Friday Night Freeform

Because something has to hold up the third leg of Brian’s rotating tripod, lol

Music is intrinsic, beginning with the call of stars, susurrations of the waking world, lullabies, songs of my sisters, heard compositions, collected works, playing on FM… fun times volunteering on NPR… old djs never die, they just segue…

Tonight’s randomicity — random CD shelves, random shelves, positions and (semi- random) cuts on same, from my collection; five ’cause that’s what the old school player driving the soundstage upstairs does:

Pure 80’s : Stray Cats: “Rock This Town”

f\Rock This Town

Eric Clapton : Unplugged : “Running on Faith”

Running on Faith

The Smithereens : 11 : “A Girl Like You”

A Girl Like You

B.B. King : Why I Sing The Blues : Chains and Things (Carole King on Piano)

Chains and Things

Last but not least, SRV with Kings B.B. and Albert as well as Mr. Paul Butterfield : The Sky is Crying from the album of the same name

n.b. some liberties taken in translating my collection via YouTube… I’ll generally find a live version if I can, even if it isn’t the exact CD version (which, as often as not and perhaps more so) is not available. Almost enough to get me to publish exported FLACs, but then, they’d have no more than #phototunes at best so I haven’t.


Pink Floyd’s, that is. I remember eagerly going out to buy the Meddle LP long ago, and cherishing it in its various incarnations over the years. Its most enduring track for me is likelyEchoes, here performed in Pompeii:

Echoes in Pompeii

The reason I didn’t post this on 21 Feb., its post origin date? Unknown.

I am not generally a big fan of covers, but Rodrigo y Gabriela have made it their own, as any proper cover might hope to. Another case of (perhaps not so) improbable accomplishment. 🙂

Rodrigo y Gabriela version of Echoes


Early Saturday afternoon, my wife called me, excitedly saying “You’ve got to come over, I have a surprise!” So I dropped what I was doing and headed across town to see what it might be.

When I got there, my wife was nowhere to be seen. What?! I went and asked her mom, “Where is she?” to which she replied, “Oh, she just went out for a few minutes, she should be back shortly.” Well, okay. I went to pet Leelu, and to busy myself in the kitchen while I waited.

Soon she arrived, and said “Let’s go!” “Surprise?” “You’ll see.” So off we went, driving away in Scotty the Highlander. And we drove and drove, headed East on I-40, past Edgewood’s Pizza Barn, and on to Moriarty. What could we be doing here? Geocaching? Some cool new cemetery cache from Nodderbug?

No, it wasn’t those things. NMFireHorse kept giving me clues, like calling the lady we went to meet, so I began to suspect what it might be. “We’re looking for the park by the water tower.” What? “We’re meeting someone here, look for a white Escape.” Oh, okay…there it is.

I had pretty much given up on another ACD, at least for a long time yet to come. After Bronco’s death, we had tried with other Heelers. Gypsy the blind girl was wonderful, but soon developed cancer. We barely had six weeks with her. Then I heard of a owner surrender in Colorado, and drove up there to pick up Danny. He was a great dog but turned out to be a biter, and after a few months did an unexpected number on my elderly mom’s arm. So, I had to take him back. Eventually he had to be euthanized. :(( None of them lived past seven.

What could it be, but two baby ACD/Red Heeler (RH) girls with their mom and human! “You can pick which one you want.” WooHoo! The mom was a super sweet RH/hound mix; one girl was almost solid auburn, with a white star on her chest and neck, and the other girl was Bonnie, a red speckled girl with a big rump patch that reminded me of Bronco. It was a tough decision, but the cold wind accelerated the process.

Since we were already in Moriarty, we had to stop and stock up on Too Cool ginger ale for NMFireHorse and Imperial Stout at the local alien outlet… .

Sierra Blanca Brewery
Sierra Blanca, home to bony brews and aliens…

When we got back out, libations in hand, what should we see but a clever pup who climbed up on the dash to keep an eye out for us…

Bonnie on the dash (cell)

I have to admit to having had a bit of trepidation on the way home with her, considering how tenuously Jimi and Danny had gotten along. I needn’t have been concerned, though. While Jimi is not very enthusiastic over having to share my attention with Bonnie, they are getting along remarkably well after having a good mutual sniff upon Bonnie’s arrival.

Bonnie appropriated Jimi’s bed

It is really funny watching them gambol about, chasing each other. I have yet to get any decent photos or videos of them at it; they speed through my frame at such a rate… .

I did however take Bonnie out to a local park for her first geocaching experience, and got some portraits of her. Here are a few of the more popular and awarded ones that I posted to Flickr:

Bonnie’s first photoshoot
A soulful look

Gabriel: Secret World

I loved Peter Gabriel’s work with Genesis, but think and feel that he really came into his own as a solo artist. Here is his Secret World concert (1:42:09) performed/recorded 16-17 November 1993 at Palasport Nuovo in Modena, Italy. He was and is none to shabby in finding people to collaborate and play with, either. The musicians featured in this concert:

  • Peter Gabriel — lead vocals, keyboards, harmonica (“Kiss That Frog”)
  • Tony Levin – bass, Chapman stick, backing vocals
  • David Rhodes – guitar, backing vocals
  • Manu Katche – drums, backing vocals
  • Jean-Claude Naimro – keyboards, backing vocals
  • Shankar – violin, backing vocals
  • Levon Minassian – doudouk (“Blood of Eden”)
  • Paula Cole – backing vocals, co-lead vocals (“Shaking the Tree” and “Don’t Give Up”)
  • special guests were Papa Wemba and Molokai


  1. Come Talk To Me
  2. Steam
  3. Across The River
  4. Slow Marimbas
  5. Shaking The Tree
  6. Blood Of Eden
  7. San Jacinto
  8. Kiss That Frog
  9. Washing Of The Water
  10. Solsbury Hill
  11. Digging In The Dirt
  12. Sledgehammer
  13. Secret World
  14. Don’t Give Up
  15. In Your Eyes

Dratted YouTube/Alphabet wants to monetise everything, so there are ads between the songs. They’ll never apologise, so I will on their behalf.

