Cupid, an Altered View

Today, I sat in silence and imagined a world in which Cupid, rather than firing tiny arrows of love in our direction, flings handfuls of poo at us.   And then I thought: Hey…wait a minute…that is this world!

--Mitchell Hegman

You Are More Beautiful Than You Think

Giving notable exception to Kanye West and Jennifer Lopez, most of us tend to be our own worst critics.  This is especially true of women in regard to their physical appearance, particularly their facial features.  Today, I am posting a brief video that reveals, in a measurable fashion, how our own perceptions may alter how others see us.  An extended video of the same study is also available for viewing.   

--Mitchell Hegman

If the video posted here fails to launch, please click on this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zw72ECvuT5c

The Edge of That

 

Posted today is a photograph I took of my daughter as she stood looking out at the Pacific Ocean from the California Coast in 2005.  The dark cypress seems ever windblown and the sun glares a bit too brightly.

My daughter married in the nearby Carmel Valley three years after I captured this photograph.  The day before the wedding, I drove my wife and the man my daughter married down to Carmel from Alameda.  Gary, my daughter’s soon-to-be husband, was quite ill at the time with the cancer that would ultimately take his life only six months after their wedding in the spring green valley.

This photograph is on the edge of that.

--Mitchell Hegman

Glass Ice

Glass ice is fairly uncommon.  Sometimes, this kind of ice is called black ice or congelation ice.  The ice I am talking about is crystal clear.  This year, a layer of glass ice formed on a few lakes in western Montana.  This type of ice will form only during ideal conditions of perfectly calm cold weather.

Glass ice often appears to be quite thin due to the lack of air bubbles or other such inclusions to give some indication of depth.  Today, I am posting an ice-skating video made on Vann Lake.  The ice is about five inches in depth.  Five inches of ice is generally considered thick enough to support an ATV or snowmobile.

--Mitchell Hegman

If the video fails to play, please click on this link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXjTMvbcPHI

Truth is not that Pretty

Truth, in the eyes of a painter named Francois Lemoyne, was not George Washington admitting that he chopped down the apple tree.  In the eyes of Francois Lemoyne, truth was a startlingly white and slightly chubby woman with no clothes on.  Mind you, truth was not the nasty, all-sprawled-out type of naked girl.  Truth was the coy and shrinking away sort of naked.

I once wrote in a poem that “truth is finicky.”  I meant, of course, that truth may at times be a moving target.  I must tell you, that barely begins to define what I discovered when I drifted over to Wikipedia to read about truth.  Apparently, way back when humans were still roasting squirrels for dinner on sharpened sticks, the ever-present philosophers adopted truth as a favored subject of study and argument.    

As a side note, I would like to mention that philosophers have cleverly devised a way to make a living at universities by not agreeing about anything.  They call this “reasoned debate.”   I am not certain of the exact manner in which they connected a paycheck to argument, but I am very proud of them for doing so nonetheless.

I wish I had done that.

Over the years, philosophers have made a substantial mess out of truth.  In order to track their disorder, philosophers have created an array of truth “theories” to which various camps subscribe.  Some of the theories are termed “Substantive theories.”  Socrates, the famous Greek philosopher, espoused to subordinate theory now called “Correspondence” theory.  In this theory, you can assign truth to real stuff, as example a garden rake.  To illustrate, I might hold forth a rake and proffer the statement: “In truth, this is a garden rake.”  If I am actually holding a garden rake as I make the pronouncement—this is then a knowable truth and you may put me to work in your corn patch.  If, contrarily, I am holding a banana and I espouse that it is a rake, you may check to see if my eyes are dilated and then send me a paycheck in care the Philosophy Department at Hegman University.

More recent theories about truth often fit into the “Minimalist,” sometimes called “Deflationary,” category.  These theories are often difficult to decipher.  A great deal of study may be required.  As I read through the information provided on Wikipedia relative to deflationary reasoning on truth, I rather got the impression that truth was meaningless in this realm of perception.  I stopped reading about truth when I reached the following sentence written under the “Redundancy” theory:

            …making the assertion that “Snow is white is true” is equivalent to asserting that “snow is white.”

