Today, it is only partly sunny in Austin.

Compare "partly sunny" here to "a very nice day" in Ottawa or "gorgeous" on the west coast and you will find very little to distinguish them, except for the fact that it is likely to be warmer, softer and lovelier in Austin - with less road work - and better restaurants.

People can be good anywhere, I think they always try. Just the same it is easier to be friendly when the air is soft and fragrant, the sky is blue and the temperature remains above the freezing mark.

Maybe it's just me.

Of course there are lots of problems in Austin, just as there are in any city but if you're going to tackle problems, I think it is somehow more manageable under blue skies. Simplistic, I know - maybe I should say, it's easier for me. Fine weather soothes me like money soothes many people I know.

I am going out tonight - going to have dinner at a family restaurant all by myself. The reason I am doing this is because it will benefit the local homeless shelter. I'm trying not to mind that it's just for men. Gotta start somewhere.

There is just so much to do in any community, people take on the problems they think they can manage first. I'm looking at it this way; if we can all make an effort to get this program settled and stable maybe then there will be the time, energy and resources to help homeless women.

But then again - I just looked at that and it sums up my entire life and not in a good way.

All my life I have put my problems on-hold because there is always someone with a more pressing or more predictable problem standing right beside me demanding to go first.

My sister with her refusal to stay in school and subsequent employment problems - her three pregnancies, her endless need for every bit of the family resources in every way, my lover - with his very many catastrophic individuals who are in seemingly endless orbit around him, propelled by one distaster after another - drugs, career derailment, petty crime, family suicide, unplanned pregnancy - all self-made, of course but no less pressing for all that - work, where some other woman attached to the firm needed more work directed her way than I did because she was going through a very messy divorce and had two kids to support...

And on and on and on - all of these are very good reasons for me to stand aside and wait my turn, after all, I am pretty self-sufficient and one way or another, I get by. More accurately, I give the impression of getting by. What I really do is stand aside, make do, keep trying and wait.

It occurs to me that this method of coping with my own seemingly insoluable problems, is very similar to how women in this era deal with homelessness. I've been there myself. Without enough money to support yourself, women go to family or they find a man. How many marriages have been made out of fear?

Fact is, homelessness presents more challenges for a woman than it does for a man. Once a month, for example, a woman must bleed. She needs a clean place to do it. We have been convinced by the purveyors of "feminine hygeine products" that somehow, having a period is effortless, insignificant - a minor inconvenience. I am here to tell you (or remind you) that is not true.

Having a period is messy, painful, sometimes embarassing and nearly always exhausting. Unless you are on the pill, have a car, have access to pain killers, have an ensuite bathroom and a readily available shower - it is a bit of an ordeal. I do not know of any homeless women who possess any of those things.

So how is it that the women have stood aside and waited while men, who experience none of this, have their homeless problem solved? Even if that was the only complication faced by women, that would be reason enough to put them first.

Of course there are other reasons - rape, children, physical weakness in comparison to the average homeless man, inequitable access to credit, employment, even transportation - a man can hitchhike, a woman really can't. All of these are reasons why women should come first. Yet, they still don't.

I'm not blaming anyone - you have to start somewhere. It's just that there is so very much to do. Front Steps has started a recuperative care program - how many of us have ever even thought about how it would be to have a heart attack with nowhere to live, nowhere to go? Front Steps is trying to help end that situation, in the processs, they've discovered they often end the patient's homeless too. That's something else to think about.

Austin has problems, Austin is doing something about it - Austin needs a little more. I pray every day that I can contribute something to that.

And I pray, every day, that when people tell me I need to wait for someone else to go first before I can have a life, a job, a love, a place - I remember that they think that way not because it's true but because they just don't know any better. It's easy.

I have to find a way to change that.

Austin Pictures

So far, nobody has been able to tell me what these flowers are the answers I get are "sun loving" "ubiquitous," "orange" and "hardy." I like them anyway.










This is a common chain of grocery stores here. The name gave me pause.




A corridor at the Blanton Gallery at UT Austin.









Grackle.

Giant star and unabashed love for Texas - both absolutely typical of the place and both loveable I think.

Terrazzo floor at the Bob Bullock Museum of Texas History

Driving down Congress.




Downtown Mission-style architectural detail

Dry Creek.

Humid palm.

Austin likes neon

the black smudges are bats. (more bat pictures next time)

River palette

more neon - this time for pizza.

Austin Revisited

People keep telling me this is the hottest summer they've ever experienced in Austin. I realize they say it out of sympathy. Here, I am decidedly an ice lolly, a melting one.

A friend of mine told me to take a cab to a meeting, he underlined it. "Be sure to take a cab." "I will but why are you saying that?" I asked. He said, "Because I don't want you to arrive looking like you just got out of a swimming pool."

Yesterday, at the Italian Festival, I consumed a large strawberry-lemonade water-ice from Jim Jim's water ice, a large Italian soda and two large-ish bottles of water. I could have had more but people were staring.

