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Beanfield Hank
She'll treat me fairer then me darlin sportin Jenny -- Gilgarry Mountain
Learned to fly a C-170 out of his daddy's Indiana bean field when JFK was president. One spring dad mounted spray equipment on Jenny and saved days of disking for weeds. Rachel Carson's book was troubling... but the fuel savings alone were worth it. Hank couldn't stop talking about it. The guys in boot camp called him Beanie. And it stuck. The L-19 was a fucking death trap and everybody knew it. Slower than a loach... and much easier to hit. Artillery spotter. Right. Nobody wanted that fucking job. Except Beanfield Hank. Jenny was an officers' toy anyway. Warrant Officer Hess was almost an officer. Beanie was just a taxi driver for Major Pratt. But the guys always smiled when they "saluted" Beanie and called him "sir."
yep it is. sorta. heard a story from a chopper pilot who saw civil war ghosts in Vietnam. they threw a bunch of dead and wounded in back of the Huey and when they got airborne the rear deck was awash with blood. that's when he saw them. they were Union... he could tell by their uniforms. and they were NOT happy campers. When the pilot got back all the motherfuckers in the back were dead. He never told anybody about the ghosts. Until now that he's too old and feeble to fly. Hanger talk. Pilots are superstitious. yeah we are.
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Industry figures and scientists claim pesticide use and GMOs are necessary in ‘modern agriculture’. But this is not the case: there is now sufficient evidence to suggest otherwise. It is simply not necessary to have our bodies contaminated with toxic agrochemicals, regardless of how much global agribusiness firms try to reassure us that they are present in ‘safe’ levels.
Art thread? You betcha. Because we should living life like performance art. Because it is. And it's high time (cannabis) we joined in the dance:
March 10-13: Hundreds of small farmers, ecologists, gardeners, and naturalists converge on Weelaunee People’s Park to convene a Food Autonomy Festival; the majority of them camp in the forest. Throughout the weekend, presentations and discussions take place in the Living Room and parking lot area. Hundreds of fruit-bearing plants and trees are planted in the area.
Been househunting in northwestern North Carolina/southwestern Virginia. Fairly recently Christmas Tree farms have become the major industry there. Farmers get double in rent for the trees that they would get by farming crops for food. The tree farms spray insecticide - if neighbors are lucky the plot is small enough that the corporation sends out Mexican laborers with little protection to walk the fields with backpack sprayers - but where the fields are more contiguous they send out the crop dusters with all the uncontrolled drift....forget about our idea to have a small, sustenance organic plot if we ended up near one of those. And, if it is upstream from our water supply....
All for a seasonal decoration that will be thrown away in less than a month...
When I got kicked out of SLC it was either Duckburg or Durham NC. I tried hard for Durham- but couldn't raise no peeps in the time I had left... so it was Duckburg by default. Front row at the freak show. Wow.
Still got to see the place where the civil war ended. For a while. I guess.
https://waldopaper.wordpress.com/2023/11/24/draft-dodge-city/
Doing better in a healthier environment off the reservation
My most recent art project is paulyrhythms (yes, an annoying pun) an exploration of polyrhythms created by layering various tracks on Garage Band. I'm enjoying exploring different sounds and words and the unexpected and quite complex resultant rhythms that arise. I've also been discovering the power of chance derived erasures to create unexpected juxtapositions and context as well as imposing a rhythmic structure.
The most recent utilized the manifesto Jo and I wrote and texts by George Maciunas and Joseph Beuys.
Nobody clicks the links. And these days, it's dangerous anyway. Ja it's the superimposition of image and sound.
I'm averaging about 4 views per video I'm posting. Not sure if that is counting both me checking it and Jo watching on her computer as part of her conjugal duties.
I have seen other people’s squirrels, sleek and sweet, suave and athletic. Mine is not like that. He is muscle bound, fierce; and noted by the absence of all the fruit and nuts in my garden.
We didn’t have squirrels before here, on this side of the valley.
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