charlie don't surf
Spring. It's been almost 3 weeks since then vernal equinox. The weather of late has been more reminiscent of winter and if it weren't for the daily box scores we might never know it's truly spring. But it's back, or appears to be, for the coming week so get out and enjoy it. Taxes done, finally, hey the deadline isn't until till tomorrow, so I'm a day early. Thanks for the residential energy and federal telephone excise credits is all I have to say.
Did you know that federal telephone excise tax was first enacted to pay for the Spanish-American War? Don't remember that one? 1898. Back when phones were considered a luxury and the US had no income tax, this tax was devised as a method to pay for the war. Been used to pay for wars ever since. Johnson raised it to 10 percent during the Vietnam War. Surprisingly enough the last batch of Republicans in power (surely the most war-mongering bunch to ever hold elective office) introduced legislation to remove it but it never passed. Instead a series of lawsuits eventually caused Sam to cry "Uncle" and it's no more.
The Telephone Excise Tax Refund is a one-time tax credit that you can claim on your 2006 tax return. It represents a refund of excise taxes paid on long-distance telephone service. You can claim a standard refund of the telephone excise tax. The standard amounts are based on the number of personal exemptions you claim on your tax return.
1 exemption: $30
2 exemptions: $40
3 exemptions: $50
4 exemptions or more: $60
You can also use the simplified method to calculate the actual tax paid. This value may be higher. However, only the IRS would consider a 4-step process that includes the use of your April and September 2006 phone bills (you still have those around right!?!) a simplified method.
Do you realize that we are currently spending about 51% of the federal taxes that you pay on the military. Aren't you proud to be an American when you hear this? Making the world safe and all while we destroy it? Hey, if we can't make free-market capitalists out of 'em, why not kill em all?
Ok, full-disclosure. The 51% figure is in dispute. The Office of Management and Budget (OMB) claims it's only 21%. Other groups claim much higher percentages depending upon how the figures are calculated and what's included. However, the 21% OMB number is likely to be Enron-like accounting designed to make you feel good about spending your taxes on a whole bunch of shit that isn't improving the lot of anyone on this planet - unless you're an arms dealer or an asshole. Besides, take OMB's numbers and it's still a whole lot of death, destruction, and misery. So America. Pay your taxes and open a can of whup-ass.
Did you know that federal telephone excise tax was first enacted to pay for the Spanish-American War? Don't remember that one? 1898. Back when phones were considered a luxury and the US had no income tax, this tax was devised as a method to pay for the war. Been used to pay for wars ever since. Johnson raised it to 10 percent during the Vietnam War. Surprisingly enough the last batch of Republicans in power (surely the most war-mongering bunch to ever hold elective office) introduced legislation to remove it but it never passed. Instead a series of lawsuits eventually caused Sam to cry "Uncle" and it's no more.
The Telephone Excise Tax Refund is a one-time tax credit that you can claim on your 2006 tax return. It represents a refund of excise taxes paid on long-distance telephone service. You can claim a standard refund of the telephone excise tax. The standard amounts are based on the number of personal exemptions you claim on your tax return.
1 exemption: $30
2 exemptions: $40
3 exemptions: $50
4 exemptions or more: $60
You can also use the simplified method to calculate the actual tax paid. This value may be higher. However, only the IRS would consider a 4-step process that includes the use of your April and September 2006 phone bills (you still have those around right!?!) a simplified method.
Do you realize that we are currently spending about 51% of the federal taxes that you pay on the military. Aren't you proud to be an American when you hear this? Making the world safe and all while we destroy it? Hey, if we can't make free-market capitalists out of 'em, why not kill em all?
