Stochasticactus

Lonely Woman - Modern Jazz Quartet (1962)

2012-02-02T06:03:00.000-08:00

Kate Bush - Among Angels - 50 Words For Snow - Chronicles of the Snow Gl...

2012-01-25T19:15:00.000-08:00

Art Ensemble of Chicago Live at Mandel Hall 1/3

2012-01-25T18:32:00.000-08:00

In case you missed it, the Stochasticactus YouTube channel has uploaded a great many out of print, rare and hard to find recordings over the past weeks. More to come.

Band Of Skulls - Bruises

2012-01-23T14:33:00.000-08:00

Georgia Anne Muldrow - Break You Down

2012-01-17T21:41:00.000-08:00

Orion-- Michelle Blades

2012-01-05T18:15:00.000-08:00

Picnic at Hanging Rock - theme soundtrack - Gheorghe Zamfir 'Doina Sus P...

2012-01-04T20:38:00.000-08:00

Bye Bye, All Bes

2011-12-15T06:41:00.000-08:00

Your turn now, my turn later.

Los Angeles January

2011-12-14T08:13:00.000-08:00

Last January, I made a quick trip out to Los Angeles and back, to interview for the position of editor of the Cactus and Succulent Journal. On the way out, the exhaust system fell out of my car, at 11 pm just outside Tonopah, AZ. A resourceful 24 hour mechanic hacked off the entire thing with a saw. I was back on the road and stayed in Inyo at an $80 Motel 6. Freaked me out. Then to Palm Springs to get a new exhaust system, then to LA for the interview. I think I was a little rattled and out of it by the time the interview happened. It was at one of my favorite places, The Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens in San Marino. The library had a fascinating looking Bukowski exhibit, but time was short and I wanted to visit the Desert Garden, one of the finest collections of cacti and succulents in the world.

The only genus of cactus to have visible persistent leaves, Pereskia. Not so common in cultivation.

A tropical rainforest cactus of some kind.

One of the very few Jasminocereus thouarsii growing in the US. It is endemic to the Galapagos.

Another fantastic columnar.

Crazy bonsaied Fouquieria formosa (I think).

A variegated Pereskiopsis.

Some outdoor scenes:

I poked around Los Angeles for a few hours, driving down Sunset Blvd. and into Santa Monica, visiting some old haunts, in a fairly glum and nostalgic mood. After dinner at Hop Li's Seafood, I decided to get a head start on some habitat I wanted to visit and drive up to Victorville and spend the night. The next day I was out in habitat near Helendale, looking for Sclerocactus polyancistrus. The Echinocereus engelmannii armatus here are awesome:

Finally found a very few of the Sclerocactus polyancistrus, a first for me.

Wild red and white spines, twisted and shaggy.

Also Echinocactus polycephalus here.

The Echinocereus are amazing.

The empty spine cage of a dead Sclerocactus eaten by a beetle larva. The beetle larvae really kill a lot of these plants.

Found this completely out of place piece of lingerie out in the middle of nowhere. A tale I may not want to know.

I hiked the few miles back to the car and went up to Adelanto to see the giant statue of Kwan Yin, and the Buddhist temple. The whole thing is utterly surreal, in the middle of nowhere, rural California.

Then I drove back to Elmer Long's Bottle Tree Farm along old Route 66, south of Helendale.

I then drove almost the whole way up to Barstow but realized I didn't have my GPS unit. This handheld unit contains hundreds of irreplaceable data points for cactus habitat. It is only worth a couple hundred bucks, but the info it has on it is priceless. So of course I had to go all the way back to Helendale and try to find it. I retraced my steps and went back to the Sclero habitat.

The GPS was right next to this beautiful cholla. I had absentmindedly set it down while photographing and then just wandered off. It took a couple hours to find it, but I was greatly relieved when I did.

I then drove up to Barstow and stayed there, and then the next morning, before heading home, checked another habitat of Sclerocactus polyancistrus close to town.

I only found one clump in the surrounding thousands of yards. This is why Sclerocactus polyancistrus is sometimes called "the hermit cactus."

Echinocactus polycephalus outside Newberry Springs:
More wild Echinocereus engelmannii armatus:

I dropped down the back roads to I-10, past Amboy Crater and some odd man made structures at the edge of a salt flat.

A desolate part of California.

I didn't get the job of editor, but I had a great trip and saw some plants for the first time. I also noticed how wet and green the Mojave is in January. Some fertile time before the absolutely scorching furnace of summer settles in. I also had an opportunity to reflect on how much the people and places in LA had meant to me. I haven't been able to visit nearly often enough. I miss it.

The Curious One by Carla Kihlstedt & Matthias Bossi - Porto Franco Files

2011-12-11T20:43:00.000-08:00

Baja Solstice 2010 into 2011, part 1

2011-12-09T21:46:00.001-08:00

Winter break from teaching means one thing: pile camping gear into the car and bolt for Mexico. With significant trepidation this time, headed back to familiar places alone. But there was no way not to go. It would have been impossible not to, somehow. The previous year, The Poetess and I had avoided Baja and gone to Sonora instead. So I had already been two years out of Baja and it was calling, no matter the emotional challenges and meditations it might require to go back alone.

The swanky Eldorado Hotel, 650 pesos. Always that splurge at the front end of the trip, getting into Mexico in Tecate on a rainy night. A very familiar pattern.

Wandering Tecate in the cool rain.

Holiday decorations in the zocalo.

The next morning, out of Tecate early and slowly working down through the crowded agricultural and industrial part of the peninsula, past Ensenada, Maneadero, Santo Tomas. A roadside stop to check out the flora.

Cylindropuntia parryi 'serpentina':

Myrtillocactus cochal:

Bergerocactus emoryi and Agave shawii:

Cool cholla:

Just south of El Rosario, all of a sudden, El Desierto Central begins. Cirios spring up.

I've been stopping to photograph this ancient Ferocactus gracilis for the past few years.

Ended up vaulting all the way to Guerrero Negro. Some scenes of the town at night.

The next morning, out the sandbar road to the old salt factory and lighthouse, looking for Ferocactus fordii. Pelican crossing.

Desolate and strange out here.

Ferocactus fordii colored up by the mist.

