bigbonton

This Juneteenth (June 19th) dispatch just in regarding the bigbonton roving reporter and field correspondent:

Winding down the first half of the year and we have yet to see much change in his condition. He's gone native, but native to where? Or what species?

"Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire."

He repeats, as if it's his mantra:
"I live in a birdhouse."
"Je vis dans une Volière."
"Ich lebe in einer Voliere."
"Yo vivo en una casa de aves."
"Moro em uma casa de pássaros."

Mmm. English, likely it's British. Then en français, in deutscher Sprache, en español, and then em Português.
Seems well traveled, coherent and articulate, whenever one can break through that protective shell. He fits in everywhere but doesn't really fit in anywhere. Focused, doesn't flitter, but the fit into farm, family, or fortune building seems still pending . . .

"Every year is getting shorter
Never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone
The song is over
Thought I'd something more to say"
- I live in a birdhouse.

Click for more from "The Dark Side of the Moon"

Continue reading "displaced person update" »

Posted by bonton at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"Pearl, Pearl, Pearl, come let us see our girl.
Are you still our valentine? Do you still look so divine?
Come and let us see our darlin' Pearl."

Pearls are often compared to holy things.

Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs sang about their rivalry over a mutual interest in a country girl named Pearl. Such a nice name, a bit old fashioned, somewhat Asian.
[ PS:Huh-oh, just found this toy, grooveshark lite. A simple player so you can get hip to some pulsing Pearl ]

An Aunt named Pearl was famed for her cooking ability, especially with pot-roast. In her home for her funeral there was food galore, brought in by well-wishers and by the family gathered together to mourn the loss of a dear sweet Auntie.
Food galore, but not the luscious cooking of Aunt Pearl... until... (zoot alors!) an idea! Dear Aunt Pearl was aged but died suddenly, and Hmm... looking in the fridge I found a few containers of leftovers. In the rush of the hospital and bereavement plans, no one had considered the first thing everyone thinks about Aunt Pearl, "What's in the fridge?"
Precious leftover cooking of Aunt Pearl. Should I share it? Who gets it? There was even some pot-roast! The temptation to hoard the booty laid itself down hard.
In case Aunt Pearl was watching me from her cloud I knew I should share, so I called my fellow mourners into the kitchen and disclosed the precedings that had lead up to the voila and the last of the precious home cooking of Aunt Pearl.

Dear, precious Pearl and her blessed ability to turn food into love.
We each shared small tastes of the last home cooking of Aunt Pearl. Tales of her long-gone meals praised our departed loved one.
She nailed it one last time. Mmm-Mmm Good!
- we're still thinking about you, Aunt Pearl!

Posted by bonton at 12:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

From John Keats' epic poem, Endymion, 1818:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Happy April Fools Day 2008.
Fools in love, are there any other kind of lovers?
Fools in love, never knowing when they've lost the game
Fools in love they think they're heroes
cause they get to feel no pain
I say fools in love are zeros
I should know, I should know
Because this fools in love again.
- Inara George / covered by Joe Jackson

Posted by bonton at 8:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The results are in and we’re waiting for the interpretation.
Is this going to be OK? What about that pattern? Any of you ever heard a physician say, “We don’t like the looks of this shadow on your x-ray?”
Maybe this indicates the intricate brain waves of a highly evolved humanoid (hopefully)? Is the life that some of us lead eternally facing a mental brick wall? It's a nice and pretty dead-end, but where are the sunny broad horizons imagined way back when we were all going to “grow up to be President someday”.

Back in reality-land, this wall was built in the 1700’s and shows off the skill of the brick mason. Consider the photo a texture study.
We’ll not subject you to the Artist’s Statement.

Appropriately enough, this image is from Retreat Plantation.
Retreat! The intended meaning is “a calm get-away”. At the moment it means “get the heck out-a-here, your MRI is inconclusive of any inspired or viable brain wave pattern."
It’s football season, drop back and punt.
Just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Leigh
And get yourself free
- Paul Simon, Fifty ways to leave your lover

Posted by bonton at 7:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This cold beauty goes well with grits, bacon, coffee, and a campfire.

