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Archive for the ‘Croatia’ Category

tedious tendon

Thursday, October 2nd, 2008

thumbs – foto by smith

i lost the full use of my right thumb. it swings and swivels but won’t bend. i’ve gone from opposable to semi-opposable. i’m moving down the evolutionary ladder. but that’s cool – i hear there’s a lot of room at the bottom.

i was cleaning sage last month for MadManMax’s handmade sausage. 10 pounds of ground pork&fat sausage-to-be means a lot of sage. the endless circular cleaning picking pull and tug twixt thumb and forefinger aggravated my arthritis. i’d been out of anti-inflammatory pills for three days and was hurting, and this hurt way more. finished the task anyway, being macho mindless and male. haven’t been able to bend my thumb since. the tendon that pulls the thumb tip down won’t contract. can’t flick my bic. lady thinks i’ve lit so many lighters these past 40 years with that same thumb tendon i done wore it out.

now that i’m short-thumbed, i can’t ride shotgun on the sage coach no more.

it was good sausage though. they say when folk tour a chocolate, wine or ice cream factory, everybody wants a taste of the product afterwards, but after seeing how they make sausage, no one will touch the stuff.

one of my worst food moments was eating blood sausage outside zagreb croatia. i ordered it because it’s so over the top – they cook the animal’s meat in its own blood, in my mind adding insult to injury. the poet in me made me try it. it tasted good, but the flesh was soft, pale, odd, felt regurgitated, pre-chewed. made me queasy. had to force myself to swallow. kept thinking i tasted blood. ate half, smeared the rest around. that night i lay in bed thinking i had to vomit it out of me, i did not want it in. messed with my mind. what started as poetic metaphor turned barbaric. lady had wild boar that night, and it was delicious.

all thumbs – foto by smith


dog water soup

Saturday, August 9th, 2008

street art – foto by smith

monday december 4 2006 liznjan croatia excerpt from blog:

i wonder when the dog days are? last night our 2 dog friends came over – big black male thumper and little brown female bambi. we sat and talked and played, then lady gave them a pan of water. they lapped and lapped with their little doggie tongues, drooling their little doggie drool back into the pan. this morning lady wrote a sentimental poem about them, while i tossed their dog water and put the pan on the stove to be washed.

then lady makes soup for lunch – and of course she uses the unwashed unrinsed dog pan. never had dog water soup before. didn’t taste too bad, tho i do wonder how many canine genitals and anal orifices their two tongues have licked lately.

leftovers anyone?

tin lizard – foto by smith



Wednesday, April 4th, 2007

foto by smith

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. – Lau Tzu (600 ~ 300 BC)

the one aural constant in our past 5 months in croatia and france is the crowing of roosters. it is a magic sound. i grew up on a farm on paradise prairie in washington state in the 1950s, and the sound takes me back to more innocent, hopeful times. it’s a beautiful, evocative sound, metaphoric. brings to mind the new day, beginning light, ending darkness, hope, possibility. and thanks to peter denying christ 3 times before the cock crew, it hearkens as well of betrayal, cowardice, and mythology. it is double edged – befitting a sound which separates night and day – although we’ve discovered roosters start crowing way before dawn, and keep crowing all day long. basically if they’re awake, they crow. america prints the sound as cock-a-doodle-doo, while croatia uses ku-ku-ri-ku… this made me curious, so i looked up this list of world rooster sounds:

Afrikaans: koekelekoe / Albanian: kiki ri ki / Catalan: kikkirikí / Chinese (Mandarin): gou gou / Croatian: ku-ku-ri-ku / Danish: kykkeliky / Dutch: kukeleku / English: cock-a-doodle-doo / Esperanto: kokeriko / Estonian: kikerikii / Finnish: kukkokiekuu / French: cocorico / German: kickeriki / Greek: ki-kiriki / Hebrew: kukuriku / Hindi: kukru:ku: / Hungarian: kukurikuuuu / Indonesian: kikeriku / Italian: chicchirichí / Japanese: kokekokkoo / Korean: kko-kki-yo / Macedonian: kukuriku / Norwegian: kykeliky / Polish: kukuryku / Portuguese (Portugual): cocorococo / Russian: ku-ka-re-ku / Spanish (Spain): kikirikí / Spanish (Argentina): ki-kiri-ki / Swedish: kuckeliku / Thai: ake-e-ake-ake / Turkish: kuk-kurri-kuuu / Ukrainian: kukuriku

started two books of short stories by Julian Barnes and Martin Amis. in each, the first story was so good, i got excited. second story was mediocre, so quit. the 2 excellent stories were Interference by Barnes and God’s Dice by Amis. started 3rd book of stories by John Updike – each story impresses me and keeps me reading on – the man has some chops. folks who can write even 1 fantastic story impress the heck out of me. may i be as worthy some day.

continuing with talent – the mySpace online world is showing me how many truly talented creative people there are out there in art, music, word, attitude – the whole shebang.

shebang – now there’s an interesting word… wikipedia says Shebang is a word meaning “any matter of present concern; thing; business” (1869). It is most frequently used in the phrase “the whole shebang”, which first appeared in written records in 1862. “The whole chebang” [sic] was used to mean “a building and everything in it”. Later, Mark Twain used it to describe a vehicle, as well as “any matter of present concern”. It is suspected to originate from the French word char-a-banc, which is a bus-like wagon with a lot of seats, but no specific connection has been proven as of now.

anyway, i used to brood about not being famous for my art – but i see from mySpace there are thousands of artists out there just as talented as i. however in poetry, i hold my own. more folk make good art than write good poetry. i’ve always said art is easy, poetry hard. and so far no one out there seems to have a back story as rich as mine (here’s a taste… read Back In Black In White Film Noir which was published last month by The Delinquent in england).

If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading. – Lao Tzu (600 ~ 300 BC)

foto by smith


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