snapshaught
         sphoto number 12


          Last week's (Aug 2012) Rodger Hodgson concert caused me to recall the circumstances surrounding my purchase of this rather ordinary white agate 1⅚" (48mm) sphere.


          In 1994, I read in a French magazine about an upcoming Alan Parsons Project concert in Freiburg, Germany, which was about a four hour drive from where I lived in Mons, Belgium.  I purchased tickets over the telephone from a woman who understood and spoke very little English (the European equivalent of Ticketmaster).  When they arrived in the mail the tickets were printed in German.

          On the day of the concert, I leisurely drove to the quaint city of Freiburg on the edge of the Black Forest with many hours to spare in order to be able to explore the city during daylight.  Upon arrival, it was immediately clear that there was no concert scheduled in the city's concert hall.  A local Freiburg citizen explained that although the word Freiburg was on the tickets, the rest of the information indicated the actual location of the concert was in Friedburg, Germany (oh, that pesky little missing 'd' meant I was, now, at least three hours away).

          With more than five hours before the concert was scheduled to begin, I headed north.  First it began to rain.  Then the traffic went from bad to worse.  And then it got dark.

          The next three hours and forty five minutes are blur-burned in my memory under a deeply carved label:  stupidest/most risky.  I foolishly drove beyond my brake's abilities, beyond the limits of my tires, faster than my high-beams could illuminate...and, occasionally, faster than my wipers (on their fastest setting) were able to clear the windshield.  In other words, I reached speeds in excess of 120 mph (200 kpm) and sometimes hydroplaned in the express lane of the German autobahn around Frankfurt, while high-beam flashing and passing hundreds of slower moving cars...in the dark.

          I arrived on time.  A little early even.  No problems (except for the tiring aftereffects of a huge amount of adrenaline).  Not even any close calls (which is less the result of my abilities and more because of luck—all it would have taken is a mechanical failure or one driver not using his side mirror and cutting in front of me).

          There was a very sparse crowd around the concert hall.  A Friedburg citizen said they heard the concert was cancelled but they were staying until they got an official word.

          I counted umbrellas:  less than two hundred.

          Glanced around the venue's exterior:  it would probably hold three thousand or more.  There were no buses or equipment trucks.  There were no lights on inside.

          I returned to the Friedburg citizen and asked if he could recommend a good local GasthΓ€us.  He did.  I got a room, a schnitzel, and many, too many, beers.

          The next day I found this sphere in a local store.

          I was unhappy with The Alan Parsons Project and avoided their concerts for several years.  Later I learned that Eric Woolfson wasn't the lead singer at any of their 1994 concerts, so I was less upset.  I saw them in Rochester, New York, as the opening act for Yes in 1998 with Eric Woolfson (which made that my lifetime-favorite concert).

Note:  The correlation between Rodger Hodgson (former lead singer of Supertramp) and The Alan Parsons Project was only made because I lump them together in time:  I consider them both progressive-rock favorites of mine from the late 1970s.


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Sunscreen and Insect Repellent Towelette

          Filed under:  Amazing, Highly Recommended, as well as Where has this been hiding all my life?

          I had occasion to use a SMARTSHIELD towelette yesterday.   We drove out to the forest to do some hiking, picnicking, birdwatching, and reading.

          (Why is that 'k' required when picnic is a verb?  It hurts my brain.  I'm going with picnicing from now on.)


          Since both the sun and mosquitoes were out in full force, we each used a combination sunscreen and insect repellent towelette.  I covered all my exposed skin.  Two hours of sun resulted in only a slight pink, so I would say the SPF30 worked.  Five mosquitoes successfully bit my back through my sweat-soaked shirt where I'd not wiped (and never thought to).  Not so great for my back, but it helped to prove the insect repellent was effective.

          Insect repellent:  cedarwood bark oil and lemongrass oil.  No DEET.

          Sunscreen:  2% avobenzone, 7.5% octinoxate, 5% octisalate, 1.4% octocrylene, .8% padimate (I know nothing about any of these chemicals, except that they prevented sunburn on my sun deprived derma).

