Friday, June 19, 2009

Rabies Shot

It's Salman Rushdie's
birthday
today.

And the U.S. Open
is on the
air.

Iran's lips are still
being zipped.

And there are
tent cities
in America.

And the weather
here,
here in Illinois,
is
hot and humid,
thick,
"sultry" as an
old friend would say.

I am tired,
I am tired,
and unwired,
racing with my pedal
to the
floor,
(to the floor)
and my
transmission
in neutral.

But I can't
help feeling
good that
I
mailed
the last
payment
for my
rabies shot
today.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Belly Rub

Cleaning dog poop
off the floor is a rarity these days.

She knows better,
an exercise in anxiety more
than a need,
but it was the thunder and the rain,
those mystery entities of dark
night sky that had her barking out the
window at 5 AM.

I knew
she was having a hard morning
by the way she was curled up on my slippers
this morning instead of on her fluffy blue bed,
like usual
and by the way she clung to me,
as I
made breakfast,
watching me with her big, sad eyes,
and that little bit of tremble around
her ears.

Finding her mess,
I lowered my voice,
deep,
she came to me,
and I asked her,
"Did you do this?"
and she slinked away
like a scolded child,
watched me working
with plastic bag and
spray cleaner.

Disposing of the mess,
I called her to me,
and we made friends
with a "gimme five" and a
"shake"
and a little bit of a
belly rub.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Lincoln Library

Working from home is great, but it's so nice to have a reason to get out one day a week and do something different. Today is a beautiful day, and I can't wait to get out and ride my bike to the library.

I have a standing appointment every Wednesday afternoon at Lincoln Library. I tutor after work on those days, and I find myself really looking forward to my time in the library. The guy I tutor is always a lot of fun to be around. He has a great, optimistic attitude, and he's curious about everything. One week we're reading about the solar system and the next week we're reading about the history of Afghanistan. He is really interested in everything, which makes my job easy. He picks something he wants to read, and we start working on it.

I love being in the library. Maybe it's because I grew up without a library, but I just love having all those rows and rows of books all around. I usually arrive a few minutes early so I can return books, browse the stacks, look at movies, or any of the other super-awesome things there are to do in the library. This week I'm returning Bukowski's Come on In, Gregory Corso's Mindfield, and a great book of historical poetry by George Keithley called Song in a Strange Land. I've really enjoyed all three, and I may renew the Keithley book. I loved his The Donner Party.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Exploring Cahokia Mounds

This past Saturday, Aubrey and I made the drive to Collinsville, Illinois to explore Cahokia Mounds. For those of you who don't know, Cahokia Mounds is the site of a once-thriving Native American city. From 650 to 1400 CE, Cahokia Mounds boasted a population at its peak of between 20,000 and 40,000 people. The city was massive and spread out over an area rivaling that of modern day metropolitan St. Louis. Not only that, but there is archaeological evidence that the Mississipians who populated the site used city planning techniques to lay out the city and to deal with "urban" problems like overcrowding, disease, and waste removal.

An artist's depiction of the Cahokia Mounds site circa 1000 CE

Additionally, the major metropolitan site located near modern day Collinsville, was a first-tier site. There were other second and third-tier sites associated to this city center, which equate to modern suburbs. These second and third-tier sites were important for trade, crop production, and communication. At one time the entire Mississipian culture spread from the Mississippi River east to the Atlantic Ocean and as far South as the Gulf of Mexico.

I remember going to Cahokia Mounds as a kid, but I really didn't appreciate it back then. I think my family squeezed a walk to the top of Monk's Mound in between breakfast at the Waffle House in Collinsville and an afternoon at the racetrack down the road. I remember walking to the top of the mound, and not really knowing what it was, just thinking it was a hill.

This time around, I went in with a deeper appreciation of the cultural and historical significance of the site. So often, we read or see television programs about the great cultures of the ancient world. We are hammered ad nauseum with shows and stories about Egyptians, Aztecs, Mayans, ancient Indians, and ancient Chinese, but rarely do we see any coverage of the mound-building people of what is today the United States.

Maybe the earthen structures at Cahokia Mounds are not as magnificent as the limestone blocks used to build the Great Pyramid of Khufu, or of the dry stone construction used at Macchu Picchu, but the Mississippians showed true problem-solving and ingenuity in their ability to utilize the resources of the Mississippi River valley to build epic structures. The Mississippians made due with what they had, which was a variety of soil types, including clay. They were craftspeople, who leveled the surfaces of their mounds with absolute precision. They even leveled acres and acres of flat land so they would have flat plazas upon which to trade, celebrate, worship, and play games.

