http://www.barackathon.com/
http://www.joestrummer.com/
http://www.thelovedonesband.com/
http://www.carversite.com/
http://www.bruce-campbell.com/
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Fales
A group of folks stayed out at these fales for an evening a few months back. It was a great time.
Wyland's Addition to the EOB
This is from that famous whale painting guy and it adornes the side of the Executive Office Building here in Pago Pago (where I work). He actually had his name legally changed to Wyland. How about that?
Falls
These falls are only about 1/2 mile behind my home in Nu'uuli. Very cool and refreshing water to swim in.
Lou (rescued pup)
(Editor's Note - What follows is a narrative accompanying the initial communique of the heroic rescue of the dog depicted in the adjacent image.) This is an image of a small puppy that I snatched from the jaws of Doom Wednesday; a story of such legendary implications involving an old car battery and 1937 stock 8 inch ceramic drainiage pipe that there is simply insufficient time here to get into it. We've taken a shine to each other, likely to the detriment of all involved, and the lad has been staying at my tropical compound for the past few days. I have yet to arrive at a suitable name: although several have been tried, none of which are fitting. (Editor's Note 2 - Dog's name has been assigned as Lou, dog is available for immediatie adoption.)
Nu'uuli Calling, This is Nu'uuli Calling
Ok, alright. The long awaited circulation of this blog is nigh. I am not going to, hopefully not, pontificate too much on my observations of the poor diet enjoyed by the native islanders here, having had a rather poor diet myself for several years, nor will I endeavor to comment on the grim treachery that marks the politics and day to day ops here in almost all facets of life public and private having seen much the same in episodic if not pervasive fashion in any State I have had the pleasure to call home from time to time. No, I will try and keep this forum for my attempts to reflect upon the things that matter to me at the moment, at least, those being this place, the sky, land, people and any other thing that strikes me as post-worthy from the catalogue of writing I am putting together here, most of it painful, ludicrous, atrocious and awe inspiring in its dearth of merit. I hope you will visit from time to time and let me know what you think. Your partner in misguided exploits, T.
Winter Rains
The road was awash in brownish clay after several days of heavy rains. The trade winds had died down some and the humidity collected on us and drenched us. The diesel fumes from the container trucks were heavy in this thick winter air. Dogs barked in the distance but the roosters did not crow. It was the end of another day in paradise. Up the road the stream ran loud ran strong after the rains had settled up in the distance some time ago but there is a lot of land to drain. We live in the valley between two high peaks of volcanic rock and a thin layer of top soil covered every inch by greenery. Its through this same valley that the waters flow rapidly back to the sea, to the pacific sea perhaps only a few feet below our home in elevation.
(c) TPF 2008
(c) TPF 2008
A mid-december note
Goodbye, Tuckler’s Notch.
The old place will be missed. Gone but not forgotten. Tall pines, maples and the like surrounding, seven acres as far as one could see. And off in the distance the loud pound of rapids running at night when the old route quieted some and stars could be seen and people could not be heard but the wind could be heard and the leaves rustling in it and the river flowing over it and the rapids flailing beyond it where that young girl jumped into it, only a little over a year and half ago. What could’ve been so bad anyway? Whatever it was I shall never know for she is gone, gone like the wind I once knew and the water I once drank and those stars. Stars changed in for a new sky and she must’ve fought some but it did her no good. She walked three miles to get there to get to where she knew she had to go. To that same water, the same sound of the water, that metallic water rushing over leaves, over the fallen branches as it made its way to the sea with all deliberate speed. She went in not far from there down a long road winding along the river where we once lived together. We, letting the dog out drinking our coffee rushing off to work while only 1000 yards away she stood at the end of the rail and the end of time and bid us farewell electing that which we cannot have, but is always with us. She returned someplace we spend so much time avoiding.
The river soon froze but the girl remained unfound. The search was suspended until spring, the final spring we’d spend together the final spring in that home our home and the final summer upcoming to swim in our river there. Soon after the waters thawed and the cooler waters and warming surface waters commingled and the upwelling occurred and the leaves and branches came bubbling up to the surface suspended from the freezing, came rising up a young girl, no more than 16. sweet 16 and she bubbled up with the six month muck, after pleas had been sent far and near for her to please call home to please let someone know she was safe but she wasn’t.
(c) TPF, 2008
The old place will be missed. Gone but not forgotten. Tall pines, maples and the like surrounding, seven acres as far as one could see. And off in the distance the loud pound of rapids running at night when the old route quieted some and stars could be seen and people could not be heard but the wind could be heard and the leaves rustling in it and the river flowing over it and the rapids flailing beyond it where that young girl jumped into it, only a little over a year and half ago. What could’ve been so bad anyway? Whatever it was I shall never know for she is gone, gone like the wind I once knew and the water I once drank and those stars. Stars changed in for a new sky and she must’ve fought some but it did her no good. She walked three miles to get there to get to where she knew she had to go. To that same water, the same sound of the water, that metallic water rushing over leaves, over the fallen branches as it made its way to the sea with all deliberate speed. She went in not far from there down a long road winding along the river where we once lived together. We, letting the dog out drinking our coffee rushing off to work while only 1000 yards away she stood at the end of the rail and the end of time and bid us farewell electing that which we cannot have, but is always with us. She returned someplace we spend so much time avoiding.
The river soon froze but the girl remained unfound. The search was suspended until spring, the final spring we’d spend together the final spring in that home our home and the final summer upcoming to swim in our river there. Soon after the waters thawed and the cooler waters and warming surface waters commingled and the upwelling occurred and the leaves and branches came bubbling up to the surface suspended from the freezing, came rising up a young girl, no more than 16. sweet 16 and she bubbled up with the six month muck, after pleas had been sent far and near for her to please call home to please let someone know she was safe but she wasn’t.
(c) TPF, 2008
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