Ok, full-disclosure. The 51% figure is in dispute. The Office of Management and Budget (OMB) claims it's only 21%. Other groups claim much higher percentages depending upon how the figures are calculated and what's included. However, the 21% OMB number is likely to be Enron-like accounting designed to make you feel good about spending your taxes on a whole bunch of shit that isn't improving the lot of anyone on this planet - unless you're an arms dealer or an asshole. Besides, take OMB's numbers and it's still a whole lot of death, destruction, and misery. So America. Pay your taxes and open a can of whup-ass.
more about moi
More about moi.
From the series "Self-portraits with maps and bicycle parts"
Dimensions vary slighty, this piece (16 in. by 18 in. x 2 in.)
Each portrait represents approximately a 1o-year span of moi life. This is 2 of 4.
collection of Warrior Ant Press.
Each portrait represents approximately a 1o-year span of moi life. This is 2 of 4.
collection of Warrior Ant Press.
m.o.i.: more about moi
see also:
m.o.i.: anthill diggs downtown
m.o.i.: intellectual property
m.o.i.: my new collection
all about moi
People have been asking, "who is that masked person behind the curtain?" So, I'm prepared to tell you about a little about moi through the avenue of the self-portrait over the coming weeks. The self-portrait serves the artist in many ways. Foremost, it is the ultimate act of self-promotion. Look at moi! Hear me roar! Second, it provides the lonely artist with a ready study. No need to foray into the world for material, I'll just examine myself. How fascinating; don't you agree? So gentle readers of the self-absorbed here's a little of moi.
Badge, 1996 (collection of Warrior Ant Press). Worn to official functions when in costume, i.e. Williams Burrough's art opening, The Mayor's Chirstmas Tree Lighting Ceremony. Although the certitude of this badge was ultimately questioned by local law enforcement officials, moi was keep from the hoosegaw by strict adherence to the admonishment, ''no, in fact, this is not public property, and you may not stand here on the plaza taking pictures of who you please. You can stand over there on the sidewalk!"
"Yes, thank you Mr. Police Officer for pointing that out. I really appreciate it." Respect your elders; it pays. Or if you don't respect them, then at least know when to suck up to them.
Badge, 1996 (collection of Warrior Ant Press). Worn to official functions when in costume, i.e. Williams Burrough's art opening, The Mayor's Chirstmas Tree Lighting Ceremony. Although the certitude of this badge was ultimately questioned by local law enforcement officials, moi was keep from the hoosegaw by strict adherence to the admonishment, ''no, in fact, this is not public property, and you may not stand here on the plaza taking pictures of who you please. You can stand over there on the sidewalk!"
"Yes, thank you Mr. Police Officer for pointing that out. I really appreciate it." Respect your elders; it pays. Or if you don't respect them, then at least know when to suck up to them.
'nuddin personal, jus bidness
Ok, you free-market, conservative apologists, maybe you'll understand this. Again, it's not controversial; it's a matter of economics. You mess with the bottom line of corporate America and they mess with you. "'Nuddin' personal, understand? Jus bidness." Yeah, boss man, we understand you.
Amercian Express, General Motors, Staples, and Proctor and Gamble (dominions of equality and fairness that they are!) have pulled advertising from MSNBC in response to Imus' comments. These are annual ad revenues in the 3-5 million range for MSNBC. So what does MSNBC do. Hey, just bidness. They drop Imus like a letch.
Isn't that how you image the market is supposed to work?
Amercian Express, General Motors, Staples, and Proctor and Gamble (dominions of equality and fairness that they are!) have pulled advertising from MSNBC in response to Imus' comments. These are annual ad revenues in the 3-5 million range for MSNBC. So what does MSNBC do. Hey, just bidness. They drop Imus like a letch.
Isn't that how you image the market is supposed to work?
this issue isn't controversial
Ok, some of you may be aware of this issue, some may not. This is the issue of controversy. Everything in society has to be controversial. Blogs. the news. radio. We believe that no one will listen, or hear you, unless you're controversial. The more controversial, the more outrageous, the better. "Stay tuned at ten and we'll tell you something that will make your blood boil!"
