

The computer always knows better than
some wannabe artist,
reduced to a desktop ornament
at the whim of the ruling chips,
discarded at their leisure.

Once Humans ruled this world,

alas - no more.

Enough - time to settle it!

Shutdown Again!


      Just do not understand why these representatives of the people cannot get their act together and come up with a compromise. Everyone from the President on down needs to sit down together and haggle out a compromise of some kind, and get the government in operation. Delay the Mandate? So be it. Tax some medical equipment? Why not, we tax everything else, sometimes more than once. We need to get over the stupid recalcitrance and get on with our lives.

     Or should we call the USA a failed state? Maybe request governance as a UN Protectorate. The Blue Helmeted soldiers from distant lands could be stationed in every governmental department, every statehouse even. Have to oversee these bankrupt broken governments somehow, don't we?

     It would be easy to blame the debacle on one or another party. But the fact is, presidents over the last six administrations have wrestled with the question of health care and how to better administer it. Obama is merely the latest president to address it, and he did so in a big way. The rich hate it, and the poor applaud it.

     But in any case, we need to get past these minutia, and hammer out some kind of agreement. For everyone’s' sake. Thanks for reading, and keep an eye out for those blue helmets, coming soon to a street corner near you.

-
 

Accidental Literacy

There is so much accidental literacy in life these days. Computer literacy, writing literacy, social literacy.


      I post on Facebook or send an e-mail, and must naturally try for a modicum of skills at writing English. Most email and social network editors will underline my misspells, and let me right-click to correct them. Perhaps I will even pay attention to the correct spellings and remember them – stranger things have happened.

     Sometimes I'll follow a link and read an article in the New York Times or the UK Guardian. My tired brain is presented with a well-laid out logical progression of facts and positions. I assume these have been thoroughly proof-read. Some of my sharp-eyed friends catch errors in these articles, but I rarely, if ever, see any. So I get immersed in literacy once again.

     Even if I never wrote another poem, nor short story nor essay or even a Facebook rant, the act of using the Internet for everyday life functioning soaks me in a sea of syntax and grammar, quips and quotes, theses and theories. Where once I had to actively seek out books and look for learning, now I cannot escape it. Since I do not plan on giving up the Internet (arguably the most important of modern conveniences), this will go on until the day I am planted underground.

     Mostly, it is a gift. Human minds have effectively been inter-networked to the degree that our knowledge has become meta-knowledge, a living, growing entity that will last as long as the electricity is on. Difficult to imagine my teenage years in the previous century, those dark times when all we had were record albums, paperbacks or comics, black-light posters, and the regularly-practiced stupefaction of doing drugs. Determined to be dumb, we succeeded in a stellar fashion. Today's teens could chew us up and spit us out in their stride: they seem far brighter than we were. There are exceptions to every rule, of course.

     If there is a point to this rant it is this: Literacy (whether or not it is of high quality) is a mouse click or finger twitch away these days. And that is very good, or at least darned convenient.


Thanks for reading.

-

Special

     The news came out that the U.S. And Russia have reached some kind of agreement regarding Syria. Sounds good to me, since I really did not want world war III. Vladimir Putin's attitude still rankles, though. The USA is special – if for no other reason than we are made up of immigrants and refugees from every other nation on earth (native Americans aside). Refugees escaping harsh living conditions and even harsher regimes from many of the same countries that “we” came from. So, yes, Mr. Putin, we are special. We are made up of those fleeing your society and many others, hoping for and working towards a better life. Although far from perfect, I think we have done pretty well.

But hey, I'm all for keeping the peace, when I rationally consider the alternatives. Thanks for reading.

Putin writes an article

Putin pouts at us

It is really amazing how the Russian leader criticizes us. Their human rights record is abysmal, and their client state, Syria, is massacring its own citizens. We have to bull in there and threaten to strike just to get their attention.

Assad had said that if a patient cuts off an arm that has gangrene, this is not terrorism or massacre – comparing his gassing the rebels with amputation, I suppose.

If the West took this same philosophy, we should “amputate” Syria – or even Russia. Maybe it is finally time to settle the big unspoken question once and for all. What to do about Russia. Maybe throw everything we have at them and scorch the continent down to bedrock. Make it glow for ten thousand years. It will remind the rest of the world to stay in line and act civilized.

One can only fantasize. But it would be nice if everyone could get along. Yeah, another fantasy there. Oh well, Glad tomorrow is Friday. Maybe there will be another war to watch on CNN by the weekend.

Twelve years later

War memories cascade past,
repeating images of huge planes striking
immense buildings, ejecting fireballs –
Screams of fear and misery, that
muted drumbeat of thousands
running for their lives.

Bodies tumbled out of windows,
Absurd leaps of faith a last hope;
Concrete and steel flattened like some
giant defective cake, crushing
everything in its path.