More furniture than I own.

On down the peninsula through the Vizcaino Desert, beautiful Ferocactus.

A quick drive through San Ignacio and down to the Sea of Cortez side again, into Santa Rosalia and through Mulege to Bahia Concepcion and Playa la Perla.

These folks apparently named The Buddhas.

A hike along the sandbar through the mangroves to Isla Requeson.

Whimsical tuberous caudices of Ibervillea sonorae:

Huge stand of Cochemiea poselgeri:

Back to the campsite at Playa La Perla.

An abandoned travel trailer stuck in the muddy sand on the flats near the campground. The only thing not worth stealing: Sal Bahia. A little salt and no saver.

The master bedroom:

The view from camp as the sun began to set.

The camp dog. He desperately wanted a tuna sandwich.

Sunrise! Only day three. I came up with the overly ambitious plan to drive all the way up a side road on the Pacific side of the peninsula to La Purisima, in search of Stenocereus eruca, the fantastic "creeping devil" cactus endemic to Baja. It was one of those days where I was vaguely delirious and not monitoring my level of scattered, cranky insanity. I had been as far south on the peninsula as Loreto, in the past. On my very first trip to Baja in 1991, I had started to drive up over the mountains outside Loreto and the car began to overheat and a huge tarantula crossed the highway in front of my car, so I turned around. That day, I actually drove all the way back to north of Ensenada, in one day. It was crazy.

So this day marked the first time I would get into brand new territory on the main highway. I think that kind of scrambled my perspective too.

The entire way up the road to La Purisima was blown out by recent hurricanes (John and Jimenez, I think), incredible potholes everywhere and all of the villages covered by debris. La Purisima itself looked particularly hard hit, with the arroyo through town choked with destroyed date palms and many low lying buildings completely destroyed. I did find this cool form of Mammillaria dioica without central spines:

But no luck on Stenocereus eruca. I headed all the way back down to the main road in Ciudad Insurgentes and intended to go the short distance to San Carlos, out another spur road toward the Pacific, but somehow missed the turn in Ciudad Constitucion. So I ended up driving all the way to La Paz. I arrived in La Paz long after dark, stuck behind a Tecate truck winding through the hills outside the city, going about 20 miles per hour. In the city, the drivers were typically aggressive, tailgating, whizzing around madly in ill-defined lanes. I wandered around the city in an addled and aggravated state for about an hour and then finally pulled over and checked my travel info, found the way out north to the beaches near Pichilingue and made it (after some highly ill advised driving on sand, living dangerously) to Playa Tecolote. Set up camp in the dark on the free beach, took this picture of the full moon and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, something odd about the light woke me up. I looked out my tent window to see the full lunar eclipse. I wish I had had the setup to take photos of that darkened moon over the tropical Sea of Cortez. It was a fantastic way to usher in the winter solstice.

Sunrise revealed a fine scene, with Isla Espiritu Santo on the horizon. The folding chair from Dick's Sporting Goods one of the best $9.99 I ever spent.

I went exploring in La Paz, a beautiful, charming, quiet city, very clean and with a sunny, positive energy.

After meeting up briefly with friends of mine from the states (who I would again meet in Todos Santos), I went back out to Playa Tecolote for sunset.

The next morning, a brief hike in the hills by Playa Balandra, some interesting Echinocereus brandegeei:

Beautiful Mammillaria, still not sure of the species.

This, I think is Mammillaria fraileana:

Headed down the Pacific Coast to Todos Santos. A young Lophocereus schottii.

First look at Pachycereus pectin-aboriginum, a close relative of the cardon:

Once in Todos Santos, I started to try to find the beach north of town, where I had heard there was good camping. originally I went up in the hills, through the orchards, and meandered about, basically lost. The Honda wondered what I was up to.

I finally returned to the flats and realized the road to Las Playitas, the beaches north of Todos Santos, is a very broad, well-maintained road. Like everything else in Mexico, easy to find, if you know where it is. I made it out to a deserted stretch about 10 miles north and pitched the tent in the dunes, about 500 yards from the beach. There was the obligatory scare of the car getting stuck in the sand, but she made it out without the need for any assistance, this time.

The beach looking south to Todos Santos:

Looking north:

Sunset:

Only the end of day 5 and nearly to the bottom of the peninsula, finally starting to air out, open up some emotional and head space, feeling that settling of rhythms into Mexican tempos. Heartsore but grateful.

Baja Solstice, 2010 into 2011, Part 2

2011-12-09T18:19:00.001-08:00

I decided to take a long sight seeing trip all the way around the southernmost Cape Region, south of Todos Santos to Los Cabos and back up around the circle on the east side, around to the campsite at Las Playitas again by sunset. I have long wanted to drive the entire peninsula, and here I was in Todos Santos, not that many miles from the very southernmost tip. It took a long time and I was less than thrilled with the entire Los Cabos region. In fact, I didn't stop or take a single photograph from just north of Cabo San Lucas until I saw the sign for the Tropic of Cancer on the other side. I got lost in Cabo San Lucas looking for the famous finisterre rock arch on the beach, and it was just an unpleasant city, at least, in the mood I was in. But north of Cabo I stopped and photographed Mammillaria armillata and some Pachycereus pecten-aboriginum:

Huge Ferocactus to the east of San Jose del Cabo:

Fierce young spines on P. pecten-aborginum:

This unassuming sign along the highway not too far north of San Jose del Cabo. A landmark moment. It was peaceful here.

I stopped briefly at a tiny place called La Ribera, advertised all along the highway as The Baja Riviera, and in the midst of some sort of huge condo development along part of the beach. One wonders if it will ever be completed, and if any will ever be sold. The public beach here deserted this time of year, incredibly windy.

Driving farther north, this sign caught my eye: Santuario de los Cactus. Hmmm. It was already nearing sunset and I was eager to get back to the beach at Las Playitas to see the sun go down over the Pacific again, but I had to visit this place. It felt like an obligation.

It was surreal indeed. A wild habitat with very ancient mesquite trees, huge, propping up and even growing various columnar cacti.

Dmitrio, the tender of the cacti, clasping his hands, talking about how old the mesquites are, in very broken English. He and I had a series of hilarious miscommunications, all of which I have forgotten. He was very proud, though, of his cactus garden. His ejido's cactus santuario.

