Signifying nothing

Puts a whole new spin on "blue Chirstmas," eh?

This one goes out to the Utah Legislature who see a communist behind every Christmas tree.

Who wants a gooseberry and cinnamon yogurt?

Way of the Puck Promotional Button Eric Anderson, director of Way of the Puck:  a   documentary of professional air hockey...Really kindly sent me a review copy of the final release of the piece on DVD.  A few years back, I was a test audience for the movie thanks to Middlebrow , so I do have a memory of that version with which to compare.  The test version was quite good, mind you, but I am interested to see how Eric has shaped the final form, and how he worked out the conclusion. I was away for a long while for working purposes, so it was rather nice coming back late Tuesday night to find the DVD in my mail box.   Along with the DVD was a promotion pin which I shall place on my disc bowling bag, since I have no air hockey back and air hockey is more akin to bowling in quirky commonplace than is, say, golf. I've been having too much of a holiday to view the film yet, but I have hopes to watch it tomorrow during our next blizzard(non-blizzard) here in Sa...

After the storm #2 Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner It is interesting to watch people's mass panic from 1200 miles away.

Poor Sean Day...I think the bill collectors are after him/her. What an odd thing to say at the end. I assume that the whole thing is recorded on their end too.

Weedle Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner While I was in Baltimore, we had the opportunity to visit the Visionary Arts Museum. The VAM is a collection of mostly outsider art. Baltimore likes to celebrate its weirdness, you see, rather than hide it.

"Put your hands in the air!" Originally uploaded by catinlap "The novel is a genre that eats other genres." --Michael Berube.

Kansas City kids exercising from American Memory , by the way.

Victim In Fatal Car Accident Tragically Not Glenn Beck

Ford Unveils New Car For Cash-Strapped Buyers: The 1993 Taurus

Ask not Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner It tolls for thee.

She was classy They observed Never turning away Her stammering fans Stunned silent by her Warmth But they didn't know The dark empty She held tight in Her clenched fists Its oily surface Making her lunge Forward to keep It from shooting Out into the crowd Knocking them awake With an icy gut Punch They heard her wail But they didn't see Her whiskey tears Late at night In another hotel Room

Blood on tooth and claw Go find your separate peace Waiting in the dark

Last Disc Golf at Solitude Originally uploaded by catinlap Where in the hell did the summer go?

Des Moines Farmers' Market: Squash Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner This picture should get you in the mood for fall. We're finally getting some fall-like weather here in Slicky Town. Is it really October?

Des Moines Farmers' Market 1 Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner Iowa farmers' markets put anything I've ever visited to shame: 4 blocks of pure fruits from the land.

Netflix, I am sad. Returned Up the Down Staircase, Unexperienced.

Nature Preserve-Number 1 Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner The Legacy Nature Preserve only exists because of power poles and a highway.

I knew my photography and ability to imitate Hulk Hogan would make me famous one day : Europas Macho! Two questions: What is the number for David Hasselhoff 's German agent? Is this what European macho men look like?

Anxiety Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner This orchid will fade Withering fast in cold fall Intemperate weed!

They say, you know, something important So you are supposed to pay attention Pay attention, I said, you stupid child Pay attention with eyes locked there Just there, for they will see when you do not Look There. Look there.  Are you looking? I didn't think so. Child, child, child you will not amount To much, if you don't pay attention With coins and bills and, above all Your mind that is coins and bills and Are you paying attention, child? I think not.  It is time for you to start Minding and not be wandering around Those brown snow-laced  furrowed fields That are clearly Are you minding me?  I don't think you Are.  Why are you being this way? What put that in your head? Do you think you are something Let it go, child.  Please.  Let it go and Perhaps someday you will know that It was all meant for the best.  That He really did mean the best. That If you just paid simple attention Attention would have been paid. U...

Crafty Mother & Daughter Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner This past Saturday I went to "Craft Lake City" an annual craft fair held in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah. While there, flickr's very own Big Brown House got my attention and we chatted about her craftiness. She makes items out of recycled sweaters, buttons, and what not. Pretty great stuff. It was also nice to finally meet BBH & Daughter finally. She also regularly attends Craft Sabbath (another regular SLC crafty event). Check out her cool stuff at www.bigbrownhouse.etsy.com . I bought a doodad that looks rather fetching on my summer sun head protector device (also known as a recycled paper--rather than straw--Panama hat.)

Ah the profanity-laced memories.

goatsmall Originally uploaded by fbcota

Where the answers are Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner No plants allowed.