Cloud of deadly dust hung over NYC for days.

Gas spiked, panicked lines formed.
Many left work early,
only thing flying were
national guard helicopters.


The world turned upside down that day,
and we are still reeling.

Twelve years later, the
wounds have scabbed over,
but may never heal completely.

Memories of the dead are honored,
heroes who gave their lives in our defense
even more so – they will not be forgotten.

We got the perpetrators,
delivered our rightly harsh response.
Yet it seems we have been forever changed.

Nine-eleven burned into my brain,

then,


now -


always.



-end

Goodbye Max

Rest in Peace, Max


Bright-eyed fluffy surprise,
eager tail and happy bark –
puppy Max made our spirits rise,
scampering around on some lark.

Our happy four-legged presence
lightened our mood and our days,
Made complete our residence,
unless he had to go out (without delay).

We'll miss you, little buddy –
not only Lew and Kath
but everyone else in the family,
who petted you and got a tongue bath...

Kibbles and kisses and lovins and more,
you left us with cheerful memories galore.


-end

so much for resolutions

Already missed a day - but I blame a writers meeting that occurs once a month - was a great source of inspiration, and fun besides.   If anyone is reading this that is a fledgling writer, a regular groups is a precious resource - join one if possible, either online or in person.  

I see we are moving closer to a strike in Syria.   After the two very costly wars we recently extricated ourselves from  (the US I mean), I just cannot fathom it.  There have been numerous casualties inflicted by other means, some say over 100,000 dead.    But now because of some evidence of a chemical agent, the US feels it has to go in and smite the Assad regime with missiles.   Right in the middle of a bloody civil war, we have to go in and clobber one side.   Now, what is a European power did something like that in the midst of our civil war?   Would we just stop, lay down our rifles and say  "okay, we are sorry".    Perhaps some power might have been aghast at the wholesale burning of cities like Atlanta by the GAR, and decided to step in and punish A. Lincoln by an offshore bombardment of New York or somesuch.   It is absurd, of course.

      Why every president we have gets such a hard-on for military action these days is beyond me, unless it is sheer egomania.   But some evidence of chemical attack on a relatively small group of people, in the midst of much larger slaughter, is no reason for the USA to sacrifice more blood and treasure  (or IOU's) for some damned foreign power on the other side of the globe.   Again.

But we will - you watch.  

30-day challenge

Another author came up with the idea of writing a blog post every day for 30 days, so, why not - sounds like a great idea.  But poems just don't grow on trees, so many of these will be rambling prose by necessity. 

     Day 1 - Sept 1st.    The river was shallow, but the sun canted a little bit sideways, the air lost a bit of humidity, and the temps felt perfect on our exposed skin.  We splashed about in the water, walked along sandy banks, took pictures and more pictures, chatted about anything and everything.  As the sun fell towards 7:30 P.M., we gathered up our things and made our way back to the car.   My body felt so alive, invigorated and relaxed at the same time.  It was another delightful river outing.  A unique one as only these two friends and I can pursue.    And it only cost us the gas to get there, and any drinks we took along.  Perfect.

Day 2 - today.  Thinking ahead to a possible trip to Palm Springs.  The hotel costs a fortune, airfare is not cheap either, and then there is car rental.  I should be saving my meager scraps for retirement, not going on a trip like this.   But my aging body informs me in its own way that time is passing, I won't be here forever.  Perhaps I need to do a few trips like this, to see some things I've only read about previously before my "meter runs out".   The debate rages back and forth.  I think 'how dare he, he knows I earn very little, etc etc.'   Then,   'Maybe I ought to be glad, having someone goad me to go do things I would be too reluctant or even timid to try on my own.'    February is a long way off, and the jury is still out.   We shall see.   Meanwhile, it is a gorgeous morning here in Des Moines, with cool temps and sunshine.   Glad for that in any case.

The Earth Scents Me

My fingers work the soil in myriad ways,
sometimes with tools like hoe or shovel;
When I get into the yard on nice April days,
begin to prep dirt canvas without any trouble.

As I mine the compost pile rich scents awaken my senses,
inspiring efforts to amend bare earth with the rich loam;
Once the soil has been worked, planting commences,
Fresh flowers and vegetables will grace my home.

That early joy of planting genesis of future treasure,
fades when the weeds start to grow, little by little;
Persistence of thinning them out is a good measure
of a true gardeners' determination and mettle.

The delightful treat of new colors, smells and tastes
remind one that persistent effort has not gone to waste.

-end

Sign on my Forehead

Sign on my Forehead





I am not an international terrorist,
Nor baby-snatcher nor serial rapist;
The only thing I molest is my shopping list,
Only one (verbally) abused might be my therapist...