The very scarce and very cryptic Perskiopsis porteri, cultivated here. It has been reported from the dunes back of the ocean, around Los Cabos:

I hustled out of there much more quickly than I might have, although it was very somber, shady, strange and not particularly interesting regarding cacti, except for those enormous mesquites and the epiphytic columnars. Dmitrio was a charming host and seemed lonely and sad to see me go so soon. The cemetery just outside the grounds looked fascinating too, but the sun was setting.

I drove like mad and made it back to Las Playitas just in time to set up the tent and then hoof it to the shoreline to see this. A couple of whales, spouting out on the far horizon:

The camera played tricks in the evening, or caught the cardon spirits. Or both.

Looking back over the vast dunes, the little frogs starting to talk in the cooling air.

In the morning, a few large schools of manta rays went by, flying out of the water impressively, impossible to photograph. That gray smudge is a ray. I swear.

I went into Todos Santos and found Mike, Mikka, Mikka's parents and their friends from LA., who I had also spent some time with in La Paz. The friends have a house in Todos Santos. Great breakfast....

Some scenes of Todos Santos:

I had had enough of company and tourist energy and went back to the dunes early.

Tillandsia growing on ancient cardon.

Very old areoles:

Brand new areoles:

Some of the bark speaks to why they are called Pachycereus:

Incredible lichen and moss on the local Stenocereus gummosus:

Mammillaria species:

Mammillaria peninsularis, I think, not sure:

What grand intersection is this, you ask?

The entire beach, entirely to myself, again. It was only near sunset that I realized it was Noche Buena.

Christmas morning. Break camp, starting the meandering trip back north. This fantastic shrine on the highway. Headed back to La Perla.

Finally caught the turn to San Carlos and also finally found the incredible Stenocereus eruca, easily accessible, right next to the main highway. The cactus faeries laughed and laughed. I didn't mind, hanging out with these incredible plants.

Also some remarkable Ferocactus here:

Only 1 fruit in this entire colony:

Vaulted up over the mountains, back past Loreto and to the site of Neoevansia diguetii. Is it the same as Peniocereus striatus? Still not sure.

Back to La Perla in time for sunset, a fantastically windy evening. The kind of wind that feels exfoliating.

But very calm by morning. Woken by a flock of pelicans diving noisily for fish in the dark. The oddest sound, like a gigantic serpent.

I took a trip to Playa el Coyote, to check it out, hike up the hill at the end of the beach, visit again. The Poetess and I had spent three or four nights here on our second excursion to Baja. The Ferocactus rectispinus here are particularly cool, with very long, very straight spines.

Echinocereus brandegeei:

I ventured into Mulege to try to get a sense of the town. When The Poetess and I had been there, I had been in a terrible mood. Cranky, irritable, anxious, clutchy and unpleasant. I wanted to wander around in a more spacious mood and make amends.

AA event, next to a flyer for Hotel Serenidad.

Back at La Perla. The high class pit toilet facilities. Por favor, no tire papel en al baño.

A walk around the dunes near the Sea of Cortez revealed this oddball creature on a cardon. It took a minute for me to realize it was a landed frigate bird, a.k.a the "eyebrow bird," as The Poetess used to call them, because they circle very high and look like stylized eyebrows in the air. Yet more bird voodoo. Everywhere I went, birds seemed to be watching me, wary yet curious.

Cochemiea poselgeri:

The habitat:

Beautiful Palo San Juan tree, Forchammeria watsonii:

Back to camp, to bed, to watch one more sunrise over the Sea of Cortez and then to pack up and head north.

Baja Solstice, 2010 into 2011, part 3

2011-12-08T18:24:00.000-08:00

The winding trip back toward Arizona started with sunrise at Playa La Perla, and then a quick trip across the peninsula, up through Santa Rosalia, San Ignacio, Guerrero Negro to Santa Rosalillita and the habitat of the rare and unusual Cochemiea maritima near the Pacific Coast.

Incredible Ferocacti here:

Cochemiea maritima is all bristles and long hooked spines, very scruffy looking.

Echinocereus maritimus hancockii and Stenocereus gummosus in a strange dance.

A large old clump of Cochemiea maritima and a mound of Echinocereus, in flower.

Echinocereus maritimus hancockii flower, sunny yellow.

Into the village of Santa Rosalillita. I had vaguely planned on staying here, but had forgotten that it was frigid with the Pacific winter wind and desolate in winter. The small motel in town was closed. It was frighteningly windswept and lonely.

So I drove the short distance to a place often visited with The Poetess, Bahia de Los Angeles. Warmer, calmer, familiar. I was feeling pretty strung out by this time. It was simultaneously comforting and wrenching to be here. It felt like home. But it also felt forlorn. But I met another part of myself here again, and just opened to it.

As I walked on the beach, I was observed by this odd bird, perched on a roof. More bird voodoo.

The next day I went over on the road to La Mona and visited with Grusonia invicta, in the desolate flats.

The aptly named Cylindropuntia molesta.

A beautiful and fiercely hooked Mammillaria, not sure which species.

Then I drove out to the road to San Borja. Fantastic Feros here, Echinocereus ferreirianus, wild vistas, Pachycormus discolor, Bursera, etc.

Back to the beach for idle time, reconnecting with some sense of a heart. Wandering the beach for hours before sunset.

The next day, I packed up and headed north, through El Desierto Central. I had in mind to try to find the tiny stand of Stenocereus eruca in the area around Catavina, to no avail. I also wanted to find Echinocereus ferreirianus lindsayi, also to no avail. But a fantastic journey into the cloudy, wet desert.

In the river bed, these enormous blue fan palms, native and rare, surreal.

Then in the car again, all the way up through the desert to the coastal fog zone near El Rosario, into the mountains just outside town. Ferocactus fordii, Echinocereus maritimus, some Mammillaria species, Bergerocactus. This is still California chaparral up here, everything covered with lichen.

The Turista Motel in El Rosario a fantastic place to stay. Hot water, comfortable beds, space heaters, 300 pesos.

The next morning was cloudy, foggy.

The rough surf and wild winds of Socorro on the way to San Quintin.

