Category Archives: Daily Epiphany

Bits of stuff that happen day to day.

Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again

Posted on by Bill Chance

“‘Twas in another lifetime
One of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue
The road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness
A creature void of form
Come in she said I’ll give ya
Shelter from the storm.”
—- Bob Dylan, Shelter From The Storm

A week ago, we found that there was a party honoring the Lakewood Brewing Company‘s one year anniversary – held at the Goodfriend Beer Garden and Burger House in East Dallas. This was a must-go. Lakewood has great beers and there would be music. Every hour they would be tapping special kegs and casks.

We arrived at about one-thirty, only a half-hour after the festivities started, and found the place already more than packed. It was tough to get to the bar for a beer – it took almost an hour for our first fill. But it was worth the wait – they had a small keg of the French Quarter Temptress on tap. I had tried this before – it’s the great Lakewood Temptress, “cask conditioned with chicory root and bourbon soaked Noble Coyote Papau New Guinea coffee.” I love that beer.

Temptress – black as death, thick as sin, sweet as tomorrow morning’s regret…. the French Quarter Temptress is all that… plus coffee and bourbon.

Then, wonder of wonders, we were able to snag half of a table right in front of the band. The first group was packing it up and the second starting to bring in their instruments. I should have been prepared… copied down a list of the music for the afternoon, and, especially, a list of the hourly tappings. But I didn’t… and that was cool too. I didn’t really want anything other than that French Quarter Temptress and it was fine to not know what music was on the way.

As the band set up I recognized Chad Stockslager. He plays in several local bands and I had seen him with Chris Holt as Holt and Stockslager… a Simon and Garfunkel tribute band, three times – first at the Patio Sessions in the Arts District, then at the Foundry and the Dallas Zoo. They put on a great show – a really fun and mellow evening. I recognized a couple other local musicians, but couldn’t place the lead singer… though he looked familiar and his voice, especially, I knew I had heard before.

Then they started playing and we discovered that the band was The Buick 6, a Bob Dylan tribute band. The singer was Mike Rhyner, best known as a DJ on 1310 The Ticket. No wonder his voice was familiar.

Mike Rhyner singing with The Buick 6

Mike Rhyner singing with The Buick 6

We really enjoyed the show. Afterward, we talked to Billy Bones, one of the guitar players, and he said they would be at Lee Harvey’s in The Cedars that upcoming Friday. Lee Harvey’s is a great place – a combination beer garden and dive bar – a great place to hear music. It’s a dog-friendly place and Candy loves that so many people bring their mutts along.

Billy Bones with The Buick 6

Billy Bones with The Buick 6

Chad Stockslager playing keyboards with The Buick 6

Chad Stockslager playing keyboards with The Buick 6

“You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out

Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging
for your next meal.”
—-Bob Dylan, Like a Rolling Stone

I had an awfully tough week at work and when Friday came along it was really difficult for me to drag myself up and out and drive down for the show. I didn’t want to go – but I knew I would change my mind once I was actually there. I didn’t even have the energy to change clothes – so it was right in the car and out and down through the big evil city to the Southside.

It was a late show and we wanted to get there early so we could get something to eat. The fish tacos were great, and we settled in and waited for the festivities.

Storms were predicted – lightning shattered the horizon, someone held up a smartphone with an app that predicted heavy rainfall, but we didn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

Lee Harvey's

Lee Harvey’s

Lee Harvey’s always has an amazing diverse crowd. A lot of different folks are there. Some are mathematicians, some are carpenter’s wives. A lot of pooches. The ages are all over – hipsters – college kids – some families with children…. all the way to people teetering on geezerdom.

Still a little stunned from the week I did manage to enjoy the music. A little food, a little beer, and I felt better. The Buick 6 do a great show. One nice touch is that they don’t try too hard to be absolutely accurate – staying in the spirit of Dylan more than the slavishly correct. A nice setlist selection too – there is so much to choose from. I guess it’s not surprising that the tune I liked the most had some sweet fiddle playing (Hurricane).

