August 28, 2005
I was a pair of ragged claws
Each evening while I was in Mexico, I would drift down to the rocks beside the sea to smoke a cigar and watch the tide rise while the sun faded.
And each night, I was amazed at the crabs, clinging to the rocks, fending off attacks from above while sea spray rained all around them.
Strewn on the sandstone around me, out of the surf's reach, were the shells of dozens of crabs who had been grabbed by birds. I was sitting on a dinner table. Or grave yard. Depends on your perspective.
And of course, I ended up with a haiku:
Ragged claws
Clinging to sandstone
defient claws thrust skyward
Crabs embrace the sea
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:30 PM | Comments (0)
Zen and the art of wayward golf balls
So I'm sitting by the pool in Cabo San Lucas, reading Gary Snyder's latest collection of poems, "Danger on the Peaks."
Snyder long has been my favorite among the Beat poets. There's something in his sober, conifer rooted words that speaks to me. Here, he's ruminating on Mount St. Helens, from his first ascent shortly after atom bombs bleached Nagasaki and Hiroshima in nuclear flashes, to his trip the the volcano after it blew its top, reminding us of how tiny we are as we pad along on this planet.
And pop!
Click click clickclickclick.
A wayward golf ball bounces across the patio after escaping from the $200 green fee oceanview golf course, pulling my eyes away from my book. I look at the ball, then look up to see two birds sitting at the brink of the endless poool, taking cool desert drinks in the Mexican sun's fading fury.
I get up, toss the wayward golf ball back toward the green (so conspicuous among the desert foliage) and return to Mout St. Helens.
And again, a Zen golf ball blasts into my mind. This one much closer. Personal.
I rise in anger, spot the women whacking away on the "ladies tee" below and unleash my tiny dimpled fury in their direction.
I pause, waiting for some response to the golf ball missile I just en their way, and out of the ocean breeze, just above the sound of crashing surf, comes their response.
"Thank you."
To me, an act of retaliation. To them, a kind act of retrieval.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:07 PM | Comments (1)
Only in New Orleans
This, from an AP story about hurricane preparations in New Orleans:
"We're choosing the best of two evils," said Bryan Steven. "It's either be stuck in the hotel or stuck on the road. ... We'll make it through it."
His wife, wearing a Bourbon Street T-shirt with a lewd message, interjected: "I just don't want to die in this shirt."
Only in New Orleans.
Batten down the hatches, Big Easy. I hope you find some way to dodge Katrina.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:04 PM | Comments (0)
Cortez the killer
LBJ was almost taken away with the dirty dishes in Amsterdam and left behind at a restaurant in Helsinki. But neither of those experiences prepared him for his brush with death in Mexico.
While Wes and I were introducing LBJ to the beach at Cabo San Lucas, a rogue wave reached up out of the Sea of Cortez and grabbed the little feller, sucking him out to sea. It was only with quick thinking and derring do that Wes charged into the surf to pluck our little president out of peril. Sadly, Wes suffered a cut on one of his paws that served as an excuse to stay close to the pool (and the tequila) for much of the rest of the trip.
I've uploaded several new photos to the LBJ gallery that document his adventures in Mexico, but I forgot to include this one, which is one of my favorites. I'll add it later. The new stuff in the gallery is toward the bottom of this page.
The time is coming when LBJ must return from whence he came. But how?
Posted by Bob Benz at 6:41 PM | Comments (0)
You're breaking my heart ...
A little kid walks up to us while we're eating lunch in Cabo San Lucas, and he instantly launches into a sales pitch.
"Mister. Would you like to buy my animals? Four for 10 dollars," he says as he pulls them out of the bag and puts them on the table in front of us. Colorful turtles and armadillos and other critters, each with a little wooden bobble head nodding at us while the kid waits for me to respond.
"I dunno. That's a lot," I say, looking at him, then at the animals. I counter with "four for five dollars." This draws a look of pain.
"Mister, you're breaking my heart."
After extensive negotiations, the little capitalist manages to get $7 out of me for three of them. They're probably worth about 50 cents each. But I admire his perseverance. The "breaking my heart" gambit, though, apparently is a tried and true negotiating tactic in Cabo.
A few days later, when I'm negotiating for a necklace for Lara, the seller hits me with the same line.
"You're breaking my heart."
"You're breaking my heart," I counter.
"But you have two hearts," he says, pointing to me and Wes.
Touche. But I still negotiate another $30 out of the price before I leave with a happy heart, knowing Lara will love this necklace.
Posted by Bob Benz at 4:16 PM | Comments (0)
August 26, 2005
Sad news on the literary front ...
Playwright August Wilson has announced he has terminal liver cancer. I've seen a few of the plays in his Pittsburgh Cycle. Would love to see all 10 produced somewhere in tribute to him. His work is astounding.
"It's not like poker. You can't throw your hand in. I've lived a blessed life. I'm ready," he told the Pittsburgh Post Gazette.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:53 AM | Comments (0)
August 14, 2005
Cool bunk on Boing Boing
Boing Boing has been on a roll recently, featuring several fascinating posts ...
1. A birdwatcher saw a praying mantis snag a hummingbird, and posted photos to prove it. My feeder has been drawing a lot of hummingbirds of late, so this was particularly fascinating.
2. A video ode to the American hillbilly. It's a long download, but it's worth the time. Sadly, I feel as if I'm living this some days, all the way down to the soundtrack of Deliverance playing in the background.
3. Details about a zombie flashmob in San Francisco. Where else?
4. And last but not least, instructions on how to put an elevator in express mode, allowing you to skip all those annoying stops between you and your destination. Haven't tried this yet, but I intend to ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:39 PM | Comments (0)
Too close for comfort
After we returned from Estonia, I set up a few RSS feeds to keep track of what's going on over there. I was a bit stunned to read this week that the helicopter we took from Tallinn to Helsinki crashed in the Baltic Sea, killing all 14 people aboard. Things like that really make you pause and reassess ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:29 PM | Comments (0)
An End to Suffering
I just finished Pankaj Mishra's phenomenal biography of the Buddha, "An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World."
One of the most fascinating parts of the book is the glimpse of Indian history it provides. I knew very little about India and found the details he provides fascinating.
The book is as much about Mishra's travels and travails as it is about the Buddha's journey. In the end, he offers clear, concise descriptions of the Buddha's teachings and puts it in historical context. He delves into some heavy philosophy without drifting into impenetrable abstraction.
The crux of the book asks whether the Buddha can be relevant in a world that's vastly different from the one he was born into in 556 BC. It's one of the better books on Buddhism that I've read and I highly recommend it if you have any interest along these lines ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:27 PM | Comments (0)