It's Pi Day! It's Pi Day!

Clear.  Cold.  

To paraphrase "The Lion In Winter" tonight will be pocked with stars.  I can't wait.

I'm in one of those odd moods - it seems strange to see it even typed out - "odd moods" - where life seems like switching positions in a great, brilliant parade.

For one moment I'm a little boy sitting on the sidewalk (and I can show you the spot on Boston Ave. in Tulsa) watching a band march by, listening to it belt out "Manhattan Beach", totally hypnotized by the sound of the big bass drum ...

... and then I'm blasting a baritone bugle and marching through Union Square in San Francisco, tearing the night open with "In the Stone", watching people watch me as part of the Chinese New Year's parade ...

... and life is like that, a parade where you watch wonderful things pass by purely for your entertainment, then you get be part of the excitement, creating moments for the world ... and the view caroms wildly from one to the other, you watch, you march, you watch, you march - and the satori of experience leaves you giddy ...

.... and you have a piece of pie.

Today is Pi Day - Einstein's Birthday and the 3rd of March - 3/14 - and if you eat a piece of pie at 4 p.m. (1600) you'll be really really lucky and great ideas will come to you because it's 3/14.16 or 3.1416, chance will favor your prepared mind and it's just cool.

I've been offered a part in a play - a professor friend from USM wants to do a play by a Canadian Native (up there they call us Aboriginals), mostly about how Elders also have to have lives too - set in a conference about Native sexuality it brings several couples together and re-arranges them until they make more sense.

I wasn't really sanguine about it but a read-through of the script this morning really had me laughing.  He gets the voice of Native humor - self-deprecating and devastatingly apropos.  If the timing of the delivery is right it could be a real hoot.

I'm just worried about how much memorization and delivery I'd have to do.  Might be a good challenge, if circumstances permit.

And the pie?  I'm down in the window of JavaNet again and yet another piece of wonderful pie, apple this time, has met it's purpose in life.

Washed it down with a big mug of hot coffee.

Maybe this satori, this swing of position, is the only way my poor, poor mind can handle such a broad point of view, that trying to know either all the joy or all the sorrow in the universe will drive you mad.

Mostly I think - at least until I have another cup of coffee, no more pie, thank you - that you shouldn't get on the Tilt-A-Whirl and expect the ride to be smooth.

It's dark out now and the Saturday night parade is starting outside the window here at JavaNet.  Sometimes I watch the parade - sometimes I am the parade.

Either way - it's fun.  And there's always pie.

Back In the Barber Chair Again

The great melt continues.  If this keeps up we might well have our sidewalks back by the end of the weekend.

Our temps are moving above 40 for the next week.  The snow is looking pretty ratty by now.  Cigarette butts, dog poo - everything is thawing out.

It actually doesn't smell too bad.  Back in the early 90's, before Portland passed strong leash laws the March thaw - sometimes the February one - would see all the residue of thousands (seemingly) of dogs that had been buried and frozen in the snow start to thaw and become biologically active.

THAT was a memorable olfactory experience.

I'm sitting here in my barber chair at the Empire - Party More (Ian and Chris) are laying down thumpy dance beats - mostly strange 70's mixes.  I'm told that the music gets more moderne as the evening progresses.

I'll have to take their word.  This - believe it or not - is my wind-down from the work day, as I almost always seem to be working on Thursday.

Besides it's fun to get out and do something totally different than my usual routine.  Believe me - this is as different as it gets.

Tough news on the personal fronts.  My real older sister Sue is in the hospital with a stomach problem, which has placed her on dialysis.  This is not good news.  She's tough, Sue is, but this bodes a difficult fight.

Also, my surrogate older sister Mia is in the local hospital recovering from a serious stroke.  I've seen the MRI and it's not much of an attractive prospect either.  Her voice has recovered - as have her spirits - but there is still some vision processing problem.  More surgery may be on tap but for now, mostly recovery, rest and rehab.

I admit to being worried.  

I did get a chance to attend the dress rehearsal of an opera last night - actually two one-acts by Puccini.  I'll write a more formal review tomorrow.  Right now I need to head home and put my feet up.  Otherwise I might have more Black Russians than is good for me - which is exactly one, which I've had already.

Thursday night.  Strange place.

Roses In the Window of Dunkin' Donuts

I'm thinking that we might have turned a corner. 

Today Daylight Savings Time went into effect.  Or it ended.  Or we just switched the clocks for the ever loving hell of it.

