Fat Guy on a Bike (WITH DOG) Goes to Lilydale Park

A perfect day for trail biking, fossil digging and (if you happen to be a dog) wetlands splashing. We came home three hours later, both liberally caked in 450,000,000 year old clay. It was difficult to judge which of us was panting harder from the heat and exertion.

One thing to mention: this new bike sure has some excellent shock absorption. The trails up there are littered with broken bricks and quite frequently washed out, and I didn't crash once. It was the first time I'd gone out rockhounding since the accident, and the first time I'd gone trailbiking since childhood. I had almost forgotten how much I missed both. Going back soon, possibly with friends or as part of an organized group. If not, alone on bike (WITH DOOOOG), exploring like a mofo under a cloud of discombobulated no-see-ums.

Remind me to bring more water next time. I thought I was going to die out there before I found the waterfall and let myself get rained on for a few minutes. Sweet bliss.

Musings on a Phlegm-Filled Evening

You know, I was thinking today that I should try subsidizing my addictions with other addictions. Like trading commissions for geological cabinet specimens. I can't afford to add new stuff to my rock/fossil/gem collection, but I can afford to draw for hours every day. The question would be how to quantify the value of any particular specimen compared to the art, since both are very subjective. The same fossil that will sell for $6 on eBay will go for $100 at a metaphysical shop--it's all about the value the buyer assigns to each piece when it calls out to them.

Hmm. It is a pretty interesting idea, but I have such a particular taste in shinies that I would feel bad turning down offers. But really, I dislike money and the idea of trading with other rock fans does appeal to me. Maybe I should keep pursuing this. If nothing else, it would be funny as shit to try.

Meanwhile, Kagerou is migrating to www.kagerou.org as its permanent home. Adjust bookmarks as necessary, folks! Electric-Manga.com will not be going bye-bye, but Seebs has written a hell of a good piece of code for a webcomic browsing site and I've offered the domain for it. It's by fans, for fans. No aggregating comics, it's just like having a bookmark folder that you can send to friends, write and rank reviews, add your own discoveries and find similar strips to read. It'll also keep track of where you leave off in any given story. When beta testing is done and it goes live, I plan to erase my comic's hideously outdated link page and just post my electric-manga account page instead.

Tomorrow I need to make an appointment with the doctor. I am fairly sure my tonsils weren't this red-streaked and bumpy last time I looked. The cold appears to be going away this time, so there's something to be happy about. It's no fun being falling-down sick during an influenza panic.

Pep Talk

I have a plan for this upcoming summer, but I don't know how to put it into action.

Basically, I want to travel the country on a rockhounding tour. I plan to visit Oregon, possibly Arkansas, the North Shore of Superior and Thunder Bay up in Canada. If I can get my shit together by then, I can contact folks with private mines who take guests and learn how they do their stuff.

Maybe I'll meet some other hounds who know good collecting spots and stay with them as well. I may hit rock shows and talk to the people who work them. Ask how they got into their line of work and take notes and advice. They give it freely to others who have the bug, I already know that much. I wonder if people in the rock business take apprentices or interns. At the very least, I can join the Minnesota rock club and go on field trips.

One thing that's for sure is that I'll never break into this business if I don't get out there and do it. And I know I can do it. For all that I feel like I'm completely adrift and incompetent, all I have to do is look back to 2004 and see what I did with conventions despite having clue zero. Despite being WAY more messed up than I am now (god bless you, therapy and the soothing affects of maturity), I made plans. I bit my lip and jumped into the chaos and it all worked out beautifully. I think of the hours of travel and the hard work and it makes me nostalgic as fuck.

My fear of burning out on what I love to do should not hold me back either. I have never been as enthusiastic about going to conventions as I feel about fossil and crystal hunting, but I still like them just fine.

There is nothing to be afraid of. I have a charmed life and I have support. If it blows up in my face, I have a hilarious blog entry to share with the world so you can all taste the schadenfreude. If it all works out, I will have knocked down a huge portion of the wall between myself and a Genuine Sense Of Meaning In Life. I know what I want and it's all about dirt and sweat and sunshine. It's what I've always wanted, and only now that I'm older and starting to define myself as a person can I admit it. I've begun to understand that I, Luka Delaney, have a genuine Passion and can follow it. All these years spinning my wheels and it was right there, but I never thought for a moment I could seriously do it. It never even occurred. I'm slow like that.

I love art, I love writing. I'm well aware that my talents in the creative field will not win me any great status in life, and I'm OK with that because I do my shit well enough to satisfy me and get my ideas across, and that's awesome. I'm always getting better, always learning, always impressing myself in new ways. But I don't want to attach pressure to these things, and that lack of fire holds me back from turning art or writing into a genuine Career. I love creative stuff, but I NEED to explore my world. These things can co-exist. I know what I'm doing. Admitting that my largest drive lies elsewhere won't make me give up on my art, like I used to think it would. Why quit doing something I love just because it isn't my entire universe? That kind of flawed all-or-nothing thinking holds me back way too much in life as it is.

