AKA Wandering Jew



You just jab 'em into some dirt and they grow. When I moved the cylinder pot from Gamps I broke a few stalks in transit. I just left them to sit there on the side of the pot and sure enough, leaves started poking out of the joints in the broken bits of stalk. Click the pic to visit flickr and read the notes.



Visit wikipedia for more on spiderwort.

I just can't get away from garden-blogging, eh? And I'm about to leave to go to a jungle party this afternoon. I just love me some foliage.

As for Mystery Plant, well, culling isn't such a dirty word. Its just too prolific, and for its own good I was forced to strike one of the pair down. I know, high drama on the Mystery Plant scene. Counselors are available for those effected. Stay tuned for breaking news updates.

click here for super gigantic size to see grainy, camera movement squiggles.

You know when its still, the terrier you share the shotgun double with has settled down, a window unit kicks on across the block. You hear a frog. Chirruping out, right next to you. It announces itself, with its unique little call, twice, three, four times and another calls back, in its own chirping little voice, its trademark pattern of squeaky syllables, then another and another, each voice its own. Surrounding you. Stretching away for blocks, as if you were on a bayou?

I saw the tiniest little frog a few days ago. I had to get down on my hands and knees to see exactly what it was. A crew of four, five tiny sailors his size could fit comfortably in a canoe made of a hollowed out black-eyed pea. The little bugger was quick, and vanished when he made it off the concrete and into the dirt. Like the head of a pin.

And also a look at the first trumpet blooming, night and day.

I posted the first one and second one to flickr, but forgot to blog it. This is the third in the mystery plant series so far. Please direct your guesses as to what type of flora this may be to the comments section, and I'll send the winner a prize.



The rest of the container garden is coming along nicely, accented by some of my Anty's extra petrified wood.




Three blooms on the trumpet plant, the first is probably opening right now.

6.19.06

Power out again... 11pm till...

I stared at the ceiling until the wee hours, sweating and cursing myself for not turning on the a/c when I got home from work. Just past 4am, my home whirrs back to life. I stumble around to turn off the lights and finally pass out for a few hours as the window units begin to cool me down.

Another thing to worry about, not the bursting in part as much as the sad precedent this signals for the direction of our nation. Time to roll up the sleeves and accept the implants soon.

I'm talking about the "Mosquito" ringtone that's causing such a buzz lately. I finally found an article that includes an mp3 of the darn thing, and I'm proud to say I can hear it. I haven't been a teenager in about a decade, and I've probably done a good bit of damage to the old eardrums with all the loud concerts and guns I've shot in my lifetime, but the squeaky, metallic drone is audible to me. I'm not sure if the sound's original purpose as a teenager repellant would work very well, although at extended durations, just about anything could be annoying enough to accomplish that end.

I was going to call this post "So Fucking Spoiled" in order to link to another well-written post across the way. I'm spoiled because I just paid five bucks for Stanton Moore and Robert Walters. It gets better.

Enter Lane.

Lane is a stunning and fair, straight-haired blonde. I'm sitting at the bar and I feel a poke in my side. Lane's blue eyes proclaim, no, she actually vocalized, "you're the most precious thing, and I just had to say it. I've been looking at you all night and you're the cutest thing I've ever seen." It was a random moment. She asked my name, her favorite brother is named Ian. She loves the name. I laughed, but didn't say much of anything. We went back to sitting at the bar, her going back to her spot a couple of barstools away.

I start talking to Lane's friend John, from Houma, but recently back in NOLA from Jamaica. We're shootin the shit for a while when Lane comes back from dancing, teasing me by asking John, quite loudly, if he was talking to this beautiful man.

Lane moves in and we start talking. She's from Mandeville, but stayed someplace in Alexandria, nearish to where I'm from, but we both know Lafayette... my Aunt lived there, my friend Jason went to school there and Lane went to USL, so we talked about how cool Lafayette is, with Downtown Alive, and Festival International, which we both love. Lane then realizes her friends are leaving, she tells me where John lives, over a bar on Rampart, which he'd already told me, and repeated that I'm the most beautiful... saying surely I had a girlfriend... nope, I reply.

We kiss on the cheek and she says she's going to find me, then says, or commands, "give me a kiss," and plants a nice smacker right where it matters. Lane repeats, "I'm gonna find you," and I retort, "you better," as she kisses me on the hand and takes off.

Mmmm hmmm.

I'd like to see more of Lane, but who knows. I just flirted, I didn't ask for numbers I couldn't write down. I probably should have followed them to the bar over John's house, but we'll see. The 'hard to get' thing is working for me so far.

And I didn't make any of it up, if anything its been cleaned up a bit. Really.

18 rolls and what do you get?

A whole ton of photos to upload and a couple bills in debt.

In the Rita-Inspired Garden, the sewer-plants grow sideways, and the mome raths doth golly, "what a day."

The most beautiful little flash games. (watch out, it may resize your window)



The Amazing Dare-Dozen was linked somewheres I was recently, and I don't usually play flash games, but these are something else. Windy Days makes me feel pleasant, and I don't care if I make it through the Perilous Journey, because the journey itself is lovely. The spider one kinda made me nervy, mostly because I was so bad at it, but it was a joy to finally get the hang of Monkeyslide. Hydrophobia is probably my favorite, even though I jump straight into the water sometimes.

But you can bet something interesting is certain to occur tomorrow. I know these things. I live in New Orleans. Interesting things are certain to occur at any given moment.

See Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia on wikipedia.