Hillbones

Dinosaur Train

2012-01-26T11:11:00.000-08:00

Both boys have been hooked on this little kids show called "Dinosaur Train". Each episode talks about a different dinosaur as well as simple explanations of the scientific process. For instance, every episode has a section about a "Hypothesis: an IDEA you can TEST. YAYYY!!!!!"

The other night I wondered how much Leon was absorbing from this show and asked him if he new any dinosaur names. "Tyrannosaurus!"

"WOW! That's great! How about this: can you tell me what a hypothesis is?" I asked.

He looked out of the corner of his eye for a bit and chirped, "Oh! That's the one with spikes on his back!"

Silas is quick to come up with a dinosaur name as well. He simply shouts out the first four syllables that come to his mind. "Kay Too Mee Pee!"

Close enough.

Moon

2011-11-02T07:28:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you can tell by looking at me that I used to be a huge astronomy nerd in high school. I've had a decent scope for a good while and have recently caught the bug again. So I sold my motorcycle and bought a very sophisticated computer driven telescope. A scope set up for astrophotography.

Last night, I took it over the farm for some dark skies (and a bright moon) to take my first photos. So with the pigs grunting in the background, I learned it is a lot harder than it looks. I present my very first photo.

I've got a lot to learn; like how to get the entire moon in the field of view and get the focus as razor sharp as it is at the eyepiece. This man has my same scope. He shows the maximum potential of my endeavors.

Great Ape

2011-10-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

This man devoted himself to the knowledge of these beasts. For him to stay calm in this situation showed that his knowledge trumped fear. It's a good reminder to me that when I recognize fear in myself, it simply represents a lack of knowledge.

Little Scavengers

2011-10-13T13:09:00.000-07:00

So the boys went quiet while I watched them the other day. Most of the time this is what my brain tells me it wants. They are usually making sword noises. Rocket noises. Asylum noises. My brain says "I wish these little smack-heads would just give it a rest for a minute." Then when they do go quiet, my brain says "Holy Hell, one of them is probably strangling the other! QUICK! FIND THEM!"

I didn't find a murder scene this time. I found Silas squatting watching Leon chow down on a delicious chunk of Toblerone chocolate. This doesn't upset me as much as it does the queen bee, so I just laughed and took the chunk into evidence.

Then I began the interrogation.

Leon's mouth looked like he had been eating mud pies. I'm convinced his strategy was to simply get the chocolate down and at least he would be standing in the corner for his crime with a tummy full of goodness. He takes the drug mule approach. Silas was clean as a whistle - teeth pearly white, fingers pristine, lips looked like they hadn't touched chocolate in months. Silas looked like a nun on a nude beach. I asked Leon how many he had eaten and he raise one chocolate-tipped finger. I asked him if he had shared any with Silas and he said yes. He's trying to spread the guilt, I thought. I asked Silas if he had eaten any and he just shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and said "No eat any." It looked like he was telling the truth....until I smelled his breath and it smelled like Willy Wonka's wonderland.

These boys be messin' with me!

Supernova

2011-09-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

So if you're out under the stars this weekend, you are going to be under the explosive light blast of incomprehensible energy. A white dwarf star located in the Pinwheel Galaxy has died in a blaze of glory.

The astronomy nerd in me couldn't resist finding out exactly what is happening up there, or as it turns out, what happened.

Indulge me the fruits of my research.

A white dwarf is a star that it is at the end of its life. It has completed its cycle of nuclear fusion. The star has condensed itself smaller and smaller and ended its life cycle. How do we even know what a life cycle of a star looks like? For hundreds of years we've been looking into the sky and have discovered a collection of stars in every stage of life. We can measure the heat, light, and movement of stars, and everything we know about them confirms our model of the life of stars.

This white dwarf died a little differently than most. When it completed nuclear fusion, it began to leach mass from its binary partner star. This began to raise the temperature of the dense dwarf, which in turn began a rapid reaction of carbon fusion that resulted in an instant explosion. Think in the scale of an amoeba's perspective on a hydrogen bomb explosion. This explosion is what made the little white dwarf a type 1a supernova. To the best of my knowledge, this is exactly what is happening up there in the Pinwheel galaxy.

But it's not happening at all in reality. The explosion we're seeing increase every night in the big dipper exploded 20 million years ago.

An old universe is an idea I've resisted up until I recently decided to educate myself about how we know the earth is as old as the majority of scientist tell us it is. What I found convinced me beyond a doubt. But I know that for the rest of my days when I hear these claims I will always think "How do they know that?!" This question is actually what led me to understand that the evidence for an old earth is overwhelming. So when I heard my favorite amateur astronomer say that this event happened 20 million years ago, I had to dig deeper.

It's not an easy task even for Prof. Google. I ended up talking directly with a research astronomer about this question. For him, it was as simple as knowing that the white dwarf in question was 20 million light-years away. We just saw the explosion a week ago, so that logically means that the light from that blast took 20 million years to reach us.

