Storyboard - Misc 6/28/2011

Like any human I've found myself up and down on the energy required to go out and take photos. To the best of my recollection, the photoset from 6/28 is an amalgamation of a couple of days of random photography.

So this fly, as I recall, was buzzing around in Laura's backyard. For some reason I cannot fathom it stood still long enough for me to get its picture with the macro and even preened itself with that cool "I'm going to rub my eyes with my feet" move that flies like to do so much.

From 2011-06-28

Yeah, this next picture is a bit questionable but I trust you all to be adults about it. Birds do it and beetles do it.

From 2011-06-28

These two are always a hoot.

From 2011-06-28

This shot is from the Wabash river beach. For once it's not flooding.

From 2011-06-28

To continue the craziness of this random time period, there was also a horse show in this. I like the way the horse holds itself so stiffly like it's posing to be a chess piece.

From 2011-06-28

And in an accidental recreation of Muybridge we prove that when horses run they DO get all four feet off the ground at once. (Quite a difference 139 years can make)

From 2011-06-28

Laura has a way with the savage beast...

From 2011-06-28

Such deep and soulful eyes. It honestly breaks my heart that we take these creatures... though this one does have sort of an eyebooger thing going.

From 2011-06-28

And the stereotypical shot of Indy downtown from near the state museum.

From 2011-06-28

I love this shot. Laura's beautiful (nothing new there) but the gondolier in the background on the cellphone is a priceless anachronism.

From 2011-06-28

Storyboard - West Park, Carmel, Indiana - 8/13/2011

In a happy twist of August Indiana weather it was a blissful 73 degrees outside yesterday so my first inclination turned towards taking the kids to the State Fair. The youngest was easily tempted over to my side with the phrase, "they have food..." but the eldest was unconvinced as revealed by her response of "I hate the state fair. I always have hated the state fair and I always will. *sigh* Fine. Given that attitude and with the debacle of the previous year in mind (in which we spent $37 for a 20-minute visit) a compromise was in order.

The eldest's counter-suggestion was that we go to the Children's Museum on the principle that it was "too hot to be outside." Commentary on the decadent American lifestyle that leads to such beliefs aside, we instead headed out to West Park.

Izzy, who upon arriving at the park observed that there was clearly no food, was indignant and charged off as quickly and as obviously annoyed as it is possible to do at her age. I suppose she should have growled at us but she made her disgruntlement clear enough without such guttural utterances.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

We quickly managed to bring the indignant Izzy around by pointing out the abundance of testudine (turtle) wildlife. Only moments before in the car she'd been discussing strategies by which she might wrangle herself into having a turtle as a pet.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

From West Park - 8-13-2011

Amanda, however, was still unconvinced. The temperature had skyrocketed to the header figure of 74 degrees.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

A walnut or two found under a pine tree never hurts one's attitude either, it seems.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I stood in this area for a couple of minutes before noticing this heron fishing for its breakfast. Generally when you see them they seem to be just placidly walking along as if they have nothing much better to do but this one was actively taking advantage of the large number of small fish in the pond.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

From West Park - 8-13-2011

From West Park - 8-13-2011

I also have to give the park a lot of credit. They appear to be cultivating several native species that you don't find in most public areas. I believe this is Prairie Dock if I recall correctly.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

And no summer trip would be complete without a dragonfly.

From West Park - 8-13-2011

Storyboard - Eagle Creek - 7/9/2011

It is not lost on me that as the days go by, I'm forced to reach further and further back into my recollections to post my thoughts on each of my photo albums. I'm not sure if this is significant because I'm posting far too frequently on the topic in question or because I'm taking photos too infrequently. Either way, I find myself posting about photos taken almost a month ago so forgive me if my recollections are weak ones.

As I cast my mind backwards, I recall a Saturday when I had little else to do so I wandered out to Eagle Creek. This somewhat private park on the North West side of Indianapolis has always been somewhat of an enigma to me since it exists as a large and important park but is somehow not part of the Start Park system. It's likely that I notice this mostly because my annual pass to Indiana State Parks does not gain me admittance to this urban nirvana but instead costs me the heady sum of $5 per visit. Whatever the cost, however, there is much to be seen.