That stopped me cold in my tracks.  I thought and thought and thought.  The statement made so much sense it did not make any sense at all.  I decided right then and there that I need a new way to make a living. 

One other thing:  I actually think truth is cute enough and I would like to sleep with her.

 

--Mitchell Hegman

How Christmas Dinner Changed Me

If loving potatoes that are bacon-wrapped before being baked is wrong…then, I don’t want to be right.

--Mitchell Hegman

My Christmas Hope List

I hope that Miley Cyrus gets some clothes for Christmas so she doesn’t have to be naked in future music videos.

I hope someone finally captures a bigfoot and that bigfoot is captured while zipping around inside a UFO.

I hope that everyone finds a “mean people suck” bumper sticker in their Christmas stocking.

I hope that schools of yellow perch return to the lake below my house.

I hope that I don’t spill coffee on my computer keyboard…again.

I hope everyone has a merry Christmas and a rockin’ New Year!

--Mitchell Hegman

Posted: A photograph of my Christmas lights.

 

I Believe in Father Christmas

On this, the eve of Christmas, I am posting one of my favorite Christmas songs.  The song was written in the mid-1970s by Greg Lake of Emerson, Lake & Palmer and King Crimson fame.  Though the song is sometimes misinterpreted as being anti-Christmas, Greg Lake has always insisted that the song is a fond remembrance of Christmastime as a child reflected against the modern commercialism of the same.

If the video does not properly load, here, please use this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXCEdrnaFlY

--Mitchell Hegman

Looking for God (Same Place, Different Angle)

Looking for God under the first layer of flooring in your kitchen will likely make people think you are loony.

Looking for God in the math and science that created the glue that sticks your first layer of flooring to the underlayment will likely make people think you are brilliant.

--Mitchell Hegman

Almost There

For the last ten or so years I have been trying to put two particular words in the same sentence and then use the sentence intelligently.   A while ago, I almost had a sentence and the perfect opportunity to use it.

Almost.

Just so we are all on the same page and you know what I am up against, the two words in question are “epiphany” and “motherhumper.”  Obviously, the trick is trying to use the term motherhumper intelligently.

--Mitchell Hegman

Frank Zappa and Ronald Reagan Share Lunch

Frank Zappa and Ronald Reagan met for lunch at a small deli that served a popular pastrami sandwich.  After a bit of small talk, Ronald Reagan admitted, “I really never understood your music.  Some of it sounds like people running combs over their guitar strings and then yelping.”

A small slice of pastrami dropped from Reagan’s sandwich and unceremoniously stuck to the table.

“Perhaps you have confused me with another artist,” Frank Zappa responded plainly.  “That sounds more like industrial rock.”

“No.”

“Well, I am actually happy that you listened.  I am furthermore happy that I found a way to get any of my music out there.  The industry did not support me.”

“What about your daughter’s name?” Reagan asked.  “Moon Unit.  What did she think when you named her that?”  He took another bite of his sandwich.  Another slice fell free.

Frank Zappa lifted his conspicuous left brow.  “She was pretty young when we named her.  I don’t think she really noticed.” 

“Mmmmm.”

“I had an elderly friend,” Zappa said, “a woman, who voted for your second term because she liked that you were nice to monkeys.”

Reagan smiled.  “Oh…from my film: Bedtime for Bonzo!”

Zappa raised both brows.  “No.  She meant the ones in Washington.”

 

--Mitchell Hegman

Answer #9

I have done the count twice-through.  We appear to have far more horses-asses than we have actual horses.

--Mitchell Hegman

I Awaken (To a Bad Day)

I awaken and discover that I am no more than a tangle of dying roots clinging to parched gray earth.

I awaken to the sound of mice scratching at the inside of my walls.

I awaken with the memory of a knife in my hands and blood.

I awaken alone in a bed once shared.

I awaken to the sound of my own heart, convinced that it faltered.

I awaken and discover that the sun has come and gone.

--Mitchell Hegman

Answer #8

No, finding a horse wandering around atop your roof is not normal.

--Mitchell Hegman

Sunset December 16, 2013

We have been experiencing fiery sunrises and sunsets for the last few days.  Today, I am posting photographs I captured of our sunset yesterday.