One more night in Mexico, at the Hotel Paraiso in Tecate. 200 pesos, and about what one would expect for that price.

Scenes of Tecate:

The motel room.

Windows opening onto the hallway.

Bathroom like a prison cell.

Hail Rosa Venus, blessed art thou among soaps.

Pink Beagle Fashion Woman.

This utterly fantastic bakery at the end of Benito Juarez, incredible pastries. It really is el mejor pan de Tecate.

Barton Fink, Tecate style.

This is what I saw throughout the freezing night, as this music blared from the clothing store across the street until about 2 in the morning:

The next day, up through customs in minutes, over the very scenic road through Campo and Jacumba, back on Interstate 8 to home. Ghostly Dudleya, Cylindropuntia californica, beautiful huge old live oaks.

Not sure anywhere along the way of this fairly epic-feeling excursion I actually found anything of any permanent wisdom or value. Maybe way out on the crescent beach in Todos Santos, at the intersection of Camino Pulpo y Camino de la Langosta. Maybe on Playa Tecolote for that full lunar eclipse. I did discover it is entirely possible to be heartbroken and be completely safe and protected at the same time. That it's spiritually liberating to go right into the center. That freedom is both more than and not all it's cracked up to be. I suppose that's some magic, something permanently useful. The armor that is not armor.

Sonoran Thanksgiving 2010

2011-12-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

In 2010, I headed down to Bahia de Kino immediately after school on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. For a bit of an introductory sense of this fabulous place and the beauty in between Phoenix and there, check also this earlier post.

Some photos from the trip down and one of my favorite relatively quiet border towns, Sonoyta. The sunset outside Lukeville was spectacular.

The Excelsior Motel in Sonoyta. You can manipulate the hot and cold water for the shower, from the toilet. A real design breakthrough.

Prohibited to shower itself.

Taco stand on the main drag. Pretty good carne asada tacos.

The AA meeting room in Sonoyta, Grupo Dr. Bob. I attended an hour and a half meeting and just soaked it up, not really understanding much of the very rapid Spanish. It was a great meeting though.

The empty pool at the motel. It seems Mexico has very few worries about injury liability.

Some images of the wonderful Sonoran Desert between Sonoyta and Hermosillo, including a series of photos of the rare endemic Echinomastus acunensis from outside Sonoyta, and the snaky Stenocereus alamosensis from along the highway north of Benjamin Hill, SON.

When I got to the beach in Kino, up over the rocky hill north of Kino Nuevo, a beach I sometimes call La Playa del Burro Muerto, I was disheartened to see how thoroughly trashed it was:

It must have been a big storm or two that blew all of that plastic and garbage in. I decided to spend Thanksgiving day cleaning up a huge swath of the beach. But for this evening, just took a walk.

A dead juvenile dolphin, the cast off body of the sylph.

These odd concrete pilings. I suppose someone tried to build a dock or a house or something here.

A slight head start on the beach trash.

Sunrise over the Sea of Cortez, Thanksgiving Day.

The osprey's perch.

One of the hazards of picking up trash on the beach:

Inanimate, this one:

Some of the more than 40 bags of trash I picked up:

Then into town. Idly looking for a supposed colony of Stenocereus gummosus on the big red hill at the end of Kino Nuevo. Mostly just hiking around.

The view from Kino Nuevo, back to the campsite.

Into Kino Viejo, just down the road. A completely different feel here. More local residents, many more working people.

Back to the beach. This wizened old one, standing watch.

On the top of the hill at the end of the beach, a few crosses, with memorial plaques at the bottom that have completely rusted and are illegible.

The view from the crosses, to the open Sea of Cortez and Isla Tiburon.

A well-maintained shrine to La Virgen, on the promontory.

Another view of the pilings on the beach:

The dead dolphin:

The sand cliffs:

Where the sylph lives.

Home.

Sunset, after a day where I think I hadn't spoken with a single other embodied being.

Next day, on my way out of Kino, some cool local plants:

I drove up to Puerto Libertad to check out the only known colony of Idria columnaris (aka Fouquieria columnaris, aka boojum, aka cirio) on mainland Mexico. Huge osprey nest here.

Pretty, red-toothed Agave:

The cirios are so odd, appearing here as if out of nowhere. The locale made me want to get to Baja as soon as possible. It was ferociously windy and desolate, nothing but the cry of the osprey and the sea's rote in the far distance.

Almost directly across from here, Bahia de Los Angeles in Baja Norte.

From here, back home. Already turned forward to Baja in December, no matter how turned inside out. A trip of gratitude, for sure. Pure, endless solitude. If not at ease, at least at home in the church of the world.

Yoga Girl - Music Video [HD]

2011-12-04T12:48:00.000-08:00

Baths - Aminals

2011-12-01T20:14:00.000-08:00

"I would like you to write a simple story just once more, " he says, "the kind de Maupassant wrote, or Chekhov, the kind you used to write. Just recognizable people and then write down what happened to them next."

I say, "Yes, why not? That's possible." I want to please him, though I don't remember writing that way. I would like to try to tell such a story, if he means the kind that begins: "There was a woman..." followed by plot, the absolute line between two points which I've always despised. Not for literary reasons, but because it takes all hope away. Everyone, real or invented, deserves the open destiny of life." -- Grace Paley, A Conversation with My Father

Cecil Taylor Unit, The Eighth, part 1 of 4

2011-11-29T17:24:00.000-08:00

Not Calling it the Eighth. But, the actual Eighth.

CECIL TAYLOR UNEEET!!

2011-11-28T05:48:00.000-08:00

Offered Without Comment at the moment

2011-11-27T16:21:00.000-08:00

http://www.slaafws.org/download/core-files/Characteristics-of-Sex-Love-Addiction.pdf

The 12 characteristics of sex and love addicts.

Jacky Terrasson Solo - Les Chemins de l'Amour

2011-11-27T11:11:00.000-08:00

Jimmy Lyons Riffs #5

2011-11-26T18:38:00.000-08:00

In memory of the great Jimmy Lyons, whose birthday is on December 1.

Kate Bush Rocket's Tail

2011-11-21T21:37:00.000-08:00

Size 5 Rocket boots....

