Amaryllis sillyramA

Ha ha! Sister E. told me about this South Park game. Above is a rendition of my hero, M. And here’s me!

Years ago for school I read a book by Charlotte Perkins Gilman called Herland. It is a feminist utopia story, written in 1915. It was a fairly interesting read, and parts of it have stayed with me over the years. The story goes that three men are stranded in deep wilderness, and discover a very large, completely isolated valley, populated by a thriving civilization of women. The society had grown over millennia from a few women who had been stranded there and had developed the ability to have children — girls, of course — without men.

At the time it was written, it must have been easier to believe that such a place — such a physical location — could exist unknown to the rest of the world, mainly because people weren’t flying all over the place back then.

I found myself thinking of that secret valley when I heard the news about the expedition to the Foja Mountains of New Guinea. Here is a place that is so untouched by human progress that the animals — many of them found nowhere else — are completely fearless.

How awful that the sign of an animal’s familiarity with us is its fear of us.

But it is an exciting story. Listen to the interview to hear a little bit of the mating song of the six-wired bird of paradise. Here are a couple other links to sites with a few more pictures. Hopefully more pictures will be out soon.

Even better news: the area is a wildlife sanctuary, and has been protected for over twenty years, and so there is no immediate threat to all the wonderful newly discovered species. Hooray!

Today, sitting on the bus, listening to music, playing the Name the Artist game: put the thingy on random play, all songs, and then see how long it takes to identify the singer, or the band or the composer. It’s not always easy — there’s a lot of stuff on there I haven’t heard yet.

Almost to the u district. Oh look, there’s some poetry up there. The buses here sometimes put ads up high on the walls, but more often lately it’s been poems. Who knows who writes these things. How does one get published in the bus? Any case, I usually read them when they’re within range. So I’m reading along…

the swede equation *

the whole of the parts
is not summed up in lutefisk or lye.
this brain is not gelatinous.
this big swede equals two shakes
of a stick or the polyglot ear fine-tuned on abba

[hey, does that really say abba? how weird! there’s an abba song on RIGHT NOW!]

and the millionaire question
can you hear the drums, fernando?

SHIVER

because the song that was on right then was Fernando.

Weird!

208 of 3262 = Symphonie Fantastique: Second Movement (Un Bal) Berlioz
209 of 3262 = Fernando ABBA
210 of 3262 = Buddy De La Soul

*From the picture I can just barely make out that the author of the poem is probably named William Freeberg. Thanks, William, for the shivers!

M. and I quit smoking two years ago today. Since then, we’ve not smoked over 25,000 cigarettes, and not spent about $8000. Yay for us!

Penguin Man has a blog. A lot of it is pretty hard to read, and fairly depressing. But once in a while you come across something like this:

I figured this out. If you are a penguin, a yard North of the South Pole and it turns midnight, you get to kiss the penguin next to you. Then you waddle over a yard, into the next timezone, wait an hour and it will turn midnight again, and you again get to kiss the next penguin. Then you move over a yard again and another kiss. In 24 hours you would have 24 kisses and maybe make a baby penguin.

This blog has sucked me in, partly because of the humor, but mostly because I want to find out what happens to him.