What I need is my own permission.

All of this makes me excited as hell. And worried. Most of all, it makes me insanely, giddily optimistic. I can realize all of this if I work hard. I need to train, plan, save and scheme. No excuses, just jump the hell in and watch the results.

I've driven through all but three states in this nation and I can read a map. I can't get lost, I won't be murdered, the planet won't throw me off. There are no excuses left, only problems to be solved so I can move on. No fucking way am I wasting another year sitting on my fat ass, feeding my life to a glowing screen so I can watch other people live my dreams and continually sigh "If only!"

You all have my permission to quote this entry back at me if I get discouraged or whiny or angsty later. I have a habit of shying away from big plans when they start to feel tawdry, once the glow of euphoria wears off and I start to second-guess myself. Right now I have clarity, and no matter how discouraged I get later, I won't be able to take it back. Can't even fuck with what's already been said on the internet.

"They say my reputation precedes me
I don't know the meaning of off season, I ain't taking it easy
Ain't taking a day off, never had an off night
Never been laid off, I live on the job site

It all pays off though when I squint in the spotlight
And see your lips are moving to the true shit that I write
And we gon' be alright every night of my life
It's my night cause I view the future like it's hindsight

I ain't waiting, I'm patiently persevering
I see greatness in the person in the mirror very clearly
And that's why I take this seriously
Baby come near to me and truly, truly hear me."

So basically, I want to be like Brother Ali when I grow up.

(Well get to it, dork!)

Art Post!

Goodness but I'm in a 3-D mood lately.


WIP: Bust of Queen Tcaolin

I'm really happy with how my first bust came out. Beginner's luck maybe.




Petrified Mermaid

And of course, more crystal porn. I've got some serious plans for this geosculpture technique.

Fairy Wings

When it dried all the way the crystals were whiter, but the effect is actually much nicer. I'm told if I leave the solution alone and don't touch it at all they'll be clearer in future.

Need to find a source for insect specimens. I have Plans.

I'm thinking about spending some of my carefully hoarded savings on rocks. It's all I really want for X-Mas and I've been ever so good this year. I reckon it depends on whether I can talk myself into it considering how broke I am. Do I want that Cintiq as bad as I thought I did before I got that 30% coupon in the mail for ZRS Fossils? Aye, there's the rub.

Mother Vugger

When I was maybe nine, we went to a church friend's house for Easter. They lived in the mountains, right next to a little creek that came down through their yard from the woods. I got bored waiting for dinner and decided to explore the creek, and I started finding crystals.

I was wearing a really pretty Easter dress with pockets, so I filled them up as I climbed the hillside. There were all sorts of pieces, but the one I remember the most was the clear quartz crystal, about as long as my finger, with what looked like a cloud of blood suspended inside it. I pulled it out of the water with my own hands and it was like magic. A switch flipped in my head and I was hooked for life.

I don't know how far I walked, but suddenly there was a man on the hillside, yelling at me to go back, that I was on private property. So I turned around and went back to the Easter house, soaking wet and covered in mud. My mom was pissed, but I didn't care. I had zoned out in the hunt, and my pockets were bulging with rocks.

Some months later, my friend from across the street stole the blood crystal. I saw it in his sock drawer when I was over visiting one day, and didn't have the courage to steal it back or confront him. I never got it back.

The same friend's little sister also tried to steal a beautiful V-shaped twin crystal that was my second-favorite piece, but when I caught her and tried to take it back, she dropped it in the street and it broke. I kept the pieces on the roof with my toys and wished I could put it back together, but I didn't have access to superglue and never thought to ask my parents for help. I like to think the broken crystal is still up there, along with all the toys I abandoned when we moved, bleaching in the sun this past sixteen years.

And that's how I became a rockhound. The frustration, the hunt, the prize--I crave it every day. I dream about it at night. I lust after another man's collection. I covet my neighbor's rocky backyard. I whine and pine over the one that got away. I undress roadcuts with my eyes on every car trip. I'm a sick pervert and there's no fixing it. The only cure is the disease. I'm doomed.

Anyway, today I was checking DA and came across a specimen of blood quartz that reminded me of the small crystal I found all those years ago. On a whim, I checked out eBay to see if there were any smaller pieces for sale that looked like my long-lost specimen.

And what did I find? Oh, golly but it's glorious.

Check out this spectacular fakery.



I sent an email to The Vug about it, because dude.... air bubbles!? I'm no expert in minerals or nothin', but even I know not to buy supernaturally polished crystals full of swirly air bubbles. Maybe as a paperweight since it IS pretty (for a piece of polished glass). But Jeeesus. Air bubbles. I wonder if they'll add it to their spectacular fraud page.