But how do you determine that distance for sure? The star appears in the Pinwheel galaxy. We have measured variable stars in that galaxy to determine their absolute magnitude. That is, we have a measuring system that tells us how bright that start burns as if you were standing right in front of it. We then compare that verified magnitude with it's magnitude here on earth. We know that light diminishes at a constant rate as it travels. So the difference between how bright the star actually burns and how bright it is in our sky is the standard astronomers leagues smarted than myself can insert into an equation to figure the distance that light has travelled. The distance the light from pulsars in the Pinwheel galaxy travel happens to be 20 million light-years. When I view this galaxy in my telescope, there is no light falling on my eye younger than 20 million years.

This is convincing to me, but again my interest in these things as an ex-young earth creationists, makes ask "How do creationists answer this glaring problem with their belief that the universe is only 6,000 years old?"

For years now, the majority of creationist have insisted that the astronomical measurement methods are scientifically sound. They deal with observational science and can be tested and repeated and do not rely on evolutionary theory. They also agree with the generally accepted size of the universe.

The most popular argument is that God created light already in transit. After all, they believe Adam was created as a mature adult. This is the argument I was taught in college. However, this argument has been officially abandoned by the Institue for Creation Science and Answers in Genesis. They reason that we see the light from stars and galaxies move and change and explode. These changes represent events. If we see an event from anything further away than 6,000 light years then that event actually didn't take place (assuming the creation of the universe occurred 6,000 years ago). This would mean God created an illusion of events. The top creationists reject this idea as bad theology. They argue that it is uncharacteristic of God to create such illusions. It is also not a scientific argument as it cannot be falsified. It is essentially an appeal to magic.

So creationists have had to back pedal a bit and now throw doubt on the measurement methods they have for years approved as observational science. They point out that all these measurements (that have been repeated, tested, and proven) actually are based on assumptions that light has always traveled at a constant speed. They claim scientists are assuming this when in reality, this idea has been tested and proved as well.

Every new argument I've found is essentially throwing doubt on the constant rate on which astronomers have been basing their measurements. Astronomers can't even take this challenge seriously because it is an obvious defense of dogma, not a set of scientific observations that seem to contradict our current model of the universe. There is absolutely no evidence that the speed of light has ever been different than it is today.

At the end of the day, no matter our understanding about how it came to be, we can all take a look up at the stars in wonder at the fact that our small and insignificant place in this universe does not isolate us to the point we cannot experience its wonders from 20 million light-years away.

* * * *

For the curious, a complete, fair treatment of the young universe views on these subjects.

Ira

2011-09-07T08:14:00.000-07:00

I'm still painting the house. This job has taken every bit of my weekends, and now that the winter is just around the corner, I'm in a mad rush to get it done.

Let me just explain to you how much time this takes. I go about it in sections. So lets say I'm working on a 14' x 14' section of wall and a window. I first scrape which takes about 5 hours. I then must sand, wash and caulk it. That takes another 4 hours. Once dry, I can prime it: 5 hours. Then it's time for the final two coats of paint: 5 hours. That's just for a small section of wall!

Needless to say, I've had a lot of time to myself. I've listened to enough NPR to make a Tea Partier praise Buddha.

The best thing I've found to pass the time didn't come until halfway through the project. My favorite radio program by far is This American Life with Ira Glass. I've never heard a bad episode. Fortunately, they have a smartphone app that allows you to listen to any of the past 500 episodes. So as the hours pass along with a scraper or brush in my hand, they pass with just me and my best bud, Ira. Ira has me laughing under the Gable. Ira has made me cry along the gutter.

Last weekend I spent about 20 hours painting and hanging with Ira. It was great.

Sunday night, I laid my bald head down and fell fast asleep. No joke, this was my dream:

"This American Life is brought to you by our contributers. I'm Ira Glass. Every week we bring you a theme and stories on this theme. This week, Aaron is dreaming and he's having me narrate his dream. He'll later think this is funny and even consider emailing me about it. He'll settle for just blogging..."

Like every dream involving beautiful celebrities, it didn't last long enough.

* * * * *

Do yourself a favor an listen to this 16 minute act by Michael Ian Black on the Father's Day episode of This American Life.

Just like Steele Creek!

2011-08-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

The peak of Everest is marine limestone. The highest peak in the world is made up of marine limestone. Marine limestone!!!

Magic

2011-07-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

I'm upstairs working yesterday and hear Beth hollering for Leon. It registers with me just long enough to think he must be into something he shouldn't be. He'll usually go into hiding when he finds candy or a dangerous weapon. Lucky for us, his hiding places are usually terrible, and his patience has a short life, so even if he can stay hidden he gives himself up within 60 seconds.

After a couple of minutes Beth shouts up a worried, "Aaron, help me find Leon. I think something might be wrong because he normally answers by now."