Kate Bush - Never Be Mine

2011-11-21T21:05:00.000-08:00

Vulture Mines, Why, Coffee Pots

2011-11-20T09:45:00.000-08:00

Armistice Day 2010 came along and offered yet another long-ish weekend to get out and make some kind of gesture toward meeting myself somewhere. I decided to go up to Vulture Mine Road to take a look at a form of Echinomastus that most have included in Echinomastus johnsonii, but that is in fact noticeably different. Marc Baker has resurrected Pinkney's old name arizonicus and includes these in that form. They seem somehow intermediate between johnsonii and acunensis. Just up the road the other way, north of Wickenburg about 20 miles, populations of yellow flowered johnsonii (sometimes called 'lutescens') are quite dense. The next nearest Echinomastus occurrences to Vulture Mine Road are to the west, near Bouse, where Baker indicates the forms are definitely arizonicus. I finally made it out there last spring, but that's another post.

Beautiful golden-yellow spines on Mammillaria grahamii:
Saguaro skin:
Fierce cholla spines on the way to Interstate 10:
Love the way Ferocactus cylindraceus spines catch the light:
This Ferocactus reminiscent of 'tortulispinus' from Laguna Chapala, Baja.

I drove all the way to Why just in time to check out the sparse population of Peniocereus striatus in a very remote area. It was a real thrill to find these the first time, as they had sort of fallen off the Arizona radar since the '80s. Apparently, the crews building the border fence/wall have found a great many of them all along the border, in completely inaccessible places.
Peniocereus striatus. Is it the same as Neoevansia digueti? I'd like to investigate that some more. There are confusing reports in the literature about these two names. Most now consider them one and the same plant. I'm not so sure, having seen the Baja plants that go by digueti. Time (and flower pictures!) will tell.

Back toward Ajo for the night. Not the greatest idea, to stay there. A lot of memories from the past. But I did want to try to get out to Coffee Pot Mountain to try to find yet another population of Echinomastus. I balanced heart-soreness with cactus avarice. The latter won, barely.

In many travels throughout the Southwest US and Mexico, I have seen a great many shrines. Some of these are clearly dedicated to those who have died on the road. Some just seem to be shrines to the La Virgen, placed in mysterious locations for unknown reasons.

Many have candles that are lit and must be regularly visited. Some have high tech solar powered candles. I love the water bottle and the Budweiser can. I was tempted to leave a couple of Ibuprofen.

La Siesta Motel, cozy cabins. Fiercely non-smoking. Note that it says WHEN, not if. Bucko.
The next morning, out the road to Coffee Pot Mountain from Ajo. A welcoming sign:

Ridiculously spiny form of Ferocactus wislizeni that I think someone has proposed giving a special name.

Fooling around with exposure.
Encountered this old crest along the way:

And this gunslinger:

Another nice Ferocactus, this one called emoryi.

The road, of course, just got worse and worse. I almost got stuck several times and bottomed out over and over again. One of these days, I will snag something high clearance and 4 wheel drive. The poor Honda has been places not even mules should go.

I never found the population of Echinomastus acunensis that is on Coffee Pot Mountain. I headed back to Ajo just in time for some good light to catch the white buildings and blue sky, reminiscent of Greece or Spain.

Not sure I met myself anywhere. The past was too much with me. I may even have left myself out there. It's unmanageable, this soul retrieval project. It's not the worst place in the world to stay lost.

John Coltrane - Compassion

2011-11-19T20:12:00.000-08:00

Mudvayne - Internal Primates Forever

2011-11-19T16:07:00.000-08:00

On scoring a 98% on this quiz: http://www.slaafws.org/download/core-files/The_40_Questions_of_SLAA.pdf

A Weekend in Douglas

2011-11-19T10:06:00.000-08:00

I had wanted to poke around southeast Arizona over toward New Mexico for a long time. There are some interesting cacti down there, including Escobaria robbinsorum and some other unusual distributions. The habitat is not at all Sonoran Desert, but neither is it Chihuahuan, exactly. It is yet another transition zone where several different types of habitat slide together. These kinds of soupy biogeographical regions often have the most interesting flora.

Two of the main quarries for southeast AZ, I have yet to find: the above-mentioned E. robbinsorum and a population of Peniocereus greggii somewhere outside Douglas.

This autumnal trip last year was marked by repeated encounters with US Customs and Border Patrol. Southeast AZ is a major corridor for drug and human smuggling. It's slightly more accessible and hospitable than areas farther west and the wide open spaces are probably almost impossible to police effectively. A few months before I had gone down to this area, a rancher was killed on his property and everyone was quick to blame an undocumented immigrant, although no evidence to that effect exists and there has never been a suspect apprehended, I don't think. But it is very remote out there, east of Douglas. Geronimo Trail heads east right out of the small town over toward New Mexico and is unpaved nearly all the way.

Some shots of the habitat to the east of Douglas:

Aptly named "shin daggers"

The flats just on the American side of the border.

The controversial and hideous border fence.

Opuntia macrocentra

Some kind of beautiful phaeacantha or phaeacantha hybrid

Escobaria vivipara bisbeeana

Echinocereus arizonicus nigrihorridispinus. What a name.

Escobaria species, I think. Maybe orcuttii.

One of the pancake Mammillaria.

Agave:

This ridiculous and ineffective fence along the US/Mexico border.

Agave schottii:

I fell in love with the bizarre, anachronistic, nearly Mexican ambiance of Douglas itself. I don't think I would stay very sane if I lived in a town like this, but I love visiting. Wandering through dark western small towns in mid-autumn is heart breaking and healing at the same time. In particular, I noticed that this small town used to be a lot more proud of its Mexican roots. The effects of the US economic and immigration policies are obvious everywhere, with abandoned buildings, empty streets, for sale signs on every other property and ghosts of a once vital trans-national community.

Most of the highway signs in the US pointing one toward particular Mexican towns or cities (Agua Prieta, in this case) just say "Mexico." It is probably unintentional, but it lends a xenophobic, dumbass quality to US border areas.

I don;t think I want a singing butcher. Really.

123

Fabulous color combo.

The Grand Theater, under renovations.

Technology Today. 20 years ago.

Bar.

