Emmer (Part II)

I'm reading Austen again, with predictable results. Here I was at the day job:

Miss Thompson called on her early that afternoon to indicate she would henceforth be out and the development caused Emma some not undue agitation. It was always mildly distressing for Miss Thompson to be indisposed, as the duties of that lady included corresponding with the many impertinent individuals on whose contributions of modest sums the financial solvency of the organisation relied, and in her absence Emma might be forced to handle such correspondence, simultaneously dull and delicate, herself. But Miss Thompson was reassuring, 'Her compatriot would handle majority of correspondence, &c.' and smiled sweetly as she took her leave.

A quiet hour followed and Emma indulged the pleasures of an easy afternoon, the sun streaming through the tall windows as she read a novel and attended the peripheral duties the place of employ required. After an interval, Mr. Leonard visited her station and she enquired after the plans for his coming nuptials. He responded that they were advancing according to schedule, and that both families were equally eager for such an advantageous connexion to be finalised.

'You have heard, of course, the regrettable business about Miss Fassluke?' Emma proceeded to ask.

'Ah! she is to remove to Michigan. An atrocious development indeed for we have so cherished her companionship here.'

'So we have.'

At that moment, as if summoned, Miss Fassluke herself entered. Her hair was fixed according to the latest fashion, presenting her youthful face in an especially pleasing manner, and she appeared in excellent spirits--surely, Emma remarked, not as affected by her own impending removal as were her friends. Miss Fassluke called herself flattered to find them put so out of sorts by her planned departure and Emma bore the teazing admirably.

'You will be attending, then, the ball in Miss Fassluke's honor?' she asked Mr. Leonard.

'I shan't be, regrettably. But you have my best wishes nonetheless, Miss Fassluke.'

'And am I to believe your cordial wishes sincere, Mr. Leonard, when you prove unwilling to upend prior engagements in order to attend my ball?' Laughter accompanied this remark.

'Ah but you remain ignorant, Miss Fassluke, of my excuse! It is excellent, and once you give it audience, I assure you my decision to absent myself will become quite easily understood. You see, on the very day of the ball, I turn two and thirty, and therefore have celebrations to attend at which my presence would be yet more sorely missed!'

The two ladies laughed in complete understanding and the party then disbanded, each member returning, with a degree of reluctance, to their respective tasks. Unfortunately, the previous quiet was not to be replicated and soon Emma found herself in a most grievous communication with one of the individuals contributing modest sums, who explained at length her previous ardent support for the organisation, being a person who cared a great deal for animals, and wolves especially, and who had, over the course of many years, contributed sums to a great number of organisations whose missions reflected her earnest values, &c. She further explained that she had received a recent communication explicitly requesting additional financial tidings and that, due to the misery of the current economic situation, both in the country as a whole and in her own home, she was unable to abide the request and that in fact she wished to receive no such communications whatsoever in future. Emma sighed. This, then, was the object, and could have been reached without the preceding speech.

The afternoon waned without further event, save for the welcome return of Miss Thompson at half past three, and it was soon time to board a carriage bound for home.

Tweet

Ice Cube's "It Was a Good Day" As Performed By My Chickens

Just hoppin down off the roost, gotta thank God
I don't know but today seems kinda odd
Hit the feeder hard
Ate chard
And got let out into the full yard
Found grubs to grub on
But didn't pig out
Finally flew up in this flower bed I wanna dig out
Crop fulla greens and I'm peckin more
Thinkin will I live another twenty-fo
I gotta hide cause I got me a wormpop
And if I bite the head
I can make that wrigglin stop
Do a little preening in the sunlight
Checkin out my feathers, not a single red mite
And everything is alright
The Lady's comin out the house, and she gives treats on sight
Squawked to the coopmates and I'm askin em
Which box, are y'all layin eggies in?
Get me in the nest and I'm trouble
Last week fucked around and laid a triple double
Sonnin all these lazy layers like Hennessy
I can't believe
Today was a good day

