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Archives for category: Narratives
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Chapter Next: Austin, TX

March 24, 13 //
1
Narratives
joy, libraries, whoa

After a month of my fingerprints traveling around the continent, the FBI confirmed to the State of Texas MEG HOLLE IS NOT A TERRORIST… YET so we’ll keep them in case she breaks, puts her mucky digits in the wrong place.

Librarians, we’re the worst, we never rest, men in black will march to the reference desk, muzzle cries of access, freedom to read, information privacy, making inner worlds safe for democracy, enriched and courageous, one worth embracing.

My reflection smug in mirrored glasses GUILTY! they’ll cuff me, drag me kicking from the beastly, brutalist Austin Public Library.

It’s true! I’m not a terrorist! And after a six-month hiring process, I will be a librarian at Faulk Central Library in downtown Austin, Texas. I am over the moon tower, inside and out my body and mind, familiar feelings flooding of packing up my life pre-exodus for Vancouver—the wistfulness, decisiveness, excitement and stern. This gem I’m taking with. This junk I’m throwing away.

It’s strange, though. I thought Minneapolis was home, especially when away from it, learning how to become a librarian in Canada. After I returned in 2009, I mostly ached for BC but was determined to make the Cities new again, and I did. They were. But still. It’s not that something’s missing. “Home” has not failed me. I don’t want “more” in the sense that I’m lacking, and lawd I’m going to miss my family.

Nevertheless…adventure awaits. A new, fun city to poke around the edges of, bike clear across, find the beating heart and claim my favorite veins. Swimming holes to clean my sweat off in. The best damn boy with the best imagination, in his bird mask, with his map of the universe, his actor dog that rules the roost and other dog with the name of a fish that sounds like a cat and acts like maniac but still wins hearts.

I can’t wait.

Friday was my last day of old work, bittersweet for the colleagues I’ll miss and the hole I leave behind. Friends pooled money to bestow this majesty:

LOVE OVERFLOWING! I’m blessed with opportunity. I’m blessed with friends and family who want nothing but the best for me, Midwest stoic hide the bleak emotions eclipsed by wishing me well.

Thanks, everyone. I treasure you all. I can’t wait to tell you stories of tacos and dust, bats and fire ants, book clubs and my crappy Spanish, street bands, Shiner Bock, cacti blooms and shadows I swear are snake bodies and chasing down comets with my love.

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 comments
 

trophies

March 10, 13 //
0
Narratives
deepsicks, the vault

February didn’t see a deepsicks post. In the grand scheme, doesn’t mean anything. I doubt I’ll forget that February ’13 was the longest shortest month of my life, and counting.

BUT WHO KNOWS! Time does things. Knots your bootstraps and puts you to sleep. Gilds and Instagrams the edges of memory, then Tom Sawyer-style extols the grandeur of labor, whitewash in broad strokes it calls a clean slate.

Who the hell was I, anyway?

Competing but not competitive, unless I really have changed. My brothers trap me into playing a parlor game but I cringe out after a couple of rounds, citing psychological distress.

I’m not a cheat. I’m not a liar. I’m not a spy.

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lionsitting

December 16, 12 //
2
Narratives
family, joy

We stirred magic capsules in a cauldron of water till they turned into foam bugs. We poked a spider with a chopstick to see if it was alive. It was. We ate mac-n-cheese and read books and played Birds of Prey.

We talked about skeletons.

We turned into lions.

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 comments
 

observantory

November 23, 12 //
0
Narratives, Photography
adventures

This time we go west, wave at Fredericksburg as we pass, into the deep expanse of desert steppe and mesas. We have a date with the universe seven hours away to see light from galaxies that took two million years to get here.

What if we’re late?

We speed across Texas that for all it pulls faces I must admit is beautiful—out here, in nowhere, with scattered alien industry, ancient oil pumps slurping the earth breathing fire, wind turbines as far as the eye can see.

It was dark by the time we hit the mountains, winding through the night with lightning flashing over ridges, just around the bend, to the McDonald Observatory Star Party. We are right on time for the clouds to disappear and peep in giant telescopes to wonder at Albireo, numbered nebulae and Andromeda rushing toward us.

We feel big and small and normal sized in quick succession and set up camp in the dark to wake to gorgeousness,

all kinds of garbage melting out of us.

We want a picture of us with the observatory in the distance, the massive domes seen from Davis Mountains State Park.

But operating under duress—batteries about to die, the sunglare intense—we can’t catch all of us.

There.

Where?

There.

The light is only eight minutes old this time but so bright it blinds us from getting it right and out of nowhere Arthur’s arm turns into the mountain.

A year later and my favorite trick is still how he becomes the horizon.

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book club with grandpa

September 16, 12 //
0
Narratives, Photography
books, family, found text

I was in a book club this summer with my grandpa. He picked Moby Dick. I didn’t have a say in it but hey, this was cool. As an English major, I am long overdue for Ahab’s white whale obsession.