He went out back for just a minute and when Beth checked up on him, he was gone. She had already gone room to room. The front door is locked and he cannot get out front. So I do a sweep of every room calling out bribes and lies to get him out of hiding. This went on for about five very long minutes.

Silas, in the meantime, enjoyed this awesome impromptu game of hide-and-seek. "HOO hoooo! EE-on!"

I have a tragic sense of imagination in situations like these. If he's not hiding, he's in trouble of some kind. He's wandered off down the street or maybe he's got stuck or hung up somewhere and we can't hear him. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I moved my search outside and started looking up and down the street just in case he was trying to get the heck out of here. The search had been going on for 10-15 minutes at this point. That is way too long to be frantically looking for your child. It was SO much longer than any other time he's hid from us. Beth was convinced something was wrong at this point because it was so out of character for him. After I was sure I had looked over every part of the house, closets, cars and yard, panic set in for me. Beth was at the point of tears, and we were wondering if it was too soon to call 911.

Suddenly he's on the back porch with a huge grin on his face nodding his head saying, "That was MAGIC!" He drug the word "Magic" out in a whisper to try to convince us.

He said he had found the smartest hiding place ever. He had stuffed himself in a linen cabinet on the sun porch. We hadn't even opened it because we thought it was an impossible fit. Maybe it was magic?

WHEW. We had a little lesson about impromptu games of hide and seek. I hope he knows now that it's only fun when he lets us know when the game starts.

The rest of the day I had empathy pains for parents who never get the relief we got. I would lose my proverbial and literal...you know. Poopy.

Just in time for the July 4th celebrations!

2011-06-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

WOW. We live in incredible times. The future is bright!

Tower of Babel

2011-06-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

"At one time the whole world spoke a single language and used the same words. As the people migrated eastward, they found a plain in the land of Babylonia and settled there. They began to talk about construction projects. "Come," they said, "let's make great piles of burnt brick and collect natural asphalt to use as mortar. Let's build a great city with a tower that reaches to the skies -- a monument to our greatness! This will bring us together and keep us from scattering all over the world." But the LORD came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. "Look!" he said. "If they can accomplish this when they have just begun to take advantage of their common language and political unity, just think of what they will do later. Nothing will be impossible for them! Come, let's go down and give them different languages. Then they won't be able to understand each other." In that way, the LORD scattered them all over the earth; and that ended the building of the city. That is why the city was called Babel, because it was there that the LORD confused the people by giving them many languages, thus scattering them across the earth."

This story makes me laugh. Here is ancient mankind just beginning to explore and grow and populate. What an exciting time! Eventually they settle in a plain in Babylon and decide to build a city, and not just any city, but one that exemplifies their unity and power. I understand from Bible scholars that the tower was most likely a Ziggurat - a temple reaching as high as 300ft. A city with a skyscraper! So they get the city ready for the first inspection by the world's first Building Inspector. The LORD comes down to check out their wiring and engineering and thinks to himself, "This is incredible! These people have come such a long way in such a short time! I'm going to deny their permits and scatter these geniuses all over the globe."

~*POOF*~ the creation of languages.

Makes perfect sense.

Leon on Gastroenterology

2011-06-10T07:09:00.000-07:00

AT LUNCH

Leon: Why do you cut it up in pieces and eat that?
Me: That's just how I eat. How do you do it?
L: Mommy cuts it up and I eat it.
M: Then what?
L: Then it goes all the way down into my big toe. Then it goes into my other toes. Then in my leg.
M: So all the food you eat just goes into your feet and legs?
L: Yep
M: So what is poop?
L: It comes out when you're full of food.
M: How about pee?
L: That's when you're full of water.

Makes perfect sense.

Sunshine

2011-06-08T10:48:00.000-07:00

This solar prominence eruption happened yesterday over a period of three hours. Keep in mind that the bright point of explosion is about 20-25 times the size of the Earth.

End Times

2011-05-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

Some people believe that life for believers will simply transition into an everlasting period of conscious rest. Non-believers will simply cease to exist forever.

Some people believe that there will never be an end, but a new beginning will be ushered in by the appearance of a special being who will restore order and peace, thus renewing the cycle of existence. They believe this has already happened an infinite number of times and will continue to do so.

Some people believe that the world will be physically destroyed, but not before the believers are removed and placed in the presence of god for eternity. Non-believers will be left to be destroyed with the earth spending eternity in the presence of the enemy of god undergoing eternal torture.

Some people believe that their god will resurrect the living and dead believers into a realm of eternal rest and pleasure, while sending all unbelievers to a place of eternal punishment.

Some people believe that the earth and/or humankind will eventually perish forever into oblivion. There will be no eternal existence of the good or evil. All shall cease to exist.

Some people believe that god will come live on earth for 1,000 years. During this time believers will work with their god to convert all people. At the end of the mellenium, god will separate all people, believers and non, into three eternal camps, none of which involve torture of any sort.

