Just Another Night On the Job

Yesterday, I began work at 9:30 in the morning, and (barring a break of a few hours midday) worked until midnight. I have to confess, though, that the day was fantastic. The morning was occupied by event logistics, there was a special program taking place on site. Basically, my job was to move people from one place to another- to herd cats, so to speak. While a pedestrian task, I did scope out a couple of wild raspberry patches on-site, for late-summer foraging.

Yestereve, a group of visitors came to the job site for a rare overnight stay. The evening began on a less-than-promising note, as bands of thundershowers moved through the region. By the time our guests got settled in, the skies cleared up- a fortunate occurrence, as last night the moon was full. The storm having passed, I prepared a campfire for our guests, so they could enjoy a few hours of music and storytelling. In a surprise twist of fate, my brother Vincenzo, sent back East by Uncle Sam to train young soldiers for the vicissitudes awaiting them in Iraq and Afghanistan, was in the area, having driven a comrade to Newark airport for emergency family leave. The site director, an old family friend (I landed this job by helping her with event logistics for a major annual event, leading her to introduce me to my department head), was happy to have my brother "crash" the event for a couple of hours. This was work, catching up with one of my brothers, listening to the sweet singing of our guests, under the light of a glorious full moon, the merry dancing light of the campfire... I have never believed in ghosts, (though my parascientific knowledge and use of psionic hardware has led me to believe in the existence of orbs) but we were in one of the few places on Earth which genuinely seems to host a genius loci, though such a spirit, unlike that in Clark Ashton Smith's story, would be a completely benevolent presence, a gentle, joking avuncular eidolon, one which would heartily approve of song and cheerful fellowship.

At midnight, I introduced the chaperones of the group to my relief, and went home, only to return nine hours later. Our guests were still on-site, so I was able to bid them a fond farewell as they walked to the train station, singing.

Yes, the schedule has been hectic, but the actual work has been idyllic... it's been hecdyllic, which sounds like an adjective describing a metrical foot.

Future Titan

The tulip tree, named for the shape of its flowers, is the tallest American tree east of the Rocky Mountains, able to attain heights just shy of 200 feet. The sapling depicted here, if allowed to flourish, has the potential to become an arboreal Anteus, a green Goliath:





The most distinctive feature of the tulip tree is its elaborately-shaped foliage:





Speaking of titans, two of the founding members of the Secret Science Club wrote an article about seeking out the tallest tree in New York City.

Again, it'll be short posts for a while, as work is, to put it mildly, a little bit hectic.

Obviously...

It's 91 Degrees Fahrenheit here in the City of Y______. Of course, this does not break the record for this May 26, set (if I recall the weather report) in 2007. Obviously, this means that the Earth is now in the middle of a cooling trend.

It'll be short posts for the next couple of days- this afternoon will be spent working my Commerce Department job, and the next couple of days will be 9 AM to Midnight slogs at the other job, the really cushy (except when it's not) one. Oh, well, it's the season for special events, so long days come with the territory.

A Depressing Thought

Given the very real possibility that the BP Oil Gusher (I am considering it a proper noun, hence the capitalization) in the Gulf of Mexico will result in petroleum entering the Gulf Stream, and being carried to the North Atlantic. This may be the last "beach season" in these parts for a long, long time.

This place may be less of a plum destination pretty soon:





Addendum: My family has good friends in the heart of Cajun country, good friends who have enjoyed our hospitality, and whose hospitality we have enjoyed. The thought that they won't be able to whip up a gumbo for fifty guests out of the bounty of the Gulf on the spur of the moment has gotten me in a blue funk.

Hell, I'm even depressed about the future of the country's rice crop... I may have to compulsively hoard a couple of twenty pound bags of the stuff.

In Keeping With Our Weekend Tradition

Well, the new Gogol Bordello album has been getting airplay on my favorite college radio station. Yes, once again, Eastern European inflected rock is all the rage. This, and two threads concerning cover songs, reminded me of a tape that my great and good friend J-Co got as a souvenir from his parents' vacation to Croatia. Knowing that their son was a huge music fan, they bought a casette of the album Ujed za dušu by Yugoslavian rock band Riblja Čorba . The album cover art is, to my mind, one of the all-time exemplars of record packaging:





While the album features a... heartfelt tribute? to Dejvid Bovi (the opening guitar riff reminds me of a Thin Lizzy song), the first song on the album, Lud Sto Posto, kicks off the Serbian soundwave that is Ujed za dušu:





I have to confess, I did not know anything about the band, but, besides being the Monsters of Yugoslav Rock, they seem to have included quite a bit of political material in their music... while they seem to have opposed the Yugoslav War, their lead singer, while critical of Milosevic, espoused Serbian nationalism, thus eroding the band's appeal in the rest of the Serbo-Croatian-speaking world.

Another Vexing Lacuna Filled

Estimable Kiwi Smut Clyde, in a comment on a previous thread, wrote about the phrase "vexing lacuna" (which would be a good band name, much like "Estimable Kiwi"), Also the first line of a 'Waltzing Matilda' parody.

So, without further ado, here's the chorus:

Vexing lacuna, vexing lacuna,
How did this gap in my life come to be?
And I searched and I searched for to find what I was missing sore.
Now, it's another lacuna I see.

I was able to fill in a vexing lacuna this week- although I have been plugging Gene Wolfe's long short story/short novella (***SPOILER ALERT***Veiled slash fiction reference?) Seven American Nights to anyone who would care to read my postings on teh t00bz, I did not own a copy of this novella until last Monday evening. Every time I felt a need to re-read the work (I first read it while in high school, but forgot author's name for years, though the story itself has haunted me since I read it), I borrowed an anthology in which it was included from the public library. With the release of the trade paperback of The Best of Gene Wolfe, I finally have the novella sitting on my bookshelf. A 1978 Nebula award nominee, the novella details the travels of a young Iranian man in a United States which has fallen victim to a slo-mo apocalyse of the sort that, in this age of pink slime burgers and seemingly endless environmental disasters, seems to be our destiny. In the days since I picked up the book, I have reread the story twice. I cannot recommend this work strongly enough.

EEP!

Well, last week I received another binder-full of cases for the Census Bureau, and have gotten about a third of the way through the assignments (completed interviews, that is). Today, I received two additional binders, and this phase of the Census (No Response Follow-Up) ends on May 31. So far, I have completed three interviews, and will be pounding the pavement again this evening (it's a flawless day- not a cloud in the sky, and a comfortable mid-70's Fahrenheit, so working outside is a pleasure). It's gonna be one busy weekend, and next weekend (Memorial Day weekend) will most likely be a total wash, with many people leaving town (myself excepted, I'll be working a signature event at the other job, which means no free time, but a fun time).

Well, looks like it'll be short posts for the next week or so.