--Mitchell Hegman 

My Cat has a Single Feather

I found a feather near the lakeshore below my house this summer.  I think the feather came from a raptor of some kind, perhaps a hawk or an eagle.  I brought the feather to my house and placed it on the night table in the spare bedroom.  For several months the feather remained there.  Then, late one night, I heard my cat, Splash, romping all around the house, playing. 

He had discovered the feather.

The feather is now his.  I tried many times to put the feather back on the table, but Splash will have none of that.  Within a few hours of me placing the feather back on the table, Splash will retrieve the feather and drag it to some new location.  The feather rather migrates around my house now—dependent upon the particular whims of my cat.

Sometimes, Splash gingerly carries the feather from place to place.  On other occasions, he thrashes all over the place while toying with the feather.  Today I am posting a photograph of Splash relaxing with his feather.

--Mitchell Hegman

Answer #7

Yes, you may shoot and eat the antlered horses if you find them.

--Mitchell Hegman

 

Not a Winner

You are not really a winner if you hit the ground first in a contest where five people jump off a twenty-story building together to see who can hit the ground first.

--Mitchell Hegman

Instructor X

For the last two days I attended a technical training seminar.  Apparently, the instructor is very good.  At least he keeps telling those of us in attendance that he is.  This man, instructor X, is personally responsible for saving many, many lives—either directly or by implementing safe electrical work practices.  Interestingly, he was once electrocuted and pronounced dead, but came back to life again.  Before being electrocuted, he had a perfect photographic memory.   As result of his electrocution he is merely brilliant today and his photographic memory is gone.   He is still fully capable of scoring 100% on every exam he takes.

Our instructor has, in his own words, “lived an exciting life.”  Now, before we continue, we must firmly establish that someone else, not instructor X, was at fault that time he was electrocuted.

I paid a great deal of attention to the vast experiences of our instructor as he espoused them.  As I mentally tallied his years as an electrician, engineer, apprentice instructor, electrical contractor, plant supervisor, Middle East oilfield technician, mineworker and Navy man, I realized that this man has accrued 150 years of experience in less than 30 years.

That is exciting!

At the end of yesterday, instructor X was kind enough to expound upon a conspiracy that I was unaware of.  This conspiracy involves road signs in Colorado (particularly stop signs), the crescent moon, Muslims, too much tolerance, and the end of America as we know it.  Far too complicated for me to follow.  

I will admit, I learned a great deal about our instructor over the last two days, but I really wanted to learn about electrical safety in the workplace.

--Mitchell Hegman

Hegman Units

I have been searching for something that might prove my predecessors in the Hegman clan were important, that we added something of value to this pile of humanity.  Maybe, somewhere, a great thing was accomplished by one of us.  There is no Hegmanville nearby.  No Hegman Street.  A Google search will locate something called a Hegman gauge.  A Hegman gauge—as I am convinced you will not know what it does—measures something called Hegman units.

Hegman units.   

This makes perfect sense, of course. 

Okay, a Hegman guage is sometimes referred to as a grindometer.  They are used to determine how finely ground such things as the pigments in ink or paint are.  Good stuff that.  Important work.  Maybe next time you glance at the paint on your wall you will think: “Hegman units!”

I like blue paint, by the way.  A boy color. 

Blue Hegman units!

Here is the important thing: no direct relation there.  I don’t think my Hegman crew had anything to do with Hegman units.  Also not related to Mike Hegman, the retired black professional football player or Larry Hagman, the actor from the sitcom Dream of Jeannie and the soap opera Dallas.

So far I have nothing but the broken lot of us here in Montana. 

I love ‘em, famous or not.

 

 

A grindometer

 

 

--Mitchell Hegman

Violent Tendencies

You cannot expect to gather white carnations where you split the ground and cast the seeds of houndstongue and knapweed.

--Mitchell Hegman

Bird Crosses Mouse, Flies, Prints Remain

I am posting a photograph of small prints made in fresh snow on my concrete driveway.   Winter is often difficult to contend with, given the slippery roads, the long nights and the layering of clothing required in staying warm.  Just the same, I would miss the tracks in fresh snow if I went without winter.

Snow remembers things.