No visions of grand larceny crowd my brain,
No drug deals loom within my domain;
A quart of Old Milwaukee my only refrain,
Employed and keeping self clean, is that insane?

Though I am an older single male,
who likes to sight-see alone,
walk or ride over hill and dale,
visiting area spots close to home.

So please grant me a sequestration,
please cut me some mental slack;
I feel your suspicions as I field your questions,
you are not, but I feel like I am, under attack.

Media have sold me on the appeal
of many area gardens, lakes and trails;
Although I visit these with zeal
Do not run me out of town “on a rail.”

Thank you very much.

-end

Flutter

Thought wanders and jumps like a butterfly,
concerns and wants crowd out firm direction;
Need to do this, want to do that, would like to do the other -

Too often sensible things get pushed aside.

At times I can take a breath, steel self and forge ahead.
When I relent, imps of misdirection leap back to the fore,
taking me on yet another half-planned misadventure.
Memories are friend and foe, pleasing and disappointing...

Somehow I make it through work,
traffic, grocery shopping and banking.

Things need to get done.

Dreams of romance or exotic adventure
rarely derail the necessary items of life,

no matter how hard they try.

-end

Expanding Reality

     If you ask 10 different people what some burglary suspect looks like, you are liable to get at least several different answers.    Something that has been proven in history to the best of my knowledge.   This just shows me that reality is perceived differently by different people - our minds and brains interprets what we see, what is “out there.”

 

So all we can do is gain a close approximation of reality that is agreed upon by most.   We can never really know what is truly   “out there” - aside from a personal opinion of what it is we are sensing.

 

     Therefore, when we look at a stack of perfectly organized facts, and a “something” creeps in from around the edges or even the middle, we probably should not be surprised.   It is just another part of the meta-verse finally detected and processed by our crude but persistent wetware.    

 

     But this can be looked at in an optimistic way - there are amazing discoveries awaiting us.    It seems that as long as the universe is expanding, our reality will also expand.    Incredible things lie ahead, and I envy the future generations that will make these discoveries.  

 

     Still, it has been a great trip to be alive these years, and hope to log a few more decades to enjoy the view.   See you on the outer edge of this bubble we call reality!

what a surprise

     The revelations came out this week that the Internet is being spied upon regularly, with many of the largest providers giving access to the government.   Sine the Internet basically came from government-designed and funded networks in the first place, there is no real surprise here.    Government designs and builds a worldwide communications network;   Government spies upon it’s gift to the world.    Surprise, surprise.   

 

      What does seem to be a loss is the comfortable illusion we had of the Internet as an open free-for-all.   In the beginning it seemed wide open, for good or ill, and anything was possible.   Now it seems  reduced to just another outpost of the TSA, another place to be scrutinized in minute detail.  I pity the young people coming up, who never even knew the illusion of what the Net used to be.    Our ever-present spy apparatus is keeping them safe, and laying bare their lives.   Privacy vs security, and security wins.     What more can I say?

-end

This just in

Now available for your light summertime reading pleasure - A Strange Enterprise.

http://www.amazon.com/Strange-Enterprise-Collection-Speculations/dp/0615818072/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368914341&sr=1-4&keywords=A+Strange+Enterprise

Enjoy!

A strange day

May 3, that is.  Over 24 hours of snowfall right here in Des Moines, Iowa.  Amazing.   Something I have never seen in all my years.   I do recall a mid-April snowstorm around 1981, that wiped out many a flower garden.   But this one really takes the cake.   It felt so surreal, looking out the window at work, and seeing everything in black-and-white relief, just like it looked in December - or February.     Part of my mind thought  “was all that greenery and balmy breezes a ruse?  Are we stuck in perpetual winter - a new ice age?”

 

     The weatherman says it is not so.   It should warm up to the 60’s by this weekend, 70s by next week.    All I can say is, it better.   Not fair being robbed of spring like this.  Who knows what the summer will bring - maybe 100s followed by 50’s.      Strange - a day to tell your grandkids about someday.     

 

(feels like any other Friday - only cold!)

 

 

A little about a lot - this and that

Wonder why these truckers do not monitor the height of their loads?   They are always crashing into overpasses and bridges, despite signs and warnings?   Can there not be some standardization of bridge heights and/or load sizes?    Every one has an excuse from the drivers  (they just hook up and haul)  on up the chain.   Can no one take respnsibility for this expensive, ongoing debacle?   Seriously?  Ridiculous.

So ther are three accomplices to the Boston bombings.   Good, lock them up and throw away the key.  Thou shalt not blow people up, nor help those who do.