Some people believe that their beliefs will eventually fade away into oblivion and their teaching and practices will be forgotten. Even their most revered leader will be forgotten. After their belief is completely vanished and a new leader will appear reminding everyone of these forgotten principles and restore a new beginning of awakening.

Some people believe we are in the middle of a spiritual battle in which the end will produce eternal peace. At that time the wicked and righteous will be judged by their deeds. Those found wicked will be tortured for 3 days and then forgiven to live in peace forever with the righteous.

On Being Wrong

2011-05-04T12:01:00.000-07:00

Kathryn Schulz wrote a book called Being Wrong and gave a TED talk on the subject I found fascinating. She spoke on the nature of being wrong and voiced precisely what I have been mulling over for the past decade or so.

I consider myself well-versed in being wrong. I can say without doubt that I've been wrong most of my life about most things. You could say, I'm right about my wrongness. I was raised to be very certain and sure. Or maybe I tend to be a certain and sure person. My teenage years were not exempt from what seems to be the normal experience of feeling completely right about everything. I was most certain of my faith in the Christian supernatural. This blessed assurance carried me softly and tenderly into adulthood.

All it took was a serious look into the question of "What if I'm wrong?" Schulz asks her audience what it feels like to be wrong and they tell her it's embarrassing and sad. But she says that's what it's like to realize you're wrong. What does it feel like to be wrong? Her metaphor was Wiley Coyote running off a cliff after the Roadrunner. He doesn't fall until he looks down and notices he's in mid air. Before that glance downward it was as if he were standing on solid ground. Being wrong feels a whole lot like being right before you realize your error. And yet, we all would say we're standing on solid ground.

Why am I so afraid of being wrong? As a person who has made a drastic paradigm shift after understanding I was wrong about so much, I feel like I'm in the place to say that being wrong requires so much change and upheaval - much more than being right. It is a wonderfully comfortable position to be in when you're right - even if you haven't taken the chance to look down to make sure you're on solid ground. Maybe Wiley should have never looked down. Maybe I shouldn't have either.

Schulz appeals for us to rediscover a sense of wonder and allow ourselves to seriously consider that we may be wrong. I have done so in the last decade and can agree with her that it has broadened my understanding of existence and has made room for more people in my world. My new paradigm surely feels right. I have less questions about the contradictions of my experience and my presuppositions. I'm happier.

I'm also keeping an eye on my feet.

Joe Perry 1866-1905

2011-03-31T11:17:00.001-07:00

I've been knocking around ancestry.com lately seeing how much of my family tree I can complete with their service. It's been fascinating. They have access to the actual scanned census forms from the early 1900's and literally billions of searchable documents. I've managed to trace most of the family lines back to the 1700's. It turns out the Hill side of the family were mainly farmers in North Carolina, and my mom's side were mainly farmers in Virginia. Good stock if you ask me.

My imagination has been running wild reading between the lines of all these past kin. I found a census from 1900 recording my mom's great-grandparents Joseph and Katherine Perry. It listed them living in Buchanan County, Virginia with a handful of kids - Grover, Willie, Valerina, Fred, and Robert. The occupation field on the document for Joe shows "Logger" written in calligraphy. I imagined him sitting at the table one evening filling out the census form or perhaps talking to the census worker. He hollered out to Katherine for the ages of the kids who happen to be making a racket outside or running the coon dogs or getting into whatever trouble kids managed to get into at the turn of the century. Norman Rockwell sat in the corner painting his next Saturday Evening Post cover.

Then comes the United States Census of 1910. A decade has passed and with it, Joe the logger has too. Filling out this census was a different scene. Same house. Same table. Katherine fills out the form this year. I imagine a logging accident took Joe from Katherine. He would have been in his early 40's. She listed herself as "Head of Household" and her occupation as "Farmer". Valerina married a man twice her age, and moved in with her mother, no doubt helping out on the farm. The events of that decade shaped their entire universe. It turned that little farmhouse upside down and brought the sorrow and pain that changed everyone of them for the rest of their lives. But all of that is at best a barely audible echo now. I'm sure it affected their history - my history, but it's impossible to see. All those hard days and tears in Katherine's pillow have been rendered down to a census form and stone in a field somewhere.

It's comforting in an odd way. For one, our struggles and character will affect the future family in little ways. Katherine's fortitude surely impacted her children. They carried it with them on into a century of huge change. Perhaps they carried it on to me. Perhaps I'll pass it on to Leon, and he'll do the same.

But at the same time, our lives will be rendered away to records and forgotten blogs. Those nearest me at my death will carry the best parts of me along with them. I'll be as real to them as when I was drawing the same breath they were. But for my grandkids, I'll be the old timer. They'll only know me for my stories of who I was. In turn, their children will regard me as more legend than anything else. I'll be lucky to have even met them. The next generation will know me as the kin who saw the new millennium born. As the generations pass, I become just a set of dates to the living. After death, it sure doesn't take long for your name to disappear as much as you have. Artist, Banksy said, "They say you die twice - once when you stop breathing and then a second time, when someone mentions your name for the last time."