Grandpa wrote his name in it.

Underlined poignancy, made notes here and there.

Then he forgot about it. Put it on a shelf and went to a war and had a pile of kids and farmed up food. Moby Dick moved over the years to other shelves in different rooms to a box of books in a brimming closet, leapfrogging decades and cities till I dug it out.

All summer I consumed dense pages, wondering if like me he read passages aloud to feel the shape of words flow out his mouth. I liked it for the most part—the waves and wind and weird literary devices—though it did get long.

Be honest—how much whale physiology and sea creature taxonomy and byzantine descriptions of a whaling ship’s rigging did you skim or skip completely? Your notes got scarce then, and I don’t blame a bit.

I wish there were more of them, turning each page hoping he would be there to hint what he was thinking. To tell me something about himself or the world—what he figured out of it.

I went to his funeral in the womb.

Would’ve liked to book club Goodnight Moon.

This will have to do.

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 comments
 

2012 llama pageant: the kids are all right

September 7, 12 //
1
Narratives, Photography
art, hilarity, swoons

The Llama Costume Contest at the 2012 Minnesota State Fair returned with glorious, unbridled imagination and drama at every cloven step. Which clever sibling, competing side by side, will have the superior theme and costume execution? Will Annaliese and her Viking Ship Llama again reign supreme to recapture the Llama Crown? DEAR GOD is that the same Eeyore from last year who suffered horrifying panic attacks?!?

It was not an event for the faint of heart. Sommer, Matt, Tom and I slipped work early to bask in deep-fried cheese, beer and the wonder wrought by rural teens’ genius minds.

Teams are judged on creativity, coverage (how fully concealed their cute little llama and alpaca bodies are) and something the announcer mealy-mouth referred to as “how the animal moves” and responds to its human companion. In short, we figured, compliance.

Creatively, Coverage, Compliance! Know it live it breathe it, kids!
PERFORM EXCEL SOAR!

Bathtub llama was brilliant but a bit cantankerous.

Caterpillar Llama was dang good, though looked more like a Martian with its spacesuit-like-clad handler. This was the grumpiest llama companion I have ever seen, but they still managed to take the intermediate division. Sometimes coverage is everything.

The overall concept for the drag ballerina boy seemed a bit muddled, but we give extra points for bravery (the 2011 Knight Duo, no?). The official judges, unfortunately, do not.

Decency prevents me from leaving the bleachers to get up in llamas’ faces. Thus some shots are less than superb, though I cannot resist sharing even a poor shot of Curious George (an alpaca?) and the Man in the Yellow Hat. Hurrah!

EEYORE! OMG! Last year’s Eeyore Llama went berserk, rolling and thrashing with pitiful brays. The coverage was excellent but severely impacted compliance and its general will to live. Those in the know gasped upon seeing Eeyore’s return, with a smaller, skinnier Piglet trembling at its side.

Was this costume traded on the black market or thieved in the night by an unsuspecting cheater? Was a younger sibling strong-armed into reprising this surely labor-intensive work of art (but destruction!!)? Did the girl courageously assume the risk to defend the family honor? Was an original, more elaborate costume in the works all summer but destroyed by dark gods?

Did they possibly think we could ever forget the panic and the horror?

GOD’S WOUNDS! WAS IT THE SAME LLAMA?


(The 2011 Eeyore for comparison.)

Eeyore this year was a bit unruly but managed to escape full-on trauma but also any official commendation. We on the sideline say: Good job, Piglet. But we hope to see you next year in something new and less heart-attack-y.

Flapper and Fancy Dancer were a hit, especially when the alpaca lost his pants.

Turning a llama into a giraffe is an obvious choice, but someone had to do it. I would have liked a more closely fitted costume, but the megawatt grin of the safari companion made up for other shortcomings.

Don’t know about you, but I love an alpaca dressed as a wolf dressed as a grandma. Notice the lil’ rubber nose and teeth mask. As Sommer noted, “It’s touches like that” that steal our hearts and make us squeal.

Wonderful costume, Little Red Riding Hood!

After seeing the Lady and Knight Llama, I wanted another C category. I wanted Companionship. These two were adorable and clearly having tremendous fun. The girl’s mom sat near us, too, with a thousand thumbs ups. I was a puddle.

Excellent coverage on Rudolph, here.

Mountie and Moose! Nice. Here we also have our first shot of Annaliese, last year’s senior division champ, with presumably who had been Viking Ship Llama.

She blew us all away with Steampunk Time Machine Llama. They were beyond rad. As they looped around the barn, the wings were tucked in the saddle device then shot out with a pop. The crowd roared. Lookit dem gears! Those goggles, tubes and wire! That confidence and charm.

Awesome job, Annaliese, and all participants! You are the best damn thing at the Great Minnesota Get-Together.

If only they’d use that time machine to stay teenagers forever so they can keep making llama costumes every all summer and knock off our socks every end of August and assure us that the kids are all right.


See my post from the 2011 Llama Pageant.

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