Everyone has their favorite Dylan tune – and there are so many of them. When faced with an oeuvre as vast as his it’s important to simply relax and let the band play what they want. Near the end of the second set, some young drunk blonde stumbled up to the stage and demanded the band play, “some of their own music.” I guess she doesn’t understand the idea of a tribute band… or much of anything else. Then her boyfriend loudly requested “Lay Lady Lay” – which is, I guess, a good enough song – but not… well, simply not a good idea. At least the two of them seemed well-matched.

Well, she don’t make me nervous, she don’t talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley and she don’t need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead
Well, if I go down dyin’ you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
—-Bob Dylan, From A Buick 6

So, despite my worn-out and beaten-down state that evening, we made it through the late set and, after petting the yellow Labrador Retriever sitting next to us one last time, headed for home. It was fun.

The festival was over and the boys were all planning for a fall
The cabaret was quiet except for the drilling in the wall
The curfew had been lifted and the gambling wheel shut down
Anyone with any sense had already left town
He was standing in the doorway looking like the Jack of Hearts.
—- Bob Dylan, “Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts”

Mike Rhyner also has a Tom Petty tribute band, Petty Theft. They will be at Lee Harvey’s next Friday. I think I’ll be there. No matter how worn out I am.

“Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.”
—-Bob Dylan, ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’

Across the street from Lee Harvey's

Across the street from Lee Harvey’s

“And she takes just like a woman
And she aches just like a woman
And she wakes just like a woman
Yeah, but she breaks just like a little girl.”
—-Bob Dylan, Just Like A Woman

Oh, if you were wondering what my favorite Bob Dylan song is – it’s “Isis”, from Desire. The band didn’t play it – which is cool, because it isn’t really that kind of tune. I like it because it tells a story – and I’m all about story. It’s also about redemption and I’m a sucker for redemption. Most importantly, I bought that album (on Vinyl, of course) right after I graduated from college and started my first real job – and would listen to it in the evenings until is sank in… and it’s still in there. I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.

She was there in the meadow where the creek used to rise
Blinded by sleep and in need of a bed
I came in from the East with the sun in my eyes
I cursed her one time then I rode on ahead.

She said “Where ya been ?” I said “No place special ?”
She said “You look different” I said “Well I guess”
She said “You been gone” I said “That’s only natural”
She said “You gonna stay ?” I said “If you want me to, Yeah “.

Isis oh Isis you mystical child
What drives me to you is what drives me insane
I still can remember the way that you smiled
On the fifth day of May in the drizzling rain.
—-Bob Dylan, Isis

Decades of Art

Posted on by Bill Chance

With cities, it is as with dreams: everything imaginable can be dreamed, but even the most unexpected dream is a rebus that conceals a desire or, its reverse, a fear. Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules are absurd, their perspectives deceitful, and everything conceals something else.

“I have neither desires nor fears,” the Khan declared, “and my dreams are composed either by my mind or by chance.”

“Cities also believe they are the work of the mind or of chance, but neither the one nor the other suffices to hold up their walls. You take delight not in a city’s seven or seventy wonders, but in the answer it gives to a question of yours.”

― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

decades1

I have been putting up photographs I took a few weekends back at the Deep Ellum Art Park near Downtown Dallas. I have a lot more that I can use as I postprocess them to fill in journal entries on days that nothing much happens (or nothing that I want to write about here). The Deep Ellum Art Park is an area of concrete pillars of the overhead freeway connecting I30 and H75 (Central Expressway) plus a series of monoliths of various shapes that have been arranged in the gravelly areas between roadways for the purpose of serving as a canvas.

It’s a fun and interesting use of otherwise wasted space – a recovered area of urban blight.

It’s been growing over a period of decades and now has expanded to include decorative artworks in and around an urban garden and a dog park. It’s sort of officially authorized graffiti. I enjoy visiting the area, walking around looking at the graffiti/ paintings, and (obviously) taking photos of the scene.

decades2

One of the things I particularly enjoy is that I’ve been going down there for about twenty years now and it brings back memories. I remember sometime… maybe the early 90’s or so, that I did essentially what I’m doing now – I rode my bicycle (it would have been my Yokota Mountain bike – newly purchased – now converted into a commuter) down there and took some photographs.