The busiest businesses were right down by the border, patronized by Mexican families buying Dia de los Muertos doodads.

Te puede ayudar.

The surreal, completely restored lobby of the Hotel Gadsden.

The brand most people prefer.

The only way out of town.

Inexpensive, quiet and comfortable. A fairly decent Indian restaurant, also. On another visit later, I had pretty good chicken vindaloo.

I didn't go all the way over to New Mexico this time. The next time I visited down here, I did. But this time, I got a feel for this odd outpost. Flashes of grounding solitude mixed with crashing nostalgia and loneliness. What fun. At least the habitat outside town was welcoming, as it always is.

Patti Smith - Wing

2011-11-18T14:55:00.000-08:00

Don Cherry & Terry Riley - the dream - untitled - Koln concert 1975

2011-11-18T06:01:00.000-08:00

Alice Coltrane - Hare Krishna

2011-11-16T17:03:00.000-08:00

Back, Out of the Country

2011-11-15T19:42:00.000-08:00

On a Thursday in October last year I left school at 2:15 for a long weekend and drove directly to Bahia de Kino, about 9 hours from the school parking lot to the cliff overlooking Playa del Burro Muerto. Not the beach's real name. The Poetess and I had been there the previous Christmas and had camped at the base of a steep cliff only to discover the corpse of a burro on the sand, a long plastic yellow rope around its neck, about 50 yards from the tent. The wind, thankfully, was blowing away from where we were.

The drive down was strange. A voice entered my mind somewhere between Phoenix and Tucson, "You know, she's not going to be there." It was startling. I hadn't imagined I was going to visit her, really, but actually had told the story in my head that I was going down to Mexico to get myself back, to recover something of myself that felt like it had been lost. "No matter where you go, she won't be there," the voice said again. It was speaking to several of my younger selves, all of whom had naively figured that she would indeed be there, the magical thinking mind that imagines, "This is the way this place was at some time in the past, so it has to be that way again if I go back. Of course it will be. She's just been waiting down there all this time, and so have you, your younger self has been down there too, just waiting for you to come back and visit." Anyway, it was a moment of plummeting. I almost turned the car around. Pressed on to Nogales, AZ, got car insurance just before the place closed, and on across the border, into Nogales, SON, and instantly overwhelmed by the essential Mexican immediacy. The smell of burning wood, burning oil, roasting meat and roasted chiles. The noise, the lights. It was after dark and rain was falling. Panhandlers lined the street leading directly from the border crossing. Suddenly, all the colors, all the signs in Spanish.

It is instant, across this border. The American side presents some clues. But as soon as you cross over, you are back, finally, out of the country. It doesn't matter if you are heartbroken or elated. It's all worth it.

The Santa Ritas from the car window, along 19 toward Nogales:

Sunset and a carnival in Nogales AZ, just before the border, starting to feel like the end of the world:

No more photos until morning. But the drive down through Caborca and Hermosillo and over to Bahia de Kino in the dark was surreal, as everything always is, even in the daytime, in Mexico. In particular, huge, wind-lashing thunderstorms, sheets of rain, and the highways covered with swarms of frogs.

Some pictures from Kino:

Snake Hot Dogs!

On street boat parking:

The view at sunrise from the cliff where I camped:

I was restless and sad. I decided not to stay another night, but to drive to Caborca and check it out. I had always been curious about it. I also wanted to visit the habitat around Kino as well as a special habitat around Tastiota, where the very rare Grusonia reflexispina grows. So I left Kino fairly early in the morning and headed out into the desert and then up toward Caborca.

These very nice Echinocereus (fasciculatus?) outside Kino, where I was hunting around (to no avail) for Grusonia marenae, an oddball little Opuntioid and a close relative of Grusonia reflexispina. There was also an impressive grove of Pachycereus pringlei, a.k.a. Cardon, and one of the great things about this area of Sonora is that Saguaro and Cardon grow together (as well as Organ Pipe and Senita).

Long winding root of a Cardon.

Very mysterious, this little grove and cluster.

Grusonia reflexispina, near Tastiota:

Goats:

Soft and slow sunset on the road up to Caborca:

Caborca ended up being strange. I got lost, driving around the relatively small town. None of the hotels or motels looked good in the dark. Mexico really, in general, does not look very inviting in the dark, to American eyes. It is much darker, as there are fewer street lights. Buildings and streets all seem much more crowded and cramped. Everything can take on a vaguely ominous tone. I finally found my way back to the highway and decided to drive all the way up to Sonoyta, on the Arizona border.

Some Sonoyta images:

The gated wrought iron entrance to Motel Excelsior, typical grand Mexican style.

These musicians were fascinated by the karaoke machine on the boulevard.

The next morning, I was up early and decided to drive through El Pinacate Biosphere reserve, west of Sonoyta along Mexico 2, toward San Luis Rio Colorado, south of Yuma. I was in search of the somewhat anomalous Sonoran Desert population of Echinocactus polycephalus, much more widespread in the Mojave to the north. El Pinacate ended up being starkly beautiful and amazing. Mexico 2 was a little bit sketchy, as it is all border road, for miles and miles. Sometimes lined with the hideous border wall we have built. But the volcanic desert and the cactus sights were incredible.

Echinocactus polycephalus not too far west of Sonoyta, probably due south of Cabeza Prieta Wildlife Refuge:

Wildly spiny form of Echinocereus engelmannii:

Descanso en paz:

The Echinocactus polycephalus farther east, near Los Vidrios, form large clumps of very small individual stems. These have been given the name "minimus," apparently:

Scorpion Peak. Probably very aptly named.

Enormous sand dunes. The only active erg in North America.

Dessicated Opuntia basilaris:

Another Grusonia, this one kunzei, big fierce stems:

Farther west, nearer to San Luis Rio Colorado, Echinocactus polycephalus looks more like its Mojave counterparts.

I drove on, south of San Luis Colorado on the new toll road along the Sonoran coast of the Sea of Cortez. I was considering stopping overnight in El Golfo de Santa Clara, but kept driving. Between there and a tiny fishing village named El Desemboque, incredible dune systems along the sea.