I hope I leave something worth talking about.

Honey

2011-02-10T13:17:00.000-08:00

Monday morning, minutes before my alarm clock urged me into another week, Beth came from out of nowhere with a "Honey!" that sounded like she was getting ready to tell me someone died in the night or a stranger was sleeping in our bathtub. Let's just say her tone got my attention.

This was the morning after we watched a documentary called 180* South. It follows a group of guys and a girl and their epic journey to Patagonia to climb Cerro Corcovado. These are guys my age who are not tied down with families and jobs and mortgages. These are guys who are not satisfied with living life in one place for very long. These are guys who make me think, "Dammit! I'm wasting my life." Watching this, the night before Beth's "Honey!" I laid awake trying to translate the zest for life these guys have into my own life. How can I keep the important things in my life and still experience this intensity I just experienced in this documentary. I fell asleep in these thoughts with dreams of freedom.

"Honey!"
"I think I'm pregnant."

I laughed at first because it struck me as the worst way to tell your husband you're pregnant. It wasn't the best way to start a Monday either. I demanded proof and she stuck a pregnancy test in my face and there it was: blue lines. A blue line crossed a circle and a blue line slashed a square. Beth assured me this was code for "Game Over." I claimed a faulty test, but she swore to Thor there are often false negatives, but never false positives.

It didn't take me long to resign myself to another kid coming along. I love my boys. They take a lot of life out of me, but they certainly add a lot I would never have otherwise. We just thought we were done, and the idea of going back to square one was not a pleasant thought at this time in our lives.

All day at work, I would take daydream breaks. Or maybe I worked in between daydreams. The consequences of number three kept crashing in around me. We would need a bigger car within the next nine months. We would need to make more room in the house. We would need to grow more arms by Christmas. The stairway gates that keep Leon and Silas from throwing themselves to their death would have to stay up even longer than expected. I need more money. It is going to be a zoo in this house!

I found myself staring out the window of the coffee shop thinking about baby names and poopy diapers. Israel suggested the name "She It Hill."

After work I ran to Krogers with instructions to get another pregnancy test because the culprit this morning was old and out of it's package. Might as well wait a few days and try again just to make sure. They were behind a glass case. People use them to cook meth maybe? I asked the lady helping me if I looked pregnant. She was amused and said my beard looked pregnant.

So I got home with my loot from the grocers and sat down to a meal. Of course, the topic of conversation was a mix of "What are we going to do with a new human in the house" and "Leon, sit down and take the plastic bag off your head." During the meal I pick up the box of new pregnancy tests and read the instructions: a plus sign for positive and a minus sign for negative. Wait...what? We scrambled for the test from that morning to confirm. That's not a line for pregnant, that's a minus sign! A glorious minus sign to subtract all our worries from this day!

We did a little dance and hooped and hollered. Beth said she is relieved but a little disappointed. I said I'm sailing to Patagonia.

J-Beans

2011-01-27T10:59:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things to do these days is let Leon and Silas pick out one (1) jelly bean from the jelly bean jar we keep around the house for bribery and child trickery. It's winter time and 2 degrees outside so there's nothing much else to do after dark. They love it and request one every hour.

So last night Silas approached me asking for an "Ay-been". How can I resist? So I got the jar out from hiding, and started shaking it to a beat - trying to get these two boys dancing. They immediately jumped into freestyle toddler dance (looks like ants in pants). Right in the middle of their routine, the lid pops off and jellies go flying everywhere.

They both immediately dropped to their bellies on the floor filling both hands and cheeks with beans. When I say immediately, I mean they beat the jelly beans to the floor. That's how fast they got down to business.

The rest of the night was great because anytime they'd come up asking for more I told them there were probably some left in the floor somewhere.

I'm still here

2011-01-19T12:07:00.000-08:00

After a post about pottery two years ago, I vanished into the internet's thin air. In the meantime, I've been breathing the thick air of the interlife - that's actual air.

I've managed in the past two years to stay in the same house. I'm still up here on the top of the hill along with all the other people in the police reports. I said "other people" because we made the Blotter last October when someone threw a rock through our window at one in the morning. I suspect Ernest T. Bass, except there was no offer to sing "Eatin' Goober Peas."

I've turned the upstairs front room into my office after getting a stay-at-home job last November. That's the biggest change in the last two years for sure. I've gone from wrapping vehicles with rad graphics and digging post holes, to project managing franchise sign jobs all over the country from the comfort of my own home. This allows me to drink on the job and work in the nude. And although I love my boys to bits (I wanna kiss them on the lips), they are the worst co-workers I've ever had. They haven't done a lick of work the entire time. Even now the gentle murmurs of Leon's whining are wafting up the staircase. Actually, that might be Beth I hear.

