cooked Goose?

This is what the Eleven Point Rover and the Goose look like in flood.

I'm packing up to go to the Goose in Thomasville, Mo., when I receive this link, dateline Thomasville, saying that the Eleven Point River is in flood and has crossed Rt 99.
   To be clear, the Eleven Point River is half a block from the Goose, which is on Rt 99. The Eleven Point River has actually come inside the Goose, though not while I've had ownership. So who knows what I'll find when I get out there. Flash flood warnings posted until Sunday. I was kind of thinking of arriving on Friday. If I can get there. . .


say it loud

Gay Pride, Stonewall, 2011
Happy Pride Day, all you gays and guys and gals and other!



 The Artist Known As Chang accepted the adulation of his friends and fans at a Magnum party at Milk Gallery. The photographers were mostly old, and the fans were mostly young. The show was of contact sheets, and as you might imagine, having made the contact sheet itself into an art
form, Chien-Chi Chang was represented in the show. Doesn't mean viewers weren't mystified. Also mystifying was his schtik of dropping a full wine glass on the gallery floor. But this is how you prove yourself an artist and not a mere photographer.


not resting in peace

In happier times, as they always say when they don't know exactly when a pic was taken.

Two of the three a year ago this week, overlooking Yankee Stadium, Bronx, June 2013
I went up to the Bronx knowing that it was almost exactly a year since I was last there. Elaine's birthday was coming up—it's on Saturday—and she was planning to go on a country retreat. Barb and I were alarmed by her obvious jaundice, but only Barb was brave enough to call her on it. I hid in sleep. Elaine got mad. "I have eyes," she told Barb. "Do you think I can't see?"
   What should we have done?  Probably by that time, nothing. The last time I saw Elaine was in September. I know because it's on my blog. Goodbye New York/Goodbye friends/Goodbye conversation that never ends.
   Well, that conversation ended. A month later I was on the Amtrak train home when Barb called, hysterical, to say she had found Elaine's body. I wrote this obit.
   I love Elaine, but I was mad at her. I guess I'm over it, though, because I recently dreamt that she and Barb and I were going out to dinner. "Elaine," I said. "I thought you were dead!!"
  Happy birthday, Elaine. Miss you mucho.


found in a trunk

Naval maneuvers 1912, Old Harbor, Block Island
 Ironically, as the sister-in-law of the President of the Block Island Historical Society, I know very little about history (about as much as I know about gardening, actually—maybe less). But my cousin was moving, and he found this pic from an aunt in the attic. My cursory investigation of Wikipedia showed that the Atlantic fleet, including the dreadnought battleship U.S.S. Wyoming, maneuvered off Block Island in May 1912. Not sure what maneuvering is or why they were doing it, but the picture is amazing. Any naval historians in my audience?
This date doesn't make sense.



Roberta's kitchen window in Block Island. Maybe I should post on the Book.
This virtual life is odd. I am still in Block Island, dealing with grills and linens and trash and weather—and hoping that all systems are go for the next three months—and I am in increasing communication with my friends in the Ozarks, who I am missing and hope to see soon, but I am physically in New York, seeing people in person who I mostly talk to these days via Skype and text. Then there is my family: aging parents in Mexico (thank you Google Translate for the ability to e mail with caregivers) and Alabama; my delicious grandbabies whose fast growth I try to keep up with on Face Time. There is this blog, plus Facebook and Instagram, not to mention Words With Friends. Communicating on multiple platforms (often simultaneously) undreamed of a decade ago takes up much of my time, as does hooking up modems and berating telephone companies. I know I am hardly the first to write about this—but still. Where am I? Betwixt and between.



Summertime arrives along with Litha, the summer solstice, and, ironically, the darkening of the days. And speaking of the darkening of days, I have two dentist visits today. Two.



