~b

barth anderson's journal

on fatherhood, writing, food, and what not.

life.

i'll check in again as soon as i can.

(a side note.)

what treasures you have are real. the numb, broken, and the synthetic do walk among us, but they will never take or emulate you; they can't. sure, they watch and imitate your feelings at the speed of sight (for they must), and they speak the words that must be spoken. they sigh the sighs, shed the tears, cajole, and console. but these ones trade in colder currencies than yours. you trade in passions. so walk among them fearlessly.

because what you have you'll have forever. what you love you'll love forever.

you are true. you are true. you are absolutely true.

effective musical narcotics:

obi-wan's theme

"california dreaming"

"edelwiess"

careful readers will note the national anthem has been bumped from the list of lullabyes that work on my kid. thank god.

from in these times, discussing the array of rightwing wacko-judges that bush has sewn into lifetime slots on the federal bench:

The most recent cause for alarm is James Leon Holmes. Holmes views smack of Christian Reconstructionism, a strand of austere theology that advocates replacement of secular law with strict readings of scripture. The final reunion of church and state will take place at the end of time, Holmes told a gathering two years ago. Christ will claim a definitive political power of all creation, inaugurating an entirely new society based on the supernatural.

that's just the tip of the iceberg. if you want a real glimpse of horror, read the whole essay from which this quote was drawn and hear what holmes is talking about when he refers to "the supernatural" - and as you do, keep reminding yourself:

he's a federal judge. in america.

does this freak you out the way it freaks me out?

i was changing a crisis-diaper yesterday. you know. a "crisis-diaper"? (insert exaggerated finger quotes here). "how could one little body produce such a jackson pollack-like display?" you ask yourself in these moments.

meanwhile, the little goblin has become a squirmer on the changing table, so getting a clean diaper on him is like trying to give a manicure to a spider monkey. hands flailing, hips wriggling, feet kicking, diaper perfuming - it's a horrowshow. so of course, i said the word that both described the messy situation and my frustration perfectly.

the little goblin stops squirming. eyes go solemn blue. he looks up at me and tries to repeat what he just heard daddy say.

"sh...sh...sh...."

oh man. his first word. he's about to utter his first word and it's going to be an anglo-saxon-derived, monoyllabic pejorative! (the voices of his many grandparents start barking in my head: "his first was what? his first word was WHAT??")

ugh.

so to distract him, i started singing "the star-spangled banner" loudly, over and over, probably with a manic edge to my voice. it distracted him, thank god, and i went back to disaster clean-up.

later in the day, however, he was crawling around the apartment muttering, "sh...sh...sh..."

more on this story as it develops...

1. Go to Googlism http://www.googlism.com
2. Enter your first name into the search box and Googlism! yourself.
3. Pick the BEST responses, and list them.
4. Bold your favorite of the BEST

barth is a red hot country chicken pickin' ace

barth is more than just the honey man
barth is shallow and is easily fished with a pole or whip

(swiped from doug lain)

kerry/edwards. yippee. two liberals who voted for colonizing iraq! i feel so democratically represented i could scream.

of course, the preppie vs. windigo veep-debates ought to be hysterical. watch cheney plunge his fist into edwards' chest to remove his still-beating heart for a lil snack.

um. what else? i have an article on wedge.coop about a new U of M study analyzing microbial contamination on produce. that's always a crowd pleaser.

oh, and speaking of pathogenic microbes, we have this from dave hoffman-dachelet: CDC disease cards! kids, just love em. i like the graphic on anthrax best but really appreciated the advice on hantavirus ("don't sleep near woodpiles or garbage areas").

but no dengue hemmorhagic fever card! what a total rip. maybe my buddy diane at the CDC can pull some strings for me...(you out there, di??)

my wife is an evil genius.

meanwhile, my son can now spin himself 360 degrees on his diapered butt.

i? i remain the democratically elected president of iraq.

i have some time before my 730 meeting so i'm going to tell you about the Nectarine.

the Nectarine changed my life. i was working my first produce job, at wheatsville co-op in austin, tx. i'd just left corporate america for good and decided co-ops would sustain me, but i didn't really have a clue about food, let alone fruit. i grew in small-town wisconsin, you know? to me, fruit was grape pop. how did i get the job? i have no clue. i sure didn't deserve it.

anyway, on the day my life changed, i was opening a case of nectarines to stock out on my morning produce shift. as i opened the cardboard flaps, this waft of fruit smell hit me (the scent was pectin, i know now). i'd never smelled anything so good in my life. i asked my manager if i could try one - i mean, i'd never even tasted a nectarine i don't think (how did i get that job??). mariela came over and took a big sniff over the case and said, "oh my god, let's dig in!"