Another little change in the last two years goes by the name of Silas here around the house. He came along a couple of Aprils ago. In fact, he came along so quickly I ended up being on the receiving end of his entrance. He's my buddy, and it's been a lot of fun seeing two brothers slowly turn into best buds. They are at least best buds for a couple hours a day.

I think Beth has had it up to here with birthing little boys, so nothing is in the works anytime soon. She's busy enough with the boys and the house and the garden and crafting and making amazing food.

So I'm going to use this blog to practice writing and have some sort of record of our lives. I've got several good stories to tell.

Or maybe I'll just update this every two years.

There's always pottery

2009-01-31T15:14:00.000-08:00

Sigh...

2009-01-25T12:19:00.001-08:00

Bye!

2009-01-20T14:42:00.001-08:00

Brothers

2009-01-17T15:58:00.000-08:00

Written September 11, 2001

2009-01-10T08:28:00.000-08:00

It was just after dawn in Woody Creek, Colo., when the first plane hit the World Trade Center in New York City on Tuesday morning, and as usual I was writing about sports. But not for long. Football suddenly seemed irrelevant, compared to the scenes of destruction and utter devastation coming out of New York on TV.

Even ESPN was broadcasting war news. It was the worst disaster in the history of the United States, including Pearl Harbor, the San Francisco earthquake and probably the Battle of Antietam in 1862, when 23,000 were slaughtered in one day.

The Battle of the World Trade Center lasted about 99 minutes and cost 20,000 lives in two hours (according to unofficial estimates as of midnight Tuesday). The final numbers, including those from the supposedly impregnable Pentagon, across the Potomac River from Washington, likely will be higher. Anything that kills 300 trained firefighters in two hours is a world-class disaster.

And it was not even Bombs that caused this massive damage. No nuclear missiles were launched from any foreign soil, no enemy bombers flew over New York and Washington to rain death on innocent Americans. No. It was four commercial jetliners.

They were the first flights of the day from American and United Airlines, piloted by skilled and loyal U.S. citizens, and there was nothing suspicious about them when they took off from Newark, N.J., and Dulles in D.C. and Logan in Boston on routine cross-country flights to the West Coast with fully-loaded fuel tanks — which would soon explode on impact and utterly destroy the world-famous Twin Towers of downtown Manhattan’s World Trade Center. Boom! Boom! Just like that.

The towers are gone now, reduced to bloody rubble, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the United States or any other country. Make no mistake about it: We are At War now — with somebody — and we will stay At War with that mysterious Enemy for the rest of our lives.

It will be a Religious War, a sort of Christian Jihad, fueled by religious hatred and led by merciless fanatics on both sides. It will be guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy. Osama bin Laden may be a primitive “figurehead” — or even dead, for all we know — but whoever put those All-American jet planes loaded with All-American fuel into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon did it with chilling precision and accuracy. The second one was a dead-on bullseye. Straight into the middle of the skyscraper.

Nothing — even George Bush’s $350 billion “Star Wars” missile defense system — could have prevented Tuesday’s attack, and it cost next to nothing to pull off. Fewer than 20 unarmed Suicide soldiers from some apparently primitive country somewhere on the other side of the world took out the World Trade Center and half the Pentagon with three quick and costless strikes on one day. The efficiency of it was terrifying.

We are going to punish somebody for this attack, but just who or what will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three at once. Who knows? Not even the Generals in what remains of the Pentagon or the New York papers calling for WAR seem to know who did it or where to look for them.

This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed — for anyone, and certainly not for anyone as baffled as George W. Bush. All he knows is that his father started the war a long time ago, and that he, the goofy child-President, has been chosen by Fate and the global Oil industry to finish it Now. He will declare a National Security Emergency and clamp down Hard on Everybody, no matter where they live or why. If the guilty won’t hold up their hands and confess, he and the Generals will ferret them out by force.

Good luck. He is in for a profoundly difficult job — armed as he is with no credible Military Intelligence, no witnesses and only the ghost of Bin Laden to blame for the tragedy.

OK. It is 24 hours later now, and we are not getting much information about the Five Ws of this thing.

The numbers out of the Pentagon are baffling, as if Military Censorship has already been imposed on the media. It is ominous. The only news on TV comes from weeping victims and ignorant speculators.

The lid is on. Loose Lips Sink Ships. Don’t say anything that might give aid to The Enemy.

- Hunter S. Thompson

Anyone?

2008-12-10T20:38:00.000-08:00

Anyone ever read or hear of Hubert Selby, Jr.? He wrote "Last Exit to Brooklyn" and "Requiem for a Dream" and others.

I just by chance got a documentary on him and found him so dark but at the same time down-to-earth inspiring.

Whatever. I was going to quote his stuff, but figured it would offend my sensitive readers - ha! Look him up yourself. He seems to have had an authentic life.

