Independent Bikes

Another Fourth of July picnic in the Newport Hills neighborhood.

Barbie

Hats

Babies

Training wheels

Streamers

Trio

Pink

Bowtie

Out cold

Flags

Keeping it clean

Shade

Backstop

Going Over Old Times

Aunt Velma schooled us we should run in the field
when we got worked up, so as not to raise dust
in the house, which somehow managed always
to be just swept. So there we were,
playing at jousting, with Petey and Mort
on their invisible steeds they didn't want
to call just horses, holding branch lances
and going for each other like they hadn't
forgotten all the doublescrosses
they'd laid for each other in the past.
The dog and me were referee.


When everyone tired of knights we turned
to the day, like a grocer's thumb
on the earth. Even the trees which burst
out in yellow every so often
(you could smell "caution" on quiet days)
were grey, no buds, like spindly clouds.
I had a dog once looked like that,
the runt; he passed away unnoticed
almost, cause he was barely there
anyway. This was a runty day.


We fooled around the barn a good deal,
swinging on the rope from the rafters.
Mom brought it from Ohio where her Ma and Pa
used to tie it to the porch railing
in winter so you wouldn't get lost walking
from the house to the barn in a blizzard.
We all used it so we wouldn't stray
from the farm into the woods like we were tempted
to do on dumb days. Mom called it
"a headiness" that came over you in there,
so you'd walk for months without flagging,
and Percy and me knew it was the jays
who called you on and on from your home.
Even jays themselves have no home,
they've called each other away, following
those raggy cries up and down
from Salinas to Winnipeg. At any rate,
we kids stayed in the barn till suppertime.


And rain, which had been listening to the arguments
of gravity all the way down, hit
the drainpipe and said "Okay yessiree,"
agreeing to try the dry old earth for a spell.
We heard it during dessert, don't you know.

Holiday Backstage

This weekend, the neighborhood's annual holiday bazaar materialized briefly in the vast space once occupied by the Red Apple grocery. I was there in the early hours before the throngs showed up to shop for jams, candles, scarves, greeting cards, jewelry, and other mostly locally produced gifts. As always, I was more entranced by what lay behind the scenes, in the bowels of the old store: vacancies within the larger vacancy, relics of commerce.

This American Life

Four hot, dry days in Eastern Washington culminated in a three-hour shamble through an antiques mall in the town of Cashmere. What caught my attention among the usual plethora of random still-lifes was the preponderance of aged hunting paraphernalia and trophies in this rural locale.

Antlers 4 Sale

For hunting fish, fowl, varmints, and the occasional steer.

If the hollow points don't work, try the axe. The "Indian" blanket is an ironic accent.

Decor for any cubicle.

Hut of the week

My romance with deserted abodes continues. Ths is an abandoned house in the mostly abandoned town of Liberty, Washington.

The Field

My friends Premium T. and Citizen K. invited me, of all people, to a night of pro baseball. A good time was had even though the Red Sox surprisingly lost to the Mariners. All in all the scene was rather Hopperesque, I thought. Click for full effect...


Wetting the Field



Diehard Fans



The Bullpen



The Bier Garten



Slugger



Nighthawks

Independence Day

I'd feel better about celebrating the 4th if it hadn't become such a mark of the extreme right-wing to flaunt the flag at every opportunity while spouting lies, distortions, and hate rhetoric.

The Garage Sale

The Price of Baloney in Egypt

I'm not sure what relevance the American flag has vis-a-vis selling stuff.


But it certainly is no guarantee of successful entrepreurship.




Just who were you trying to impress?

Jewelry and Guns