which turned out to be this.

They can't be forced

I picked up my new glasses today! They fit right out of the box and are close to my eyes, just like I like them. Though my eyesight does seem better with them, they didn't have all the effects I'd hoped for. For example:
They're not rose-colored! I don't see things in a different light. It doesn't all look better in the light of day. I see it more your way than mine. It's not a new point of view. I can't see clearly now because we haven't had enough rain for it to be gone. I still can't see past my nose when it comes to certain things, yet I see all too clearly the errors of my ways. The larger picture is obscured by the trees.

Birthday cake!

You have to be careful about calling yourself an artist. That’s for posterity to decide. It’s better to say you’re in pursuit of a proud tradition…. Your challenge is not to embarrass that tradition.’ -Wayne Thiebaud, UC Davis art professor emeritus

UC Davis turns 100 this year, and who better to take, I mean, make the cake than (not just) pastry artist Wayne Thiebauld? And yes, I would say that posterity has indeed decided.

Though the lights were dim and we were all alone, I was not alarmed.

His repeated requests and gestures that I keep directing my gaze downward, toward his crotch, were not exhibitionist expressions of perversion. They merely reflected a 4th year Optometry student's zeal to either rule out or discover any signs of retinal damage in my myopic eyes.



Yes, I had an extensive eye exam today at UC Berkeley's Meredith Morgan Eye Center. My intern, and later on, his supervising physician, asked me to move my eyes to the farthest extremes in all directions. I felt like one of those Kit-Kat clocks, performing the requested eye motions for so long that I decided to count the appointment as my jog.

I cut this post short, feeling a bit dazed. My left eye is back to normal, but the right one remains quite dilated. I'll blame this concussive state for slowing my movement speed to 50% of Normal.

Why, yes, that last was a reference to WOW... I'll just let you wonder about that for now...

P.S. Feel free to copy and paste image as a subversion of the black rectangle used in old newspapers and magazines to black out the eyes of a photo's subject, thereby concealing his/her identity.

"I think it's osmosis."

Indeed, there's something about staying here that makes you want to take pictures.

Harpie's Index

It has recently been brought to my attention that String of Lights has not always never contained precise measurements of any sort, preferring descriptions such as "How many are too many?" "pinche", "reallyreally", "LaLaLa", "20somethings", "See how it is", and greatly exaggerated numerals. If it could, it would often rather just point and exclaim, "Oooooo!" to illustrate, um...how it is.

So, in the interest of credibility, I've compiled some quantifiable data from my recent road trip as balance to the heretofore qualitatively impressionistic comments and observations that appear in this blog. Love, Val



Days on the road: 10
Beds slept in: 6
Most consecutive nights spent in same bed: 2
Miles accrued on trip: 3234.3, give or take 100
Fill-ups: 7
Average MPG: ¡36.1!
Most hours without checking e-mail: 32
Potty stops: not as many as one would think, given past behavior
Fast food meals: 3
Unconsumed candy bars melted to their packaging: 2
Classmates I had a crush on present at reunion: 0 (with apologies to any of you who may still be reading...had I only known what devastatingly attractive adults we'd become!)
Classmates who had a crush on me: Um...also 0
Times listened to Rodrigo y Gabriela between West Yellowstone and Idaho Falls: 2 too many
LewisandClarkalia: How many are too many?
Pages read: 0
Days abstaining from alcohol: 2
Calls received: 40
Calls made: 50somethings (note: most of these were re-dials of calls dropped in what Tim refers to as "God's country...)
Times had to charge cell phone: 5
Times got made fun of for saying "soda": 1
Total minutes ran on entire trip: 60 (but...40 minutes ran at an altitude of 6657ft in West Yellowstone = something like 130,000 minutes at the 20ft I've become accustomed to)
Clothing acquired: 5 (4 Wild West Pizzeria t-shirts and 1 cap from Captain Jack's Liquor Land)
State spoon souvenirs purchased for L.'s as yet nonexistent collection: 2
States in which pulled over for speeding: 2
Percentage of fine comprised of winnings from penny slot in Jack Pot: 28.9%
Love and affection accrued for family and friends: infinite

"Take the Terry cut-across...it's paved now."

It seemed as though everyone else but us would use I-94 to go to Billings, swearing it was an hour to an hour and a half faster. Up until yesterday, I'd planned to go "Jordan way" like we always did. However, hearing the words "You can make it in 4 1/2 hours" wiped out whatever sentimental obligation I was feeling. And what I saw evoked a much better nostalgia.