This first photo is evidence merely of my appreciation for the boundaries between land and water. I have an excessive appreciation for the plants that somehow span the gulf between the aquatic and the terrestrial.

From 2011-07-09

Similarly, there's a certain symbolism in the manner in which trees procreate. I believe that this tiny messenger is from the cottonwood tree. Whatever its origin, the seed is a symbol of hope and optimism as the parent sends out millions of its progeny and can only raise up a prayer to whatever divinity represents the hardwoods that its seed will find purchase in some hospitable soil far away.

From 2011-07-09

Now we get to the dragonflies. I spent the better part of my sunburned day in an Indiana July chasing these things all over their marshy abodes. They really are quaint miracles of nature. It boggles the mind how they can fly at all, let alone do so efficiently and with such precision. There are more things in heaven and Earth...

From 2011-07-09

Those delicate wings...

From 2011-07-09

Yeah, ok, so here's where I admit that I chased this ONE dragonfly around for 20 minutes.

From 2011-07-09

Probably my favorite. Note the posture and also the delicate lacework on the wings.

From 2011-07-09

Alright, so here's where I also admit that somehow I've lived a charmed life. If you read my auto-bio you'll see that this wasn't always the case but over the past few years I can't help but feel that when I just let the winds of randomness blow me whence they will, they tend to blow me into exceptionally interesting spots. In this case, I just happened to get blown into a bicycle race.

From 2011-07-09

In fact, the race was so ... well, circular in nature, that I was able to get a bit artsy. This photo makes me think more strongly of an oil paining than a photo.

From 2011-07-09

After the bikes, it was time to find our way to the pond, aka "the next random place I wandered to". The butterflies were in evidence.

From 2011-07-09

And more of these, of course.

From 2011-07-09

And one very cooperative... moth?

From 2011-07-09

Reptiles.... well, reptiles have always fascinated me. They seem at the same time utterly independent and at the same time at the mercy of the weather. No matter how stubborn a tortoise might be, give him a cold morning and he is at your mercy. Luckily, these turtles sunning themselves had no such worries.

From 2011-07-09

And thus ends, apparently, the trip around the park on the ninth. To extend the visual elements, I recall that the park was very, very warm and that I was more than a bit lonely. Someone for whom I have great affection was off doing her own thing so I was compensating with a bit of natural beauty. Either way though, a fine time was had. And thus we close.

Arts: Cirque du Soleil: Dralion – 8/6/2011

On Saturday night we wandered out to see Cirque du Soleil and it must be admitted that when we heard that it was in town… and tickets were available… all four of our eyes got as big as saucers. There are some things in life that are greeted with a “phffttt… they’ll be back” or a “eh, whatever” but Cirque was not one of them. We hastened to obtain tickets (at the last minute) and betook ourselves unto the show.

So, to start, I will admit that I wasn’t nearly as awe-inspiringly impressed as I would have liked to have been. Yes, the acrobatics were beyond any criticism. Yes, the show was immaculately prepared and with only a few exceptions, flawless. Yes, I enjoyed it immensely but I’ll admit that I fell victim to the curse of expectations. In our over-indulged American lives we see so much and we have so much placed in front of us on television that when the real thing presents itself… well, we’re desensitized. Like a magician who has many of his tricks telegraphed to the audience ahead of time, Cirque made me internally say, “cool” but at no time did my mind say, “wow!” Well, ok, with one exception. I still don’t understand completely how those trampoliners managed to defy physics in quite the specific and indescribable way in which they did. If you want the details on that you’ll have to actually go.

So during this interesting but not awe-inspiring show, I felt my mind wandering, as I often do. I couldn’t help but ponder to myself… why is it…? What is it about these shows that enthralls us so? Why do we care so much about the men who can run and jump flawlessly through two hoops? Why is it important to us when a person can grab a long ribbon of silk and dance with it into the air suspended above the stage as if they were born there? Why on Earth do we give a damn about any of this impractical crap that they do? The answer, I think, comes down to the simple matter of control.

