Perfect Night in Des Moines 


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It was a perfect night tonight. The heat broke, has been ninety plus for almost two weeks. Won’t really rain, just spit. Left our little Eden and went to the big city Des Moines, for dinner with wife’s coworkers. There are those nights, summer nights, where everything thing seems clean, shiny, put together. Des Moines is quintessential fly-over country and I hope it stays that way for ever. I truly hesitate to even brag about it publicly, so as not to alert the unwashed masses of its awesomeness. One of the main reasons is per-capita, pound to pound, Des Moines is actually a world class food city. It fertile lands and deep agricultural roots, along with its geographic centerness has brought many influences and culturals to bare. 

This agricultural industry have created stronger economic health. This and things like the caucuses have made Iowa oddly relevant at times. I think Iowa, and probably that whole region is like the United States’ shire. There’s a good mix of political and ideological left and rightness, which at the current time and day strikes a unique and important balance. People are generally friendly, respectful, and none portentous, excluding the author, of course.

I like my wife’s gang at work. Their ornery and silly, and I’m sure they’ve banded together in the trenches of the modern health care system; these people have seen some shit. We ate at Bubbas downtown. They serve quality Southern style dishes, fried chicken and waffles, chicken fried steak, white cheddar grits, home jams, corn breads, mac and cheese, red beans and rice. They have an extensive booze selection. I had a Bubba julep, bourbon and mint and something called a Porch Sipper which was delicious, think it was bourbon, but had cucumbers, basil, mints and something sour in it. We shared and laughed. The server was charming and informative. Bubbas has a classy old school lounge and bar. And you know what, it shares a sizable class. Hell, right next store is a French-influenced restraunt Django, which look qaulity as well. There are more delicious and interesting things to eat in Des Moines then I can even try to get too. 

Driving around admiring the city, the patios were packed with people, smiling, with their friends, enjoying their Saturday night. Hope. Potential. Food is so much more than just a basic need. I was ranting about this to Brit after I came in from farm chores last night. How I didn’t want to be in Nature, but Of Nature. Part of it, not an explorer penetrating it, controlling it. How I feel a symbiotic relationship with my plants, wedding and watering them, how I nourish them and they nourish me, and how kids and families were like this; you nourish them, they nourish you. Talked about this video I saw about kids in India pulling a giant python out of the river for fun, playing with it, and how we still jump at garter snakes. How it’s better to relax about bugs and critters. Accept the swarm around you, pulsating with life. 

We got home and the skies took to play. Summer storms yearning to rain, but empty, dry. The lightening in the distance, striking a portrait at will. Chay comes to get me from bed, says the grey lights out his open window are freaking him out. Light slices the canvas, highlighting bulking, thickly painted clouds. An ocean of fireflies undulate in front yard of the house, dancing in the electric atmosphere. Fireflies. Never knew there could be so many fireflies….

Snippets 104 

Gipsy Fortune Teller
Houdini-Gresham 

Washington, D.C., the nation’s most beautiful city, heart of the democracy, hub of the forty-eight states was in 1926 also the city most infested with palm readers, astrologers, message mediums, slate writers, crystal workers, and “rag head rackets” generally. In the shabbier residential neighborhoods their shingles, showing an upraised palm, were thick; sometimes almost every brownstone house to the block had its prognostication parlor. (264) 

Snippets 103 


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Houdini-Gresham 

Vaudeville tempo had changed mightily during the time Houdini was away, selling Liberty Bonds and making motion pictures. The country seemed to be marching to Georgie Cohan’s “Over There.” Autos were faster and roads were better for them to be faster on. Pioneer Station KDKA in Pittsburgh had begun daily broadcasts and America was in the grip of a new mania soon to replace the Ouija board–sitting crouched over crystal sets with earphones clamped to its ears. The big build-it-yourself radio boom was just around the next corner. And to a generation that had gone through the First World War, the sight of a man jumping of a bridge and getting out of handcuffs under water created no hysteria. (227) 

Snippets 84

A Farewell to Arms-Ernest Hemingway

If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry. (226)

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A Farewell to Arms-Ernest Hemingway

“What is the difference?”
I cannot say it easily. There are people who would make war. In this country there are many like that. There are other people who would not make war.”
“But the first ones make them do it.”
“Yes”
“And I help them.”
“You are a foreigner. You are a patriot.”
“And the ones who would not make war? Can they stop it?”
“I do not know.”
He looked out of the window again. I watched his face.
“Have they ever been able to stop it?
“They are not organized to stop things and when they get organized their leaders sell them out.” (69)

Snippets 81

Neil Gaiman-Trigger Warning-From Short Story “The Sleeper and the Spindle”

The old woman passed a mother, asleep, with a baby dozing at her breast. She dusted them, absently, as she passed, made certain that the baby’s sleepy mouth remained on the nipple.
She ate her meal of turnips and greens in silence. (243)

Two weeks from mission complete.

