“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”
― Immaturity
Huffhines Creek, Richardson, Texas
I live in the Duck Creek neighborhood – near the confluence of Huffhines and Duck Creek. The sure sign of spring are the clutches of baby ducks waddling along with their parents. There are a lot of them – it’s a dangerous world to be a duck.
Light the candle
Put the lock upon the door
You have sent the maid home early
Like a thousand times before
Like the castle in its corner
In a medieval game
I foresee terrible trouble
And I stay here just the same—-Steely Dan, Dirty Work
Singers for Naked Lunch, a Steely Dan cover band, at Lee Harvey’s, Dallas, Texas
Time flies – it was six years ago that I wrote about Naked Lunch – the Steely Dan Cover Band at Lee Harvey’s. We saw them a time or too there after that, but the last time, two years ago, they said they couldn’t play at Lee Harvey’s anymore. They simply didn’t make enough money to pay all those musicians (it takes about a dozen to do Steely Dan justice).
But, wonder of wonders, they are back. Lee Harvey’s never used to charge a cover, but now, sometimes, they do. It was only ten bucks to see greatness, so we went. As always Naked Lunch sounds more like Steely Dan than Steely Dan does. Awesome.
One man’s wildflowers are another man’s weeds.
—-Antonio Vitalis, From Hell’s Heart I Stab At Thee
Wildflowers, Huffhines Park, Richardson, Texas
The City allows patches, often in vegetated medians or along the borders of parks, to grow unattended, unmowed, into patches of wildflowers. I stopped along one such patch on my bike ride and took a few photos. Mostly the ubiquitous Texas Bluebonnets, but also other, similar, wildflowers of various colors. On this patch there was a singular clump of these which stood out and above the others. I have no idea what these are (Black Eye’d Susans?) but they drew the eye. And the camera.
Yesterday, I wrote about riding my bike and drinking coffee. I really like my little thermos that I bought years ago at a gift shop called Plum (now sadly gone) off Magazine Street in New Orleans. It is small and has a cool leather wrap printed with graphics inspired by The Shining.
It’s pretty cool and keeps the coffee pretty hot.
My coffee thermos.
“Even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all.”
―
My Xootr Swift Folding Bike, Huffhines Park, Richardson, Texas
I had a tough winter – my allergies, despite my best efforts, knocked me out. The worst part of it was I have not been able to ride my bike as much as I wanted to and have lost a lot of fitness. So now I’m working on the long road back.
One thing that I have found is that I especially enjoy riding my bike if I have a destination. It’s no good to always be riding to a store or a restaurant or a brewery… so sometimes I create my own destination. For the three day holiday weekend I decided to get up as early as I can (which is not always particularly early), pack up what I need, and then ride out to some spot where I can stop for coffee, breakfast, read my Kindle, and maybe write a bit. I decided to ride my Xootr Swift folding bike – it is perfect for short rides.
I didn’t plan on riding very far, maybe five miles or so around the ‘hood, the weather is already getting hot, the wind hard from the south – but otherwise it was a beautiful day.
The only problem with this plan is the amount of stuff that I have to put together for such a simple thing.
And it goes on and on. It took a long time to get everything ready… too long… and I forgot some things. So now, I make a checklist, make a pack with what I can put some stuff together ahead of time. The best part, though, is to plan where I’m going tomorrow morning.
Stuff on a picnic table in Huffhines Park, Richardson Texas.
“I see a red door and I want it painted black.”
―
Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I’m frightened by those who don’t see it—-The Avett Brothers, Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise
at DFW Airport
“Philosophy [nature] is written in that great book which ever is before our eyes — I mean the universe — but we cannot understand it if we do not first learn the language and grasp the symbols in which it is written. The book is written in mathematical language, and the symbols are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without whose help it is impossible to comprehend a single word of it; without which one wanders in vain through a dark labyrinth.”
―
Richardson, Texas
He’s an exile from Nicaragua. He’s a ruffian of course and a bandit, but not a bad fellow.
—–The Man With the Scar, Somerset Maugham
The land of lakes, volcanoes, and sun. A painting I bought on my last trip to Nicaragua.
Every now and then I like to share a short story that is readable online. I used to do this a month at a time every couple years ( 2013, Day One 2015, Day One 2017) and may yet this year – but for now… here’s one.
Today’s story is The Man With the Scar. You can read a PDF of it here.
I was cleaning out the files on a laptop when I stumbled across a PDF entitled The Man With the Scar. It was a short story by Somerset Maugham. Obviously, I had read it before and downloaded it, but I didn’t really remember it. I re-read it and then searched my archives to see if I had written about it before. It was mentioned here – in a review of another Somerset Maugham short story. I had forgotten how much I loved his short stories. I had read the thing in a lending library at a park downtown – Klyde Warren – the park build over a freeway.
Woodall Rogers Freeway, from Klyde Warren Park, Dallas, Texas
But I had never linked to the story itself.
Which is a shame, it’s a little piece of greatness. What a horrible tale told in such high-falutin’ language. It encapsulates the insane evil that springs forth when human life is held in such little regard.
Is the Man With the Scar a hero or a villain? An evil man… maybe, or an ordinary man caught in a hopeless farrago of wickedness. He does at least take a stand… but it is such a depraved stance. He realizes that beauty has no place in his world – no place for mercy or for sacrifice.
I guess our only reaction to a story like this is to rejoice we don’t live in the same place as these characters do… or to maybe at least hope we don’t.
So has everybody. Shit happens. Get the whiskey.
—-Bad Times at the El Royale
Bad Times at the El Royale
There is nothing better to make the time go by on an airplane than watching a movie on the little screen on the headrest of the seat in front of you. It’s even better than reading – I have trouble reading on the airplane – there are too many interruptions and I can’t really read when I’m that uncomfortable.
On the way out to Boston, all I wanted to do was sleep – so I chose Aquaman. That did the trick, I kept nodding off.
But on the way back I put a little more thought into it. There were some excellent movies to choose from – some I had wanted to see. But I didn’t really want to see those on the little tiny screen with the wonky headphone jack that I had to push on the wire a certain way to get the sound.
I wanted something that wasn’t bad… but wasn’t too good. Something entertaining without having to think too much.
I chose Bad Times at the El Royale.
I chose well.
I remember when that movie came out – it looked very interesting – and was surprised at its lack of box office. It came and went in a flash without leaving much of a trace. Sometimes these can be hidden gens when they make it to streaming. Bad Times at the El Royale isn’t a gem, not by a long shot, but it is an enjoyable way to kill a few miles between La Guardia and DFW.
It’s one of those retro, noir-y thrillers with a simple story made complex by careful manipulation of point-of-view, time-shifting, and vital information not made available to the audience until the proper amount of confusion is generated. There are twists and turns a-plenty and plenty of unexpected, sudden violence. The good guys aren’t going to win in the end because there aren’t really any good guys (well, maybe one). There are listening devices, hidden corridors with one-way mirrors and a big bag of cash hidden in a most clever way.
It all takes place in the El Royale, an almost bankrupt fleabag hotel/motel located right on the border between two states – you can choose a room in the Nevada wing or the California. A cast of misfits check in and are ultimately faced with a fatal game of roulette with the most handsome Manson-like cult leader of all time (a very buff Chris Hemsworth). I read that Matthew McConaughey was originally going to play that part – that might have catapulted the film into greatness.
As it is, greatness isn’t catapulted into – but it is a fun bit of diversion. Especially for someone trapped in a crowded metal tube hurtling along at unimaginable speed thousands of feet in the air.
Bill Chance 