Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Safely upon the dune, once barefoot you are subject to the thorns of the dunegrass. Buried one inch thorns below the sand, protecting the stalk from human trampling. The fauna know better than to trample this flora’s roots. It’s only the stubborn human who will pierce their soft underside of the foot several times before giving reverence to the plant and its place on the dune.
It’s purpose is an ancient and powerful one.
It holds the sand where it is. Holding the dunes longer than Sleeping Bear or Gitchee Manitou. Older than the French had seen even, older than Father Jacques Marquette in 1671. It is as old as the way of the water. The Way. It’s strength to hold the sand so ancient even the stones worship it.
3 lbs. potatoes
4 tbl. Spoons olive oil
2 oz smoked bacon fat
2 sm. Onions
1 head of garlic
3 large tomatoes
¾ lbs spicy sausages
2 green peppers
Sea salt to taste
Heat oil and fry onion and garlic until it begins to brown. Add diced bacon and fry until translucent. Apply a good dusting of paprika.
Add potatoes, peeled and cubed.
Salt to taste.
Turn potatoes and cook covered allowing paprika to seep into the potatoes. Add chopped green pepper, tomatoes and equal amounts of water and beer.
Cook covered until potatoes are almost soft. Add sliced sausage and cook.
Serve piping hot.
Large fresh seedless watermelon
greek feta cheese
one fresh lime
Pink sea salt
Cut the watermelon into rindless rectangles three inches tall and wide by four inches long.
Using a melon baler carve out a half sphere from the top of a watermelon rectangle.
Drip a small amount of lime juice onto opposite side of cavity.
Lightly fill cavity with feta.
Garnish with mint.
Lightly salt to taste.
Where hope survives on coffee grounds and orange peels.
The primal eye contact from the pained hooker on Woodward
broken glass, black snow, grey sky, the dilapidating hulk of humanity.
Almost too real.
Born to lose, made to suffer in the concrete jungle. The options exist only in the flavor of misery.
Thirty dollars a day for a full time hustle, respite spent on seedy weed and malt liquor.
struggle only gets worse when the water turns to ice. The person to a shell.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
20 feet of ice melted in 48 hours, slabs on the shore remain.
Two dead cormorants, two gulls, 1 goldeneye and one dead deer lay camouflaged half encased in frozen layers of ice and sand ass eaten on the shore along with three half whitefish lie as Raven’s dinner during the day and Coyotes by night. The winter has been hard on us all.
Thick, bulbous, algae chokes the shore in some points as far as 50 feet out thickening the lake, subduing the waves with a green sheen. The whole day without seeing another person, they alage may keep them away.
One good thing about Zebra Mussels is walking through their broken shells barefoot, a sensation that you can fully experience without your eyesight.
Bald eagle observes off shore.
2 cloves garlic
2 tbl spns butter
1 pound fresh, shelled and deveined raw large shrimp
¼ cup pur agave tequila
¼ cup fresh chopped cilantro
Mince the garlic, melt the butter in a large frying pan, add garlic stirring 1-2 mins not allowing garlic to color. Add shrimp and cook until pink and curled. Add tequila and cilantro. Heat through and serve. Garnish with lime. Salt to taste.
We had a guarded conversation that was rich with innuendos, secret glances and uncomfortable silences. I was rather at ease having spent the day feasting alone with my dog on the beach. My brain being rather limber I was ready to endure the marathon of their uncomfortableness throughout a dinner. After all, there would be food and drink involved with the inappropriate conversation.
On the way there in the fields South of 669 off M-22 we saw hundreds of deer standing in the fields in herds. He explained how the insurance companies were to blame because they had changed the laws to not let anyone take a doe under so many pounds and a buck under so many points leading to the endless wrecks with deer. Reluctantly, seeing his point, as I had the day before, lost count of dead deer on the side of the road driving from Detroit to Petoskey. There were too many deer, enough I imagined to support a healthy pride of lions.
One large chopped Spanish onion
Three heads of fresh crushed garlic
Head of chopped curley parsley
handful or two of basil chopped.
Juice of one-two lemons to taste
Juice of one-two limes to taste
Fresh African bird’s eye pepper to taste
Extra virgin olive oil.
Combine ingredients in a chilled bowl and enjoy.
Bred to swing a battle axe. Half Finn, half Magyar father. Old American, Dutch mother.
Add a bit of Indian blood to give a violent affliction to brown liquor.
Finnish grandmother looks like an Eskimo or a Laplander, she probably is. Her name Itineimi means ‘big peninsula’ from somewhere in Northern Finland. Hungarian Grandfather dreamed of entrepreneurship while a successful engineer for the car company. Mother’s father fought in all three major battles of the South Pacific during WW2 as a silent warrior and carpenter.
On Good Harbor Bay in Lake Michigan the cladophora is choking the water. Killing the fish. I look out at the dead fish, dead birds and the floating plastic bags in the water. I have walked for a mile in this direction and not seen a single person, yet mankind has managed to impact every frame of sight. Even the jet trails across the blue sky. I guess it could be comforting to know you’re not alone. Still afraid that this may be the last time I can walk so far without seeing anyone here. The cladophora held another hope as it was now only 45 degrees out. Once the sun comes out for a month it will cook and fry and make for some odiferous conditions not fit for swimming. I can imagine this misanthrope learning to love the cladophora before other people. She had it as I was leaving, I hoped to escape without it.