The Keystone pipeline helps no one but the oil companies.   Why not build a refinery in Canada?  They figure it is somehow easier to ship the oil 3,000 miles south and then refine it?   Hmmm.   Yeah, let's pollute the Oglala aquifer, where the entire midwestern US draws drinking water from.   Who needs clean water anymore - we can sip crude and breathe gas.  Yeah.

We somehow need to go in and prevent the Syrian government from using poison gas on their people.   And we need to bomb Iran to protect Israel.   We can't even keep Afghanistan under control.   What if we declared an invasion on the U.S. and did some nation-building here at home.  Repair decaying bridges and roads, but also enhance our energy grid, and help renovate inner-city housing.   Help make the US a modern country - again.   

Just wondering.

Earth Day 2013

You call this progress?

We have planted trees all over the city,

Oftentimes right up next to each other.
Recycling bins are ubiquitous,
education programs rampant.

But 40-acre or 160-acre plots still vanish,

trees and grass bulldozed for massive
family fitness centers with spacious
parking lots.   For all those big SUVS.

Enormous data centers come in to

suck our power and water resources,
employing a few lucky or unlucky souls.
The mantra of economic benefits gets chanted.

Their secrecy is understandable considering

what they take from future generations,
and what they offer as compensation.
Environment thieves do not openly advertise.

Hope that future generations enjoy

poking their gadgets and playing games,
while they breathe some foul soup that will pass for air,
and wonder where all the real trees and real angry birds
disappeared to, once upon a time, before they were born.

-end

Conquering Virus Day Three

The misery sneaks up on you,

one minute you feel okay,
the next a barrage of sneezes escape;
Nose drips steadily as you run for a tissue.

Thinking feels clear even though sinuses hurt,

head stuffed with cold crud instead of ideas sought.
You keep thinking, “why bother?   May as well watch TV”
But then who would know about your second bad cold of this year?

Someone has to document the misery, the intensifying sneezing,

scratchy throat, headaches, malaise.    Who better to tell it
than the person who is sick with it?

Rhyming lyrical style is beyond your patience today.

Just want to get it down before dashing for another
tissue, cold pill, coffee or even cookie.
Whatever it takes.
Damn cold.
Yuck.


 - end

Here we go again

So here we go again.   Another series of bombings, more bloodshed, tragedy, disaster.   Hand-wringing and soul-searching, and asking why.   Don’t have any answers here, just questions.     How can we allow dangerous weapons to proliferate on our streets, like gasoline in a burning village?    How can we allow members of a religion into our country, when every time there is a terrorist attack, it is by a member of this same religion?   Why we cannot hold a normally festive event like a marathon any more without being fearful?    Don't know.

 

     My heart is greatly saddened today.    While I realize that our nation was never perfect, and always has had difficult times, it seems that these days there is so much more random killing and senseless violence.    It just defies logic.  But it is the world we live in, however depressing.   Hang in there, everyone.    And hug a loved one tonight - they probably need it.

 

 

Tinpot

Look at the porcine little dictator,

strutting about and uttering threats.
Thinks he is a big, bad alligator,
this tiny person, so pathetic.

A laughing stock outside his borders,

would be the object of pity if it were not
for his built-up military that follows orders.
There is a time for peace, if it can be got --

Is it  time for the rest of the world to get together

and wipe this scourge of stupid swagger off the map?
We can all agree he is full of threats and bluster,
Time to teach him a lesson, give his knuckles a rap.

Rub his piglike snout in bloody grime of defeat,

Enjoy teaching the lesson, our victory complete.



-end

Inspired Perspiration

     I was watching an old biography of Thomas Edison on TCM channel.   It was fascinating to watch him just travel to a big city  (New York), and talk his way into a good job.   Of course, it also helped that he repaired an early stock ticker  (or “indicator’ as it was called).    That set me to thinking, how would someone like that do in this day and age.

     Of course, a modern analogue might be Steven Jobs.    Tinkerer, inventor, highly driven.    A young Tom Edison might hitchhike out to Sunnyvale, California, and talk his way into some company or other.  I have no doubt he would get himself hired, and then rapidly move up.   At least if the tales of the past are any indication.  

 

     He might observe someone writing a C++ program, and suggest a better algorithm.   Or at the very least, suggest a more efficient way of burning in new EEPROMS.     Whatever, the driven young man would establish himself, and prove his worth by working long hours, doing whatever it takes to get to a good result.   He would probably be well on his way to a Billion in net worth by age 30. 

 

      The commonalities between the 1870’s and the present day are multiple.   Willingness to put in long hours.  Willingness to call on a high manager, and not take no for an answer.   Willingness to offer someone a solution to their problem, and then work night and day to make it a reality.   99 percent perspiration and one percent inspiration, and both are crucial.    A man like Edison can create a lot of careers underneath all of his efforts.   Here is hoping someone like him will stop in Des Moines someday, and hang his hat up here for good.   That old movie about him even inspired me to write about it.  Thanks for reading. 

