IDYLLOPUS PRESS IS A VALIANT LITTLE ROWBOAT

I have a niece who is currently living in Comayagua, Honduras.

Look how you’ve made me feel!
H.o.p. art, 2007

H.o.p. has been angry with me. Oh, he lets me know in other ways. But this is how he REALLY lets me know. He draws pictures and brandishes them. “Look! Look! This is how you’ve made me feel!” Brought to you by Direct TV wars, as in, “No, you cannot watch television all day and night!”

H.o.p.’s cartoons are…articulate.

3:30 AM and been looking for reports on Honduras to see what’s going on there. Am worried about flooding. Am anxious for morning when I can learn if my sister has heard from her daughter who just moved down there in August to teach for a year. I fully expect her to be all right. But I was also hearing earlier that her area could receive anywhere between 8 and 24 inches of rain. (Update: Things are all right with my niece.)

It’s muggy. Color me disgruntled.

I have a sinus headache. Not unusual. Take some aspirin and it immediately starts to dissolve under my tongue before I’ve a chance to swallow. Color me disgruntled.

Should be writing but am instead working on yet another revision of my art site, never having been satisfied with anything I’ve come up with. This version’s a lot of work and will take a while. And I’m not fully satisfied with it either, but prefer it to previous incarnations. I’ll start loading it up in a couple of days if I make sufficient progress.

Friends of Marty’s were squelching death rumors today. Some years ago a musician with a name vaguely similar to his died and we went through this then. For some reason it was happening again today, connected with the same musician. How weird. No telling how this started. Of course, no one calls here to say, “Are you dead?” We learned because a musician friend called who was getting calls all morning. Color me disgruntled.

I joined Facebook because of several relatives who have joined Facebook who plan to share information that way. I don’t quite get it. Blogs look to me, frankly, like they’re more user friendly/efficient for both reading and posting information. The best I can tell about any preference for something like Facebook or Myspace is you can relate pieces of information on your doings and interests in snack chip sizes and end up being in an extended network with lots of people you don’t know. Anyway, the main reason I joined Facebook was for a relative who had joined, and I told them I’d joined and to add me as a friend as I couldn’t locate them (I guess privacy filter) so I got notification they added me as a friend and they STILL don’t show in my friends area and I still can’t find them to add them to my friends. I tend not to be stupid about stuff like this so I’m mystified, especially if Facebook is supposed to be preferable because of ease in use. Anyway, I currently have two friends. A fresh college-going nephew who’s now out of state and someone who I don’t know who must be a friend of theirs who likely saw I’d been added to my nephew’s friends list and decided to make me a friend of theirs. What’s the etiquette? Are you supposed to then make them a friend of yours? Didn’t they notice from my age that I’m not a teenager looking for college aged friends? Should I not have “friended” my nephew? Is that bad form of me? (I was mildly amused to note my nephew was interested in women but is looking for friends.) Again, anyway, I stared at the options page, as to what you can make public or private, and because I have nothing up there on me and don’t anticipate putting any information on Facebook (I’ve already got a blog and website, right?), I elected to leave it all public rather than fool with it. Color me disgruntled because I really didn’t want to have to deal with options at the moment. Not when I’m still trying to trace ten years’ worth of my Mindspring email address subscriptions etc. and change them all to the new Bellsouth one.

H.o.p. ordered ants today for his ant farm. He’s excited about the prospect of making movies of them.

Other things I should be doing instead of reworking my art website. But it was really annoying me.

Have been working on the website revision and while working I’ve been listening to an XM channel on the Direct TV that H.o.p. had turned on to help him sleep. It’s mostly very soothing, fairly insipid synth harpy windy music. We’re not talking Brian Eno. Mostly meandering stuff, very even in temper, and sometimes tinkly sweet, like the version of “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” that’s now playing. I can vaguely hear it from the next room. And while I was working, after listening to this for a couple of hours, I began to feel sentimental, sad, maudlin, rather than worried and driven by angst (which tends to be my natural state of being). So, is just plain insipid enough to provoke tears? I believe it’s supposed to be meditativey feel good music.

The music has now morphed into a variation on “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” in which the same line is played over and over and over again with slightly differing arrangements.

It’s making me sleepy.