Cops with guns are watching Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner

I bet Middlebrow could pull that off too.

Everybody dance now!

Sylt Originally uploaded by Simon Gate Many Northern European languages have compound words for strawberry jam. In Swedish (as we see in this photo from Simon Gate on flickr) it is "jordgubbssylt." The other Scandinavian languages are similar with the Norwegian "jordbærsyltem," the "refined" Danish "jordbærsyltetøj" and the decidedly Scando-archaic and non-compound Icelandic "jarðarber sultu." Moving south, the Dutch offer us something closer to English with "aardbeienjam." The "jam" figuring prominently in that construction rather than the Scandinavian "sylt." The Germans take a decidedly European spin on Strawberry Jam by offering "Erdbeermarmelade" which, as you can see, is closely related to the Dutch in the "Erd" part, but take a decidedly Spanish spin by calling "jam" "marmelade." Many of the the southern Romance languages, you see, call any kind of jam...

Pioneer Heritage Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner I'm ramping up to celebrate my Old West pioneer heritage this week. Here in Utah we have "Pioneer Day" on July 24, and it consequently gives us one more 3 day weekend then the rest of the country gets in the summer. This oil lamp is one of the few heirlooms that I got from my family. All I know is this one came from my Mom's family. I don't know much else about it, but I've posted a pic of the burner before. It was made by the White Flame Lamp Company in Grand Rapids, Michigan. After processing the photo it struck me that at least I could have dusted the damn thing. My Mom would be very unhappy. The chimney shattered awhile ago when I lit it. It wasn't the original chimney, by any means, as I remember my mom buying them all the time. I have no idea how the rest of the lamp survived all these years, given that it is glass and my brothers and I pretty much broke every piece of glass my mother ever acquir...

Let it go Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner I think this cactus is done for, but I still keep it around. It is such a good photography model.

Snyder Mahler offers up an unexpected spin to the mobile poetry project:  an excerpt from the LucasArts video game Grim Fandango primarily written by Tim Schafer .

Ethan Millard gives us Lewis Carrol l's " Jabberwocky ."  Brillig!

Friend Cordelia offers Naomi Shihab Nye 's "At the Seven-Mile Ranch, Comstock, Texas" for your consideration.

Come on people! I've done two now. Pump up the volume and add your own poem or favorite poem. Dial +18019300674. Identify the author of your poem and its title, even if it is by you. You might want to identify yourself too.

Winged Ants Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner The life of ants was much improved when they re-discovered their wings.

A new SigNo feature for you: mobile poetry! Join the revolution and call in the poem of your choice to 801-930-0674. It can be your own work or a favorite of yours. Be sure to identify the author (even if it is your own) and the title. I reserve the draconian right to exclude any submission I see fit. The submissions will be featured here on SigNo. Ok, Megastore, Dr.Write, Middlebrow, Snyder Mahler, Counterintuitive, Cordelia, Kendrakoo, Antistrophe, & Sleepy E I'm calling you out in particular. Don't be some kind of poetic wimp and flake on the mobile project!

The Economy is Impoving?... Originally uploaded by catinlap Sign of the time. (Taken by Friend Catinlap. q.v. flickr.)

I've accrued many blog side-projects over the years, most of which I've started and abandoned with little fanfare.  Because I am probably going to merge my "professional"  online identity with whatever the hell everything else I do online is, I've decided to merge several of my side projects directly into signifyingnothing.com.  These projects include (right now) "The Silence Project" (that did have submissions from friend Snyder and are suitably noted), my unplugged experiment, "Signifying nothing Uplugged," and "The land of lost notes."  I am leaving " disc-a-rama " as a side-project, since I have hopes that other disc golfers may decide to join in the fun of it.  " eye or orris " will also survive as an independent blog, since it is a useful reference blog for me to find pictures I've found interesting over the years. I haven't made a decision as to when I will leave signifyingnothing.com in the dust ...

Found near Beacon Heights Elementary, Salt Lake City, Utah.

For your consideration in celebration of the new issue of Signifying nothing : The Limbourg Brothers.   February , from the Very Rich Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry. c. 1415.  Manuscript Illumina tion.  Musée Cond é, Chantilly. Items to consider:   oil spills , nuclear power resurgence , climate change , power lawn mowing equipment , class-consciousness , food-source disconnection , sustainability , and fear * . I won't grade responses this time. *You will note that the people in the Limbourg Brothers' illumination probably had a great deal to fear, despite the relative security of the  trio in the house.  Note the wild birds eating seed, the broken wagon, and the hole in the roof of their sheep pen.  The machinations of the heavens above them need to be taken into consideration.