Uncle Walt

2008-12-05T17:59:00.000-08:00

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how we lay in June such a transparent summer morning,

You settled your head athwart my hips and gently turned over upon me,

And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my barestript heart,

And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth,

And I know that the hand of God is the eldest brother of my own,

And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,

And that a kelson of the creation is love,

And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,

And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,

And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and pokeweed.

Live ya Life, Son!

2008-11-14T16:18:00.000-08:00

HA

2008-11-06T14:21:00.000-08:00

http://www.arktimes.com/blogs/arkansasblog/2008/09/way_to_go_matie.aspx

This Weekend...

2008-09-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

...you can find me here.

http://www.bristolrhythm.com/

It's Even Raining

2008-09-09T11:12:00.001-07:00

Cara, a friend who has been living upstairs for the last three months, has decided to leave today. She flies up to Brooklyn this afternoon after a long battle with Bristol. Survivors included significant other Israel Hill, BFF Beth Hill, brother Aaron Hill, crying man Leon, a slew of chickens, cats, and a dog Amos.

I wish there were enough megabytes and tetrapixels in cyberspace to describe the life we had with Cara. There is not enough. It would be a waste of effort to even try. The virtual economy she loved so much cannot even support the love her "real life friends" want to show her. Such is life, my friends. Such. Is. Life.

Bob Dylan put it best: "It was gravity which pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart."

I wish that I was savvy enough to write a song about her leaving, but I'm not. Fortunately, my friend Alison has the words for this moment.

Seriously, you will be missed. I know it will feel like a member of the family has gone missing. Now try to keep a dry eye while watching this video montage I put together!

Dream House

2008-09-03T09:29:00.001-07:00

One

2008-08-14T05:58:00.000-07:00

This man is completing his first year today.

He begins his second year first thing tomorrow.

Maybe...

2008-08-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

...the Dharma is the best way to practice Christianity.

Pack your bags

2008-08-07T06:56:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid we've made one too many visits to Asheville.

A couple of weeks ago, we decided to check out Belle Cher - the grandest arts/crafts/music festival of them all. It was huge. There were so many different people out there. Israel kept pointing out the future versions of Beth and I (ratty old hippies with three or four kids all clothed in homemade clothes). Art and artist were the norm. If you had to put Ashevillites in a box, it would have to be a big box.

Beth and I just feel like we belong much better in Asheville than in Bristol. There's nothing wrong with Bristol. It's just that our experience is we run into more people of like mind in Asheville than around here.

So seeing how some of our best friends in the world are moving from Gainesville to Asheville within the next year, we're going to pack it up too. The house is going on the market in a week or so, we're putting on our moving hats, and we're going to head that way.

Our plan/dream is to buy property outside of Asheville (Marshall?) and live in some sort of modular/yurt while we build a little farm. If we're lucky enough, we'll be doing this with our buddies from Gainesville.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Ugh

2008-07-31T17:00:00.000-07:00

Paul Auster

2008-07-28T08:43:00.001-07:00

This genius did not give me a minute's rest this weekend.

W

2008-07-21T13:57:00.000-07:00

"I, George W. Bush, am the 43rd puppet of the United States."

Face it.

2008-07-18T06:37:00.000-07:00

Everyone needs a Tim Gunn.

So let it be written...

2008-07-15T12:14:00.000-07:00

I've Got the Harlequins

Therefore shall evil come upon thee; thou shalt not know from whence it riseth: and mischief shall fall upon thee; thou shalt not be able to put it off: and desolation shall come upon thee suddenly, which thou shalt not know. And it shall come to pass at the hands of garlic and hot peppers.

Time to Learn This

2008-06-02T06:33:00.005-07:00

Control is something you do with an object. Control of people is a fallacy; you may think you have it, but deep down it breeds rebellion.

The Slowest Game of Tag

2008-05-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

Feet five feet off the floor, I'm watching a plump couple shop for used office furniture.

Their faces are completely disinterested. They could be looking through someone's collection of tax papers. Used office furniture demands very little from any of us.

The woman lets her hand glide across each desk. The man appears to be reaching his goal of visiting every piece in the warehouse.

I imagine them to be playing the slowest game of tag possible. She'll never catch him.

This must be what it looks like to shop for caskets. Old wood and a decision for which you can't muster enough enthusiasm.

Then I remembered someone told me today they were told I believe everything I'm told. My feet are back five feet in the air, hanging light fixtures.

- David Berman

I Want EFX

2008-05-18T09:37:00.000-07:00

No one has ever said it better:

Too Costly of a Trip

2008-05-03T11:53:00.000-07:00

Most of you know Israel and I were trekking up Poor Valley, VA this weekend. I had planned the four day excursion months ago. It was a hike along the back roads that would take us to Burkes Garden, just Israel, Buck, and me.

First day beat us to death. 20 miles and 35 lbs on our backs, so we just set up tent along the road with the permission of an old Mr. Rickman.