The first day we went without. We didn't know where we were or what we were doing.
But we figured out the fly-fishing drill and went at it for a second day and waded our way to a spot in the Chattooga River with sun and shade and mountain cold rushing water and shallows and billabongs and nothing else. Just us and the fish.
There we cast accurately - not to where they are but to where they want their next snack.

The fish fear us - not really - but there is nothing in the world like feeling a slack line suddenly have life on the other end of it, fighting and not about to go easily into that dark night of the iron skillet.
We respected all we hooked and made as much use of them as we could, including the beautiful documentary photo shown above. Notice how the color pattern on the fish matches the mountain river rock behind it. Beautiful.

We also conducted a raccoon experiment on the distant side of the river with the fish guts and heads, which proved inconclusive.

according to
the big wiki / Brook trout, Habits_and_range
The brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis) is a species of fish in the salmon family of order Salmoniformes. In many parts of its range, it is known by the name speckled trout.

The brook trout is of dark green to brown basic coloration with a distinctive marbled pattern (called vermiculations) of lighter shades across the flanks and back and extending at least to the dorsal fin, and often to the tail. There is a distinctive sprinkling of red dots, surrounded by blue haloes, along the flank.

Thanks Wikipedia!

Posted by bonton at 7:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

- Field report from our Adventure Correspondent -

Got one of these?

Get hip! Finagle a meeting avec bigbonton in person & grab one of your own.

As the school secretary points out, "The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore bigbonton. They think he's a righteous dude, and I'd have to agree."

Life is like if Iggy Pop and the Stooges
skipped school with Ferris Bueller to the soundtrack:

Here comes Johnny In again
Talking something about love
Yeah, some wow love

Yeah, it's so like hypmo-tizing chick-ens
Amazed 'bout duh. So wow 'round hyuh.

Well, I'm just a modern guy
Of course, I've heard it in both ears before
Just a lust for life
Causes lusts for life
Gotta lotta lusts for life

Hey! I'm worth a million in prizes
'cause of a lust for life
Just a lust for life
bigbad lust for life

get it...edit...publish...dig it!
cause of a lust for life (a lust for life)
(repeat & fade into you)

Posted by bonton at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

B*rry B*nds, aka Barry Bonds hit home run number 756 over the right-center field wall in San Francisco, his home park.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
G**d W*rk B*rry.
T** B*d the F*ns B** Y*u When You Hit H*me Runs. *

* Good Work Barry.
Too Bad the Fans Boo You when you hit Home Runs.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our studiobonton embedded sports reporter has followed the record setting homers of this batting leader of our time. Not THE leading batter, just A batting leader. Always taking away recognition of the achievements of Barry; he will always have an asterisk*.
B*rry B*nds, aka Barry Bonds

Sample of no-asterisk home run batters:
Hank Aaron's 755, Babe Ruth's 714, Willie Mays's 660, Frank Robinson's 586, Harmon Killebrew's 573, Reggie Jackson's 563

Rumor has it that Barry had been juicing with a then undetectable performance-enhancing steroid called Tetrahydrogestrinone, which BALCO marketed as "the cream" and "the clear." Coinciding with the timing of the charges, Bonds went up two hat sizes! Know any other 30-plus year old heads that have grown two hat sizes?

Fans this season enjoy booing Bonds each time he comes to bat. Hundreds of asterisk signs (*) have been confiscated at the gates of ballparks, as directed by the Commissioner of Baseball, as any protests of the integrity of the homers would temper the fervor of the record setting.

“Only one player could be voted to start the All-Star Game and be booed in every stadium besides his own. Bonds can divide opinion, even within the same at-bat. He is often booed when he walks to the plate and cheered when he trots around the bases.” - July 9 NY Times

Barry Bonds has made no effort to become less disparaged, he’s the most aloof player in the game – aloof as in cold, remote. Not like a focused and uncomfortably famous Ted Williams, more like a brat of a man that can’t handle his position.

Many fans and the press consider Bonds “a crummy human.” In the early 1990s his divorce proceedings included testimony of Bonds kicking his wife in the *ss. Not the most shocking ever divorce court transcript, but the image stuck, “Star athlete kicks wife in *ss at home.”