Momento mori Originally uploaded by Theorris

Sliding past yesterday Originally uploaded by Theorris This might make it into my video essay for a workshop lead by the inestimable Hightoughmegastore (q.v.). Walking schmalking. I'm going bus.

Gardening Originally uploaded by Theorris

Our friend the dandelion Originally uploaded by Theorris

Perfect Day Originally uploaded by Theorris We're getting there, people. I suggest just enjoying the high 70 degree temperatures, and remember them fondly when we hit the low 100s in July.

Baseball! Originally uploaded by Theorris Yeah--I know, another repeat, but summer is about repeats. Oh yeah.

How Sweet It Is Originally uploaded by Theorris Look at that sky, god damn it.

Tom Collins Originally uploaded by Theorris My summer prelude series is apparently going to be interrupted by snow this evening/tomorrow. Cheers!

Pineapple Cocktail Originally uploaded by Theorris

Grilled Asparagus Originally uploaded by Theorris

April Snow #1 Originally uploaded by Theorris After a long end of the semester event-filled day at my place of employment, a colleague offered to give me a ride home--well that is stretching it a bit, given that I asked her to give me a ride home since I am "on her way." "Sure," she said without hesitation. In retrospect, I don't think I offered enough thanks for her kind agreement, given that instead of arriving home as early as I did, I would have had to face the evening mass-transit schedule, that has been hit hard by our tough economic times, and might get me home just in time to go to bed. As it was, I was dropped at my door step in ample time to actually get some things done. While we were on the highway, however, I received a text from my sister: "Wow mom died 9 yrs ago today." I felt the phone in my pocket vibrating this message to me, but given that my colleague and I were involved in conversation about Michael Saffran Foer's book Ea...

Ugolino & his sons Originally uploaded by Theorris Discuss... Grades for #1: Cordelia: A Kendra: B Everyone else: F

Pieter Bruegel the Elder.   The Land of Cockayne .  1567.  Oil and tempera on panel, 20 1/2 x 30 3/4".  Pinakothek, Munich. "Seeing comes before words.  The Child looks and recognizes before it can speak.... But there is also another sense in which seeing comes before words.  It is seeing which establishes our place in the surrounding world; we explain that world with words, but words can never undo the fact that we are surrounded by it.  The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled."  (John Berger, Ways of Seeing,  7) Discuss.

Unknown spring Originally uploaded by Theorris Today is the kind of day that demands we go outside. "Get out of the damn house!" the grass and trees and birds and sun all shout in unison. There is only the mildest of breeze, and even the concrete sidewalks have warmed to the idea. So I decided to go for a long walk. I have not really explored my new neighborhood on foot. I've really only looked at it from on high via our friend the satellite. I knew, therefore, what, generally, to expect, so I headed north from my house on an unknown street, with no particular intent in mind, other than the thought that my friendly household machines were doing my laundry and I needed lemon juice. So I walked north past many interesting houses: a sprawling McMansion squeezed into its lot like a forty-year old man into his twenty-year old suit; a radical self-sufficient cabin completely out of place with its green, primitive-cut clapboards; and house after house of duplexes. I mused ...

While I was awake at my normal 5:30 am this morning, by the time I left the house, I felt I was running late, given that I had to go back inside the house three times to collect all the various items I feel that I need to accomplish the day.  Oh no, I can't forget my phone.  No.  Oh no, I can't forget that letter I have to mail.  No.  Oh no, I absolutely cannot forget my bus pass, or I shall have to pay my way to and from work. Oh no. So by the time I actually managed to lock my door, and head out across the slush, I knew that I would miss my connection, and, therefore, be 15 minutes late. Oh no. So I made my way as quickly as I could in my dress shoes (it was an important meeting day, after all) across slushy sidewalks, and strove not to slip.  The snow that fell last night seemed to be testing my mettle, and by the time I reached the intersection at the bottom of the hill, I was 4 minutes behind schedule. Oh no. Now 4 minutes may n...

From an Incarcerated Artist Originally uploaded by Theorris She killed her husband That's admitted She killed her husband And dug a grave Behind their double-wide She killed her husband And he deserved it The drunk son-of-a-bitch She killed her husband But before she picked Up the gun She stitched away Her suffering Into dragons

Ready for spring Originally uploaded by Theorris Fever!