the lemonheads were playing. "big gay heart." she picked up a nectarine and just bit it into, like it was an apple or something. so i did the same. my hand hovered ovee the case...which would it be? which one would seal my fate?

i picked up the Nectarine. i bit.

i do remember flights of angels. i do. and a blast from the holy light of god in my eyes like a sunny golden trumpet in the face. sure, it was probably just fructose hitting my bloodstream, but in my worldview now, there's no point in splitting hairs between divine glory and fruit sugar-shock. and it didn't stop there. then the aftertaste hit: salivary glands squeezing themselves dry with an almost audible clap. through all of this, mariela was laughing at me and, for months afterwards, teased me mercilessly about the look on my face that morning. let's just say she said i looked, "sated."

i'm telling you my conversion-to-the-church-of-good-fruit story because there's never been a summer that compared to that fruit season in texas with the lemonheads playing. and for good reason. that was my virginal awakening to a better world. no sense pretending that any season could compare to the first and best.

well, this summer's fruit season is probably better. i'm almost certain. the warm wet weather all over the country has brought on a high-tide of suffused fruit love. and i must testify for all ye unrepentant eaters of crap! the sharlyn melons that just came in, which usually aren't worth anything until late july, are absolutely phenomenal. the white peaches are mind-blowing. the sherbet melons. the orange honeydews. the bings. the glorious rainier cherries. rasps. strawbs. and around the corner? currants. the coveted brandywine berry. blueberries from bayfield. pluots. apriums. black beauty plums. the big meaty colorado peaches. jesus christ, when will it stop??? i'm starting to get this permafruit sensation going. like i got juice flowing in my veins. i can't stop eating. i slosh when i walk. soon, i will look like violet beauregard before she gets rolled down to the dejuicing room.

what more i can say? how can i convince you? must i shop for you? gno! you must find the goddess yourself! go! now! this is the summer. it's now or never. this is the season to find the Nectarine, your own personal Nectarine, and be filled with juice and joy.

gwenda's got all the breaking news and net-goodies at her site. from her i learned: brando's gone? this fills me with a deep sadness, even if the person i think of as brando was probably gone years ago. am i the only one who liked don juan demarco, both for deep and for brando? ah well. i loved brando. i'm sorry he's gone. through the course of his career, brando did more for changing how men are portrayed on screen than any actor of the 20th century. watch on the waterfront some time and force yourself to remember that there was really no precedent in hollywood for that performance.

meanwhile, bondgirl also offers this quiz. here are my results:

You are a WRCL--Wacky Rational Constructive Leader. This makes you a golden god. People gravitate to you, and you make them feel good. You are smart, charismatic, and interesting. You may be too sensitive to others reactions, especially criticism. Your self-opinion and mood depends greatly on those around you.

You think fast and have a smart mouth, is a hoot to your friends and razorwire to your enemies. You hold a grudge like a brass ring. You crackle.

Although you have a leader's personality, you often choose not to lead, as leaders stray too far from their audience. You probably weren't very popular in high school--the joke's on them!

You may be a rock star.

only 90% right since, obviously, i am also the president of iraq.

anyway, i took the quiz twice just because some of the choices could really go either way. result: i appear to be wacky any way you slice me:

You are a WECL--Wacky Emotional Constructive Leader. This makes you a people's advocate. You are passionate about your causes, with a good heart and good endeavors. Your personal fire is contagious, and others wish they could be as dedicated to their beliefs as you are.

Your dedication may cause you to miss the boat on life's more slight and trivial activities. You will feel no loss when skipping some inane mixer, but it can be frustrating to others to whom such things are important. While you find it difficult to see other points of view, it may be useful to act as if you do, and play along once in a while.

In any event, you have buckets of charisma and a natural skill for making people open up. Your greatest asset is an ability to make progress while keeping the peace.

great news! my story "the mystery of our baraboo lands," published in polyphony 3 last year, received an honorable mention from the speculative fiction foundation's fountain awards. and i'm very happy to see mention go to neil gaiman for "bitter grounds," his best short story evar as i've said here before, and m. rickert for "bread & bombs." the range of sources cited in the fountain award is pretty impressive too, from the missouri review to the new yorker to scifiction.

in other news, my ode to funk, "we stand on the verge of getting it on," is up at fortean bureau.

movie quote of the week:

"Sew! Sew like the wind, very old one!