As I drove north I was counting the crows smug with my hopes of seeing Raven.
Once you get north of the Au Sable the crows start to turn to ravens, by Marquette the crows have gone.
Once he is there his medicine is potent. My body shivers at the touch of bloodstone, its colors as deceptive as the octopi Michigan’s natives never knew, there is power for me in those stones. To experience those elements means to overpower evil spirits and recast the spells onto others. Raven people are often complex and difficult; interesting and intelligent. They are easily identified being rife with vices.
Michilimackinac – A short history of the word.
The term Michilimackinac is the modern accepted spelling and definition for an old Indian term that is widely understood to mean ‘The Great Turtle' presumably named for the shape of Mackinac Island. This interpretation of the word is debated by scholars.
An older written record of Michilimackinac is from the Antoine-Dennis Raudot, the Co-Intendant of New France, who shared the position with his pompous father, the father having wasted his entire legacy quarreling with the governor of New France at the time. The overachieving son felt imposed to make up for his fathers shortcomings, afforded himself no rest and was prolific in his economic developments of New France all the while writing his extensive anthropological memoir of the Native American tribes.
In a Raudot Memoir from 1710 he writes:
“The Outavois [Ottawa] live at the post of Michilimakina. . . . . an island opposite gave it its name of Michilimakina, which means turtle, because it seems to have the shape of this animal, which is very common there.”
A number of other scholars on the subject share the Great Turtle definition of Michilimackinac. The reptilian definition is endorsed by the likes of Chrysostom Verwyst, Jedidiah Morse, Alexander Henry, Bishop Barga, John Tanner, Bela Hubbard, Juliette Kinzie, Jonathan Carver, Pierre Charlevoix and Lamothe Cadillac.
Bacqueville de la Potherie (1753) of his version of ‘Michilimackinak' as the place where Michapous, [Great Hare, a spirit] had stayed the longest.
No one has better discredited the ‘Great Turtle' definition as clearly as Andrew J. Blackbird, also known as Chief Mack-e-te-be-nessy (Black hawk), an Odawa, who wrote emphatically in 1887 that the area had been named for an ancient tribe, the Mi-shi-ne-macki naw-go. Andrew J. Blackbird writes in his History of the Ottawa and Chippewa Indians of Michigan from 1887:
“Again, most every historian, or annalist so-called, who writes about the Island of Mackinac and the Straits and vicinity, tells us that the definition or the meaning of the word “Michilimackinac” in the Ottawa and Chippewa language, is “Large Turtle,” derived from the word Mi-shi-mi-ki-nock in the Chippewa language. That is, “Mi-she” as one of the adnominals or adjectives in the Ottawa and Chippewa languages, which would signify tremendous in size; and “Mikinock” is the name of the mud turtle – meaning therefore, “monsterous large turtle,” as the historians would have it. But we consider this to be a clear error. Wherever those annalists, or those who write about the Island of Mackinac , obtain their information as to the definition of the word Michilimackinac, I don't know, when our tradition is so direct and so clear with regard to the historical definition of that word, and is far from being derived from “Michimikinock,” as the historians have told us. Our tradition says that when the Island was first discovered by the Ottawas, which was some time before America was known as an existing country by the white man, there was a small independent tribe, a remnant race of Indians who occupied the Island, who became confederated with the Ottawa when the Ottawas were living at Manitoulin, formerly called Ottawa Island, which is situated north of Lake Huron. The Ottawas thought a good deal of this unfortunate race of people, as they were kind of interesting sort of people; but , unfortunately, they had become most powerful enemies, who every now and then would come among them to make war with them. Their enemies were the Iroquois of New York. Therefore, once in the dead of the winter while the Ottawas were having a great jubilee and war dances at their island, now Manitoulin, on account of the great conquest over the We-ne-be-goes of Wisconsin, of which I will speak more fully in subsequent chapters, during which time the Senecas of New York, of the Iroquois family of Indians, came upon the remnant race and fought them, and almost entirely annihilated them. But two escaped to tell the story, who effected their escape by flight and by hiding in one of the natural caves at the island, and therefore that was the end of this race. And according to our understanding and traditions the tribal name of those disastrous people was “Mi-shi-ne-macki naw-go,” which is still existing to this day as monument to their former existence; for the Ottawas and the Chippewas named this little island “Mi-shi-ne-macki-nong” for memorial sake of those former confederates, which word is the locative case of the Indian noun “Michinemackinawgo.” Therefore we contend, this is properly where the name Michilimackinac is originated.”
Andrew J. Blackbird, History of the Ottawa and Chippewa Indians of Michigan (Ypsilanti, MI: Ypsilanti Auxiliary of the Woman's National Indian Association, 1887) Pg. 19-20, Earliest Possible Known History of Mackinac Island.
A clever ploy by some advertising executives at the pharmaceutical companies focused on the most lucrative cure of all, happiness. Through advertising they easily convince Americans (already believers) that they are not happy and the situation can be cured by taking a pill. Already a decade or so into the selling of penis pills on prime time television.
Some Orthodox expect grief and suffering and salvation through suffering. The basic idea that you had any hope at happiness is absurd. It is much easier to predict suffering and estimate your salvation.
I saw a fisher on the Crystal River in Glen Arbor with my brother. He was walking along the ice along the edge of the river. I knew then it was good medicine to observe the swift hunter along the river bank if only for a few seconds.