The people of "Cahokia," also practiced astronomy, as evidenced by the ring of wooden posts, today called Woodhenge. Woodhenge was used to mark solstices, equinoxes, and to monitor other astronomical events.

view from the top of Monk's Mound, see St. Louis in the background

There is so much evidence in Cahokia Mounds of a civilized and flourishing community. In fact, the first urban center in "modern" North America to reach the population of Cahokia Mounds at its height was Philadelphia when Philadelphia crossed the 40,000 mark around 1800. Think about that for a minute.

The only problem we found in Cahokia Mounds is that it appears there's very little money going to the site, which is a problem I don't see being solved anytime soon. The "state of the art" interpretation center feels often outdated, and occasionally just old. Despite the fact that Cahokia Mounds is only one of 20 UNESCO World Heritage Sites in the United States, it doesn't seem to have much of a budget at all. Entry is a voluntary donation of $4 per person or $10 per family, which we gladly paid.

Essentially, the entire historical site is a do-it-yourself affair. This wasn't a big deal to us. We bought one of the $1 tour guide books and walked the trails by ourselves. It was a beautiful day, and Aubrey took a ton of pictures. In order to get from site to site, you are advised to get in your car and drive. This seemed silly to us. We enjoy walking, and it was a nice day. Walking from the interpretive center and the Twin Mounds self-guided tour to Monk's Mound wasn't a big deal. But walking a mile on the shoulder of the highway to reach Woodhenge was less than ideal. There were not many sidewalks or walking trails that were convenient to all locations. Additionally, there only seemed to be a small number of staff people at the interpretive center, and none on our around the rest of the site to answer questions or to give information. The site does offer twice-daily one-hour guided tours, but I think these tours are strictly around the twin mounds area and not the entire site.

I don't mean to complain. We did have a great day, and I think the folks working at the site are doing the best they possibly can with the resources available to them. I'd just love to see the situation improve for them and for the viewing public.

I'd highly recommend Cahokia Mounds for anyone looking for something to do in the St. Louis area. Have a picnic, walk around the site, learn some sweet ancient history.

I leave you with a short video I found at Veoh. It's a pretty cool overview of the area.

Watch Stonehenge - Southern Illinois style in News | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Evaporation

In some ways,
in lots of ways,
we spend our whole lives
in airplanes
swirling over
our memories,
looking down,
puzzling over those myriad
experiences we
unrolled with careful precision
or
threw to the world willy-nilly,
wondering why or how,
now,
we were
ever able to pull ourselves through?

We fly alone,
frowning at
"Oh my, I can't believe I used to . . ."
or
"Did I really look like that?!"
or
crying
at the time she broke
your heart
and despite
all your inner strength
and all your intelligent
ramblings on pride
and the transmigration of
soul
all you could feel
was the sadness
that seemed to materialize
from every molecule of your being
and all you could do was
lay down
on the steps
like a big dead bear
and weep
real
wet
tears.

Or
laughing at the
time you,
trying to look so cool
for them,
tripped
sprawling out,
falling on the floor
as you walked into the
grocery store
bumping your chin
hard in front of all those people
who couldn't help laughing.

Or
embracing the time you
chased
fireflies
alone in
the yard,
while everyone
sat around the
picnic table,
smoking
and throwing scuttlebutt.

Or
trying to
forget
the quiet days
you sat alone,
in that little room,
feeling pressed
to do more
or at least something
else
but powerless
to do anything
at all.

Circling overhead
like a fragile
little bird,
you reflect,
puzzling over
this landscape
you've created and molded,
and transformed,
like a god,
absorbing it,
before its all
over.

As the plane,
circling and circling
ever
tighter,
descends,
prepares to
bounce softly
to a landing
or throw itself
sharply landward,
you reflect.

You reflect.

The flight will soon end,
the journey will soon cease,
and there will be no one left
to remember all
these beautiful memories;
these beautiful memories
will evaporate into exinction.

It's then you realize . . .

Monday, June 15, 2009

A Silent Moment on a Monday Afternoon Stirs Thoughts of Childhood

Remember that old garage?
The one we had when we lived
in the blue trailer across from
the school
with its dirt floor and unfinished walls?