That wasn’t really that long ago (in geologic time, for example), but times have changed so much. I would have been using my Pentax 35mm SLR so I would have been a lot more judicious about the number of shots – don’t want to waste film. Do you remember when you would say things like, “If the pictures come out” – “come out” was a common term back when you couldn’t look at the back of your camera and see what you had just shot?

….Or was it only ten years ago and I was using a primitive crude digital camera?
I don’t know which is true – I guess it doesn’t matter – thought it is pitiful and sad when your life stretches out into one featureless plain and one decade is indistinguishable from another.
Yet, a lot has changed.

But most of what has changed is me.

It was going down there and finding a few monoliths newly constructed and being painted for the first time. No more than a slim handful of them. Now there are over thirty, plus the hundred or so column sides. Each had an artist attached to it. Through lucky timing I had arrived during the inaugural event and the artists were at work.

I sat down on a bench to watch the painters paint (that’s another change – the benches are all gone – taken away because they attracted too many sleeping homeless people). There was an older man on a tall upright obelisk, a young man on a rectangular panel, and a young woman next to him on a semicircle jutting out of the earth.

I had so little confidence then – it was so very difficult to take pictures of people. Now, I would walk right up and ask them to pose with their work… they are painting a public monument after all – they would crave the publicity.

Watching the woman paint her bit of whitewashed concrete canvas I was filled with a hollow sense of longing and beauty. I don’t know why the scene of a woman and two men painting had this effect on me. The woman wasn’t especially attractive – and her painting, honestly, wasn’t particularly good. As a matter of fact, only the old man had a great amount of talent and skill – though I don’t remember what any of them actually painted. Their work is long gone now – painted over several times.

I dug around in my files and photographs and the only things I could find are these two small, blurry, edited shots I was using in some silly project.

11

2

The only thing that remains, the only thing left, is my memory of sadness that I felt at the time. That is still vivid and clear… even as all the other details have faded into obscurity.

decades3

He was thinking of all these things when he desired a city. Isidora, therefore, is the city of his dreams: with one difference. The dreamed-of city contained him as a young man; he arrives at Isidora in his old age. In the square there is the wall where the old men sit and watch the young go by; he is seated in a row with them. Desires are already memories.
― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Dallas Critical Mass

Posted on by Bill Chance

This Friday I went on a local bike ride that I have wanted to try for a while but never had a go until now. It’s the Dallas version of Critical Mass. The Critical Mass rides have been going on internationally in their present form since the 1990’s. They are large and informally semi-organized rides with the dual purpose of having bicycling fun and acting as a political protest where cyclists take over the streets.

The Dallas Critical Mass runs on the last Friday of every month – originating in the Main Street Garden Park downtown and heading out for parts semi-unknown.

I was invited by the good folks at Bike-Friendly Cedars so I rode my bike to the Arapaho DART station near my house and rode the train south through downtown to the Cedars station. I could have driven to a closer launching point, but I wanted to keep up with the spirit of the ride and only rely on two-wheel-human-powered power… well, except for the huge electric powered train… but you know what I mean. I guess I’m saying I wanted to avoid the automobile for the evening.

I rode around the Cedars a bit then met up with the folks and we rode to the Main Street Park. I don’t know how many riders were there… I would guess a few more than a hundred. That’s not a huge number – until you get them stretched out in a group along the road. I have been doing enough of these rides now that I run into a handful of folks I know at most every one. It’s a bit of fun.

critical_mass2

critical_mass1

We started out east into Deep Ellum. Sony had a couple sponsored riders on trikes with generator-powered boom boxes to provide music. The ride was slow and crowded – that’s the only downside of these types of things… you have to concentrate on the wheel in front of you and the folks on either side that you can’t look around too much – it takes a lot of concentration to ride in an irregular pack like that.

A wide variety of bikes and riders – from carbon speed-demons to heavy steel retro-cruisers to stripped-down fixies to Wal-Mart mountain bikes. I try to talk to anyone with unique bikes (tonight a Brompton Folder, and a homemade fixie) to learn the various dimensions of bikerdom.