Two weeks from mission complete. I’ve been on hiatus from computer, running operations. Shut the internet down. Felt good. For years now, about six, ever since we bought our first house, or rather got a mortgage on a house, wife and I have pined for the country life. Big lots, less people density, farm-stuff, crazy gardens, chickens, maybe a pig or two, who knows? Things had reached a feverish pitch roughly two months ago. As our kids are getting older 2, 4, and 6, change is looking less scary and more revitalizing. We came to the conclusion we would start trying to sell our house in February of 2017, but as we sat there one night and thought about it more, like the fact it could take several months or more to get it done, and no better time then the present, and really what was stopping us? We knew a lot of course (Contingent Contracts, Winter, etc.), and it has ended up being a lot, but none the less, here we sit, two weeks from closing on our current house and a new farm house on December 23, 2016.

It’s sort of remarkable really. I’m still in the whirlwind of it all to relate it appropriately. There’s secrets in all this. Which I will relate for a small fee. If you’re a cheaper, wiser man, I will tell you the key right now. The key is best summed up by the title of book I read once, by Susan Jeffers called Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. That’s it. Dreams always hold this element of fear. You fear you and it won’t live up to your expectations, you fear the hard work and change a dream might entail. Your Will scans for hurdles as you plot the course, and highlights easiest solution to these hurdles, which can often make giving up seem like the best option. But it’s not, feeling that fear, rolling in it, chewing on it, sucking back the sickening slurp and hocking it out, and doing what you want to, is the best feeling you’re gonna find, I say. I think the only exception is stupid stuff, like really stupid stuff, jumping out of plane, no parachute. But maybe that’s the key to flying, Faith of a mustard seed and all that.No, physical safety first, then any unreasonable, but awesome dream should be pursued.Forget the rest of it.

It’s practical too. You pursue a dream, and you will learn skills which help in other areas. Maybe guitar won’t make you immediately rich and successful, but all that practice, focus, and pleasure in progress, leads to a person who can accomplish even more challenging tasks.

Then one day you’ll hold the guitar, or the paintbrush, or hammer, and you’ll realize your doing things you didn’t know how to do before. To be great you have to do something that will make you scared. Seems some important paradox in that. Just too damned excited about it all to pontificate more. Ill be back…

P.S. Just knocked back some heavies ones in the Literature realm, Lolita, Orxy and Craker,   As I Lay Dying, The End of Eternity, amazing works, so much to say in response may have to do a dangers of Padding the Reading Part 2. Dystopia had a me a little worn thin in all that though, had to look away, Lot’s wife.  But that’s the true power of the bitter pill, there’s secrets there too, I think. Every read any of those? Let’s talk about them!

Snippets 80

Neil Gaiman-Trigger Warning-From Short Story “The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury”

I learned your books. Burned them into my mind. In case the firemen come to town.

But who you are is gone. I wait for it to return to me. Just as I waited for my dictionary or for my radio, or for my boots, and with as meager a result.

All I have left is the space in my mind where you used to be.

And I am not so certain about even that. (139)

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One Flew Over the Cuckcoo’s Nest-Ken Kesey

As the doctor waits, a silence rears up from out of the nurse and looms over everybody, daring anybody to challenge it. I know McMurphy can’t because he was in on the planning of the carnival, and just as I’m thinking that nobody will be fool enough to break that silence, Cheswick, who sits right next to McMurphy, gives a grunt and is on his feet, rubbing his ribs, before he knows what happened.

“Uh–I personally believe, see”—he looks down at McMurphys’s fist on the chair arm beside him, with that big stiff thumb sticking straight up out of it like a cow prod–”that carnival is a real good idea. Something to break the monotony.” (92)