Regardless, when he hits it, the ball fires off the bat and rises and rises and when gravity begins to grab a normally hit baseball, his hit is still rising. Up, up, arching, out, away, and eventually the hit begins falling back to earth. You just have to see it to believe it. Everyone in the ballpark floats for a moment along with the white ball.

The San Fran ballpark Splashdown Zone, the round float is a target for the homers.

Kayaks and an inflatable target in San Francisco Bay.

Barry could have made this record* sooner, but so many pitchers walked him with pitch-outs. Go on and pitch to Barry! It won’t really count like a real athletic stat anyway. Let it fly so the fans can float.

Is success with an asterick much of a success?
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
The proverb says to "balance your life", not "juggle your life with BALCO". The asterick spoiled the fun.

Posted by bonton at 9:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Whoa Nellie!
The Mental Monitor, the Life Exam Proctor, the Patriot Enforcement Squad all agree:
You! - Dial it back a notch and keep both feet on the ground.

Dance, dance, dance, but not too much - someone may see.

Worry: What might they think?
Actuality: There’s no such thing as “they”.

If one can free oneself of the worries of the they,
there is still wisdom in the warning on the sign.

The rush of the oh so groovy felt by one person isn't a permit to inflict every notion onto everyone else.
It takes two to tango. Or to get along.
Buffer, edit, pause, just think about others
as you’d have them ponder unto you.

Acceptable: twirl, swagger, sashay, promenade, cavort, strut, prance & frolic. A daily rebirth & daily labor pains. Kick it.

Posted by bonton at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

got on a wiki jag while thinking about flowers . . .

"Green grow the rushes go
The compass points the worker's home"
- REM, "Green Grow The Rushes"

The word “iris” has three main meanings, related by their derivation from the Greek word for rainbow:

* Iris (mythology), a messenger of the gods in Greek mythology, identified with the rainbow

* Iris (anatomy), the sphincter around the pupil of the eye, named after the colors in human and animal eyes

* Iris (plant), a genus of flowering plants, named after the rainbow

“Irises” is a painting of iris flowers by the Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh.

Van Gogh felt that he could keep himself from going insane by continuing to paint.
“Irises” was the result.
Painted in 1889, it's on display at the Getty Museum, Los Angeles, California, USA.

Another Iris: Jodie Foster played "Easy Iris"
in the 1976 film “Taxi Driver”.

"You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here."
- Travis Bickle

Posted by bonton at 3:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Got a parking ticket
& wanted to save my lunch money for my lunch,
you know?

Pocketed a trusty audio capture tool,
strutted into the Bureau of Parking and Robotic Bureaucrats,
and launched into a sales pitch.

As you can hear, the strategy could have used more planning, but who would expect the clerk-bot to flat-out say
“tell me your excuse”.
Defaulting to common human denominators,
we went for the pity (aka: sick love puppy) vote and it worked!

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

an audio button should appear above.

If not, blame your browser or RSS feed.
Second effort available at:
bigbonton on evoca

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Love, or the attempt at a reasonable facsimile thereof, conquers all,
even at a walk-up teller window with a Robotic Bureaucrat.
The sweetest words of the day: “Next in line”!

Moral of the story:
When someone tells you to “Stop saying that ‘get right with the law’ thing”, just do as instructed.
Being all "Please & Thank You" throws everyone off balance.
And if it’s Johnny Law you’re talking to, then it’s all “Yes Sir, No Sir, three bags full”.

You aren’t really over 21 if you don’t know:
1) It’s hard to look cool when your car stalls out.
2) No one looks tough in cuffs.

We were $12 up!
Spent it already . . . on lunch that same day.

Posted by bonton at 4:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Set the metronome to Five.
And 5, 4, 3, _ , _ , ->

Not a pre-Mardi Gras 1/5
It just sort-a happened. 2/5
We pressed play and began. 3/5
She was geared, that's that. 4/5
I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are (all together) 5/5

1,2,3, _, _,
. . . . .
“Born a poor young country boy,
Mother Nature's son
All day long I'm sitting singing songs for everyone.