They were corking the intersections – sending bikes out to block the cross traffic so the entire mass of bikes could get through at once. I have really mixed feelings about this – it is technically breaking the law and undoubtedly pisses some drivers off. But that’s one of the points of the ride (that’s why it’s called Critical Mass) – to take over a few streets for a few minutes one evening a month. Bikes have to wait on cars the rest of the time – have to give way to the hurtling metal… I guess taking over for this short time isn’t too bad. Plus, car drivers should learn a little patience – it will make their life a little more pleasant.

critical_mass4

critical_mass3

After turning into the Exposition Park Neighborhood we moved through part of Fair Park and then turned north into East Dallas. I had no idea where we were until we suddenly jumped up onto the Santa Fe bike trail. This pulled the line way out and it was dark by now – looking ahead at the long line of led-lit bicycles working their way along the narrow strip of concrete was quite a sight.

Unfortunately, there was a bad accident near White Rock Lake – apparently (I didn’t see it) a woman coming the other way without lights collided with some riders while they moved to the left to pass. The entire group stopped, and then moved off into The Lot so that the emergency crews could get in.

After a while, the ride moved off, but a bunch (including me) decided to stay at The Lot. There was food, music, and good beer.

I still needed to get home, so I decided to ride to the DART Station at the north end of White Rock Lake, about five miles away. Another rider offered to ride with me so we took off. The trail around the lake is usually so busy that I have been avoiding it – but at eleven or so at night it was deserted. Our lights were good enough to see without any problems and some summer thunderstorms (all missing Dallas) had coursed through the area and cooled the air… it was really fun riding.

I enjoyed it enough that when I reached the train station I kept going. I wanted to get up to the Forest Lane Station, about another five miles, so I could catch the Red train and get home without a transfer. I am very familiar with this stretch of trail during the day and it was a blast to ride it in the pitch dark (it’s through creek-bottom woodlands and there are no lights whatsoever).

The only difficulty was a stretch of the Cottonwood Trail just south of the train station had a collection of homeless people sleeping on the trail and I had to be very careful not to run somebody over. That would be very painful for everyone.

I caught a train at Forest and when I boarded the car I found a couple of other riders that were also on the way home from Critical Mass. Sort of cool to be talking bikes on a train scooting through the city in the middle of the night.

The last few late night miles home from the train station were fun too – no traffic and a cool breeze. I think I might try some midnight rides here in the Texas Summer – find a route free of cars and obstacles – especially people sleeping in the way.

Two Rides – Forney plus Dazed and Confused

Posted on by Bill Chance

As always, I slept later than I wanted to and had to hurry a bit. I loaded my bike into the Matrix and drove to Forney, Texas for a bike ride.

Across the Metroplex cities and neighborhoods are establishing “Bike Friendly” groups. Where I live is Bike Friendly Richardson… one of the most progressive and active groups is Bike Friendly Oak Cliff… I’ve done a ride with Bike Friendly Cedars – and so on. These groups serve as advocates for the cycling communities within their areas – plus organize rides and other events.

Today was the inaugural rode for a relatively new group, Bike Friendly Forney. We met up at a nice little local Catfish/Cajun/Creole joint – Doe Bellies – and rode out around a local route.

Summer is here and the temperature is hovering up around the century mark. That’s not really too bad for a bike ride – you do create your own breeze.

Back at the restaurant, I had an excellent Shrimp Po-Boy. I hate to think how many miles of bike riding it takes to burn off the calories in a Po-Boy – but still….

The start of the Bike Friendly Forney Ride

The start of the Bike Friendly Forney Ride

Bikes waiting for Catfish.

Bikes waiting for Catfish.

I drove back home and installed my riding lights on my Technium (my commuter bike has a broken chain and I haven’t bothered to work on it yet). I had another bike ride to do in the evening.

Candy was going to a concert, so we grabbed a quick beer at Haystack Burgers – one of the rapidly growing number of establishments that serve a good selection of local craft brews (I had an El Chingon IPA from Four Corners). I stashed a folding chair in my car and parked it behind a Buddhist Temple – then rode a couple miles north to a taco joint where another local group would be meeting for the ride back south to a free showing of Dazed and Confused.