I like that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

--Mitchell Hegman

Thought-Provoking Photographs

Nothing I am able to write will properly describe this.  Please click on the link below and see for yourself:

 

http://indulgd.com/26-of-the-most-thought-provoking-photographs-of-all-time/

--Mitchell Hegman

A Dead Bee

I found a dead bee on the floor of my garage.   Dust bunnies and the crumbs from fallen leaves had collected around the bee.  Obviously, the bee died and had been lying there for a considerable time, frozen in time and inactive.

My first thought was:  “Nothing happening there.  Just like having Washington D.C. right here on my garage floor. ”

--Mitchell Hegman

Stars Paint with Light

Images from Hubble Telescope.

Carina Nebula

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cat’s Eye Nebula

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Variable Star V838 Monocerotis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

--Mitchell Hegman

 

Power Outage (December 5, 2013)

Here are the facts:

—Presently, the temperature outside is near fifteen degrees below zero (Fahrenheit) and the sun has not yet clawed through the mountains on the eastern horizon.

—All electric power suddenly dropped out at my house about two and a half hours ago, seemingly dumping me instantly into a black and silent box.

—A while ago I located an old kerosene lamp that I inherited from my mother.  The lamp and my ill temper (which I sometimes adopt for a day or so at a time) are about all I inherited from her.  I am writing this by the wan and oddly wavering light of the lamp.  Every so often I must adjust the wick of the lamp upward to brighten the ever-dimming flame.

—The suggestion to regularly check all battery operated flashlights for function makes more sense to me now.

—Twenty pounds of housecat (Splash) is sitting at my feet wondering why my rapidly cooling house is creaking, moaning, and on occasion popping knuckles deep inside the walls and above the ceiling as the bitter cold from the outside pushes in on us.  He is also wondering why we are not listening to the Silversun Pickups or alt-J on the stereo as we normally do at this time.

I just told him: “It’s the power, dude.  Not me.”

—The temperature inside me house lowered about seven degrees in two hours.  At the present rate of temperature drop, the interior of my house will reach zero in about eighteen hours.  I will brave the outside, fire-up a portable generator and plug in my boiler when the sun rises full if power is not restored by then.

—I am thinking about that dark blue polyester coat I had as a kid.  I wore that thing constantly.  Inside.  Outside.  Winter.  Summer.  I think it basically rotted off me.  “Why do you always wear that thing?” one of my sisters once asked me. 

“It is warm,” I answered.

I would like to have that coat back on me about now.

--Mitchell Hegman

NOTE: my power finally came back on after about four hours.

Last Time

We walk the last curve, my friend.

We walk the edge of something big.

A dream, maybe.

Maybe a hole.

Do dreams fill holes?

Or do holes fill dreams?

The air here tastes of copper

Or of rose hip tea.

Bitter or sweet matters not.

You once told me that the world was round.

“What difference the shape,” I asked?

I was lonesome at the time.

We were also on the edge of something then.

And are on the edge once again.

This time, one of us jumping off.

--Mitchell Hegman

I Would Prefer Dreams about Sex

I had this dream that I was walking in the mountains and chanced upon a waterfall made of hundreds of fawn deer and hundreds of calf elk pouring gracefully together down a steep grass and stone incline.

Thing is, I was thirsty.

--Mitchell Hegman

The Weather Has Me Wondering

The weather in Montana is pretty fickle.  One minute the sun is shining in Helena and the next minute tiny frogs are falling from dark clouds near Clancy, maybe ten miles away. 

Okay, I may need to explain that.

What I mean is that my mother will need to explain.  She told me that when she was a little girl frogs fell from the sky during a rainstorm near Clancy.   I have no way to verify that one now.  I would like to say that she was normal otherwise, but I don’t even know if I can make that claim.

Question: What is the best kind of coat to wear if it is raining small reptiles?

I have witnessed some pretty powerful weather stuff myself.  Once, while standing alongside the Swan River near Bigfork talking with some friends, pretty much a whole pine tree went flying overtop us about fifty feet in the air in a sudden gust of wind.  Just as I pointed and said: “Wow, look at that!”  Trees began smashing to the ground all around us.  I swear, thirty seconds before that, the air was perfectly calm.  We found out the next day that a man was killed only a few miles away by a tree downed during the same microburst.

Another time, I saw a hailstone the size of a baseball knock a robin smack out of the air during a fierce storm.