I imagine the synth whines now playing are supposed to mimic whale calls. And there’s a woman singing over them. No words. More whale whines. More insipid sadness. I don’t know what we’re supposed to be picturing but I don’t think it’s bad new age siren singers and beached whales, which is what I’m seeing.

A guitar has been strumming the same few notes for a few minutes now.

Someone was called and told, “We want sleepytime music, hours of it. Think Celestial Seasonings tea instead of warm milk or cocoa.” And it paid the rent.

I feel less sad now, putting it into context, some producer daily going home groaning about how it’s getting difficult to make hours of sleepytime music sound the same but just a little different.

“I know, I’ll next use sitar!”

Which is what has now entered. A sitar.

No percussion. I think it’s been hours since I’ve heard any percussion, come to think of it.

I bet if there was percussion involved it wouldn’t have become depressing.

Wait, wait. Sounds like almost, yes, maybe, a little up-tempo something entering (no not dj literal but nearly raging gregarious comparatively)…

Agh! No, turns around and becomes tear-your-wretched-heart-out-and-sling-it-on-the-floor marshy grief with repetitive violin voices cycling into pointless oblivion, off the road and into the soul-eating bog.

“Well, why don’t you put something else on?”

I could. But I’m now fascinated, wondering what they’re going to tediously do next.

Holy hell.

The Arctic ice cap has collapsed at an unprecedented rate this summer and levels of sea ice in the region now stand at a record low, scientists said last night. Experts said they were “stunned” by the loss of ice, with an area almost twice as big as Britain disappearing in the last week alone. So much ice has melted this summer that the north-west passage across the top of Canada is fully navigable, and observers say the north-east passage along Russia’s Arctic coast could open later this month. If the increased rate of melting continues, the summertime Arctic could be totally free of ice by 2030.

I’d apologize to H.o.p. for this, but I didn’t do it.

At Alternet today was an article on people who are building these insanely earth-unfriendly 11,000 square foot McMansions. It pointed to a 60 Minutes story on the same. Following the link, I found on the first page of the comments…

The houses are beautiful. The people can afford them. The world is going to end someday … might as well go out happy.

…which is, I think, an attitude that comes part and parcel with apocalypse-minded, pearl encrusted streets religion which touts grabbing all you can in the present and says nothing about thinking ahead to the seventh generation because the world beyond the end of your street going to holy hell is desired, an ushering in of the End Times and a literal Rapture in which you get to play the Get Out of the Death Jail free card while you can still appreciate the true schadenfreude of it. I’m thinking back to the beginning of the Reagan era when the country cried, “Daddy, make it right!”, far right, fundamentalists swarming and praying for redemption via personal prosperity in the Tammy Faye Baker way of ogling the golden bathroom fixtures, abetted by 24 hour Christian television that put the hard sell on the holy ghost initiated living big, getting back big, living it up while preparing to make the Great Ascension from their cozy couches.

Not that this is much different from the way television in general attempts to feed you a birth to death life in a box. A little over a week into the Direct TV experience and I’m avoiding the BOX except for a few select shows. I’ve got too much else I want to do and the commercials creep me out. About thirteen years ago I pretty much stopped watching commercial television, and I’m remembering why. The commercials. Nearly every one of them feels like a person in a white coat is approaching with needle and syringe, grinning, “This won’t hurt!” They search for a vein, tap, tap, and over their shoulder I see headstones and plastic flowers which they’ve not even bothered to hide because it’s considered an appealing part of ye olde Americana consumer aesthetic. No matter the target age, it’s less a boob tube than a coffin.

Christian television is nothing if not one never-ending commercial.

Back in the mid 1990s, I used to want to do an art installation that would replicate an allergist’s office circa late 1970’s. My vision of it has had some changes as of late, but remains essentially the same. The walls would be a soft sage green with white molding. A few golf paintings would hang on the walls. There would be no windows and no observable door. The mood would be lighter tones of lemon yellowy, dispelling all sepia shadows even into the corners. A man in a pink Izod shirt and brown slacks would enter, sign the waiting list lying on the counter next to a plate reading “Ben Mack, MD” and seat himself. The music would be Isaac Hayes. After an appropriate length of time, a plain clothes nurse would enter, say, “Ben Mack?” The man would put down his magazine, stand and follow the nurse down a hall.