There is a well-known Austin-based chain of movie theaters, Alamo Drafthouse, that is building a new theater in Richardson at Beltline and 75. It’s pretty much finished and will open in August. To stir up excitement they are showing some free movies on a giant inflatable screen in the parking lot. The Alamo has a truck that contains some powerful ancient projectors they can wheel around for these events.

Back at the taco spot, I was an hour early and settled in to write a bit. Folks with bikes started to show up and after a while, right before I was going to walk over there by myself, they invited me over. We chatted it up a bit and then rode the short, interesting route back down to Beltline.

I stopped at my car and strapped the folding chair across my chest, bandoleer-fashion. It was spectacularly uncomfortable and stupid-looking, but it worked. I am going to have to figure out a better way to carry a folding chair on a bike.

Crowd in the parking lot of the Alamo Drafthouse, waiting for Dazed and Confused

Crowd in the parking lot of the Alamo Drafthouse, waiting for Dazed and Confused

Classic colorful street bombers at the movie.

Classic colorful street bombers at the movie.

There was a huge crowd for the movie. I had thought of getting something to eat and maybe another beer, but the lines were too intimidating, so I sat down, settled in, and watched the film. I had never actually seen all of Dazed and Confused all the way through – though of course I had heard of it. If you aren’t familiar with it, Dazed and Confused is a little comedy set in a small Texas town on the last day of high school in 1976 that has become an iconic touchstone for a generation.

I’m familiar with the times (I graduated in ’74) – though my high school experiences were much, much different than those in the film. What’s cool about the movie is the number of show-biz careers that started out in this little film – Linklater, Ben Affleck, Joey Lauren Adams, Milla Jovovich, Rory Cochrane, Adam Goldberg, Parker Posey, Matthew McConaughey… and more. Even Renée Zellweger was an uncredited extra – “Girl in Blue Pickup”. I’m afraid Dazed and Confused doesn’t hold together very well as a complete work of art – there’s no plot at all – but it has a lot of classic, fun set pieces, killer soundtrack, and has its time and place nailed exactly.

Renée Zellweger as an extra in Dazed and Confused.

Renée Zellweger as an extra in Dazed and Confused.

And, of course, the classic Matthew McConaughey line – “That’s what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age.”

“Yes they do.” “Yes they do.”

Coloratura

Posted on by Bill Chance
Renée Fleming in the finale of Armida at the Met.

Renée Fleming in the finale of Armida at the Met.

There are few things in life as much fun as falling down a rabbit hole.

Ever since Candy and I went to see Turandot at the Death Star I have been fascinated by the world of Opera and have been learning about it – if only a little bit at a time.

The only problem is that Opera is an expensive rabbit hole and I am broker than broke right now. But there are ways, there are always ways – to be cheap and to find stuff for free. One way to reduce the cost of Opera is to not see it live, but to find simulcast productions. The Met has a series of HD broadcasts and, right now, they are replaying old ones. I was able to score free tickets to a broadcast of Carmen a couple weeks ago, and really enjoyed it.

Before Carmen, they showed previews of upcoming broadcasts and I made note of the wild finale of Rossini’s Armida. Wednesday, after work, even though I was exhausted, I drove up into Plano to watch the repeat broadcast of the opera on a big HD screen at a movie theater there.

The Met’s production, with Renée Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee didn’t get very good reviews (from a Blog, from the New York Times) but it was more than entertaining for my uneducated ears. I especially enjoyed the ballet in the second movement (even with the odd tutu-wearing demons)… maybe that’s another rabbit hole. I enjoyed the singing more than I expected. I even enjoyed the hokey representation of the characters of Love (a young girl) and Vengeance (who looked like he might have been in Metallica) – battling over Armida’s soul.

I did some research into Rossini and Armida, learning that it is a late example of Bel Canto – a term I had heard but never understood before. The florid singing, the coloratura, is what most people, the unwashed masses, make fun of when they think of Opera – but in context it is beautiful and expressive.

I studied the story of Armida and Rinaldo. It’s a classic tale and the basis of many operas and paintings. The bare story of the opera is simple and melodramatic, but there are a few dimensions that I found fascinating. Armida is the classic story of a powerful woman brought down by love, and then jilted. But unlike, say Dido, she is not ultimately defeated. She does not kill herself. Struggling at the end between Love and Vengeance – she chooses the latter.