Perhaps everything shouldn't be controversial. The topic I'd like to address isn't controversial. It's as clear as day. It should be to you, but it apparently isn't to everyone yet.
I'm talking about Don Imus' and the producers of his show comments about the Rutgers University women's basketball team. I won't repeat them here, you can find them easily if you wish. Mr. Imus' public apology is laudable. You can also find that online if you choose. Mr. Imus has also been suspended for 2 weeks. Also laudable. The question I ask you is, ''is this enough?"
However, if you really want to understand the issue then check out a recent press conference and listen to the women on the Rutger's basketball team and their coach first hand. These are people at the center of this - not Mr. Imus and his producer, not Rev. Sharpton, not Rev. Jackson. They are but a part of it but they are not the center of this issue. Listen to these women. This is the problem, we have not been listening; we are yelling at each other and we are falling apart in the process.
There can always be good things come from bad. Perhaps this event can actually spearhead a hopeful dialogue in this country whereby we (everyone) no longer tolerates the kind of ridiculous, hurtful critiques that Mr. Imus and so many like him preach daily on our airwaves. There is no appropriate reaction other than, ''we will no longer tolerate this!" None. It's more than turning off these folks, we have to stand up and say, ''no more, no more, no more."
I must confess as to listening only a few times to Mr. Imus. His claim, that his show is comedy, like the claims of Mr. Limbaugh, Mr. Savage, and Mr. O'Reilly, that their shows are entertainment, resound false to me. They are not funny and they are not entertaining. The larger issue here is the pervasive misogyny and racism that still pervades our culture. It's not good, it must stop if we're to move forward.
Everyone makes mistakes, no one is perfect, but perhaps this mistake will help us in the long term. If we say no more.
Perhaps everything shouldn't be controversial. The topic I'd like to address isn't controversial. It's as clear as day. It should be to you, but it apparently isn't to everyone yet.
I'm talking about Don Imus' and the producers of his show comments about the Rutgers University women's basketball team. I won't repeat them here, you can find them easily if you wish. Mr. Imus' public apology is laudable. You can also find that online if you choose. Mr. Imus has also been suspended for 2 weeks. Also laudable. The question I ask you is, ''is this enough?"
However, if you really want to understand the issue then check out a recent press conference and listen to the women on the Rutger's basketball team and their coach first hand. These are people at the center of this - not Mr. Imus and his producer, not Rev. Sharpton, not Rev. Jackson. They are but a part of it but they are not the center of this issue. Listen to these women. This is the problem, we have not been listening; we are yelling at each other and we are falling apart in the process.
There can always be good things come from bad. Perhaps this event can actually spearhead a hopeful dialogue in this country whereby we (everyone) no longer tolerates the kind of ridiculous, hurtful critiques that Mr. Imus and so many like him preach daily on our airwaves. There is no appropriate reaction other than, ''we will no longer tolerate this!" None. It's more than turning off these folks, we have to stand up and say, ''no more, no more, no more."
I must confess as to listening only a few times to Mr. Imus. His claim, that his show is comedy, like the claims of Mr. Limbaugh, Mr. Savage, and Mr. O'Reilly, that their shows are entertainment, resound false to me. They are not funny and they are not entertaining. The larger issue here is the pervasive misogyny and racism that still pervades our culture. It's not good, it must stop if we're to move forward.
Everyone makes mistakes, no one is perfect, but perhaps this mistake will help us in the long term. If we say no more.
Scratch and sniff t-shirt
Apparently I've been things all wrong. Flowers. Poems. Letters. Meals served by candlelight on the front porch. This is not how you attract a mate. Not according to the most recent research and everyone knows to put their trust in the latest scientific research - no matter what you may have heard in church this past Sunday.
It's the smelly t-shirt that counts! Lord, knows there's no shortage of them in moi's abode. So here you are! One of moi favs. Has the bouquet of the peleton mixed with undertones of blackberry, rosemary, and sage. Come and get moi!