          Also contains:  alcohol, aloe leaf extract, lavender oil, macadamia seed oil, wheat germ oil, linseed oil, and camphor oil.

      snapshaught
         sphoto number 11

          How can one count the ways?

          To describe the woman whom I love, I could draw, paint, or take a photo of her...but I want more than to capture the moment.  I might abstract the artwork (as I did for myself) or even write a poem, but she connects better with the tangible and literal.

          I bought this 1¾ inch (47mm) multicromatic glass marble in 2003 when my relationship with Pam was in its embryonic days.

          We exchanged emails for about ten days and then phone calls and emails for another two weeks before agreeing to meet.  It was nice to get all our landmines and deal-breakers out of the way utilizing several modern marvels (today it's possible to never learn too late that you would've had a chance if you'd only known open-toed-shoes were a deal-breaker before meeting for coffee wearing Birkenstocks).

          One of the reasons our relationship is still vibrant and under full sail (I do love to mix my metaphors) is that when I bought this sphere, both of us were sufficiently aware of ourselves to not only be able to recognize our own landmines but to be truthful about them; ditto with our deal-breakers.

          Email just made it easier to write my biggest deal breaker is smoking (of any kind) and one of my big landmines:  I'm a voluntarily unemployed artist living in a mobile home on a pension.

          Maybe that was actually four (or five?) landmines in one.

          So we spent almost a month probing and divulging.

          And then we decided it was time to find out if the other kissed good enough; if we enjoyed similar levels of intimacy as well as the same type of fucking; and determine if we might-could become simpatico with things like the other's snoring, farts, and idiosyncrasies.

          ADDENDUM:  Obviously, I began with a plan to describe Pam, the person I'm in love with (and maybe include some of the why I love her) but that became derailed by the sphere itself, and the memories it holds.  Which is the whole reason I'm writing about some of my spheres.  So I left it as is.


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Rodger Hodgson Concert

          In my teens and twenties I was impressed by many musicians but only a small number became indelibly stamped in my brain-pan...affecting who I was, and was to become, with their artistry.  Tonight I (finally) got to see a concert by one of the last holdouts:  Rodger Hodgson.

          The three bands at the top of the heap were Yes, The Alan Parsons Project, and Supertramp.  Then there were the remainder of the top five:  Fleetwood Mac and Emerson, Lake, & Palmer.

          I've seen Yes three times (76, 98, 01) and was fortunate enough to see the band with the Anderson-Howe-Wakeman lineup (remove any one of them and it isn't my Yes).  In 98 I saw the only true The Alan Parsons Project (with Eric Woolfson).  And since Supertramp actually means the songs and voice of Rodger Hodgson...I've now seen all of my indelibly stamped top five*.

          * I saw ELP in 78 and ⅚th's of Fleetwood Mac in 94 (there should be more than ⅙th of a reduction for the loss of Stevie Nicks, there really should).

      snapshaught
         sphoto number 10


          When my grandmother (whom I called Nana and have written about before) lived in New Hampshire, I found this almost two inch glass marble in an antique store in Keene, NH.  I purchased it in 1993 and was told it was about 90 years old.  It isn't a perfect sphere because the chips and scratches were buff-polished away by a previous owner (which significantly lowered its value and its purchase price).
          I have no negative memories affiliated with my Nana (Rebecca "Anne" Bullard nee Walker).

          For three and a half decades—from my earliest memories of moving into her house in the early-1960's until the mid-1990's when Alzheimer's turned her into a pod person and she became lost to everyone including herself—she was wonderful.  To me.

          She may have been a royal bitch to her husband, siblings, and extended family, a harridan to her children and other grandchildren, and a spiteful shrew to neighbors and others (which I occasionally witnessed or learned about afterward) but, when I was around, she was always in a fantastic mood.

          Every person I have ever known has a wonky day once in a while, or gets more than a little grumpy for a few days every month, or acts like a high-functioning petulant cunt most of the time, but I've only known two people who always have a smile to share.  Nana was one (albeit only when I was around) and the other is my partner, Pam.


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