Rinaldo and Armida, by Francesco Hayez

Rinaldo and Armida, by Francesco Hayez

Slowly I build my knowledge and my repertoire. Oh, and I did buy tickets to the Dallas Opera’s live version of Carmen at the Winspear Opera House in October (the matinee performance on the 27th). The tickets are nosebleed –but I’m excited about actually going to see it live. There will be another broadcast performance on the 25th – in Klyde Warren Park, and I plan on going to see that too.

Doing the research on the styles and history of opera brought back one memory from the spiderwebby recesses in my mind. Prior to, say, 1800, the most prized voices were of the Castrado. In seventh grade (or so) I took a fairly serious (for seventh grade) class in music theory. I still remember studying Jazz and the Blues and having the teacher playing instruments behind our backs and having us figure out what they were (the sound difference between a trumpet and a cornet is hard, but can be done).

We did study a little bit about Opera and its history. The teacher mentioned the Castrado. But she said, and I still remember her exact words, “They had a special operation on their… uhh… throat when they were children that caused them to have high voices. They don’t do that anymore.”

Yeah, right. On their throats. I guess she didn’t have much choice other than to lie to us – those were more innocent times. It didn’t sound right to me, though. Something was wrong, and that’s why, I suppose, I remember her saying that to this day. I knew enough to suspect what the word Castrato meant.

But I couldn’t believe it. She had said “Throat” and that made some sense. Surely, I thought at the time, nobody would cut their kids’ balls off simply to make them sing higher for the rest of their life.

That was too horrible to comprehend.

I didn’t know.

Loving Oil and Gas

Posted on by Bill Chance

Somewhere near Fair Park… Dallas, Texas

“The American Dream has run out of gas. The car has stopped. It no longer supplies the world with its images, its dreams, its fantasies. No more. It’s over. It supplies the world with its nightmares now: the Kennedy assassination, Watergate, Vietnam…”
― J.G. Ballard

Loving Oil and Gas, Dallas, Texas

Loving Oil and Gas, Dallas, Texas

Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims
And strap your hands across my engines
—-Bruce Springsteen, Born To Run

We sat in the car
& the night dropped
down until the
only sounds were
the crickets &
the dance of our voices

& for a moment
the world became
small enough to
roll back & forth
between us.”
― Brian Andreas, Hearing Voices – Collected Stories & Drawings

“I come to a red light, tempted to go through it, then stop once I see a billboard sign that I don’t remember seeing and I look up at it. All it says is ‘Disappear Here’ and even though it’s probably an ad for some resort, it still freaks me out a little and I step on the gas really hard and the car screeches as I leave the light.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

“[And there was the matter of Dick Turpin. It looked like the same car, except that forever afterwards it seemed able to do 250 miles on a gallon of petrol, ran so quietly that you practically had to put your mouth over the exhaust pipe to see if the engine was firing , and issued its voice-synthesized warnings in a series of exquisite and perfectly-phrased haikus, each one original and apt…
Late frost burns the bloom
Would a fool not let the belt
Restrain the body?
…it would say. And,
The cherry blossom
Tumbles from the highest tree
One needs more petrol]”
― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

Solar Impulse

Posted on by Bill Chance

I had a very busy day planned for today – work in the morning, appointments in Richardson at two, Frisco at three, and Plano at six. Still, there was a gap in there and I found out that there was a chance to go see the Solar Impulse out at DFW Airport before it flies to St. Louis.

Solar Impulse is a Swiss solar-powered aircraft, now on a tour of the US. I had eagerly watched it on the news as it flew from San Francisco to Phoenix and then on to Dallas/Forth Worth. I really wanted to see it in the air, but that requires timing and time I don’t possess, so I had to settle for a visit to the hanger.

I carefully plotted my driving around the city and arrived at the airport early. We took a shuttle bus from the designated parking area to a large temporary hanger where the aircraft was displayed.

Even grounded inside a tent-like hanger it was an amazing sight. It is a huge monster of an aircraft, especially when you consider it only holds one person. With its incredible wingspan and delicate construction it has a look of gentle grace and efficiency that is obvious even when it isn’t moving. I wandered among the onlookers, snapping photos, talking to the crew that was hanging around, and then simply looking, trying to soak up as much of the uniqueness and innovative spirit that I could.