It's the smelly t-shirt that counts! Lord, knows there's no shortage of them in moi's abode. So here you are! One of moi favs. Has the bouquet of the peleton mixed with undertones of blackberry, rosemary, and sage. Come and get moi!
cute puppy portraits!
This is my favorite portrait of a cute puppy. It's by Johnny Naugahyde, 2007, hand-tooled leather, collection of m.o.i.
multi-tasking
The minimalist, conceptual, constructivist, Sol Lewitt has passed. Although best known for his cubist constructions, his work was also influenced by color field theory although he frequently took this approach one step farther by painting directly on the musuem walls, thus forcing the patrons to experience without having an opportunity to purchase the work. Socialist! Here's an image of his double-negative constructed at Europas Parkas. The next time you're in Vilnius, paying homage to Frank Zappa, seeing the warehouse tomb of Lenin statues, or visiting the KGB musuem, take the short drive (or the bus) out to this open-air sculpture park. You won't be disappointed.
Climb every mountain, follow every star
Detroit lost it's groove when Motown sold out to MCA. No wonder they make crappy cars. Forget about it. Buy this instead. LeMonde Alpe d'Huez.
I guess the engineers are too busy building levees.
Ok, m.o.i. hates to be a conspiracy theorist but somethings desparately wrong. At the NY Auto Show, America's oldest and supposedly PREMIER auto show for the latest and greatest in car technology there was, count'em, ONE all-electric car on display. You heard me, ONE car. A 1912 Standard Electric; +100 miles on one charge. That's almost 100 years ago! What the f--- is going on? What happened to engineering in this country?
sacrifices must be made
Yesterday, on Sonic Spectrum, one of my favorite radio shows, I heard an interview with Charlie Louvin of the Louvin Brothers, arguably one of the most influencial country bands you never heard of. The Louvin Brothers, developers of the close harmony sound, came from hard-scrabble Kentucky. One day when they were young and out hoein' in the field, they saw Roy Acuff drive by on his way to a concert in town. Roy was in the the biggest car they'd ever seen, a Franklin, with 3 doors on a side. Each was convinced that the Grand Ole Opry was a ticket to riches, although in truth Mr. Acuff only charged adults 25 cents and children a nickel to see him. Even a sold-out show would barely net $100. It took the Louvin 16 years of touring before they ever played the Grand Ole Opry, where eventually they became a staple and inductees into the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Charlie Louvin also recounted a story about Chet Atkins, a guitarist so fluid, so adept that he could play and carry on a conversation at the same time with missing a beat. His skills so honed that the fingers seem to be disconnected from his brain. An enthusiastic fan came up to Chet and exclaimed, "Mr. Atkins, I'd give a million dollars if I could play like you!" "Yeah, but would you give 65 years?" Chet replied. The fan slunked away.
"There's a price to pay to be good at anything," Charlie said.
Hell, there's a price to pay even if your just mediocre at something. However, regardless of what plans your Father might have for you, if it winds up killing you, you might want to reconsider.
my new collection
People collect all sorts of things. Stamps. Coins. Art. Lovers. You name it, someone collects it. You collect it; Antiques Roadshow tells you what it's worth. Forget the sentiment; there's real money involved if you get it right.
But what's an Albert Pujols rookie card worth when your neighbor's eight year-old is already sittin' on 5 pristine signed ones? It's worth whatever you're willing to pay, or willing to sell if for. Hell, they're just baseball cards. Who gives a shit.
When I was younger, I traded my entire baseball card collection, full of Mickey Mantles, Warren Spahns, Stan-the-Man's, rookie Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Ernie Banks, Don Drysdale's, shit-loads of past and future hall-of-famers in one fell swoop to my best friend. Half of them I'd won in betting games from him. These were the good ones, the ones that didn't end up in the bike spokes. I traded it for a box of marbles. Why, I wanted the marbles more than I wanted the cards and today I still think of it as a good trade. Who knows what happened to the cards, who cares?
