far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Saturday, September 07, 2002

Can you believe how I went on about coal in that last entry? Must not be enough going on in this little life of mine.

It's 11:30 on a classically beautiful September morning. The first Saturday a.m. of September 2002. I've been up since just after seven working around the house. When I pulled myself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, the temperature outside stood at 40 degrees. Since then it has eased itself confidently up to 76 and continues climbing. There's been little rain in recent weeks, so the ground is dry, the grass sparse in spots, but the insects that carry on their lives in the grass and bushes are in full voice, singing twenty-four hours a day. Clothes hang on the line that stretches from the barn to the utility pole out in the yard, billowing slightly in the occasional breeze.

Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me plays on the radio in the living room, a show that just seems to get funnier with the passing weeks (either that or I'm getting much easier to please). Radio: one of the few things about life in the States that I missed during my time in Madrid -- specifically, a few NPR shows (WWDTM, Car Talk, Only A Game, Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz, now and then A Prairie Home Companion or Fresh Air), along with the general output of a few college stations from the Boston area. Humor, a wide range of music, no commercials. Not that Madrid lacks radio. On the contrary, cruise the dial there, you'll find a loud, lively overabundance of music, etc., but only a few outlets held my interest – one unpredictable college station right down at the bottom of the dial; Radio 3 (a government station playing a broad, progressive spectrum of music); Radio 5 (a government all-news station, great for language practice); an eccentric, wide-ranging station at 100.4 FM, owned and run by El Circulo de Bellas Artes, an arts organization which owns a large, beautiful building in the center of the city. That edifice houses one of the most beautiful cafés I've ever seen, much less spent time in, a large, sweeping space with high ceilings and high windows looking out on la Calle de Alcalá, right where Gran Vía branches off and stretches away toward Callao and La Plaza de España. Lots of motion and activity passing by, loads to watch.

There is also -– one last Madrid radio note -– a strange station that calls itself Radio Olé, whose programming consists of a bizarre mix of fascinating, flamenco-based Spanish music and treacly, sentimental Spanish pop warblings (heavy on the syrupy violins). I've never heard anything quite like it.

In a short while, I'm going to be stuffing my bike into the back of my car and heading off to do some back-country riding on a long dirt trail that cuts through miles of largely untraveled country, about fifteen minutes from here. The trail used to be the bed of a local branch railroad which went out of service 40 or 50 years back. At some point the tracks were pulled up, the bed began a new life as a back-country track, a route now used by bicyclists, folks out for an easy hike, and the occasional car, truck or ATV. Easy passage through some truly beautiful, mostly empty country, beginning in the town of Marshfield and stretching away for miles and miles, through the Groton State Forest, just down from a small mountain called Owl's Head. This will be second attempt to give my bicycling muscles some exercise in the last week, the first attempt having been foiled by what I'll call technical difficulties, meaning I loaded the bike into the car with the lock still on the front wheel but neglected to bring the key. (Bugger.)

I went riding at this same spot one weekend in May a couple of years back when friends (Steve & Naomi) were up for a weekend. Steve drove us there, our bikes standing at attention on his rooftop rack. We parked by a teeny hunting shack in as beautiful and green a location as you could ask for. After an hour or two of biking fun, we returned to the car, began loading the bikes back up on the rack, at which time clouds of ravenous mosquitoes and blackflies began an assault of such intensity that I finally stopped helping with the racking work to take on the role of arm-flailing bug killer as S&N attempted to finish with the bikes. My bug-slapping frenzy had little effect on the overall blood loss, and the drive home featured continued bug slaughter as numerous winged plasma-sippers managed to find their way into the car before we took off. One more nice thing about bike riding: you're generally moving too quickly to become fast food for the insect world.

But enough blabber.

Later.

rws 1:52 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

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MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

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ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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