Headed out front, walked straight into the kitties
They ran the other way, left me sittin pretty
Cause just yesterday them fools tried to scratch me
Saw a mean dog and it strolled right past me
No flexin, didn't even look in a henny's direction
and I just kept on peckin
Found a perfect dusting spot, and the dirt felt wet just right
Get my feathers lookin tight
Shake em up, shake em up, shake em up, shake em
Roll those parasites in a bath of dirt and watch me break em
And it's heaven heaven for hens and heaven for hens
Heaven with with my back in the cool soil
My dusting hole's dug low
Eye on the bugs, found me a poli roll
Plus no poultry I know got slaughtered in Oakland, CA
Today was a good day

CBT came out again late
With some oyster shell, replace calcium from the eggs I laid
Did our bit, my crop was full, she had the grit
Now I can really grind this shit
She reached under Betsy's big fat fanny
Pulled out the eggies, fixed em with toast and jammy
And my eggs taste sweet, so sweet
So sweet make the humans peep
Cased a bed border
Ain't no doubt I'm on top the pecking order
Snuck into that raised bed and I'm coastin
Took a sip of water-garden potion, hit the two-leg motion
I was glad everything had worked out
Jumped in CBT's lap and then chirped out
Today was like one of those fly dreams
Didn't even see a possum stalkin those high beams
No raccoon lookin for a murder
Eight in the evening got the Scratchburger
Even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp
And it read 'Three Hens is pimps'
Crop fulla scratch but no throwing up
Almost to the roost and my clucker still blowing up
Didn't hear anybody call straw 'hay'
I got to say it was a good day

© 2009 Three Hens
Polwick Farms Productions

Tweet

The Truth About Facebook

THE TRUTH is this title is a sham. But you wouldn't have clicked on 'Some Mild Observations About Facebook.' And you probably wouldn't be here at all if I hadn't posted this on Facebook. So that's my first observation:

1) It's not totally worthless. I admit I kind of wanted it to be. But then protests in Iran were organized with online social networks. Sonnafabitch. And (more importantly) without Facebook, no one would read Clebilicious. With it, two do. (Thanks, you two!) Also it reminds me about birthdays.

2) People have different personalities on Facebook than they do in real life. In real life I'm a ceaseless chatterbox. But on Facebook I am sly and morose. And I can think of at least one individual who, while subdued in real life, is a yammering Yenta on Facebook.

3) Facebook interaction is less daunting than real life interaction, with implications. Which of course is true of online interaction in general. This could be good, when, for example, it allows a shy person to venture out of her shell. Or it could be bad.

4) People like to have little rules with Facebook. Like they only will be friends with people they don't often see in real life. Or they never do status updates. Or they only do status updates. The rules seem intended to grant the illusion of control.

5) Facebook usership passes through three distinct phases: Thrill, Thrill-seeking and Practical Resignation. First you get a genuine kick out of it. (Person A! I haven't thought of her in years! And Person B! I knew he had a crush on me in high school! And Person C I hardly recognized! They all like me! What wealth! what extensive connection! all gathered here in this shining, ephemeral place!) As the kick fades, you try and fail to recapture it. Finally, you accept that Facebook is boring, abandon hope and try to make some mundane use of the thing.

6) You can learn fascinating facts about people from Facebook, but it's unclear how much you are supposed to acknowledge the possession of these facts in real life. If a Ffriend writes in her status update that her new nickname is 'Sexy Legs,' would one be remiss in referring to her thusly at work? And if the answer be clearly yes, then: what? What strange world do we live in if we walk about knowing things and not acknowledging them?

7) It might be more pathetic to have too many Facebook friends than not enough.

8) Facebook can be an effective way of entering other people's worlds. (Especially those with a tendency to overshare.) I can better imagine now what it's like to be a lunatic-distance runner, or a nurse hankering for a drink at the end of a long hospital shift, or a former pro football player launching a tentative new career. (Yeah I'm Ffriends with a former pro football player. Maybe he had a crush on me in high school; are you so surprised?) Because seeing people's little daily updates gives you the nosehair view of their lives. Even when trying to uphold grandiosity, the more people update, the more they unintentionally reveal. Whether we should know so much about every acquaintance is debatable, but the debate never quite happened and the reality has arrived. This will have big implications for human interaction in the 21st century--unless we all just get bored and stop updating.