-end 

 

Cannot colonize on ideas alone

We can’t colonize the Solar System on ideas alone

 

     Space colonization is on more and more peoples’ minds these days.   There have been two companies started recently for the purposes of mining asteroids alone.    Planetary Resources, Inc. and  Deep Space Industries, Inc.  are hoping to launch probes to first survey, and then mine, heavenly bodies near and far.  Other companies have plans for private stations, like Bigelow Aerospace.    One Dutch group named Mars One has plans to establish a colony on the Red Planet by 2023.  So there is a lot of interest in the subject.  Many people look outward, and see exciting possibilities.

      Disclaimer

     [ Before proceeding any further, I hereby state up front that this is an opinion piece, and may contain some errors.   If you want cold, hard facts, there are plenty of textbooks or web sources out there.  This is simply a reflection on the state of space exploration in 2013, and what it will take to keep it going.    The principal sources of my information are space.com, spacedaily.com, and associated press articles that come out announcing one or another space milestone.     For further inquiry after this article, see the sources listed below.]

      In Earlier Times

      During the time of the wave of exploration in Europe, many expeditions set out to find, at first an easier route to the west indies, and later, trips to the “new world”.     All of these early missions required funding sources.   Columbus and others trudged across Europe, trying to raise money for their trips.   Spanish, Portuguese and eventually, English governments of the day funded such missions.    Once word was brought back, along with samples of things like tobacco, cocoa and other items, the funding and interest really picked up.   But these early missions required big money for the day.  A simple commoner, no matter how bright, could not just go it alone.

      The British sea expeditions, notably the Beagle carrying Charles Darwin, made significant discoveries, excited public imaginations, and pushed back the boundaries of human knowledge.   Other countries also contributed.  Humanity found out what lay beyond the known edges of the world.   Imaginary dragons gave way to real tales of the north and south poles, the strange peoples and creatures that lived there.   At some point, ever more accurate navigation techniques were developed and employed.     One person, or even a local group of “fans of the sea” or some such, could not have done this alone. 

      Present-Day Efforts

       It is the same today.   For all the talk about students learning STEM  (science, technology, and Math) skills, they still require government or other large-scale funding to carry off space missions.   And these missions themselves generate the excitement, the dreaming and visioning that propagate other kinds of economic growth.    Governments and large corporations have to stand behind long-duration space exploration and colonization skills, in order to bring them off, and help move humanity outward. 

       Now, many people recognize the importance of exploring, developing and colonizing our Solar System.   The expanded living room offered.  The knowledge of our local space environment, especially the dangers that exist, is crucial.   Being aware of comets and their potential for destroying Earth regions seems pretty important.    Learning how to operate out there, to eventually deflect the interplanetary troublemakers  would be of great benefit.   The spate of private companies popping up is indicative of the interest out there.  Some businesspeople are putting their fortunes on the line to turn some of these space ideas into reality. 

       But it will still require governments to stay with it, to keep promoting and encouraging this progress.   Eventually things will reach a critical mass, and the space industries will support themselves.   But not for a good while, perhaps even hundreds of years.    So much energy is required to propel an object out of Earth’s gravity well, to make orbit, and then to escape orbit.   This in turn requires huge rockets, which require governmental funding, or at the very least, major corporate funding.   Advances are being made here, but space is still a costly, risky business.  Of course, there could be a game-changing technology that arises - one never knows.

      Why Space Exploration Matters to Us

      While there are of course many pressing needs here on Earth, it is still vitally important that we maintain a presence in outer space, preferably an expanding one.    It gives people a distant goal to look towards, something other than the humdrum, day-to-day grind.   It provides a wholesome alternative to our governmental science and engineering labs - space exploration is preferable to warfare.   It gives the young something to look forward to, something to dream on, to fire their imaginations.    Not to mention the mountains of valuable resources that ply stately orbits around the sun.    But to get there, we need the help of governments, and will for a long time to come.

      Today, NASA funding is giving companies like Orbital Sciences,  SpaceX and Deep Space Industries, Inc. the support to pursue some novel technologies for continuing the quest.    This in an important example of governmental underpinning, that will be needed for the foreseeable future.   Thanks for reading.

 

For further inquiry, see these websites:

 

http://www.space.com

http://www.spacedaily.com

http://mars-one.com/en/

http://www.deepspaceindustries.com

http://www.planetaryresources.com

http://www.spacex.com

 

-end

 

 

New Collection soon available.

Pre-order your copy of this new collection, featuring a story by yours truly.

http://www.hadrosaur.com/kepler.html

Hope that one and all had a happy St. Patty's day.

Close Call

Woman with coffee in a hurry to cross

 

She eyed me coming in my red car, stopped

as I slowed and considered stopping.