I don't know and I've never really been sure. Still when they tell me to switch my clock I switch it and if we all agree to see the same elephant in the middle of the road then that will explain the loss of all the peanuts.

The first clue, outside of the obvious change in the weather was the strange appearance of a basket of plastic roses in the window of the Dunkin' Donuts at the corner of Congress and Oak.  

It seemed a strange thing to see.  We've had a very warm stretch of weather - "warm" being defined by temps averaging more than 40 degrees.

There are major holes in the snow banks, the ice dams on the roofs are all receding.  I like it.  It seemed like the whole town was reaching its limit for dealing with all the winter weather.

In some cases it's not really very pretty.  The snow had the advantage of smoothing over all the mess on the ground, including that left by its own melting.

But now I'm seeing large patches of brown grass starting to appear in around the bases of the trees in Deering Oaks.  

The skating pond is off limits.

Even though it's only three or four feet deep on the strongest days the City (reasonably, I think) doesn't want to take the chance that someone would fall through and sue the City's ass off.

I did mention there are a lot of lawyers in town, didn't I?

Nonetheless I'm feeling ready for a change, to begin slouching through Spring to Summer.  I'm not sure at all what this will bring to me.  

No matter what I think this change will happen.  Probably be good to think about and enjoy.

All of the detritus is starting to thaw.  Cigarette butts, dirt, pieces of paper - all are starting to appear as their icy covering melts away.

Not a pretty sight - but hopeful transitions often are not pretty sights - they may be beautiful, maybe even terribly beautiful, but not pretty.  

We have to go through on our way to another place.

It's a sense of the meta-meaning of the snow - it has a meaning that comes separate from its surface illusion.  It's partly what you see and partly what you feel and then mostly what you feel about what you feel.

Very useful to think about - but I don't want to be limited purely to thinking.

No matter.  The sun is becoming warm and our curbs are coming back as well as the warm red brick of the sidewalks.  Whatever lessons, trials, triumphs or possibilities attached to this Winter are starting to run out and a new set are taking their place.

We will be different people in this new season.  

We will be the same people with different air and ground to live in .

I'm very curious - I'm always curious - to see what we will all become as it goes around.

More Guys, More Snow, Way More Loud Machines

Facebook gallery is here.

I (sort of ) apologize to those of friends who have a more precise approach to grammar and the use of language.

Several writers, including a Hugo award winner, have been my friends.  Lot's of teachers, several college professors.

God bless my poor sweet lost soul, buried in an oubliette of freedom, swept up in a forest of mixed metaphors.

It's gotten me in trouble, as I am cursed with the need to say what's on my mind first - or worse, what's in my heart.  The verbs can be as tensed or relaxed as they like.

Direct expression is driven by the need to get an idea across, to sketch a feeling, to catch lightening in the bottle of words.

I got my hair cut today.  The crew at Satori, particularly Paige, my stylist, are a mixed and enthusiastic lot and I think I see some of the same shared madness that characterizes the Orchard.  This is a comfortable vibe for me, fun and familiar.

Since it is the first Thursday of the week my leaving Doctor's Row was marked by a parking ban on my side of the street.  In Autumn it allows for street sweeping - in Winter, it's snow removal.  This meant a police car drove down along the snowbanked curb, followed by a small army of tow trucks, all hungry to catch the unwary car left by its owner in defiance of the ban.

This parking ban tow routine is a fixture of life in Portland's Wintertime.  Cars get towed when snowstorms demand the streets be cleared and you don't get it back unless you pay cash for the fine - and any unpaid parking tickets.

Today while coming home from a hair appointment I was delighted to see a small train of big, big trucks stopped in front of my apartment house.  It was the work of only a minute to dash inside, throw down my coat and bag, grab my camera and start shooting.

I think they were clearing blockage from the front of the giant snowblower.  Two city guys were stabbing at the inside of the business end with long steel rods, probably clearing out the intake.

The engine roared to life in short order and the parade was off, down the street.

The snowblower was chewing up the snowbank, right to the curb.  Snow would come flying out in a solid stream into a dumptruck that was slowly leading the conga line.

Needless to say it was loud, it was messy and it was really, really cool.

Just like the other night it was fun to see the kind of hard work it took to get things to work in Portland.  The conga line slowly headed down Doctor's Row, roaring the the bright morning sun.

Perhaps I am something of a geek - things loom so large for me, situations that other people seem to just sail through seem to freeze me into paralysis of confusion.  I'm sure everyone has things that happen that way but they seem to be a lot more strange for me.