Anyhow - it never stays in me very long, just comes pouring out of every pore.

I am a sieve.

And sievelike, I also continue to leak information, speak out when I should be silent and all that very interesting, supposedly dangerous stuff.

Here are a few of my observations about Austin at closer range:

Turtles do not like cameras.

Grackles will as happily poop on your head as take a chip from your hand. Charming as they may be, they have no manners whatsoever.

Breakfast tacos are God's gift to eating before noon.

Converted "Motor Inns" do not, contrary to popular belief, make dandy apartment complexes.

The amount of sunshine I can absorb and still be just delighted about it really is limitless.

People are quite baffled by a woman soaked with sweat who nevertheless claims to be having the time of her life. They make every effort to get said woman to admit to the contrary.

I wish people would stop trying to make me unhappy about things - I am perfectly able to make myself unhappy enough for two or more people, just read my posts about Victoria and you'll know that for sure.

Bacon and tacos don't mix.

A half hour walk before yoga is overly ambitious in 100 degree heat.

U2 is good anywhere - Radiohead, not so much.

Southern cooking is not all about the meat. Threadgills is bliss.

Velveeta can be snuck into food that I will eat without complaint. (shocking.)

Sometimes you really don't want to eat on the patio.

Bats smell funny.

sketch for a new poem.

I once knew a boy whose beauty was rooted in his youth. He was blonde and sincere, with rosy pink cheeks, newly shed of his baby fat. Dewy and fresh in appearance and demeanor.

He grew of course, into a man with an angular face and a stern expression.

When I look at his pictures I see the passage of time. I see, very clearly, the movement from youth and wonder to age and - perhaps wisdom or perhaps a kind of guarded skepticism a way of walking through the world that carries with it the scars of a sudden awakening.

I don't know what any of it means - don't even understand the feelings he provokes, I only know that when I see the face of the man, in this case, I see no trace of the boy and I wonder how that can possibly be.

He has darkened. His bones have hardened,
into ways and shapes, frames and structures
I never thought possible.

Old men sometimes spring, fully formed from the cowlicked foreheads of handsome blonde boys
barely out of puberty,
they leap into being
with no previous experience
no memory at all
of what might have been.

an attempt to post a video

This won't work on Facebook so let's see if it will work here.

more rain and mj

I am drawing close to the end of my time in Boston and the rain just keeps falling. Last week there were two and a half sunnyish days that got my hopes up but today the sky has returned to its customary june bunting - steel grey, dirty white and smudged.

I hate the rain and it is hard to keep up the slightest positive veneer as it continues to pour and puddle all around me. Very hard.

Also hard to keep from saying that I think Michael Jackson was a sneaky, utterly corrupt, contemptible little child abuser who should have gone to jail a long time ago and whose pop-pop easy-happy pompous, silly music cannot in any way make up for the display of deception that was his daily life or his public self-mutilation.

Even if you accept the assertion that he was innocent of any charges of child molestation, there is the fact that he made it publicly acceptable for middle aged men to have sleepovers with young boys. And if you don't think that gave an army of pedophiles the very in they craved with countless young boys who will now be scarred for life - then you deserve to listen to his sugary, self-aggrandized pablum for the rest of your life.

That's enough from me today - today, I am one bitter, rain sodden woman - tired of the pretense that everything is OK by me, it's not. The never-ending rain is not OK and middle aged pedophiles in full blown denial supported by the public - that's not OK either.

Light

Have you ever sat at a campfire and looked into the forest around you? Try it sometime and you will see just how dark a forest can really look.

An overabundance of light, especially artificial light, concentrated in one spot, blinds a person to everything that is not directly under the beam of that light. Even within the sphere of influence of the campfire, spotlight, desklamp or overhead fixture, unnatural shadows are cast. Things appear not as they are but as they might be under an artificially produced scrutiny. Vision is more obscured than assisted.

I have been in Boston for some time now and the family I am staying with, most especially my friend's ex-husband, are dependent on artificial light twenty-four hours a day.

This month has been gloomy. The sun has not shone more than three times since June began, so people make the argument that it is necessary. Still, I get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and find dining room and living room lights blazing and more often than not, two or three different light fixtures turned on at once in the bathroom itself.

It is hurting my vision both in physical and metaphorical terms.

At home, I use artificial light only when it is necessary and as time goes on I find it to be less and less necessary. With the exception of reading and cooking, there really is nothing that requires a focused artificial light source, nothing you cannot do or see better by natural light, even when that is only moonlight, than you could with a lamp or fire of any kind.

Things show you what they really are by natural light. Not what they might be under incandescent's yellow cast or flourescent's shuddering white aura.

God please spare me from thinking the light I cast on things, the perspective I see when I look with that focus, is the real light. Let me remember the shadows and the clarity provided by sun and moon, time and movement - life lived under an honest source of illumination.

Grant me clarity and grant me just a few more days of compassion for this man who does not seem to deserve it because I know, in the long run, nobody does and so we all do.

Get me through this overlit, blinded, dark time.