The beach at El Desemboque, like a tiny replica of the huge dunes I had just driven through:

I arrived just in time for a heartbreakingly beautiful sunset. El Desemboque a very impoverished little fishing village, specializing in oysters and abalone. The dump just outside of town piled high with shells and smelling intensely of death and rot. The beach here was swarmed with ATV's, as some sort of club from somewhere else in Mexico had paid a visit. But the sunset and the peace of the Sea of Cortez provided the usual astonishing contrast.

In a tiny restaurant that was really just someone's kitchen. The next photo of the counter, where a small mouse peeked out from time to time from behind the figurines as I ate my shrimp dinner.

"Hotel" and Restaurant Playa Dorado, the only lodging in town. $650 pesos, probably because all the ATV yahoos were staying there.

Rebar. Everywhere in Mexico, always exposed rebar.

The next day I drove back inland through Caborca again, looking for Grusonia marenae. Finally found small stands of it quite near Caborca itself, in great, flat lowland desert featuring all four of the most northerly columnar cacti.

Very similar to Grusonia reflexispina and obviously closely related. Dave Ferguson speculates they may actually be forms of the same species.

Finally on the way back toward Sonoyta again, Sunday morning, having only been in Mexico for about 60 hours. The car turned over 222222 along the way. Now, it is above 250,000. Just over a year later. 28,000 miles of blog posts coming up.

Kate Bush Love and Anger

2011-11-14T19:00:00.000-08:00

Sonny Sharrock - "Who Does She Hope to Be?"

2011-11-11T19:06:00.000-08:00

In memory of Fiona, passed two years ago today. May she be causing cosmic chaos on some food littered planet.

time

2011-11-11T12:31:00.000-08:00

Lhasa de Sela - A Fish On Land

2011-11-11T08:51:00.000-08:00

Esmerine - Why she swallows bullets and stones

2011-11-10T20:23:00.000-08:00

Travelling - Meredith Monk

2011-11-10T19:38:00.000-08:00

Meredith Monk: Memory Song

2011-11-10T19:28:00.000-08:00

Merengue en Altos de Chavón

2011-11-04T19:19:00.000-07:00

Ruben Albarran - Hoppo at Hollywood Forever Cemetery 2011

2011-11-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

Lou Reed - Halloween Parade - New York Album

2011-10-31T15:02:00.000-07:00

October Poltergeists 2010

2011-10-29T11:17:00.000-07:00

Huge storm clouds over the Jemez Mountains, from the scenic balcony of the Motel 6 in Santa Fe, last October.

Finally, the air cools in the 10th month. Everyone in the Phoenix area starts doing things again. Summer here is analogous to winter elsewhere. The desolate aspects of everyone indoors, the streets empty. Emphasized in Maple/Ash by the vast reduction in yahoo college undergrads. Come to think of it, that's a good name for the local Education Factory. Yahoo College. Yahuniversity. Anyway, by October, it's bumping around here.

Last year's High Mayhem Emerging Arts fall event, The Fall Series, had me up to Santa Fe to perform a 45 minute drum set piece I called Poltergeist. (This year's Fall Series kicks off this weekend, and is highly recommended). I was originally inspired by the monstrously talented Frank Rosaly, who blazed through Phoenix 2 years ago and performed a glorious solo set at Modified Arts, reminding me of the great power of solo improvised percussion. I had somehow forgotten.

Poltergeist was intended to capture a few different themes. One is the mystical concept that inanimate objects have souls or voices, and that in striking them, sounding them, those spirits are liberated and freed. I was meditating on the voice of the drums in this way for a while, playing solo in my living room. It occurred to me that there is also a great storytelling tradition in drumming. Griots, of course, but also just the whole way rhythmic phrasing has a narrative arc. I wanted to tell some story about a spirit who had been wronged and who was returning to file an official grievance. Then I encountered this tale:

"The Ghostly Drummer of Tedworth was a case of suspected poltergeist activity. In the early 1660s John Mompesson of Wiltshire began to hear strange noises in his home. There was the sound of a drum beating, as well as scratching and panting noises. Objects seemed to move of their own accord in the house, and sometimes a strange sulphureous smell lingered in the air.

Mompesson believed that a man he had helped send to jail, a drummer named William Drury, had, through some form of witchcraft, caused a malevolent spirit to invade his home. The case attracted interest throughout England, and many people came to witness the spirit for themselves. However, when the King sent two representatives to investigate the haunting, they found no evidence of supernatural activity."

So the whole thing naturally fell together from there. I am still hoping to get the multitrack recording of that solo. I think it went well.

Some photos from that trip, and then last year's trip up to the ranch near Ocate, a trip I made the week after the Fall Series gig.

Carlos Santistevan and Milton Villarrubia III of Ink on Paper:

Me channeling aggrieved spirits:

I do remember when I was done, someone in the front row of the very small audience whispered "holy fuck!" So I guess it was fairly intense. Or he was outraged.

Some photos from the beautiful, historical town of Las Vegas, New Mexico and the ranch trip last October:

The poker table, scene of many a heartbreak:

Some of the cactus sights from near Ocate and then a stop on the way back to Phoenix in a little town in New Mexico called Corona, featuring some very fine Echinocereus triglochidiatus.

At the crossroads in Ocate, precisely the kind of building I love seeing. It tells its own stories, aggrieved or not.

How to Pronounce Schadenfreude

2011-10-29T10:48:00.000-07:00

Heat Trapped

2011-10-28T20:24:00.000-07:00

Last August and September, I avoided going anywhere for a good long while. It was too hot. The above photo is Mill Avenue in Tempe, at about 7:30 pm on the first Friday in August, as I headed downtown for the art walk. It was about 110 degrees, still. No rain would fall. It would just look bleak and ominous. And it would stay up in the 90s overnight. This is August in the low desert. This year's summer was the hottest on record. But last year was hot too.

Some Phoenix pics:

Some pics from my neighborhood at night, in September.

My room on a sunny afternoon. Shady and cool.

Now that it is cooling off, I miss summer.

4 Peyote Songs....Lance Crowe

2011-10-26T16:32:00.000-07:00

Son Lux - Break

2011-10-20T16:36:00.000-07:00

Ali Farka Toure - Savane

2011-10-18T20:10:00.000-07:00

reflection of the blues from the very source for a dark Tuesday night in October.