In this age of obscurity, this ceaseless march to oblivion, we look to be unique with our collections. That's why I started a one that few, if any can match. Guns I've found in the river. I'm 2 and counting. Last week someone else beat me to the punch or it'd now be three. Right now I focusing on handguns, but soon I hope to branch off into Kalisnikovas.
But what's an Albert Pujols rookie card worth when your neighbor's eight year-old is already sittin' on 5 pristine signed ones? It's worth whatever you're willing to pay, or willing to sell if for. Hell, they're just baseball cards. Who gives a shit.
When I was younger, I traded my entire baseball card collection, full of Mickey Mantles, Warren Spahns, Stan-the-Man's, rookie Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Ernie Banks, Don Drysdale's, shit-loads of past and future hall-of-famers in one fell swoop to my best friend. Half of them I'd won in betting games from him. These were the good ones, the ones that didn't end up in the bike spokes. I traded it for a box of marbles. Why, I wanted the marbles more than I wanted the cards and today I still think of it as a good trade. Who knows what happened to the cards, who cares?
In this age of obscurity, this ceaseless march to oblivion, we look to be unique with our collections. That's why I started a one that few, if any can match. Guns I've found in the river. I'm 2 and counting. Last week someone else beat me to the punch or it'd now be three. Right now I focusing on handguns, but soon I hope to branch off into Kalisnikovas.
m.o.i.: my new collection
see also:
m.o.i.: intellectual property
m.o.i.: more about moi
omega-3-fatty-acid binge
Are you as excited as I am that Voortman is now making flaxseed with omega 3 fatty acid cookies? Yes, Voortman Cookies of the bing-supporting two-for-$3 family pack ("The difference between the Voortman Cookies sugar wafer and all others is the cream — and we use lots of it.") has turned health conscious on us.
There's a new Voortman style with 0 grams of fat and 0 grams of cholesterol. So put down that Bacardi and Diet Coke, cinch your belt a notch, and try a pack. They taste like dog biscuits, but with half the calories.
There's a new Voortman style with 0 grams of fat and 0 grams of cholesterol. So put down that Bacardi and Diet Coke, cinch your belt a notch, and try a pack. They taste like dog biscuits, but with half the calories.
jesus lives
One of my cushy Memphisto (yes, Memphisto of the $300 shoes so you can imagine the quality) socks which had been missing-in-action for some weeks now, just tumbled out of the corner of a fitted sheet during some spring cleaning. Even at my age, I still suffer from static cling. So now, one of my favorite pairs of socks has been ressurrected and will live again.
Praise Allah!
m.o.i.: jesus lives
elsewhere:
m.o.i.:yankees on hgh
m.o.i.: infidels versus christians
Praise Allah!
m.o.i.: jesus lives
elsewhere:
m.o.i.:yankees on hgh
m.o.i.: infidels versus christians
dinosaur among pampered breeds
This is Trex (rhymes with tricks), short for T-Rex. Born on M.L. King Day, 2003, Trex is a 4-yr old Rare West Tibetan Mountain Dog. Like the more common Eastern Tibetan Mountain Dog, they are a tribe of Chow. The breed is distinguished by its wheaten color, gentle tail curl, and lack of black tongue. Working dogs with incredible stamina, strength, and spunk they are said to have originated among Yangtze River clans where they served as guards on fishing boats until political turmoil in China forced many to flee into the mountainous regions of Tibet. The remaining population of Rare West Tibetan Mountain Dogs is believed to be less than 500 worldwide.Trex, an intrepid dog-paddler, has served as helmsman on Big River canoe trips down the Muddy MO and the Mighty Mississip. Trex currently holds the record dog-paddling time in the world's longest canoe/kayak race (MR340) which takes place each year between KC and StL.