Al borde de...¡¿20 años?! ¡joder!

1988 2008

To commemorate its 20th anniversary, Pedro Almodóvar's Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios was re-released on the big screen in cinemas in Spain back in April. I remember seeing it when it came out on video, renting it from the Crystal in Missoula. I have two copies, one on VHS and one on DVD and I can watch my favorite scenes any time, anywhere on YouTube. I'd love to see, on the big screen, the colors and the eyes of the characters, and hear the voices and feel the frenetic motion that is the Madrid of Almodóvar. I'd like to hear the soundtrack through surround sound - songs are often almost protagonic in the oeuvre d' Almodóvar. Mujeres al borde... is a film I go back to again and again. Like Alaska (one of the original Almodóvar girls) says in the YouTube clip below, I've seen it "media docena, mínimo, de veces", and not always when I'm "on the verge" myself, but sometimes when I am. Quite often, the voice and lines of the main character, Pepa, pop into my head as I react to things in my life. To many, it's probably a silly film with no profound story and I don't know that anyone else would find any inspiration from it. But this film of color, music and emotion touches off my own...and I always feel renewed and pulled away from the edge after watching, hearing and feeling it.

Red Onion Review

After almost 3 hours of thrift-store whoring, we were ready for lunch. OK, after 2 hours, I was ready for lunch, but L. made me wait until it was at least noon on the dot. We'd both been wanting to try the new burger joint on Springs, so that's where we went. It's only been open since March and today we were part of a respectably sized crowd that evidently also had been wanting to check it out. Before I took even a bite of my cheeseburger with grilled onions, I knew I'd be happily regretting my choice two hours later. I posted the following on the "Yelp" review website...

"First things first, this eatery is exactly what Vallejo needs! The burgers are pretty much as they were when Bud's stood on the spot that Red Onion now occupies (1321 Springs Road), but the atmosphere is more like Barney's. Excellent service! The waitstaff is very attentive, and they even brought around dessert samples. Be warned: the burgers do come with Miracle Whip...wish I'd known that. Also, the management needs to think about getting sturdier buns. The bread fell apart after two bites. But the burgers are juicy and the oil-saturated fries and onion rings are superior to just about anyone's. To criticize the fattiness of the food at Red Onion would be downright ignorant, not to mention hypocritical - from the moment you walk in the door, you know exactly what you're in for as a fine layer of grease settles into your hair, skin and clothing. Fortunately, the menu also contains a selection of salads, one of which this diner will be ordering the next time I go. God, I need a Dr. Pepper..."

How does it know?!?!

I have a gmail account that has a very limited use and I like the application very much for what it allows me to do. There is one thing I don't like, however. I think it's called adsense. From what I can tell, it uses keywords in correspondence to determine what kind of advertising will show up in the right margin next to the frame containing the e-mail. For example, if a novel was mentioned, an ad for a publisher or bookseller would pop up. But some of the ads are hard to link to anything that was mentioned in the correspondence and can be quite alarming, such as this one, which, apallingly, has come up way more than once (!):

10 Rules for Stomach Fat

Drop 9 lbs of Stomach Fat every 11 Days by Sticking with the 10 Rules.
www.FatLoss4Idiots.com/StomachFat

 

 

Eye candy...

Need an escape?

Click here for a slide show that evokes Borges' "El Aleph", which may or may not have foreshadowed the internet...




Thanks to the friend who sent the link all those months ago!

Top Ten Things about the...

10. Vallejo can have one nice thing!

9. License to susbstitute first person direct/indirect object for possessive pronoun. Ex: Check out me henna tattoo, matey.

8. Henna tattoos!

7. Punk/Pirate band, Rum Rebellion

6. FREE ADMISSION!

5. Wenches on stilts...

4. Turkey legs

3. All the "booty" jokes you can "crack".

2. Cleavage galore.

1. Saying VARRRRRH!

I try to look at it every time I'm there.

This atypical piece by Ana Mendieta (Cuban, b. 1948 exile 1961) is part of SFMoMA's collection. I've always liked it and I do look for it on each visit. And today (of all days) I finally note the title, Tallus Mater (Madre Tallo/Stem Mother).

When the artist's name came up during lecture on 21/5 I should have intervened, calling up images of arte fugaz for an accompanying show and tell. But that day was a wonderful, all 5 senses day, full of things fugaz and not so much, and serendipitous discoveries ... Mendieta metida en la colección de mujeres de barba postiza, mujeres barbudas, el Caimán Barbudo...