Master Musicians of Jajouka - Apocalypse Across the Sky

2011-10-18T19:48:00.000-07:00

Santa Fe Returns; Our Intrepid Traveler Falls

2011-10-16T19:33:00.000-07:00

Last summer, a trip with a lot on the line. After intensive step work with my AA sponsor, I had arrived at the willingness, eagerness even, to make amends to a variety of Santa Fe friends, ranging from employers to ex-wives to ex-girlfriends. I have been blessed to maintain friendships with both of my ex-wives and many other exes (largely due to their unearned miraculous generosity of spirit toward me and my finally getting sober) over a great many years, but the specific amends conversations had not occurred, even after 7 years of sobriety. There were several other amends as well. Also on the schedule: scattering the ashes of my beloved dog Fiona in the pond at Sunrise Springs. Fiona spent the first two years or so of her life swimming in that pond and it was definitely one of her favorite places.

Here she is "helping" with the clean up from a going away party for me from 2001 in Santa Fe, before I moved to Los Angeles:

Also on the agenda: Electric Miles Project 2, another in a series of extrapolations from some of Miles Davis' 1970s music. Here's a segment of set 2, featuring our approach to Great Expectations:

I camped up in the mountains for most of the 9 days or so I was there, and it rained every night. My tent was leaking so I drove around with my bedding in my car all day, drying it out.

So it was a very intense trip indeed. It also coincided with profound grief around the state of things with The Poetess and other unexpected feelings. And more. So everything really opened up wide and it all felt like a combined catechism and catastrophe, blissful and liberating and dark and endlessly sad and joyful all at once. There have been many periods precisely like this in the intervening year, but this was especially something like a free fall. There was also incredible deep tissue body work from my highly recommended friend Darcy Alice Nicholson, and that led to a bizarre spiritual experience on the massage table. More about that later, or never. Maybe.

On a much more earthy, grounded note, I saw some great cactus sights. Echinocereus fendleri and a nice form of Cylindropuntia imbricata south of town, and lots of sky.

Santa Fe really is Cougar Country, somehow.

Classic Echinocereus coccineus up off Hyde Park Road, as well as equally classic Echinocereus triglochidiatus:

Always cool to see cacti growing covered by pine needles, at 9000 feet, in the shade.

Also paid a quick visit to the very rare endemic cholla that grows in a city park in Santa Fe, Cylindropuntia viridiflora. It has been speculatively reclassified as a hybrid (supposedly between imbricata and whipplei) but I think it is a distinct species.

Some pics of the Miles gig:

On the way back, I made several cactus stops, including a stop at the Little Colorado River canyons south of Woodruff. I have looked 3 times, a few hours each time, for the very elusive Escobaria missouriensis navajoensis RP33 here, to no avail. One of these days! It is awesome country, and always worth a visit.

The river was brown and raging from all the recent rains:

Some pics from a couple stops along the road from Holbrook to Heber and in the Heber area:

A cool flat and not very spiny form of Echinocereus fendleri from the Heber area:

Pretty seedlings of the same form:

Beautiful Agave parryi in the Heber area:

This was the last trip I took until October of last year. So now, I guess that means I am only a year behind. But about 20 trips to post. That's the kind of year it was. It's wild to just now be starting on the actual travelogue. Maybe nothing and everything is prefatory, anyway. What difference does it make? The point is, there are a lot of travels to absorb. And I keep going on the road again, so there's an almost humorous recursive quality to it.

But the journey of July 2010 was mysteriously inner and ineffable. Something raging like a river. Like beehive flowers. Like the thunder and lightning every night, the rain-soaked cold bedding, the electric music, the sun every afternoon. If I want things to be split open, if I need to get a clear window into anything, whether I want to or not, a trip to Santa Fe often does it.

This coming weekend, a trip back to the "poker ranch" near Ocate, NM. Have to go prayed up and ready for revelations (whether I win or lose money) as they always happen there, too. The trip there last October included encountering this evocative Yo La Tengo song and going completely into free fall again for days.

Betty Carter: "Droppin' Things" (Lisbon, 1990)

2011-10-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

Occupy Phoenix, Saturday Night, October 15

2011-10-16T14:33:00.000-07:00

Some video I shot last night at Occupy Phoenix. This was a few hours before dozens of police in riot gear arrested 46 protesters. The taiko drumming at the Japanese Garden is a very strange counterpart. Tickets for that were $35.

Kate Bush - Wild Man - radio edit still video

2011-10-14T14:53:00.000-07:00

Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band - Bat Chain Puller Medley, 1976

2011-10-13T16:28:00.000-07:00

Ye daulat bhi le lo - jagjit singh - www.taaal.com

2011-10-11T14:38:00.000-07:00

Another memorial Jagjit Singh post. Rest in peace.

Hay Shiv Shankar Hey Karunakar By Jagjit Singh

2011-10-11T14:19:00.000-07:00

Rest in peace, Jagjit Singh, 8 February 1941 – 10 October 2011.

Take Courage - Andrew Bird

2011-10-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

tUnE-yArDs - 'Bizness'

2011-10-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

World Saxophone Quartet (with Fontella Bass) - You Don't Know Me

2011-10-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

Vulture Mine Road

2011-10-02T10:37:00.000-07:00

Picturesquely named, equally picturesque in reality. Vulture Mine Road stretches from US 60 in Wickenburg, almost all the way to Interstate 10 near Tonopah. Along the way, there is a strange little population of Echinomastus and some incredible desert beauty.

The Echinomastus here are perhaps closest to what J. Pinkney Hester first described as Echinomastus arizonicus. These were plants from what was then Yuma County, AZ, in an area that is now in La Paz County, over by Bouse. (More on those plants later, as I did finally find them). Not entirely sure precisely what would distinguish Echinomastus arizonicus from Echinomastus johnsonii, but it was immediately apparent to me at this Vulture Mine Road site that these plants are somewhat intermediate between acunensis and johnsonii.

Some general shots of the trip. It is still fairly hospitable around June 1 in the local deserts.

The Echinomastus:

Some really nice Mammillaria tetrancistra and other sights on the way home:

After this little jaunt, I moved into my own place and didn't travel again until late July, to Santa Fe.