A familiar view of the old side of the Gasner Compound shows up in a new show at Jessie Edwards' gallery in Block Island.
And speaking of Block Island, we made the top 10 in USA Today's best U.S. islands lineup.
Not to mention the island starring as a location on Family Guy.
Somehow I managed to visit Providence without eating at a single one of what the Boston Globe dubbed destination restaurants.
In other news
If you need to keep cool, buy a DVD of Keri Pickett's The Fabulous Ice Age doc about her uncle, now available on Amazon and I Tunes. Check out the latest press.
If you like it hot, check out CBA's offering of a lapdance movie prop on eBay.
A great site that posts old pix from National Geographic.  Speaking of which, Lynn Johnson has just been named one of four photographers to be Nat Geo fellows. She is the shortest and the only female.
In other photographic news, Donna Ferrato is in Seoul teaching—what? Must find out.
And for just plain funny, this music video by a man stuck in the Las Vegas airport.


summer in the city

How their garden does grow—Cherokee purple tomatoes on vines!
Setting up for the first time last Sunday by the Providence River.
Ah, summertime, when Hannah decides she doesn't have enough to do and starts a new business, usually involving setup at a fair—in this case the Providence Flea. For her homeopathic Bach flower remedies check out Calm-A-Mama.
  For me summertime seems to involve a lot of quality time on the phone with telephone companies about nonworking internet. Tough when you have an internet business. . . Working at Deb's today.
   And in other family news, here is Eva totally kicking her father's butt in jujitsu—she is the last person on at about 11:30. Have we got some cool girls in this family or what?


meanwhile, back in the city

Baby birds on my porch in Block Island; what looks like won't be baby birds on my windowsill in New York.


what should have been in the truck

Oops: Illegal vehicle.
Evidence of current registration would have been nice.
 As I took the truck to a guy on Block Island to inspect, I noticed that the registration had expired in 2011 March. I felt so Ozarkian. The inspector didn't notice—he noticed that a ball joint was about to fall out. So I got that fixed and tool it back to the inspector (all of you on Block Island know who that is, because there is only the one) and he passed me. Nice new inspection sticker. No registration.
  So when  I loaded my tables into the truck and the truck onto the ferry and left the island hopefully until September, I drove (in the pouring rain) directly to the DMV. "I don't really know what to do," I told the woman after I had been standing in line for like ever. I told her the situation. She told me I had to re-register the truck and added, "Boy are you lucky!"
   Three more hours of waiting later and street legal, I had to agree.


two down

Showtime for Claudia's Surf City, Block Island

Last of the lists
I'm bound away, not cross the wide Missouri quite yet, but across the Block Island Sound. It's tough being a real estate mogul, even with a lot of help, in a place where the wind and rain and sun are always trying to take your place down to the foundation (or piers, in my case). And you no sooner paint railings than the baby birds are learning to fly from the corner of the porch and shitting all over the new white paint. But don't cry for me. It's worth it.


reality sucks

View from Hannah's Hideaway, Block Island, by Kate Knapp (in progress).

Same view from Hannah's photographed in same light post waterlily-bloom.
Art beats the shit out of life every time.


one down

Hannah's Hideaway, Block Island

One house is ready for prime time, one still far from it. Ana has yet to work her magic at Claudia's Surf City. . .



Milla tries out the new hammock at Hannah's Hideaway, Block Island

As the countodown really begins—I'm outta here for the season on Friday—my previous life is in an uproar, as Time Inc. spins off from Time-Warner.


after the rain

Came an evening of unbelievable beauty, as the sunlight swept away the lowering clouds.
   Now in final countdown: One week til departure for the season. Still working out bugs in the systems. Gas leak appears to be solved. Silverfish on their way to extinction. Railings painted. Door closes. Shower leak fixed. Roof replaced. But there's still a list—mainly a laundry list!


north view

I hope the painter can compensate for flat light better than this photographer could. Check Kate Knapp's blog for the season's opening salvo of Block Island.


a perfect day

View of Crescent beach from Johnny's little barn, Block Island.
Actually, this is the second in a row. Sunny, upper 60s, no wind. Tired of freezing our asses off out here. Good painting weather. Of railings and pictures. Good for  cleaning windows and screens. For teaching fledgeling sparrows to fly. For turtles and Dowlings to bask. It's a perfect day. And here is the soundtrack, from Lou Reed and Luciano Pavarotti, possibly the weirdest set ever.
  Word to friends and relations: All cell service kaput on BI. Call land line 2468 or 2209.