10.18.2008
Fauve
10.17.2008
by Arthur Sze
Caw Caw, Caw Caw Caw.
To comprehend a crow
you must have a crow's mind.
To be the night rain,
silver, on black leaves,
you must live in the
shine and wet. Some people
drift in their lives:
green-gold plankton,
phosphorescent, in the sea.
Others slash: a knife
at a yellow window shade
tears open the light.
But to live digging deep
is to feel the blood
in you rage as rivers,
is to feel love and hatred
as fibers of rope,
is to catch the scent
of a wolf, and turn wild.
Anger Management TrackersNW style
10.09.2008
It’s been a little over a month since the TrackersNW immersion program began, and I have yet to cut off any major appendages–which I take to be a fortuitous sign. I have cut myself making my bow, trimming cordage, actually, whenever I am in the same room with my knife or hatchet, I seem to cut myself. But all in all, no emergency room visits as of yet.
Which is a good thing, as our group recently began practicing making tools out of stones. The idea here is that if you are stranded without a knife you can create one by flintknapping. According to our instructors Brian and Shaun, if you hold one rock in your hand and hit it on a 45 degree angle with another rock, the result will be sharp flakes that you can use to cut things. Apparently, this works.
I say apparently because after trying this and smashing my fingers several times, I had worked through all the curse words I know and had to move to another method. This consisted of holding one rock upright between two sticks and slamming down another rock on top of it. The smaller rock crumbles under pressure and begs for mercy. While I did not smash my fingers with this method, I also didn’t produce anything sharp. I did manage to break up a few rocks and gloated over their decimation.
So I switched to the final method, which is my favorite. Here you take big rocks and throw them down on the ground against other rocks. This is Anger Management TrackersNW style. The upside of this is that when you are smashing objects for flintknapping, no one thinks you are crazy or out of control–they think you’re resourceful.
At least, that’s how I choose to think about it. In fact, I’m so resourceful that I threw a rock down that bounced back and hit my shin, thereby providing me with enough anger to flintknap for a while.
By the end, I hadn’t managed to produce anything very sharp, but it’s probably for the best. Looking at the cuts on my hands, I figure that my playing with only blunt objects is probably a good idea.
Check out Earth Ninjas for more stories by the TrackersNW immersion team.
I been in jail in Chattanooga
10.06.2008
Ian just bought a new mattress and the store could only deliver it during work hours, so I volunteered to be at the apartment when it arrived. They only sent one guy, and I'm sick right now, but somehow we managed to lug it up together.
"So where you from?" he asks me. He has already lingered too long. Apparently, he's feeling chatty.
"Chattanooga," I say.
"I know Chattanooga. I been in jail in Chattanooga."
"Oh," I edge towards the door. "Isn't that interesting."
"Not that it was my fault. I mean, it was my fault, but you know."
I don't know, but I don't let on. He tells me that a cop was being aggressive (not quite the way he put it) and he decided to be aggressive back. I have already said thanks and shook his hand three times. So now I nod and slowly start to close the door.
"But I don't take that kind of treatment and hired a lawyer that costs one thousand dollars an hour."
"Good for you," I say. The door is almost closed but he moves towards me.
"I just love your accent." He's got an arm the door way, looking at me.
I want to say, So does my big, big muscular boyfriend. He's just crazy about my accent. Instead I stick my hand out one more time, say, "Thanks. You have a good day," smile and close the door.
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