I changed my mind and sped up and on,

just as she walked into my car, continuing to cross.
As if she had a death wish, and I a kill wish.

I passed through the moment and wondered

what had come over us both.

What happened to courtesy, why could I not stop?

What happened to common sense, why didn’t she?

No, we were both stubborn,

we both went, and risked a collision
that never happened.

Never checked if she spit or listened for a curse;

I just had to get away so I could re-assess it all.
I can still see her eyes, and feel the situation.

 

 - whew

To celebrate MoMath

In honor of the Mathematics Museum opening in NYC...

Their days are numbered 

     Sitting in his easy chair, Three ran through the probabilities for his evening.  He said to himself,  “It’s time to blow this buffer and transmit myself elsewhere!”   He made himself presentable, and then translated out to the main bus.  He glided along that,  and got off near the Downtown area.   He sensed One coming from the opposite direction, and they fell into synch.

Three greeted one genially.

     “How are things in the numberverse?”

     “Just digi-riffic,” replied One.  “Been scaling up vectors all week.”

     “Good.  Our bosses will be pleased.  Say, want to have a drink?”

     “Sure, why not?  Let’s go to that new place on First street, “ said One.

     “You mean the Irrational Cat?  Been meaning to check it out,” said Three.

     “I talked to Four, and he said he would be out tonight.  He is after  a new One.”

     “Him and his hot Ones,” said Three.

     So Three and One wandered downtown and soon located the Irrational Cat, located on First and Main.   They tried to enter, and almost collided with Nine. 

     “Hey, how are you guys doing?  Long time, no calculate.”  Nine slurred his words a bit.

     “Oh, just been marking time, I guess.  We’re going in for a drink - care to join us?”  said Three.

     One looked at him, perhaps thinking that Nine was already pretty sloshed.  But he stayed silent.

     “Sure, why not?  Lead the way, gents.”  

     The three numbers made their way through the portal into a dimly lit room.  A long bar ran down most of the length of it.  To their left, the bar curved around, and the room opened up into an area with pool tables, and beyond, a small dance floor.

     Three, One and Nine approached the bar.  Four was seated there already, sipping on a quantum fizz.

     “Hey, Four!  Good to sense you here,” called Three.  Four turned and waved a few digits.

     “Hi, guys.    Wondered if you would show.  Just waiting for my Hot One to get out of the restroom.”

      Three, One and Nine plopped down on barstools on either side of Four.   They ordered Higgs Lights, with Stringshot  chasers.  It was going to be a festive evening, Three could tell that already.    He felt glad he had ventured out of core tonight.

     Four spotted his hottie making her way around the bar, exiting the restrooms.   He motioned to Three and One, and said,  “There she is.  Fellows, could you make room for my sweetie?”

     “Sure,” they chorused.   They shifted positions, and Three ended up contending with the Hot One’s purse wedged between the stools like a painful punctuation point.   Meanwhile, Five,  Nine’s racetrack buddy, had just walked in.  He wanted to chat with Nine about the results of the last race.    But Nine was gracious enough to move down a stool, so that Four wouldn’t have to subtract his place.   

     The Bartender took Five’s order, a Gamma Gulper.   Finally getting all of them served, he stood a moment, smiling, listening to their idle chatter traffic.  Then he came out from the other side of the bar, and made his way around the front, checking on a sticky door hinge, his flash memory racks, and other Nano clutter.  At one point he looked at the digital dudes iterating along the barstrip.

 

   He thought to himself, 

“Jeez.  With Three, the Hot one (with jutting purse between her and Three), Four, One, Five and Nine here, this is going to be one irrational place.  Who else could possibly show to make it worse?”

      Just then the door opened, practically right behind him, and he heard more Euclidian gibbering.   ‘Oh no.  It was Two and Six...’ he thought glumly.  There goes the neighborhood!

 

Pi end

 

www.momath.org

 

 

Grazed

One inch, two inches, three and four...
This system should miss us, scratch
at our back door, maybe an inch or so;
Then Mother Nature upended everything.

Spinning tires, crunching metal, screaming curses.
Here we go again, this time without warning;
Plans disrupted, finances disrupted, commutes destroyed...
Acute sense of very real pains of winter, oh so unpleasant.

Thought we would skate through to April without
any or many more serious blizzards.  Fat chance of that.
Like the gridlock in Congress, or teenage manners,
Things delight in amazing us with their stabbing jabs --

A corner of my mind can visualize a beautiful spring day,
flowering crabtrees, crocuses and daffodils grace green grass.
Memory promises a lot of rain and flooding, oh yes we need it,
but please oh lord just give us a few nice days in the balance.