And so, the hunt for blood quartz continues.

Exorcism

Yesterday I got the bike out of the basement. I put it back together and wheeled it into the driveway, then obtained 1x poochito from the house. The idea was to get him nice and mellow with a walk and a hard play session at the dog park, then try him on the bike to see whether he'd enjoy running with me.

At first he didn't know what the fuck, and was shying away from the bike in that wary way dogs have, but as soon as I got on the bike and rolled a few feet, he figured out what I wanted and went right into jogging mode alongside. The leash I use is a 16 foot extendable deal, so I had plenty of room between the bike and the Captain and no slack leash to get tangled up. Lots of extra line in case I ever want to stop suddenly without breaking his neck or yanking my ass off the bike.

I didn't go full-speed, since I had to watch the road and the dog both in case of obstacles. Mostly I had enough warning when he decided to make a sudden stop or detour to slow the bike down and tug him back into line, and I was able to speed up some more.

Before I knew it, he was flying down the road (mostly on the verge, for the sake of his feets) with his jaws sprung wide and his tongue lolling out and bouncing around like crazy. By the time we got back, he was panting and shiny-eyed. The whole rest of the day, he was a docile and obedient little citizen who wanted to sleep more than anything in the world.

So today I thought, let's step it up a bit. Took him out on the bike first thing for a longer run, then back home for water, then we rode to the dog park. There were no dogs, so after a bit of lounging in the sun, I got back on the bike and we went around Northfield a bit. By the end, he was definitely losing his edge, so the ride home was pretty sedate. Immediately after taking off his leash, he fell over with his head resting on my leg, eyes half-lidded, tongue poking out a bit. Then back upstairs for the rest of his din dins and a nice long hibernation.

I'm trying to get him in the habit of spending a few hours of quiet time in his kennel alone each day after exercising, in case I get a job or ever want to, you know, have a social life. Hah.

Funny thing: He's learned to run upstairs, into the spare room, and tuck himself into his crate when I say "dinner." He'll wait in there quietly until I show up to feed him. I taught him "go to your room" but this other thing is his own innovation. He also has figured out that if you tell him to 'sit' and have a carrot in your hands, he should also sit up and beg without being asked. That dog is insane for carrots.

Befoer I start the next pages, I'm making up for lost time on the My Dog Rocks blogging front. Next up: photo post. Big one. 56k sorrow!

Let's see...what else.

There's a farmer's market here through the end of the month. It's only a few blocks away. Also, the air here usually smells like warm toasted cereal, though the flavor varies depending on what kind of cereal it is. I'm told Fridays are cocoa-puff-days. It is amazing.

I found a place by the river where they've dumped quarried stone to help with erosion. Digging around in the rockpile yielded SO many amazing crystal specimens. I brought home the smaller ones, though there's a boulder I need to drive over for. Unless I want to prove Jesse right in his prediction that I'll soon have nowhere to sleep for rocks in my room, I may need to think about adding a rock saw to my equipment.

Other than that, all is unpacking and photography.

Song For A Mississippi Riverbank

Went for a walk along the river yesterday and took about a thousand pics of the things I found there. These were the best of the crop:

Lilydale Photos!

A jumble of unsorted pics from today's trip to Lilydale Park:

A Living Cat Macro

I woke up with a pain in my neck so bad I've had to tilt my head the other way just to avoid whimpering. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided that, with this pose, I look like I should be saying "Que? Que?" or possibly "Excuse me, WTF r u doin?" Yes, I have become a living cat macro.

Also, the wrist on that side is sore and pressing on it causes the entire hand to fill with a sensation of extreme heat. I do not recall getting my ass kicked while in the Matrix yesterday, and so am at a loss to explain these strange injuries.

Meanwhile, I've cleaned the fridge, moved my herbs outdoors and re-planted them in larger pots, sauteed some onions, chopped six cloves of garlic, and popped the whole mess into a crock pot with six chicken breasts for the soup tonight.

I still need to pick up some fresh celery, Minnesota wild rice, and marjoram later on. Adding the rice makes the soup taste a bit like the way a spoon smells after you lick it, but in a good way. Also, it makes the soup thicker and more filling.

There might be rockhounding in the day's events, or there might not. Now that I know how to get to the fossil area from the interstate, I can go anytime I want, provided I have someone with me. When we went there yesterday, there was a hobo living in the parking lot. The place is quite secluded, but my list of reasons to get a dog has gone up by one: Instant buddy system!

During the same trip that led us to the hobo's back yard, Seebs and I discovered a very nice trail running along the bank of the Mississippi river. A bird shit on my nice clean stripper shirt, but other than that the place was paradise, complete with a jogging/biking trail. Check it out:










I had no idea there were places like this in the Twin Cities. And it's not even that hard to get to, if you know where to look.

I expect to be out of the house a lot more this summer and fall.