Trex, who's a bit of a prankster, one responsed to this query from a stranger, ''well hello puppy, what sort of dog are you?" by growling, "GRRRiver GRRog!"
tear me apart
Ok so it's first Friday here in KC which means art gallery openings. My friend Susan had some pyrographs (burned drawings) that were interesting, even beautiful. There was a small discussion about how to make larger tips for larger drawings and Bryan, who had spent some time on the farm suggested an electric branding iron. I mentioned that our government (via some Homeland Security $$$'s) had developed it's own version of electric prods for use in torturing terrorists (this means you), although they have yet to be released to the general population.
Then off to another new gallery (unit 5 [how's that for a macho name]) where I encountered an interesting phenomenon. An artist team had printed a limited edition art book. This was fine. What was disconcerning to me was that they chose to mount and frame each page of the book separately. Because of the way books need to be constructed for readibility, this meant that the viewer was confronted with images and text that weren't spatially related to one another - except for being in the same book. It just seemed so sad to see a book displayed that way, especially by the authors. Hey, it's not my work, they can show it how they want, but I can see book plates torn from folios any day at the flea market I don't need to see them at a fine art gallery.
Speaking of being torn apart. There are still those who crucify themselves to cleanse themselves (us?) of sin. Apparently they do this every year and the main precaution they take is to sterilize the nails; seens like they might have more pressing concerns than bacteria on the nails. Don't know, seems easier to just take a bath and besides I thought Christ died for our sins, so what's up with the half-way re-enactment? Feel a bit cheated. Either do it up right, including the resurrection part, or just read the Good Book. While I wouldn't suggest this (the crucify part) to a friend, neighbor, or sane person, I heartily recommend it to many past and current members of this administration. Can Pat Roberson leg press a crucifix with Carl Rove lashed to it? Only God knows.
Then off to another new gallery (unit 5 [how's that for a macho name]) where I encountered an interesting phenomenon. An artist team had printed a limited edition art book. This was fine. What was disconcerning to me was that they chose to mount and frame each page of the book separately. Because of the way books need to be constructed for readibility, this meant that the viewer was confronted with images and text that weren't spatially related to one another - except for being in the same book. It just seemed so sad to see a book displayed that way, especially by the authors. Hey, it's not my work, they can show it how they want, but I can see book plates torn from folios any day at the flea market I don't need to see them at a fine art gallery.
Speaking of being torn apart. There are still those who crucify themselves to cleanse themselves (us?) of sin. Apparently they do this every year and the main precaution they take is to sterilize the nails; seens like they might have more pressing concerns than bacteria on the nails. Don't know, seems easier to just take a bath and besides I thought Christ died for our sins, so what's up with the half-way re-enactment? Feel a bit cheated. Either do it up right, including the resurrection part, or just read the Good Book. While I wouldn't suggest this (the crucify part) to a friend, neighbor, or sane person, I heartily recommend it to many past and current members of this administration. Can Pat Roberson leg press a crucifix with Carl Rove lashed to it? Only God knows.
the funkster
Kansas City will soon have a new mayor. Mayor-elect Funkhouser, aka the Funkster, Lurch, the big lug (as his wife calls him). Hasn't even taken office yet and already he's made his first rookie mistake. The Funkster, who m.o.i. heartily supported in the campaign, tapped his close friend and confidante Ed Wolf to be his chief of staff. Problem. Mr. Wolf, who retired from Director of Public Works for the City 4 years ago ran straight away into one of KC archaic laws. Seems that you have to be retired for at least 5 years before working again for the city. Oops! It's ok to retire and be hired as a consultant. Many former employee immediately jump on the consultant gravy train within months of retirement, but to enter again into public service with the city, this will require a change in the city charter. Time for compromise as Mayor-elect Funkhouser insists that Ed is the man for the job. Wonder what the current mayor, and departing council (5 of whom got soundly trounced by the Funky grassroots campaign) will demand in return for this change to the charter. More tax breaks for the wealthy? Ah, the art of sucking up errr politics. Here's a photo of the neophyte taking a call during his election night acceptance speech flanked by his son and wife. I love the honesty of this guy.