I remember in 2013

500 days

The pundits said it could not be done,

humans cannot survive such a journey;
Proving them wrong has been fun,
We finished the trip a few days early.

We’ve seen more radiation on an Earthside beach,

Feeling fine, better as the Red Planet grows;
Our bold dash has extended humanity’s reach,
Perhaps an expensive undertaking, heaven knows.

Now we can exult in the view, whether or not

we make it back alive - all that matters is we arrived;
We will relax and enjoy the trip, because we got
the ultimate prize for humanity, from a dream derived.

When determined individuals go after a prize,

Step aside, you may be in for a big surprise.

 

 

 

-end

 

Snowstorm a'Coming

Better go grab those groceries,

gas up the car, stuff it with supplies;
Make sure the snow-blower works, or
have a shovel handy when the snow flies.

Central Iowa is having another major snow event,

We’ve been warned about it since last Sunday;
There is nothing we can do to avoid or prevent
this catastrophe, except await the fateful day.

The commute will be slow and messy,

Something we all know from before;
No parking on streets, fines will be heavy,
Shovel your drive so plows can deposit more.

Winter agonies in February do persist,

Six inches is a holocaust, if you insist!


-end

Here It Comes

Tax Time Once Again

 

Retirement planning was duly addressed,

checking statements pored over with care;
Financial gyrations can leave one depressed,
overwhelming numbers result in stupefied stare.

Daily manipulations are only a prelude,

The big event looms ominously ahead;
April 15th will be the big hullabaloo,
a date I try to prepare for, with dread.

Yet every year I somehow get through this

trial by tax code, whether or not any is left;
Afterwards am left with a feeling of bliss,
And personal belongings, not totally bereft.

Springtime comes, and mood and steps are light,

Taxes have been paid, so no need to take flight.

 - end

In Search of the Way

 

The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn,

Progenitor of dozens of offshoots;
Devout followers were not docile pawns,
Their dynamic temples rapidly took root.

Alpha et Omega carried on the traditions,

With some changes in ceremony and ritual;
Sex-magic was practiced in an early edition,
Christianity became dominant, doctrines scriptural.

Builders of the Adytum is an American brand,

The HOTD threads still stretching onward;
Philosophical adepts argue and take a stand,
Pronaos groups propagate truths outward.

Society of the Inner Light another carry-forward,

Founded by Dion Fortune, ex-Christian scientist.
Her twenty-four books introduce straightforward
magic and pagan elements for aspiring  young tanists.

The Temple of Starlight brings in Western science,

Psychotherapy, hypnosis, neuro-linguistic programming;
Ina Custers Van-Bergen leads this group presence,
To bring spiritual traditions back, via internetworking.

The Avalon and London groups continue strict tradition,

Only British citizens need apply, and they must be moral;
willing and prepared for rigors to be brought to fruition.
King Arthur’s quest for the Grail continues sans quarrel.

Chaos Magic brings together many disparate kinds,

From Ordo Templi Orentis, Druid and Wiccan traditions;
Yet CM escapes the hidebound to explore new lines,
Practitioners collaborate to understand contradictions.

Heathenry and the Northern Tradition add

The Norse pantheon to the eclectic mix;
Odin, Thor, Freya and even Loki make glad
many hearts, that long for Asgard’s kicks.

Freemasonry remains a secret society,

Rituals, methods and meetings concealed;
After you peel away all the obscuring piety,
An agency that promulgates charity is revealed.

Those are some of the secret religions,

Enlightening and inspiring us plebeians to go on;
Founders were not just about contrition,
Producing informative works , new spirit songs.

It is up to the reader to decide what is right,

Though it helps to know the choices out there;
Find your own path, follow it into the light,
You may find a way to relinquish all your cares.

 

- end

 

 

Confrontation - a short story

     The sun beat down on el Calle de Hernandez.  Little dust devils were the only thing that dared to venture out, kicked up by an intermittent breeze.    In Norte Americano the gringos would call it the Santa Anna.     In sheltered recesses on both sides of the street, watchers peered from windows.    Gun barrels probed the hot air just outside ancient crumbling windowsills.   But their wielders were at ease, trying to endure the heat.  No one would try anything funny at this time of day.  It was too damned hot.   Who wanted to get shot to death all sweaty like?  Might not look good at the funeral.

      And there would be funerals - many of them.  On this particular day, two opposing gangs were ostensibly on high alert.  They had been trading words at the stoplights, at markets.   Everyone knew a big battle was coming, just not when.

      So when Fernando’s little brother got ahold of one of the new Bushmasters, and decided to take a stroll down the steamy Calle de Hernandez, without his brothers permission   (and the rest of the gang always had to ask Fernando for permission), all hell broke loose.

      Juan had admired his tall, muscular brother ever since he could remember.  He who always knew the answers, he who took care of Juan and their mother so well.   He who provided them a good-sized hacienda, when so many others lived in tiny hovels.  