It is something that, under idea conditions, can fly forever – charging its batteries by day. It’s only limits are the weather conditions and how long the pilot can go without sleep. There is no beauty more sublime and powerful than that of something that works so well and so perfectly.

I’m wondering when it will be able to leave. Obviously, it requires still air conditions to take off and the southern gale force winds that have been rocking the area show no signs of abating. It was a strange contrast – the delicate plane, resting peacefully, while a constant howling and snapping din slammed around it – caused by the terrific wind whipping the fabric of the temporary hanger into a frenzy. The sound was so loud that it almost drowned out the thundering roar of the jets taking off from the runway next to the hanger.

Solar Impulse

Solar Impulse

Solar Impulse

Solar Impulse

Little guy hanging out in the cockpit of the Solar Impulse

Little guy hanging out in the cockpit of the Solar Impulse

Demonstrating the construction techniques of the Solar Impulse

Demonstrating the construction techniques of the Solar Impulse

It's impossible to photograph and difficult to describe how long and slender that wing is.

It’s impossible to photograph and difficult to describe how long and slender that wing is.

The Best Backyard

Posted on by Bill Chance

Trammel and Abrams, East Dallas

Big Boy in a Dallas Backyard

Big Boy in a Dallas Backyard

The statue was in the front yard, until the man made him move
Kip’s Big Boy Statue Gone From Abrams Road Lawn, Thanks to City Code Enforcers
…now he’s in the back yard, but sort of visible from the road.

Still, what a great backyard – imagine the picnics you could have with the Big Boy looking over your spread. You would be the coolest dude in the ‘hood.

I have such great memories of sitting around a table in a Kip’s Big Boy (or Shoney’s Big Boy, or Bob’s Big Boy – depending on the state I was living in) late at night… or early in the morning. Sitting around eating some greasy food, tired, talking – especially with people I knew really well, or people I had just met… or best of all, a mixture of both.

Where did the waitresses working in Big Boys at three in the morning come from? They were all the same – middle aged, rode hard and put up wet, brutally efficient. They were their own breed. Imagine the stories they could tell.

Late Night breakfast after three at a Big Boy, or any cheap diner in any town – that is an existence in an entirely separate dimension from the real world. As long as everyone at the table can cough up enough to cover the check – it’s impossible to imagine any troubles from the other hours of the day or the other places in your life being bad enough to intrude on that calm tired orgy of comfort food.

What I learned this week, May 24, 2013

Posted on by Bill Chance

Readers’ Poll: The Ten Worst Bands of the Nineties

No surprises at the top: Creed is the worst, then Nickleback, then Limp Bizkit, and then Hanson.

The fifth worst band (remember, this is a reader’s poll) is a bit of a shocker, though.

The Ultimate Spaceship Face-off
A highly speculative search for the fastest ship in science fiction.

What is the fastest? Enterprise, Milennium Falcon, TARDIS, Planet Express Ship, The Heart of Gold, Jupiter 2, Serenity, Battlestar Galactica, or Voyager I? I’m semi-ashamed to say I know all of these ships.

Incredible Reading Rooms Around the World

Take a Look Inside a Tiny Nuclear Reactor

What the State Birds Should Be

Seven cardinals but no hawks? Come on!

The 50 Albums Everyone Needs to Own, 1963-2013

5 Great Books to Read This Summer

I’ve read three of these… have to look for the other two.

Two Years and a Ride to Denton

Posted on by Bill Chance

I’ve now had this WordPress blog up for two years. I jumped in after a friend of mine, Peggy, started hers.

Of course, I’ve done this before… As best as I can tell, back in the 1990s I was somewhere around the thirteenth blogger on the internet – though this was years before the term “blog” was coined. We called them “online journals” or a “digital diary.” I started writing web pages using notepad and posting them in the five megabytes or so that America Online used to give you. I outgrew that and bought a URL and some web space (from what turned out to be the world’s worst online service provider). For well over a decade I wrote something every day. I had to quit when my kids reached high school and too many people I knew in “real life” started reading the thing. Actually, I didn’t quit – I simply went to paper.