Tweet

I Am Photosynthetic

I shrink and languish when the days are short. Unfurl before the sun's rays like a large-leafed plant extra open on a hot day. I thrive in the desert. When I lived under dim Northeastern light I was miserable. I figured it out: I'm photosynthetic.

Think about it. You might be too.

I totally fall for the notion of a healthy tan. I don't want to be a leathery old broad, but I find it hard to fear the *sun's damaging rays* of the Coppertone propaganda. Maybe the stereotypes linking darker skin to the possession of more soul predate James Brown. Maybe the soul is photosynthetic.

Good then that the longest days are here and I'm set for a beach week some four hundred miles closer to the equator. Photovoltaic cells ready. Chik-chik-chik-aaah.

Tweet

Born-Again Baduizt

IF only this post could fade in with sparkly sounds like "Back in the Day." Writing is just not cool like that.

I had always heard her, but only recently have I come to accept Erykah Badu as my personal savior. As for many born-agains, my Baduizt epiphany came when she performed on Chappelle's Show. She swayed her small hips, she rocked her big afro wig. I fell into a trance.



For Chappelle she performed "I Want You," which proceeded to become my favorite song. It's Badu at her extended-jam finest; the album version runs to ten minutes and fifty-three seconds. The song is so simple and she's just chanting I I I I I I I want you you you you you you you half the time, but it totally works. The lyrics suggest the following archetypically Baduizt prescriptions for the ailment of being sprung on some dude:

1) pray til early May
2) fast for thirty days
3) get a good book and get all in it
4) try a little yoga for a minute
5) turn the sauna up to hotter
and 6) drink a whole jar of holy water (an entire jar!)

I can start the "Back in the Day" glitter intro when I hop on the bus downtown and jam through the city of Oakland on a Badu ride, wrapping up the flight-of-fancy riff at the end of "I Want You" just in time to walk through the gate to my backyard and let the chickens out of the coop. If life gets better, I don't know about it yet.

And I have learned to let Erykah go on her flights of fancy. She has won my trust; I'm willing to take the ride. These days I earnestly and willfully choose to march through all the dense "Bump It" yodeling in order to earn the clear awakening "Back in the Day" intro (about which I won't shut up).


WHEN New Amerykah Part One came out last year I was naturally keen with anticipation. But that album is like *advanced* and, not being a music nerd, it took me a while to break into it. Because the rest is not like "Honey." The rest is some bombastic blaxploitation soundtrack that this whitegirl was not initially prepared to get with. Plus, the vibe struck me at first as ickily political and I don't like music trying to be political (although I have to give it to Erykah that she can pull off even that without much departure into lameness).

But I found a road in, eventually, with the song "Me," which falls on the tender, self-reflective side of the bombastic blaxploitation spectrum. My only problem with it is the part when she says "my ass and legs have gotten thick." If you have seen any recent pictures of stick figure Badu, you'll understand why this is offensive to those of us in the thick community.

My next single was to be "That Hump," a song which promotes my theory that there is an Erykah Badu song for any mood that might befall one. "That Hump" works on feelings of depression or discouragement: If I could get over that hump/Then maybe I wiiiiill feel be-etter. But my latest fave off New Amerykah Part One is "Soldier," which is actually a gentle groove track despite the name. It includes classic Baduing around à la: Break it down say mhm whooooaho hey hey (repeat). Turns out "Twinkle" is the dark, disturbing song. (Oh, Erykah, how you love to thwart my easy expectations!) It has the hoped-for sparkle sounds, but they come off spooky somehow.


WOULD that this post could blast out on a Hendrixy riff like "I Want You." But writing is just not cool like that.

Tweet

Farewell, Best Little Garden Crew

I taught garden class for two years before this one, and I'll teach it again. But there was something about the group of gardeners I had this year. I know I'm gonna miss them.



This one, especially. Graduating. It's funny: last year, garden class was basically black girls plus Dylan. This year, it was basically Mexican boys plus Dylan.

Holding it down every Monday was the fabulous brother team of Uriel and Jose. Uriel is one of those eleven year-olds who seem thirty-five. There are a lot of them at the school. I had seen him on the bus once, before he joined garden class. For reasons unknown he had somewhere to go, alone, on a school day afternoon, and he sat crumpled in his seat looking weighted by the world. Only his feet swinging well above the bus floor gave away the fact that he was a kid.