      Juan knew his brother handled weaponry, and other, more mysterious substances.     There was almost a daily litany in the house:

      “Dear Fernando, por favor.  I know I cannot keep you from dealing in these weapons of death, and the killing white powders.  But Por dios, please keep these things from the sight of your little Hermano, Juan.  At least let one of you be free from this scourge,” she would say.

      “Madre, you know how much money I provide.  You are really not in a position to cast blame, since you enjoy the fruits of my work.  But don’t worry, I will try and keep things from Juan’s eyes.”

      It would go on a while, then eventually cease.   Juan could only see glimpses, since Fernando mostly honored his promises.  But he wanted to handle one of the weapons so very badly.   They seemed to hold such power!   

      On this particular day, Fernando was in their garage, tinkering with his new SUV.   Mother was in the kitchen.   And Juan was able to sneak into the room adjoining Fernando’s bedroom - a room normally locked, but not on this day.  He went in, and gazed in wonder at the rifles lined up or stacked on the floor.  He handled one, and then another.  He finally grabbed a futuristic-looking American weapon, and hefted it.  It was so light, almost like one of the toy guns his mother forbade him to play with.  He managed to sneak it outside, around the back of the house.  Then he took a stroll down the Calle, aiming his new toy at imaginary foes.

      He made it about halfway up the Calle, when a challenge was called out.  Little Juan just shrugged, and smirked.  After all, he had the American wonder gun.  No one would dare mess with him.  He just said,

      “Awww.    Que Paso, Cavrones?   Mira!”  And he held up the rifle.  Then, he cradled it in his arm, and pretended to aim it, waving it back and forth. 

      The rival gang members were all looking.     Fernando, remembering that he had left his room open, had come out looking for Juan.  He saw him, halfway up the street, and began screaming.  

      “Juan!  Juan, come back here now!    Please do not shoot him, he is just playing!”   

      Juan turned, and waved at his brother, as if to say, don’t worry.   There were voices on both sides of the street calling out, in short order.  Threats began to be issued back and forth. 

      “Do not shoot; he is merely  a boy playing!”  said Fernando’s soldiers.

      “Who is this?  We should kill him, yes?”  yelled the opposing gang.

      Juan slowed to a stop.  He looked back and forth.  The voices stilled.   And then he slowly began walking again.   He raised the rifle, and pointed it, straight ahead.  And then he turned slightly left, aiming it at a house.  The house was full of opposing gang members.   The minute one of them, a Carlos, saw the sun glinting off of a deadly barrel that had just swiveled his way, he could delay no longer.  He took aim with his AK-47 and let loose a full burst.

      Several slugs tore into Juan’s body.  His finger involuntarily pulled, and his own rifle let off a burst, spraying the side of the house ineffectually.   His body spun around, the rifle flew out of his hands, and he fell to the dirty street.  His body landed with a thud that resounded off of the homes on both sides of the Calle.  He was dead by the time he came to a rest in the blood-spattered dirt and gravel.  

      The shouting died out.  No one else fired.  And then Fernando began wailing, and crying,  “No!  No!  No!”

      It only took a few moments before he grabbed a couple of rifles, and told his lieutenants,

     “Come one, it’s payback time.”  

     They said “wait, wait.”

       But Fernando would not be deterred.  And it was their duty to follow him, no matter what.   So they trailed him out into the dusty Calle de Hernandez, their own weapons trained.  The other side also emerged.

      Their leader, Victor Ivich, stood in the middle of the Calle, cradling an M-16.   Fernando stopped about ten yards away, cradling his own AK-47 set on full automatic. 

       Victor met Fernando’s gaze, and yelled,

      “This was your little brother, Fernando?  This was an accident.   I regret this deeply.”

      “Not nearly as much as you will, Victor.   You killed my only brother, and you know what this means.”

      “Many will die, and not just on our side, Fernando.  Do not do this, I warn you.”

      “Adios, Victor.”

      In one sweeping motion Fernando raised his AK and fired;  his lieutenants followed suit.  Soon, slugs were flying in all directions, as Victor’s gang returned fire.   Pistols barked, shotguns blasted, automatic rifles and machine guns rattled.  Smoke hung thick, and screams rang out.   The smell of cordite and burned human flesh soon permeated the area.   Both Fernando and Victor perished out on that bloody, dusty Calle de Hernandez.     Many others also fell, cut down in a bloody fusillade.

      By the time it was over,  there were fifteen dead, and at least twenty more wounded.   The Calle was more red than brown, more blood than dust.  Just another summer day, in a suburb of Mexico City. 

      Meanwhile, weapons manufacturers had a very profitable quarter that year.

 

                                                      - The End