I remember spending long days
and even longer nights in there,
Dad,
with you and the guys,
swapping out transmissions,
or putting on your newly
chromed
headers,
or cherrypicking
whole motors,
the whole time BTO tapes
playing over and over again
or sometimes Lynyrd Skynyrd
or Tom Petty,
and learning things
that school and friends and
television
had not yet taught me.

I'd sit in the corner
flipping through your old
black and white Conan
comic books while you and
the guys sweated and tinkered
over the nuts and bolts
of a '67 'Cuda or a '65 GTO,
hoping to have them ready
for the next big cruise
or car show.

Remember the time that
stray dog,
a little brown, pesky
thing
came into the garage
while you
were on your back,
torso under the car,
tweaking the shifting
linkage
and
started humping your
leg,
and you did your best to
shake him off, but
he just kept coming back
for more,
and you finally yelled,
"Goddamn dog!"
and climbed out
from under the car,
to run him off,
and then we both started laughing?

Or what about the time you
got so mad that the Barracuda
wouldn't start
that you threw a ball-peen
hammer through the windshield
of that old dirty Aries
that you loved to drive around
so much,
that copper-colored
zombie of a car,
with the sagging
ceiling liner, and the ripped
seats with the foam squeezing through
and the rust holes along
the fenders;
that car that embarrassed the
hell out of me when I rode
to town with you and
felt like everyone was
staring at us?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Living Exponentially

I was just reading about Terence McKenna's Time Wave Zero theory last week. While it's hard to explain (a good intro video is here), McKenna developed a mathematical formula that theoretically calculates the ebb and flow of "novelty" in the universe. Using the mysterious King Wen sequence of the ancient I Ching as a starting point, McKenna derived his mathematical formula around the concept that there is teleological (a purpose-driven) attractor at the end of time and that as time draws nearer and nearer to this end, the interconnectedness of places/beings/events become more and more interrelated.

McKenna himself states that the theory is so bizarre that it's difficult to believe. And it is bizarre. For one, it's hard to get your mind around novelty theory. The Time Wave Zero graph, as plotted by McKenna and his computer software designed specifically for computing TWZ, the graph is fractal in nature. Additionally, it grinds against so many of the modern theories of time and the physics of our universe. We've learned that time and the universe will continue expanding at least until some distant point in the future when it won't matter to us anyway.

I'm skeptical, mostly because the end of the time wave zero sequence coincides with the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012, the notorious "doomsday" date we've all heard so much about. This alone makes me skeptical. In some ways it's interesting, and I think McKenna argued that this was evidence that the ancient Mayans, the ancient Chinese, and all the other cultures that predicted a 2012 end of time had a knowledge of the universe that we currently lack. For me, it seems a bit "opportunistic" that the end of Time Wave Zero theory lands on 2012, with what appears to me a bit of tweaking by McKenna.

But . . . I'm intrigued. As an artifact of Time Wave Zero, it is proposed that there are historical resonances that are repeated as time spirals closer and tighter to the end. Imagine time as a spiral. Long ago, the spiral was big and loose. It took a long time to go around the circle once. So, one turn around the outside of the spiral takes X number of years. The next time around the spiral, the circle required to reach the beginning point is smaller, and the historical events coincide with events from the first time around, everything takes less time. It's more condensed. According to McKenna, 1942 kicked off a 67 year period in which the previous 4,000 years or so are being lived out in a very concentrated manner. And next we will embark on a time period up until 2012, that the whole spiral of history will be condensed again until at the end all novel events of all history will be played out simultaneously in absolute chaos. Which, according to theory, will occur on or around my birthday in 2012. (That's right, my birthday is December 21)

Huh? It's so hard to believe. Plus, McKenna's reputation is a little questionable. I like listening to the guy talk. He's obviously brilliant, and he strikes me as an excellent thinker. But, he was known to explore the mind-opening properties of hallucinogenics from around the world, especially South American herbal varieties. Much of his early thought on Time Wave Zero, came while under the influence of psychotropic drugs. For me, that makes his claims unreliable. But there's something about the frenetic forward movement of our global population that makes Time Wave zero ring true.

But it's still fascinating. I can't let it go.

I saw this video this morning on YouTube, discussing the "exponential times" in which we currently live. It seems that everything around us is advancing exponentially. Does this support McKenna's theory of Time Wave Zero? I don't know. The skeptic in me says, "No." I think we just live in extraordinary times. Times in which technology and information are being created and advanced at rates never seen before in human history.

These theories are a lot of fun to ponder, but I don't think we'll have any way to know until it's over. And then it won't matter. So enjoy today, I guess.