The next morning, Buck was whining to get out and take a leak, so I let him out. Next thing I knew, a car came flying by and I heard a loud thud and then Buck barking at the car. I called for him and he didn't come, so I got out and saw him lying in the road, panting.

He had been hit hard, but was still breathing. I looked him over, talked to him a bit, and hoped he would show signs of just a broken leg or something, but the more I checked him out the more it was evident he was at least paralyzed and had internal bleeding.

His breaths became very labored and it didn't take long for him to show signs of being in serious pain, so we dug a grave and borrowed Mr. Rickman's .22 rifle. We laid him the grave and I told him he was a good dog. Israel did the difficult deed.

We were both bruised and beaten, and I didn't have it in me to go on, so we ended the trip there in Allison's Gap, perhaps to pick it up again some other day.

Buck remains there by the creek, and you wouldn't believe the hole he has left in my life.

The Life of A Young Poet

2008-04-26T14:35:00.000-07:00

My youngest sister Abigail is eleven this year, and she just so happens to be the owner/writer at "Abigail's Pick-Your-Own Poems". The nice thing about this poem shop is that you don't have to find a poem to fit your need. Abigail will write a poem for any imaginable topic you choose.

For example, one of my first orders I placed was for a poem on the topic of "Bob Dylan". This is what my 50 cents bought me:

Bob Dylan is strange.
In fact, he is very strange.
I would even say
he's in the weirdo range.

After her and I had a conversation about beheading last week, I placed another order and once again it really paid off. I will type it as written.

"Beheading"
by: Abigail Hill

Here I go to the beheading
room, here awaits me death
and doom.

Here it comes, shines like
Ice, here's my head, ready
to slice.

Oh! It hurts! Oh! the pain,
like running your fingers
through a tangly mane

I have my few seconds
to look around, I have my
few seconds, to hear
my last sound

(Please flip 4 last stanza)

But good thing I'm a
Christian, cause I'll live
forever. I'll never go again
to that deadly old room,
no never.

Thank you for your business!
-----------

Contact me for Abigail's phone number and you can Pick-Your-Own too.

Genius

2008-04-23T05:44:00.000-07:00

Pastor Roger Byrd said that he just wanted to get people thinking. So last Thursday, he put a new message on the sign at the Jonesville Church of God. Byrd said that the message wasn't meant to be racial or political."It's simply to cause people to realize and to see what possibly could happen if we were to get someone in there that does not believe in Jesus Christ," he said.

The message has been changed because of public outcry to: "Roger Byrd, Brains of Turd, Humm, Are They Brothers?"

The Queen

2008-04-21T17:17:00.000-07:00

I knew I wouldn't get far into blogging until I started bragging about my hero. If you know me, you know I like the music. And if you've heard my music, you know it consists mainly of these beauties:

If this video alone doesn't explain why I believe this true grit of a girl is probably the most influential woman on the planet, let me lay down this little story for you:

We found out that Dolly has a program where she'll send a book to your child every month for free. Free books from the Dolly Partons. So I called in to find out how to sign Leon up for it and guess who answered the phone?

Dolly. No joke.

I thought it was a joke at first, but she assured me it was her and that she takes calls from time to time in between primpin'. (Such sass!) So here's the deal straight from the horses mouth. Dolly says she is sending Leon a free book every month until he graduates high school. I asked her the obvious question and she said that if he doesn't graduate he'll get the books for the rest of his life. It really is a win-win in Dolly's world!

Sign up your child or high school drop out today!

A complete recap of the last 30 years

2008-04-20T07:33:00.000-07:00

So there's these two crazy bloggers living with me now and they've really turned me on to the idea of keeping a detailed account of my life on the internet for all to see. It's really working for them. I've tried this before, but that was before my life got so amazing. In fact, my life is so amazing I may have to start another blog for the overspill of the incredible things that happen to me in the span of a day. Prepare your hearts and minds. Every eye closed, and every head bowed.

Just to catch everyone up, Beth and I have somehow created another human we have named "Leon". We named him after Leon Hendrix (the great Jimi's brother). This little human has changed our lives completely (like his namesake). He has just started talking, but it is all either French or Portuguese, so we can't understand a word of it. I suspect it is mostly friendly talk.

We live in the great unexplored state of Tennessee, and are mostly enjoying it here. We run a little "Urban Homestead" right near downtown. We have chickens, a rooster, goats, a dog, a cat, several fish, an emu, and have spotted some snakes. We're fairly serious gardeners, and this year plan on eating only from the garden, except for meat, which according to last years experiments will not grow in a garden no matter how much you water it.

For those who met us through "church circles", it will embarrass you to know we have completely given up on that whole scene. Instead we now follow a little daily calendar we found at the flea market that gives us guidance for everyday of our lives. Today's guidance: "If you're not soaring with the eagles, then you're on the ground with the turkeys."

We have chosen to soar.