Mendieta (1948-1985) was best known for "earth-body sculptures", these ephemeral images made permanent by the camera.

She also left the imprint of her body on other surfaces, often in violent looking motions and positions. This beach sculpture could be seen as containing symbolic elements of Afro-cuban religion - red is the color of Xangó...and Yemayá comes from the ocean...But this work of medio fotografía/medio performance is a chilling foreshadowing. Mendieta fell to her death from a 34th floor in Greenwich village. Today I discover, during research, that Nancy Morejón wrote a poem about this, in its last versos, bringing the exiled body back to the island.

An excerpt from Morejón's "Ana Mendieta":

Ana
Una golondrina de arena y barro.
Ana
Una golondrina de agua.
Ana
Una golondrina de fuego.
Ana
Una golondrina de un jazmín.
Una golondrina que creó el más lento de los veranos.
Una golondrina que surca el cielo de Manhattan
hacía un norte ficticio que no alcanzamos a vislumbrar,
o a imaginar, más al norte aún de tantas vanas
ilusiones.
. . .
Ana, lanzada a la intemperie de Iowa, otra vez.
Una llovizna negra cae sobre tu silueta.
Tus siluetas dormidas nos acunan
como diosas supremas de la desigualdad,
como diosas supremas de los nuevos peregrinos
ccidentales.
Ana sencilla. Ana vivaz.
Ana con su mano encantada de huérfana.
Anda durmiente. Ana orfebre.
Ana, frágil como una cáscara de huevo
esparcida sobre las raíces enormes de una Ceiba
cubana
De hojas oscuras, espesamente verdes.
. . .
Ana, qué colores tan radiantes veo
Y cómo se parecen a ciertos cuadros de Chagall
que te gustaba perseguir por cualquier galería
de la Tierra
Tus Siluetas, adormecidas,
van empinando al papalote multicolor
que huye de Iowa bordeando los cipreses indígenas
y va a posarse sobre las nubes ciertas
de las montañas de Jaruco en cuya tierra húmeda
has vuelto a renacer envuelta en un musgo celeste
que domina la roca y las cuevas del lugar
que es tuyo como nunca

Ana

"Este documento puede salvar tu vida"

I've officially over-used the word salvífico, but yeah, seeing this little ticket in my box last week (with salvar actually spelled right) certainly did something to salvage something for me. And so did seeing the play tonight...excellent presentation. So worth the drive and the few hours away from the papers.

Gracias...take many more bows. All of you.

He was properly sympathetic.

Rushing to Gate C-14 I stopped at a drinking fountain to pop a Fioricet.

"Poor thing. You had a rough night. Your migraine's still there, isn't it?" It was, but not as bad as it had been at 3:30 this morning, when it was accompanied by todo y vomitos. He asked, "Do you think it was food-triggered?"

I stared at the label on the bottle for a second, thinking back to Friday, when I was trying to write a paper, trying to pack, trying to give dog-related instructions, trying not to think about, trying to not be afraid of the upcoming flights and trying leave the house on time. Doing none of the above, I sat on the cedar chest holding the bottle and feeling my heart beat. "How wrong would it be to take one of these if I don't have a migraine?"

"No," I responded, after pulling my head up from the drinking fountain on the way to Gate C-14, "I think it was poetic justice."

"The red one is called 'César Chávez'!", I'd announced.

"Of course it is."

"So quitcher bitchin'!" o "Una nueva perspectiva"

It finally dawned on me...my 'job' consists mainly of reading novels!

No las hacéis allá como las hacemos acá...

Tortillas españolas

Aquí no lo hacemos como lo hacéis allá...

It's different now.

The view is slightly different now. One of the trees in Sproul Plaza lost a substantial branch when winds reached speed and intensity way above the norm. Earlier, I'd asked if I could open the window and for some reason added that I really like the wind...I felt the breeze for a few minutes and then had to close the window so we could hear ourselves and each other. Not long after we'd gone back to reading, I heard the crack and looked up from the Guzmán text in time to see the slow-motion fall. "Was anyone underneath?" he asked. "No." From the office we watched people six stories below stop to look or to take pictures with their phones. It wasn't until today that I thought, with utter relief, of the quartet that sometimes played there underneath...

. They are slightly different now. More than simple M.A.stery of facts,dates, names, and characteristics of authors, movements and moments...those extra letters after our last names are a manifestation or a proof, perhaps, of a love and respect for the language and its literatures sufficient to make us want to offer the most careful study we can.