Maestro y Maestro

Pablo (Pau) Casals, interpreting J.S. Bach in Abbaye Saint-Michel de Cuxa, France, 1954

Bach Cello Solo Nr.1, BWV 1007

I remember playing the original LP (or an EMI copy thereof) long ago on the radio. As the YouTube publisher states, those versions are superior to this recording. But hey, this is apparently the first video of Casals’ performance. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve passed it on here on the Internet; it is a long-time favorite.

Casa San Ysidro

This past Saturday, I went out to see if I might find and capture some interesting street shots for one of the photographic groups I participate in online, so I headed down to Corrales. It was a bit wintry, but when I passed by the Old Church and Casa San Ysidro, I noticed that the parking lot was packed. “What’s this?” I asked myself, “Is there some sort of event going on?” So, I parked and investigated. Indeed, there was a history lecture going on at Casa San Ysidro. Unfortunately, I was on my way across town and didn’t have the time to attend the lecture, but I was excited to have the opportunity to go inside and shoot. Architecture and history trump street every single time in my book… .

Gate, Casa San Ysidro
Casa San Ysidro "OSHM"
Casa San Ysidro “OSHM’

One of the first people I encountered there was Aaron Gardner, the site manager. Now, I am definitely not like my father, who was an anthropological portrait photographer first and foremost. I and am very reticent about photographing people, but was struck by his beautiful eyes — inherited from his mother, he says — and asked if I might take his portrait. (Gasp!) He was happy to oblige.

Aaron Gardner, Dir.
Aaron Gardner, Site Manager at Casa San Ysidro

On with the photos I captured, then…

Here is one of the compound bell. I liked it in B&W:

Bell B&W
Dinner Bell (?)

The horno (oven) is in the corner of the compound. Another one I liked in B&W and processed in Silver Efex:

Horno in  B&W
Horno in B&W

Here is another shot of it, in color and a bit wider:


Staying with the fiery theme for a moment, here is the smithy, or at least part of it:


Barn Door

Barn doors
Barn door
The wagon “garage”
Wagon detail
Wagon detail
Hitching post
Hitching post detail
One of the buildings
Log cabin
Cabin detail
Corner doorway
Compound window, shuttered

More of this album is visible on Flickr.


For some reason, I got distracted by sheep today; Bighorn sheep to be exact. Out they popped from my archive, and I suspect that there are more lurking in there. If and when they do, I’ll add them to the album.

I captured these over the span of several years, mostly when I was working as a “met man” in their habitat, but also just hiking around in the Carson National Forest. I’m pretty sure that there are more from other forests in New Mexico and Arizona, but that those are the lurkers in the archive.

To wit, sheep, Bighorn Sheep:

Wandering by the roadside…

The Fox

One of the things I always liked to do, and devoted a collection to on Google Plus, was to share literary quotes and snippets. Here is one from one of my favorite books, Antoine de Saint-ExupĂ©ry’s The Little Prince


“It was then that the fox appeared.

“Good morning,” said the fox.

“Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.

“I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.”

“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”

“I am a fox,” the fox said.

“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”

“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”

“Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince.

But, after some thought, he added:

“What does that mean –‘tame’?”

“You do not live here,” said the fox. “What is it that you are looking for?”

“I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does that mean–‘tame’?”

“Men,” said the fox. “They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?”

“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean–‘tame’?”

“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.”

“‘To establish ties’?”

“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . .”

“I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . .”

“It is possible,” said the fox. “On the Earth one sees all sorts of things.”

“Oh, but this is not on the Earth!” said the little prince.

The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.

“On another planet?”


“Are there hunters on that planet?”


“Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?”


“Nothing is perfect,” sighed the fox.

But he came back to his idea.

“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . .”

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.

“Please–tame me!” he said.

“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.”

“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . .”

“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.

“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me–like that–in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . .”

The next day the little prince came back.

“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . .”

“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.

“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all.”

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–

“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”

“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . .”

“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.

“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.

“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.

“Then it has done you no good at all!”

“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.” And then he added:

“Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret.”

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

“You are not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world.”

And the roses were very much embarassed.

“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.

And he went back to meet the fox.

“Goodbye,” he said.

“Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”

“It is the time I have wasted for my rose–” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . .”

“I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.”

So, here goes

I got some of G+ imported here, anyway. WP seems to have (at least partially) inhaled it, including downloading photos to storage here. Hm.

Now to get on with it and tidy the place up a bit, maybe even create some content!

A long time ago, in the time of Picasa, I liked to share photo albums like this on #GooglePlus; vignettes illustrating a day on the trail or some story — in this case, the day that NMFireHorse, GeoWalkabout, Bronco and I hiked out in pursuit of the Tapia Canyon Time Trek geocache My knees complained, but my eyes cracked the whip. So totally worth it. Must go back with better lenses…

Tapia Canyon
In the slot portion, the album seems to like the first shot I shared

A song for G+ from my fav. supergroup, The Traveling Wilburys: End Of The Line
Not exactly a #phototune unless you got to ‘Chock a block’ in the album, I suppose…

#TheGoodOldDaysofGplus #TheGoodOldDaysofG+