When we look at these people, so obviously and completely in control of themselves and their movements, we have a certain and undeniable sense of envy. It is this “envy of control” that keeps us coming back for more. This group has dedicated their lives, their diets, their everything, to the simple fact that they have utter and complete control of their bodies. When they tell their bodies to walk gracefully on top of a large ball, their bodies do it. By counterpoint, our bodies can’t keep us from eating that last bite of hamburger at Applebees. The people at Cirque have something that we struggle with daily. They have dominion over themselves. They have control. And we… we do not. For this they are adulated, admired and revered.

And I would posit that this extends not only to circus performers. In general, I think that we can’t help but respect those that do things that are beyond our own capabilities, those who demonstrate a control and mastery of themselves that we can’t begin to fathom. Whether they are actors on the stage taking on a role or comedians fighting back the butterflies that we would doubtless feel under such pressure, we elevate those who control that which is beyond our control. Each of us looks up to the not-us. It is the not-us to which we aspire and to which we hope to some day ascend. The secret to life may very well be finding the not-us and figuring out how to bring that most vividly and completely into our own ourselves.

Books: “Julie and Julia” - Julie Powell [2005]

To me there are three basic types of reception that a book can receive from a reader. The first is the kind that grabs your soul and shakes it and when it’s done you find yourself sad and disappointed that the shaking has stopped. The second stretches your head like an elephant in a bikini and you find yourself almost exhausted by the mere act of reading. The third leaves you wondering why you bothered reading at all and hungry for something of substance. “Julie and Julia” falls solidly in the lattermost category. To use a seasonally appropriate analogy, the book is like an extra large cotton candy had for the very first time. The first bite leaves one thinking “what an absolutely novel idea for a food!” but after the third all you really want is a trashcan.

The concept of the book is probably by now familiar: a New York secretary decides to work her way through the Julie Child cookbook and make every recipe in it over the course of a year. Now I can certainly relate to the obsessive and completionist concept here. It’s just the sort of thing I might undertake and then get bored with. So we’re starting out at a point of relative commonality but much like our sunbathing pachyderm’s distended swimming gear, the idea that was intriguing in paragraph form becomes trite and redundant by the time one’s reading has progressed much at all.

Despite the unnecessary prolixity of the novel, there were some reasonable cultural and psychological points that bear discussion. I’m not convinced that any of these were really among the items the author intended to invoke in her readers, but they did come unbidden to mind for me at least. Let’s enumerate in no particular order.

At one point she tells the story of a call she received at work from a “black woman who runs an S&M dungeon.” This in itself isn’t unusual but she goes on to say that her dear husband is the only one with whom she could ever share such a story and have hopes that it would be appreciated properly. This I found a bit perplexing. It’s been my experience that just about EVERYONE appreciates a story of this ilk. The odd and unusual are the meat and drink of many, many people so the value of a story like this one is not to be diminished. What is it that makes her think her husband unique in his appreciation? Is she simply trying to find reasons to heap adulation on him or trying stealthily to criticize the rest of humanity for its narrowness of mind? It does seem that much of the book is intended as a vehicle for placing her husband on a pedestal.

In a similar vein, the protagonist is keenly aware of political divisions in those around her to the point of bigotry. She refers to “the Republicans” as if they were a troupe of scabrous lepers banging their tin cups on her cubical wall. Her attitude is very much one of of good-guy Democrats versus those ignorant Republicans and if one has the audacity to disagree with her then, as she might say, “fuck them.” Those who disagree with her might as well not even exist. This attitude becomes decidedly apropos at the climax of the novel when it’s found that her beloved Julia Child does not, in fact, like her or what she’s done. This leaves her between her previous state of admiration and an obligatory, “you don’t agree with me so fuck off.”

Moving on, I was reminded of one of my larger pet peeves when the protagonist put a ‘Donate’ widget on her blog page. Why is it that society thinks everything of value must be paid for? At what point in this country did we become so wrapped up in materialism and amassing wealth that doing something simply for the public good and entertainment was relegated solely to low-grade criminals doing “community service” and those too addled to know any better? Did the author entertain some people? Yes. Did the author inspire some people to cook? Yes. Does that make it appropriate for her to rattle her tin cup in front of the masses asking for donations? No. Call me communist if you want, but sometimes the best things are free. If you’re constantly looking to make a buck then it’s likely that’s all you’ll make.