Sit beside a mountain stream,
See her waters rise.
Listen to the pretty
sound of music as she flies

Find me in my field of grass,
Mother Nature's son
Swaying daises sing
a lazy song beneath the sun.”
. . . . .

There’s some iambic pentameter* attempts 1/5
going on this Sunday morning! 2/5
If not 100% pent-iambic-alic (new word?), 3/5
then when is anything 100%? 4/5

The meter / is as calming / as a mothers / heart beat. 1/5
Art is art is art. 2/5
Don’t analyze it. 3/5
Experience it. 4/5
&
Get a hair-cut, Hippie! 5/5

* iambic - contains an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. Iambic rhythms come relatively naturally in English. A line of iambic pentameter comprises five consecutive iambs.

1) Count the sets of fives 1/5 (above)
2) and win a penta-prize. 2/5 <- there it goes a-gain 3/5

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Words are flowing out like endless rain 1/5
in to a paper cup, 2/5
They slither while they pass, 3/5
they slip away across the universe 4/5
Nothing's going to change my world 5/5

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Speaking of English and connections to The Beatles,
Szia újra Yoko Ono!
Találkozik én újranél Művészet Kávézóra.
Egyiptomi Táncosnő (Almassey) utca es mellett a Opera Ház.
Rendben van köszönet a barátom ÉN csókola odaad.
Szia szia pusz pusz.

- (I buried Paul).
- (ÉN temetés Pál).

Posted by bonton at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The James Brown traditional stage intro:
Ladies and Gentlemen,
There are seven acknowledged wonders of the world;
you are about to witness the eighth.
Standing in the spotlight, on showcase, twelve young men, who have given you such tunes as [drum roll] "The Grunt",
[drum roll] “ Pass The Peas", [drum roll] "Gimme Some More".
Ladies and Gentlemen, without no doubt, theeese are the J.B.'s !

Without being all weepy about
the spins, the toe-shuffles, the knee-drops, the full splits, that jaw dropping footage of The Godfather of Soul dancing on one foot for 12 full freaking minutes, eventually touching earth again with both feet only to split, spring right up (gravity could not compete with him), spin around, and begin a shoulder hustle, …

... what is the take-away from a brush with the hardest working man in show business?

James Brown said:
" I taught them everything they know, but not everything I know, you know?!"
"I changed from the upbeat to the downbeat, simple as that, really .”

click for more: lyrics, photos, and
his dramatic routine at the end of a performance ->

Continue reading "Soul Brother #1 (Emeritus)" »

Posted by bonton at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Along the way we came across others with red teary eyes. Some needed a hand just to sit upright.
We assisted ... some ... How much is the right amount?
Caring. . .
" ... it's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it" - Faith No More

"Am I my brothers' keeper?"
Asked by the Good Book but not answered outright,
not in a Q & A FAQ format for the ADD set.

Will this be on the quiz?
Click to tune in on what we can glean from Mr. Google:

Continue reading "We Care a Lot" »

Posted by bonton at 8:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Punica granatum

Who says we only live in the moment?
We have a follow-up on a post that's pomegranate'ly popular:

The magic of photography takes us from an August day to a December morning.
Same shot but with some pomegranates withering after their season has ended.
Don't let the damp drab winter light or the rotting fruit bring you down, the birds benefit from it.
OoH yeah, life goes on without regard to our pomegranates.

They came from eastern Iran and southern Afghanistan region. But this tree is happy in the central Georgia morning sun.
In another place called Georgia, to the east of the Black Sea, there are wild pomegranate groves outside of ancient abandoned settlements. Above we see a sample of a small grove behind a farmhouse.
In Greek Mythology, Persephone was forced to stay in the underworld with Hades for 1/2 of the year (six months) because she ate six pomegranate seeds.
The Ancient Egyptians were buried with pomegranates. The Babylonians believed chewing the seeds before battle made them invincible.
The Qur'an (or Koran) mentions pomegranates three times (6:99, 6:141, 55:068) - twice as examples of the good things God creates, once as a fruit found in the Garden of Paradise.