It is purgatory. A place where it would always be Master’s week but you’d been dropped off the Master’s tickets list.

Golf Heaven doesn’t have ice. No, the world is one long lush lawn with blooming flowers embracing the sides of the green.

It’s always Easter week in Golf Heaven.

P.S.: We now have a nice hermit crab, complete with environment and hermit crab food and larger shells for a home should it outgrow its current niche and need to make a transition.

We draped a towel over the hermitage last night to make sure Jerry had appropriate darkness (the room was lit) and this morning when I took off the covering the back climbing wall had fallen over. The crab was solidly tucked away in its shell but there was sand in its food dish so it had been around and about. I tried to get the climbing wall back up and thought I had but a half hour later I went over to check and see what the crab was up to and there was a swift movement as the crab retracted its claw from the climbing wall, back into the shell, a swift enough movement that I jumped and screamed and so we both scared each other. I then tried to reattach the climbing wall which had again fallen over but no dice, the suction cups just won’t stick. So I taped the climbing wall at the top.

Going then to the web, I read that it is best to have two hermit crabs.

I read more at the websites of hermit crab lovers about how they need room to run and play and lizard ladders etc. And we needed extra sponges and a humidity gauge. Now I was beginning to wonder if we would end up going the way we did with our gold fish. We bought two small ones and were sold what we were told was a more than adequate aquarium and then when I read around I found out it was a piece of crap and thus we ended up with this large aquarium on a stand and despite the care invested we’ve lost 3 fish of 5 in 4 years.

One of the fish recently developed fin rot. This particular fish has had a hard time of it the past year. I’d thought it was home clear, the fish looking fine the past two months, then suddenly this week there was fin rot! I think we’ve stopped it but the rot ate a full inch and a half of its three inch tail (off the top).

Frankly, I’ve not enjoyed the gold fish as much since the Big D died. He was huge. And had loads of personality. We all had a personal relationship with that fish. Then one day he died.

We have to struggle with the water. It’s difficult here, though we use the recommended treatments.

Mr. Hermit Crab and I spent ten minutes staring at each other. So at least he was now not running when he saw a person, but he sat there facing his corner looking forlorn.

I read they have personalities. Some are outgoing and some are not. Some burrow and some climb. Some pinch and some are cuddly. And I read that they are not solitary creatures. They’re not hermits at all.

“The hermit crab needs a companion,” I told Marty.

Back to the pet store went Marty.

“Oh, no,” said the girl today. “They shouldn’t have sold you just one.” She also expressed dismay over the small tank we’d been told to purchase.

I think they do this on purpose. The person buying the new fish or hermit crabs or lizards, they sell to that newbie the most basic crap that’s not going to work out at all. That person goes home and finds out they have just purchased and set up a bunch of crap. They go back to the store, determined to make a better home for their pet, and another quick sale is made.

Sarah has a very different personality from Jerry. Sarah crab didn’t even flinch when I picked it up and transferred it to the small tank. It went over and climbed over the shell of the Jerry crab and stuck its face down in there and proceeded to make acquaintance. Jerry became briefly active and gregarious, then Sarah decided to explore everything and climb everywhere and Jerry returned to quietly staring out the side of the tank.

We have now a new ten gallon tank waiting for the crabs but there is no room for it. Marty said why not on the table and I said no, we gotta have a table. Yes, I know most of the time we don’t see the surface of the table because it’s covered with H.o.p.’s clay but we gotta have a table. So tomorrow we’re going to get rid of the low bookcase behind the futon and replace it with a tall one and with more shelving we’ll have a place to tuck the tank in the bookcase behind the table.

These are turning into very expensive hermit crabs.

P.S.: This makes no sense. How weird is it to have a pet that you uncover its habitat during the day while it’s resting, then at night you cover it up so they’ll think its a dark-of-the-moon beach and that’s when they eat, drink and party?

These are insects. Big insects with shells. They have no eyelids. They don’t blink. Since when did big beach insects become popular pets? Why are we spending money on these things? When Fred and his waterbug cousins come scuttling in under the back door of the kitchen and wave their antennae at me, I try to run them back outside, not because I’m against killing bugs but because I don’t like to squash crunchy things, and then if they don’t run outside, then I squash them. So, why, when Jerry and Sarah wave their antennae at me, do I think, “Oooo, man, you are so strange…but your little bug eyes are kind of cute.” Why?