When I was a kid, a favorite joke of my older brother was to wake us all up on April first with the exclamation "It is snowing!"  Now growing up in Utah, the possibility of snow on April first was entirely possible, but usually spring had taken root in the land: the lawn was greening, trees were cracking blossoms and birds were assured that winter was pretty much behind.  Of course we kids always fell for the joke, and sprang out of bed to see the miracle of one last welcome blanket of purity over the land, only to see the green lawn and the budding trees accompanied by the laughter of my brother.  There were only a couple of times that he was wrong, and today would have been one of those days.   April first snows make fools of us all, and it has been snowing hard here most of the day. All in all, it has been a particularly cold winter.  March is usually a transitional month where spring begins to stir in the land.  Trees begin to bud.  Birds fi...

While I was waiting for the bus today at my place of employment one of the folks who works with me approached the stop too.  While I am technically her boss in terms of the relationship that our mutual institution applies to us, I am generally uncomfortable with such designations as I find them old-fashioned and rather counterproductive to the goals and purpose of the work we are doing.  I truly believe in shared governance, you see, and while I have a role of leadership in said organization, I prefer to allow input and feedback from those who work in that organization and who do the work that takes place there.  Yes, of course, I have to make managerial decisions, but I feel that the people who do the work should share in the governance of the place. She and I talked about her French class.  She commented that she found French a very difficult language to speak, and noted that was probably why the French drank so much coffee.  We both laughed at that.  T...

Float Like a Butterfly Originally uploaded by Theorris My travels took me to Louisville, Kentucky this week. Louisville is an unassuming city. Like most American cities it seems to strive for the gaudy and the fantastic, yet at the same time seems to want to maintain its simplicity, while trying to understand its past. The mighty Ohio river borders the city to the North, and my hotel was smashed up against its banks. Despite an unfortunate decision made decades ago to place a major highway along the banks of the Ohio, the simple quietness of that river overwhelms any human presence. I watched a coal barge saunter down river with nary a sound from my 16th floor hotel room. The passing traffic was no match for its silence as it carried tree branches the size of small houses across its muddy depths. My room looked out on Louisville, toward the river and, most prominently, the Muhammad Ali center, with its pixilated boxers who noisily float like butterflies and sting like b...

Kids these days Originally uploaded by Theorris My normal week-day walk usually takes me past a statue of Parley P. Pratt. The statue was erected in his honor to honor his contribution to local history (and place names), since he built the first more easily passable road into the the Salt Lake Valley through the Wasatch Mountains. His fame as a builder of roads is celebrated in the statue, rather than his scandal-tainted death in Arkansas (q.v.). To be fair, however, some see his death as martyrdom, and I would not wish to fan the flames of religious acrimony. Pratt was certainly a person of his times, and Mormonism was particularly controversial at that time. Of course no one deserves death for either their religious beliefs or for seemingly scandalous behavior with women in Arkansas. Whether Pratt deserves a statue, is certainly not up to debate for his proud descendants or for most people in Utah, it would seem. Statues certainly been erected for much much much worse huma...

Catkins in Early Spring Originally uploaded by Theorris My new house causes me to walk farther to reach the bus stop each morning. My walk, however, leads me past various interesting trees and plants. The other morning, I noticed that one of my gnarly favorites had set its catkins out. I stood, taking pictures of it, and nearly missed my bus. As the city flew by, I wrote the following: Cat paws on brown twigs, Warm against early spring wind, I forget my time

There is so much going on in this masterpiece of disaster that I have no idea where to begin, but as one witty YouTube commentator (a rare thing) put it: "This is a benind the scenes shot of Sarah Palin's brain." I love the Internet.

Well worth losing sleep over, after a very dicey start by the Jazz.

This Is Not Like Home Originally uploaded by Theorris These are meant to be looked at. The anomalies are intentional. Yeah yeah yeah.

Gonna Make It Through This Year Originally uploaded by Theorris

Waiting Originally uploaded by Theorris I love this picture.

Dawn with Power Lines Originally uploaded by Theorris

Bus Stop 1 Originally uploaded by Theorris Since I bought my beloved digital single-lens reflex camera around 3 years or so ago, I've had several occasions when I've been approached by rent-a-cops (aka private security officers) telling me that I am not allowed to photograph at a particular location, or that, indeed, public photography and photographing anyone in public is not legal. My camera has also been barred from various concerts and conferences as being "too professional" (as if "professional" is a noun that can take on a degree.) Now most of us know that photography in a public space is completely legal, and you do not have to get releases from people who appear in your photographs while they are in public simply because the courts have ruled over the years that there is absolutely no expectation of privacy when you are out in public. In other words, you can't suddenly claim privacy when you are out in the open a decidedly un-private location....