1. Mardi gras beads
2. 500Gb external hd
3. La Calavera coffee cup
4. Pangea Organics lotion
7. iPod (old school)
8. Giant mega super stapler
9. Huge window w/great view
10. Trusty MB Pro
A few of you may recall that here at virgotext we celebrated Pride last year with a rather impromptu series of posts about all manner of things queer.
Well, it’s coming on that time again, so put on your marching boots. The parade starts tomorrow morning.
Found a cool n’ different (to me anyway) meme idea over at casa de Charlotte della luna:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, and pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name?
Go on! Give it a shot.
Went on a hike yesterday morning on some new land recently obtained by the City of Austin Water Quality Protection program. For the most part, it was a great hike and the acreage is gorgeous. About three/quarters of the way through, on our way back, I got overheated during an uphill climb across a ridge. Not heat exhaustion or anything too serious, just way too freaking hot, and I’d have to say it was my fault for not pacing myself and trying to go too fast. The last leg of the hike was therefore pretty tough, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself to boot. I wasn’t the only casualty — a college student got into some fire ants and had a bad allergic reaction and a fellow Master Naturalist hurt his back pretty bad. We couldn’t just stop, though. There was no way out except to hike it.
Overall, still a good day though.
It threatened rain in the morning but didn’t deliver much, just enough to make it hot and muggy.
Canopy, from on high.
Classic upland grassy savannah.
Effort at Speech between two people
: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.
: Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I will be open:
Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,
like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me.
There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.
: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,
fluid : and my widowed aunt played Chopin,
and I bent my head to the painted woodwork, and wept.
I want now to be close to you. I would
link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.
: I am not happy. I will be open.
I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems.
There has been fear in my life. Sometimes I speculate
on what a tragedy his life was, really.
: Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand. What are you now?
When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,
I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death :
if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,
if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.
I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to me.
I will be open. I think he never loved me:
he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam
that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls:
he said with a gay mouth : I love you. Grow to know me.
: What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving . . . Take my hand. Speak to me.
I had the privilege yesterday to participate in a field class on identifying the Texas Hill Country native grasses. The class was held on the Onion Creek Management Unit of the City of Austin’s Water Quality Protection Lands. It was conducted by botanist and Master Naturalist Tom Watson, a Land Steward for this beautiful acreage.
Examining the stolon structure of Curly-Mesquite, Hilaria belanger
When I took the Master Naturalist certification training last year, I was lucky to have several teachers that were very knowledgeable about grasses, and grasses were emphasized all through our training. Even so, it’s a difficult subject that takes a lot of experience to fully master. At best, after nearly a year of training, there were only a handful of the more familiar species I could identify without their flowering inflorescence, which is only present for part of the life cycle. I found this class especially helpful because we spent a lot of time on learning to better identify the structural vegetative features of family Poceae.
A grass everyone is likely to become more familiar with, due to its potential as a source of ethanol: Panicum virgatum, commonly known as switchgrass.
Finally, my favorite: The beautiful Eastern Gamagrass, Tripsacum dactyloides, interesting due to the inflorescence having both separate male and female flowers. The orange stamens are the most easily recognized as they are larger and visible for a longer period of time. The more delicate stigma is visible here, in Tom’s right hand, directly above his index finger.
Last bits from Houston.
See, I caught a fleeting glimpse, from the freeway, of a giant chicken in front of what I thought was a church. An hour or so and several margaritas later, we found it.
There was a second chicken in the back yard, at ground level. Oddly enough, the people living in the house were unaware of this one…
And of course, there was the star spangled banana
Steve fuckin’ Earle. Crappy venue, spotty turnout, drunken howling audience members but he brought it on every damn song, and and he and Allison Moorer dissed the administration and the Republicans and the media at every available opportunity.
The tzatziki at Niko Niko’s
2 out of 3 margaritas at King Biscuit
Catching up on the Eschacon lowdown
Poodle ear plush
racy’s 3 a.m. riff on subprime lending
The constant humidity.
Verizon Wireless theatre.
Concert-goers at the above-named venue. Austin and New York have spoiled me. It felt like we’d somehow stumbled into a suburban Baptist church
My hair. See “humidity,” above. I completely gave up on making it behave and just worked the Scrooge McDuck look.
The comma-brows of the woman RM was girl-watchin’ on the patio. Also her boyfriend’s golf visor. Just.Do.Not.Understand straight girls sometimes…
(For the Terry Allen-impaired, reference for the post title)