Site Search Tags: hermit+crab

Mushrooms, 2007

Mushrooms suddenly sprang up in an indoor pot of aloe vera this week. I don’t know what type they are. Maybe someone out there does? It’s the first time we’ve ever had mushrooms spring up indoors. They only made an appearance in the aloe vera pot.

What do you call the place where the stem attaches to the cap? I can’t seem to find a name for it and these show very obviously that point on the upper cap side. They were an ivory color with brown centers and paper thin delicate

It’s difficult in this apartment for plants to do well, at least consistently. All my cactus, which did great for years, started dying off this past summer and half of the new cactus I picked up died. I love cactus so I won’t be giving it up, but it has been disconcerting.

On a good note, our several palm type plants and good luck bamboo (which we’ve managed to have for about a year and a half to two years) all seem to be doing okay.

Oops, Sally the climbing crab just fell down. She seems to like being held. I’m still timid about it but she readily comes out of her shell.

I’m a little concerned about Jerry and wonder if we got an unhealthy crab. Or maybe he’s still just nervous. He does come out to eat at night and moves around some, but he’s not yet very active, isn’t climbing at all and if I come near he immediately withdraws and doesn’t come back out for a long while.

Update: Jerry finally came out when I was holding him. He is a much smaller crab than Sarah, considerably less developed, more a dull purplish-red color than Sarah whose claws are bright red.

Sarah keeps climbing up and hanging upside down from the top of the terrarium, then can’t manage to get a good grip to climb back down and so falls to the bottom, clack.

Well, I read some are burrowers and will consistently burrow under their dishes if there is room for it. Where Jerry has been, I note he has cleared away the sand to the bottom of the terrarium, next to the water dishes. When we get the 10 gallon terrarium set up today he will be no doubt happy to burrow away in several inches of sand.

And the two day old, small terrarium we can keep for an isolation tank and for easily porting them.

Update two: Finally found this photo of Leucocoprinus birnbaumii that matches up with what we’ve got though ours were more ivory in color (at least by the time I saw them). So identification had. I’d read before about this as a common houseplant mushroom but had only seen images of them in a bright squash yellow.

Too much knowledge about hermit crabs. I’m now into what kind of sand and how this and that sand is bad and what sand may be good and you have to prewash sand? How in the world do you prewash sand and get it to dry? Did you know play sand has metal filings in it because it is mined and it rusts and is now known to be bad for your hermit crabs? I found that on a message board after having read all weekend on many other boards and on many other websites how play sand was just fine to use.

70 pound bags of sand do not weigh 70 pounds. They weigh 180 pounds. At least. Right now it’s calcium carbonate substrate that’s in there, which is very expensive, about $6.00 for a little bag, and is good for the shells of hermit crabs, they need the calcium, but also can be bad for the crabs as the particles are sharp, especially bad for a crab that wants to moult. So I read about how good it is and many things about how it’s not good so now we have a bag of all purpose sand in the back room that we’ll dig into when it comes time in a month to change out the sand completely (the habitats require daily care, weekly sift cleanings and then a full redo every month) and mix with calcium carbonate substrate. In the meanwhile I hate to break the big bag open and stick a screwdriver in it to find out if it has metal filings, because then if it doesn’t we will have hanging around the back room for a month a full bag of sand with a hole in it and the prospect of that being a bad thing is high.

Marty put up the new bookshelves behind the futon and I labored for hours rearranging everything and we got the crab habitat installed on a shelf above the table. Sarah ran around happily, inspecting all the shells we supplied, found one she liked better and we had the privilege of seeing her make a transfer. Jerry inspected the new habitat then did his usual thing of going to the back and hiding while Sarah continued to roam. Marty says he did witness Jerry climbing. I haven’t. As far as I can tell, they don’t seem to like the coconut fiber wall we have at the back of the tank. We were told they’d love that but so far even Sarah is snubbing it.

I’m going to take a break for now from learning about hermit crabs.

Perfect.

This is how far I got with the present incarnation of the art website, then I had to take a break. At least got up a number of paintings and modified a few along the way. Like the present split up of paintings into galleries. Think it works better than what I had formerly.