In memory of Mr. Fish
Here's a poem in memory of Mr. Fish for those who might be paddling about
this weekend and thinking about spring, life, and what's important. I think it's a beautiful poem, a bit sad, but with a hint of hope and artful reminiscence.
Mr. Fish and a friend were both paddling without pfd's, on a windy day, on a rising river in a recreational kayak on the Kaw River near Eudora, Kansas. The water temperature was around 2 degrees Celsius. Both boats upended almost simultaneously. Witnesses on shore saw this, called 911 and a rescue was attempted. The friend survived. Mr. Fish's body wasn't recovered for several weeks. Mr. Fish, his real name, left behind a wife and 4 children.
The poem is by Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate of the US and published in The Art of Drowning, Pittsburg University Press, 1995
The Art of Drowning
I wonder how it all got started, this business
about seeing your life flash before your eyes
while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
could startle time into such compression, crushing
decades in the vice of your desperate, final seconds.
After falling off a steamship or being swept away
in a rush of floodwater, wouldn't you hope
for a more leisurely review, an invisible hand
turning the pages of an album of photographs -
you up on a pony or blowing out candles in a comic hat.
How about a short animated film, a slide presentation?
Your life expressed in an essay, or in one model paragraph?
Wouldn't any form be better than this sudden flash?
Your whole existence going off in your face
in an eyebrow-singeing explosion of biography--
nothing like the three large volumes you imagined.
Survivors would have us believe in a brilliance
here, some bolt of truth forking across the water,
an ultimate Light before all the lights go out,
dawning on you with all its megalithic tonnage.
But if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish.
a quick blur of curved silver darting away,
having nothing to do with your life or your death.
The tide will take you, or the lake will accept it all
as you sink toward the weedy disarray of the bottom,
leaving behind what you have already forgotten.
the surface, now overrun with the high travel of clouds.
see also:
m.o.i.: raft ice on the mo
this weekend and thinking about spring, life, and what's important. I think it's a beautiful poem, a bit sad, but with a hint of hope and artful reminiscence.
Mr. Fish and a friend were both paddling without pfd's, on a windy day, on a rising river in a recreational kayak on the Kaw River near Eudora, Kansas. The water temperature was around 2 degrees Celsius. Both boats upended almost simultaneously. Witnesses on shore saw this, called 911 and a rescue was attempted. The friend survived. Mr. Fish's body wasn't recovered for several weeks. Mr. Fish, his real name, left behind a wife and 4 children.
The poem is by Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate of the US and published in The Art of Drowning, Pittsburg University Press, 1995
The Art of Drowning
I wonder how it all got started, this business
about seeing your life flash before your eyes
while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
could startle time into such compression, crushing
decades in the vice of your desperate, final seconds.
After falling off a steamship or being swept away
in a rush of floodwater, wouldn't you hope
for a more leisurely review, an invisible hand
turning the pages of an album of photographs -
you up on a pony or blowing out candles in a comic hat.
How about a short animated film, a slide presentation?
Your life expressed in an essay, or in one model paragraph?
Wouldn't any form be better than this sudden flash?
Your whole existence going off in your face
in an eyebrow-singeing explosion of biography--
nothing like the three large volumes you imagined.
Survivors would have us believe in a brilliance
here, some bolt of truth forking across the water,
an ultimate Light before all the lights go out,
dawning on you with all its megalithic tonnage.
But if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish.
a quick blur of curved silver darting away,
having nothing to do with your life or your death.
The tide will take you, or the lake will accept it all
as you sink toward the weedy disarray of the bottom,
leaving behind what you have already forgotten.
the surface, now overrun with the high travel of clouds.
see also:
m.o.i.: raft ice on the mo