At the same time I can get a huge jolt out of such a simple, complex thing as big trucks throwing snow in the bright, bright sun of a Winter morning in Maine.

Go figure.

Zero degrees outside, 98 degrees inside

It is a brilliant, cloudless day.   The sunlight is just moving from the warm red of dawn, turning white and warming the bow window. The snow still looks new, still unmelted, whiter than Easter linen; light blasts off of it, filling my apartment.

And it's freakin' zero damn degrees out there.

I can't wait to get out.  

I have today off, so some housekeeping, bill paying, financial work.  Then back to work on the new piece interrupted by the storm.  I've uploaded a video from last week's storm, just so you see what it's like.

Guys In Big Trucks, Moving Snow

MobileMe gallery is here.

The result of a major snowstorm is expressed in major piles of snow.

We measure by people left in the dark, bent fenders, branches snapped, ice dams and guys in big trucks, moving snow.

I got off work around 9:30.  It had been a good, long day with a surprisingly large part of the moderate crowd being interested in buying computers.  Stocking up for the storm, I suppose.

We had closed the store having polished the screens of all the devices, restocked and "fronted" all the stuff hanging from the pegs.  Our conversation had ranged wide, covering our histories - funny stories, recipes that defined our families.

Everything from fry bread made by my mother to curried chicken by my musical colleague PLB's wife.  Pizza from M's mom.

We left the Mall chatting like seagulls, our voices echoing off the walls, muffled by the piles of snow dried by the frigid air.

Mrs. Beadle was parked by herself in the middle of the back lot, all alone amongst mountains of snow, mountains reaching up for almost a full story.

I was removing the covering towel from the window when I heard large noises, made by large engines.

A bulldozer roared by me, scraping the snow from its path.  It pulled up to the snowpile, the load bucket rising gracefully to the top and emptying out.

It then pulled back, roared off back to the next place and another pulled around to repeat the process.

I had my camera with me and took some time to set it up - I had to throw out only half the shots taken.

I tried to wave at the drivers but they seemed much more intent on getting stuff moved.  

As a community we all get along in such trying weather by the good work and effort - the professionalism - of many people.  Roads are opened, power lines repaired, groceries sold, sidewalks are cleared.

It's kind of neat to see this happening.

At the same time, like a lot of men, we're still sort of little boys, still fascinated by trains, trucks and large machines.

Take a look at some of the pics in the MobileMe gallery.

Balloons Against the Snow

Somehow I think the balloons aren't going to pull this one out.

Sunday morning, March 1st.  Twenty degrees.  Cloudy.  Slow flurries of snow are beginning to fall.

The balloons are floating from a stoop on the side of the apartment across from mine. On the way to Bosnia.

 I think they're having a party.

I've taken a shift at the Orchard and have to be there in a couple of hours.  Still have to pick up prescriptions on the way.

The National Weather Service tells me that 6 to 12 inches of snow are on the way as well (sorry about the verb tense there).

Indeed, just in the few moments it's taken to type this the snow has begun to accelerate - even though the real storm isn't due to arrive for almost 12 hours.

Since I have the kind of brain that is easily addled by the observation of transitions in anything it's been a very engaging few minutes.  Just driving over here to JavaNet was fascinating.  

It's like seeing the world from inside a snow globe - huge soft flakes drift down, slowly, gently dancing in the wind.  They slide over the tops of cars parked in front of me (of course, if they were parked behind me I wouldn't be able to see them - and they'd make an unholy mess in the coffee shop).

There are actually two motorized wheel chairs in the picture above - I had to stop in the intersection to take it.  The first one - hidden - has pink bands, what I suppose are rubber bumpers.  You can just see them on the left.  They roll down the street, bundled up like up-armored APC's - which, I suppose, in some way, they are.

Or, I suppose they are, in some way.  

I can tell which cars have been sitting, perhaps left over from last night in the Old Port.  They are starting to collect dustings of snow, the ones parked this morning still have enough warmth in their hoods to keep clean.

I suspect that will change.

And so I'm getting ready to head to the Orchard to cover a shift.  One of my former students is having car trouble and is prepping it in advance to the coming apocalypse.

A small army of "formers" came in yesterday.  It was fun to see - maybe I did more good than at first apparent.

We'll see.

An actor friend has stopped by to shelter from the wind - poor actors, they always seem so defenseless against the cold.

Yeah, like composers are such a thick-skinned lot.

So, coffee and conversation, and yes he's got a piece of pie too.

Damn fine cherry pie.