OK, now for some palate cleansing before we close. Now that I’ve romped incessantly to the negative, weren’t there some positive aspects here? Most certainly the author’s dedication to a project, and a non-trivial one at that, are to be admired. The body of work required to actually cook that much and that consistently is nothing to be sneezed at. This is especially telling considering the apparently far-too-carnivorous nature of the French diet at the time. The amount of animal flesh and butter products used during the course of a single year must have rivaled that of some healthier restaurants during the same time period. Personally I would have found Eastern cooking for more palatable (and survivable).

Lastly, if the author’s characterization is to be believed, the book does serve to underscore the importance of Child’s seminal works on cooking. Making European cooking accessible (and entertaining) to hoards of US housewives probably contributed at least somewhat to the explosion of dietary diversity we see in America today. To be clear, I’m not claiming familiarity with the history of cuisine in this country over the past 50 years but it would not be surprising if the popularity of French, Thai, Greek, Chinese and a hundred other ethnic food genres owes at least some debt of gratitude to Child’s work in making those exotic French foods seem much less exotic.

Storyboard - Logansport, Indiana - 7/10/2011

A couple of weeks ago now I had the better part of a day to myself, so where better to head than some random Indiana town that was not previously of my acquaintance. In this case, it was Logansport and while it was far from Paris (France or Texas) it was nonetheless a refreshing trip for all its randomness.

The town has done a really good job of keeping itself properly decorated. I found a great little patch of garden in the downtown area. The cone-flowers are fairly typical but I was struck by the bedewed spiderwebs.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

And this would have been better by yards and yards without the used car lot in the background.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Along with the garden there was also a carousel horse that had become disembodied from the herd, as it were. The eyelashes on this particular subject frankly terrified me.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

I think timing is everything when it comes to capturing the morning dew. (duh)

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

This scene is typical of SO many Indiana towns. Their aging building-fronts offer impossibly anachronistic products. It's hard to know what to think, exactly. They have one foot in the past and one foot in the future without fully committing to either.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Like a lot of Indiana towns, Logansport straddles the Wabash and is at the junction of the Eel and the Wabash rivers.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

I'm still a bit mystified by this one. Is it the bail bonds "shop" or the youth center? Perhaps the youth get in trouble so frequently that there's no need to distinguish between the two? Either way, the signage is in need of some clarification. PS: That bear looks terribly sad. Don't you just feel a NEED to bail him out?

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Logansport has done a lot with its available shore space. I was never at a loss for features to take photos of...

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

I'm always a sucker for the 'decay' of human-made objects. This trip was no exception.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Even after thinking about it for a month, it's not clear to me what exactly this place is. Is it in the process of being built or in the process of being forgotten about? Either way, it's in some limbo state of usefulness. Note the primitive brickwork spelling out "Golden Palace" above the arch.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Moving on, it seems as if I've seen this particular grammatical oddity before. Why would the Baptist Church use the English "An House" in their permanently-affixed motto. Clearly something I'm missing here....

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Yes, for those of you playing at home, Dr. Brewer has indeed set up shop in an old church. I guess this makes sense for those receiving the worst news as they can simply go across the hall to the chapel for any "second opinions".

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Lots of lawyers in Logansport, though apparently they decided to all share the same office space. Miller Tolbert Muelhausen Muelhausen Groff and Damm stand ready to serve you...

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

The local cemetery in town is utterly uneventful except for this incredibly gaudy display. Gold leaf Jesus.... wow.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

Alright, so here's where I confess that I had a better picture that I was afraid to take. These gents shown here actually were bow-fishing from the top of the bridge. When I walked past on the way back, they'd managed to catch a 2-foot carp(?) by the use of their skills. Considering the distance to the water from the bridge where they're standing, I considered this fairly impressive but when I broached the topic with them they stated simply that it was "easy" and that my admiration was utterly unnecessary.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011

These two were also interesting to observe. The boy was determined that he too would become a fisherman. His father (or grandfather?) made no promises except that they would NOT be bow-fishing any time soon. The younger's ebullient happiness at being on the bridge was a strange contrast to the worn and uneager attitude of the elder.

From Logansport IN, 7-10-2011