click images to enlarge
---o0o---
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Photos of Jerry Melin
I recently bought a scanner with a slide/film attachment. I am scanning our old cache of slides. Here are some more photos of the late, great, Jerry Melin. /jack
Monday, March 07, 2011
The Seattle Post Intellingencer globe is looking a little sad and forlorn...
By Mona Goldwater
Seattle Metro Editor
The Seattle Post Intelligencer globe is looking a little sad and forlorn...but nothing a good scrubbing won't fix. Apparently, when they went out of business, no one was assigned the job of keeping this great globe clean. The globe is made of steel and is one of the city's most beloved pieces of public art. I don't know if the building owns it, or The Seattle Times. The best part about the globe's location is that you can see it from many parts of the great waterfront sculpture park. Hopefully, before they sell it for scrap they will haul it down and place it in the park. And maybe bring in the Hat and Boots, and the Pink Elephant car wash sign too. . .
Seattle Metro Editor
The Seattle Post Intelligencer globe is looking a little sad and forlorn...but nothing a good scrubbing won't fix. Apparently, when they went out of business, no one was assigned the job of keeping this great globe clean. The globe is made of steel and is one of the city's most beloved pieces of public art. I don't know if the building owns it, or The Seattle Times. The best part about the globe's location is that you can see it from many parts of the great waterfront sculpture park. Hopefully, before they sell it for scrap they will haul it down and place it in the park. And maybe bring in the Hat and Boots, and the Pink Elephant car wash sign too. . .
click to enlarge
---o0o---
Sunday, March 06, 2011
The death of proofreading?
By Jack Brummet
Social Mores Editor
Proofreading and stringent copy-editing may not be dead, but they seem to be wheezing, and almost ready for life support. While it hasn't happened in The New York Times yet, I suspect it will one day. Even now, it's not uncommon to find a typo/transposition on the front page. And sometimes incomplete edits, page breaks where words are missing, etc. I wonder if the person responsible for this headline kept their job?
Social Mores Editor
Proofreading and stringent copy-editing may not be dead, but they seem to be wheezing, and almost ready for life support. While it hasn't happened in The New York Times yet, I suspect it will one day. Even now, it's not uncommon to find a typo/transposition on the front page. And sometimes incomplete edits, page breaks where words are missing, etc. I wonder if the person responsible for this headline kept their job?
---o0o---
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Jack Brummet poem: Scarred For Life
Scarred for Life
By Jack Brummet
It could be watching your family
Diced up in slow-motion
By a sick biscuit with a machete,
Or the day your brother let you down.
It might be when you were wrongfully accused,
Whether they figured it out or not.
Maybe you discovered your wife sleeping
With her Yoga teacher,
Or remember the night your parents
Let you cry yourself to sleep.
It could be the motorcycle accident,
Or the time you saw your Uncle naked.
Under a bad moon,
It can all leave you scarred for life.
---o0o---
Friday, March 04, 2011
Poem: The Moon Race, 42 years later
by Jack Brummet
And the race was on —
Movie star Jack Kennedy
V. the spooky shoe pounding Nikita Kruschev.
We charged 226,000 miles
To that pale toenail,
Hell-bent for leather,
To claim title
With old glory or the hammer and sickle
And impale the moon on a dusty pole.
The paramecium of the Milky Way,
We wind in time and untick in the heavens
Under the weather and under the gun.
---o0o---
Poem by Jack Brummet: The World Seems Especially Verisimilitudinous Tonight
The World Seems Especially Verisimilitudinous Tonight
by Jack Brummet
Swim run fly crawl and creep —
Animals don't kill time
And time loves them back.
Threading high fidelity cirrus,
The sun unloads the last of its rays
And blesses the mountain palisade
So much depends upon
Keeping this up.
And a red wheel-barrow.
---o0o---
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Poem: The Painting by Jack Brummet
The Painting
by Jack Brummet
Stuck under a static sky,
The figure you brushed in
Wants off canvas.
He will not be Man With Blue Banjo anymore.
He wants to be what he will be,
Not sailing a scumbled ocean
Under impasto thunderheads.
He is tired of the dark sun
And wants to lie down and rest.
No news comes from a far country.
The real estate around him —
A confabulation of blue and red stone —
Chills in an un-harbored sea.
The black sun was pushed, fell, or jumped,
To shine back upon itself.
He knows the sun will never set.
He cannot open his mouth to scream.
The oars will never move.
The island of color
Will always be eight inches away
And the boat
Will always be sinking.
The tattered sails hang in the wind.
The next day refuses to begin.
He clutches that blue banjo
As his ship tilts toward heaven.
---o0o---
Started in 1997, finished 2011
Poem: The Quest by Jack Brummet
The Quest
by Jack Brummet
It’s all one story—
A ragged shape-shifting tale
Of incredible coherence and constance,
Encompassing all you know,
All you don’t know you know,
And all you one day will know.
There is more
To be seen, tasted, heard, and felt
Than can ever be known or told.
Our myths flourish and spread,
Person to person,
And the mysteries of the seas and skies and stars
Fill our collective conscience
With mystical scenes,
Quests, and tales of greatness.
These myths, tales, and fables
Cannot be invented, ordered, or denied.
When you strip away the stage flats, makeup, and costumes,
It’s all one story
Starring our private heroes and dreams.
---o0o---
by Jack Brummet
It’s all one story—
A ragged shape-shifting tale
Of incredible coherence and constance,
Encompassing all you know,
All you don’t know you know,
And all you one day will know.
There is more
To be seen, tasted, heard, and felt
Than can ever be known or told.
Our myths flourish and spread,
Person to person,
And the mysteries of the seas and skies and stars
Fill our collective conscience
With mystical scenes,
Quests, and tales of greatness.
These myths, tales, and fables
Cannot be invented, ordered, or denied.
When you strip away the stage flats, makeup, and costumes,
It’s all one story
Starring our private heroes and dreams.
---o0o---
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