Now, this time around… it’s completely different. I don’t write as much in it (my writing addiction is mostly served by fiction now) and do too much photography. But it is what it is.
Two Years
773 posts
2,667 comments
Days missed – none.

At any rate…

A few weeks ago, Candy and I went up to Denton for the Arts and Jazz festival. The last time we went, a couple years ago, it was way too crowded and we had a tough time parking… so this time, we decided to go earlier and to ride the Denton County Transit Authority A-Train up to Denton. This was a great idea – the train ride was fun and the festival was cool – we headed back before the crowds really began to build.

Denton is a cool city. To a big extent, it is a college town, almost like Austin-lite. I enjoyed the pedestrian and bike-friendly areas around the town square and decided I wanted to go back there with my bicycle.

Looking at Google Maps, I noticed the telltale green line that represented a hike-bike trail that ran from Lake Dallas through Corinth up to Denton – a little more than eight miles. It paralleled the A-Train tracks and I was able to get a good look at it from the train windows. It’s called the Denton Katy Trail – and it looked like a nice bike ride.

So, one Sunday that promised nice weather (and light winds) I decided to pack my camera, drive to Lake Dallas with my road bike and head up the trail to Denton. There, I would wander around a bit, take some photos, and then ride back down.

The start of the Denton Katy trail off of Swisher Road, in Lake Dallas.

The start of the Denton Katy trail off of Swisher Road, in Lake Dallas.

The trail was nice – really nice. There is a great feeling of booking along fresh, smooth, level concrete. Not very many people using it – a few walkers from the suburban neighborhoods… I only saw one or two other bicycles. Still, it was fun and an enjoyable ride. Until…

The trail ended.

The sudden end of the Denton Katy Trail

The sudden end of the Denton Katy Trail

Along the south side of Denton is a loop expressway, the 288 and the trail stopped there. They are building a big new pedestrian bridge over the expressway, and it looks finished… but isn’t.

Now, I know that the bridge is expensive and is being built with the best of intentions. That highway is a barrier – though not an insurmountable one. They do have several intersections with lights – you can cross easily if you wait for a green. Once the bridge is finished, bicyclists and walkers can bypass the highway, walking up and over.

The pedestrian/bicycle bridge over 288 in Denton. It will be nice when it is finished.

The pedestrian/bicycle bridge over 288 in Denton. It will be nice when it is finished.

And that’s the problem. In separating the bike/pedestrians from the city, you make the trail into a recreational opportunity and take away the integration of human-powered transportation with the life of the city.

Presented with the closed trail, I considered turning around and heading back, but I wanted to get to downtown Denton. I walked my bike through a bit of thick woods lined with empty wine bottles and found myself in back of a huge Big-Box store of some kind. That area all along 288 is a massive expanse of auto-oriented shopping hell, with every chain store imaginable. No sidewalks, no way through, acres and acres of tarmac covered with clouds of exhaust fumes. Not a fun place to fight through on a bicycle.

This is what I am talking about. They can spend millions on a bridge to bypass the life below, but can't finish the sidewalks. Areas like this are openly hostile to people without cars.

This is what I am talking about. They can spend millions on a bridge to bypass the life below, but can’t finish the sidewalks. Areas like this are openly hostile to people without cars.

The ironic thing is that there were other people trying to walk through there. You would never see them from a car – but they are there… homeless people, young teenagers, poor students – the shadow population, carless by choice or by situation.

Again, I salute the money and effort put into the trail and that impressive bridge, but fear that the people behind this effort don’t understand the idea of making a city where you don’t have to have a car. I don’t think they can even imagine such a thing.

I was able to work my way through the maze of parking lots and fight past the thick streams of tinted-window SUVs and pickups to finally make my way into the old-fashioned heart of Denton… the area around the square and the roads leading out to the universities. There the cars, walkers, and bikes live together, moving a little more slowly, but getting where they need in plenty of time. It’s funny, the part of the city with the most modern, hip lifestyle… the part that everyone is spending millions of dollars trying to emulate… is the oldest, most “outdated” style of a city square surrounded by narrow streets with limited parking.

That’s the part I like.