Jose is lighter of heart, as younger brothers will be. Here he is being Bugs Bunny, with Uri's support. Ever the comedian, his favorite joke was to sneak up on me when I was inspecting cabbage leaves or checking seedbeds before class. I caught him every time, but he could never be deterred from trying again. One day he did this hilarious bit he called watering "like a model". He made his eyes all smoldering and did suave hose maneuvers with one hand while rubbing his head mock-sensuously with the other. And he loved weeding competitions, because he ended up with the biggest weed pile and won the prize every time.




There was Oscar: quiet, eager to please, and best known for his starring role in the game "Who's Taller: Oscar or the Pea Plant?" (which successively became "Who's Taller: Uriel or the Pea Plant?" and then "Who's Taller: Miss Emma or the Pea Plant?" and finally "Who's Taller: Kobe or the Pea Plant?")



And there was Shauntenai, who was surly and difficult ninety percent of the time. But that other ten percent--oh man, how sweet it was. You had to toil for it. She only ever showed up for half an hour at a time, but she planted the most successful tomato seedling, and took a lot of pride in that fact.



We dug potatoes on the last day, and pulled our garlic. And watered, as always. And as always, the kids wanted to put the hose head on the cherished "mist" setting, which creates a beautiful, cooling cloud of water, almost none of which reaches the soil. (Probably my most frequently-yelled admonition this year was "Put it back on 'shower'!") One very hot afternoon this spring, I announced that there would be a special treat. At the end of class, I gathered all the kids in front of me, held the hose over their heads, and put it on "mist."




Here's the thing about Dylan. Yeah, he's bright. Yeah, he's sweet (often enough to cancel out when he isn't). Yeah, he's got gardening in his blood. But the quality that won me over most completely was his weirdness. Witness the photo above. Oh, it's cute, sure. Sweet kid, sweet smile. But look a little closer. Those green things aren't part of his "Water Strider" shirt, which looked like a brand-new freebie. No: he picked Scarlet Runner beans (from the vine just to the right of his head in the picture) and discovered what he called their "velcro" capacity and stuck them to his shirt. See what I mean? He also ate a carrot and turned the tops into a lash--even had the audacity to give me lashings with it, and I had the audacity to let him get away with it, on the Last Day principle.

After all the kids had been picked up, I finished watering the vegetable beds and found myself getting teary. When I got in the car that Keri Hilson "Knock You Down" song burst on the radio, way too loud. You know: Sometimes love comes around/And it knocks you down...I had denounced the song as cheesy. But as I drove homeward dewy-eyed, tender images of Dylan digging potatoes still playing in my mind, it sounded pretty right.

Tweet

Sonia from the Block

This morning President Obama nominated Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court. Her acceptance speech follows.


Don't be fooled by the robes that I got
I'm still, I'm still
Sonia from the block
Used to have a little now I have a lot
But no matter where I go I know where I came from
(South South Bronx)

Projects to Princeton
So yeah I do it well
No wonder Barack loves me
I'm like brown Michelle
Second circuit New York City
Court of Appeals
And saved baseball for my public
Cause I keep it on the reals

Don't be fooled by the robes that I got
I'm still, I'm still
Sonia from the block
Used to have a little now I have a lot
But no matter where I go I know where I came from
(South South Bronx)

I'll be up in the Senate
Judiciary hearings
Pink tracksuit, low bun
And the fat hoop earrings
Singing tracks from West Side Story
Every stereotype
Boricua from the Bronx
That's what Supreme looks like

Don't be fooled by the robes that I got
I'm still, I'm still
Sonia from the block
Used to have a little now I have a lot
But no matter where I go I know where I came from
(South South Bronx)

President Obama's verse:
You want to block her confirmation, Jon Kyl from Arizona?
All the Mexicans in your Senate district
Think they'll still be votin for ya? (Na-ah)
Picked the first Latino, yeah you didn't think of that
Whip is playin checkers
Ha-haa! I'm playin chess

Tweet