Have a pomegranate!
This group of trees came from a picnic we had years ago. We shared one pomegranate and played around spitting seeds. We were kids (that makes spitting seeds okay). Now that we are living in the future we have trees from that seed spitting episode.
One can imagine the picnic blanket that these trees sprouted around. The trees make a blanket shaped outline!

Posted by bonton at 9:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Sharks eat their food by approaching it from below.
If the bottom-up tactic doesn't work they can attack from the side, but it's still a bottom-up bite since they turn upward at the last minute.
Sharks cannot feed by biting downward, so if you're below a shark you can just lay back and watch them pace back and forth waiting for you to surface and provide them with an opportunity to chomp.

Lemon shark.
They like their dinner meat with a squeeze of lemon juice and a side of red bile sauce.
Bones, fatty tissue, cartilage, it's all good!
Pass the lemon!
This one wants stuffed neoprene wet suit marinated in brine.

Sawfish.
Look at the mouth, so human! Part man, part lumber yard hardware, part fish, and all survivor.
Is this a Sawfish or another mutant Sting Ray like the one that assassinated "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Erin in order to silence him when he discovered the evil fortress headquarters of the international mutant Sting Ray conspiracy based offshore of the Great Barrier Reef in Tropical Far North Queensland?
Well?

Posted by bonton at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Classroom Components: 1/ a fuji mum 2/ a fish bowl

fuji mum -
1) A rounded bloom with long narrow rays of petals, in this case displayed in a bulbuous container to enhance the wheel and spoke configuration

a fish bowl -
1) Everyone can see in and everyone looks.
2) The "celebrity fish bowl" fear is the fear of "being recognized" being overpowered by a worse fear of "not being recognized".

|digital update|
This just in -
Our in-house intellectual property comment counsel has advised us regarding a foreign agent demand that we recognize that:
1) presenting the above specialized patent-pending petri dish as a "fishbowl",
and/or
2) naming the microbe-laden osseous matter (including cartilage) being grown in said petri dish as a "plant, flower or (specifically) a Mum of any variety" places the Internet in the de meritorious and vicariously onus and culpable position of providing information that is "less than science on Earth".

Also, the warning included a demand that we not mention any warm liquid agar, any particular mix of nutrients, salts or amino acids that may provide aid to the enemy, most notably "traditional mammalian cell cultures".

wtf's up with that!
Pardon moi, Mr. Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people drinkin, thinkin that they got it made
Everyone sees in and everyone looks.
You used to be so amused, exchange all kinds of precious praise then sniff and look away
Since we got nothing, we got nothing to lose
Were invisible now, we've got no secrets to conceal.

"And everything I know is what I need to know
And everything I do's been done before
Every sentence in my head someone else has said"

I'm starting to speak in song lyrics, the agents, they've got me!

Continue reading "Freedom Fishbowl with Freedom Fuji Mum" »

Posted by bonton at 3:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

from
You Can't Go Home Again
- Thomas Wolfe

Child, child," it said, have patience and belief,
for life is many days, and each present hour will pass away.

Son, son, you have been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and dispair, and all the dark confusions of the soul -- but so have we.

You found the Earth too great for your one life.
You found your brain and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed upon them -- but it has been this way with all men.

You have stumbled on in darkness,
you have been pulled in opposite directions,
you have faltered,
you have missed the way -- but, child, this is the chronical of the Earth.

And now, because you have known madness and dispair, and because you will grow desperate again before you come to evening,
we who have stormed the ramparts of the furious Earth and been hurled back,
who have been maddened by the unknowable and bitter mystery of love,
who have hungered after fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy,
and now sit quietly by our windows watching all that henceforth never more shall touch us
-- we call upon you to take heart,
for we can swear to you that these things pass.

- Thomas Wolfe

Posted by bonton at 12:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

************************* START TRANSMISSION *************************
test, test test 1 test 2
come in people of Earth
Attention! Now hear this Earth!
This is the Org of bigbonton

Do not attempt to control your set.
This communication is coming to you from over your head, Cosmos 9.
Your innermost mental experience has been manipulated by both text and image.

Human Brain image taken before bigbonton:

Human Brain image taken after bigbonton:

Stay tuned for further input. That is all.

************************* END TRANSMISSION *************************

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