End of robin.

That storm was not particularly good on roofs or car windows either.

I also recall a day in the middle of summer, when highway crews had to call out snow plows to clear hail from the Interstate highway here in the valley.  Which reminds me: Even down here in the valley, I have seen snow fall in every calendar month of the year.  Yes, even in July and August.

The weather always has me wondering.   Yesterday morning, as example, I went to town without a jacket.   By mid-afternoon I was wondering where I might find a warm and fuzzy parka.

--Mitchell Hegman

I Am Starting to Think I Am a Cat

I may be a cat.  The signs are this:  I have really started to dislike my vacuum cleaner and I would just as soon run off to hide rather than contend with it.

--Mitchell Hegman

Demons (Imagine Dragons)

Please watch the video to the very end…you will likely have a different feeling about this song following a view of the short clip attached to the end.

Mostly, be generous in your life.

 

--Mitchell Hegman

If the video does not launch, use this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8

On the Brighter Side

On the brighter side of procrastination we find antique automobiles in mint condition because someone never got around to making room in their garage for something else.

On the brighter side of incompetence we are still here because several people with ambition to destroy whole nations lack the ability.

On the brighter side of a tool-braking temper tantrum we find my friend purchasing a new drill and in that manner spurring our local economy.

On the brighter side of the darkest sunset is another day.

--Mitchell Hegman

Love, Mechanically. Love, Electrically. Love, Otherwise.

Love, mechanically, is a gearbox that transforms one gentle circle of motion into enough power to lift a whole mountain.

Love, electrically, is a transformer that converts a single spark into the energy to cross a thousand miles of wire and illuminate the darkest corner in the darkest room.

Love, otherwise, is a hand within another hand or a single hand left open.

--Mitchell Hegman

One Moment

Every so often I have one of those moments.  I had one yesterday morning.  While sitting on my sofa drinking a cup of coffee and writing an exposition about the safe use of digital multimeters on live electrical circuits, a memory suddenly ruptured all of my intense concentration.  At once, I vividly recalled opening the door for my wife as we entered the wood-front Dewey Bar in Dewey, Montana many years ago.

My wife was laughing just then.  The June grass across the highway shone bright green in the sun.  I watched my wife enter the wood-smelling tavern, leaning only a little against her golden cane, still laughing.  Her dark hair became reflective as she entered a wash of light inside.

Then all memory vanished again save the sound of laughter resounding in my ears.

Yes, we can smile.

--Mitchell Hegman

Montana is also this

Today I am posting the link to a video made the students of Beaverhead County High School in Dillon, Montana.  Montana is tall mountains and wide river valleys.  Montana is also this:

http://1075zoofm.com/dillon-montana-high-school-teacher-cancer-video/

If the link fails to launch when you click on it, please copy and paste the link into your browser address bar and go to the site to watch this video.  The video is very heartwarming.

--Mitchell Hegman

An Adventure

My friend once traveled to a foreign country where palm trees lean out against an ocean that is so blue the sea birds sit on the nearby jetty crying because they cannot fly right through the waves.  The people living by the sea there are quite poor.  My friend sometimes handed money to the begging children.  He bought whole chickens for some families.

One night my friend went to a local tavern that was mostly an open pole hut near the fine sand beach.  A partial moon bathed its long silver light in the ocean which had become a kind of indigo mirror.  He spent most of that night buying fancy drinks for two hookers sitting at the bar.

“They were black,” he said of the hookers, “and they were beautiful.”

Somewhere in the night one of the hookers said to my friend: “You can do anything you want with us.”

“I just want to look at you,” he said.  “You are beautiful.”

--Mitchell Hegman       

Reworked

History repeats itself and each time it comes back around it is packing a larger firearm.

--Mitchell Hegman

This Hunting Season

For the last few weeks, the hills around my home have been scoured by deer hunters.  Occasionally, I see one or two of the hunters—suspiciously bright orange dots slowly drifting down a far incline or atop a long rise.  I have heard rifle shots echoing through the juniper breaks.  Late each evening, though, I see collections of mule deer that have survived this far though hunting season calmly crossing the wide expanse of sun-washed grass in front of my house on their way to bed down for the night.

I cannot quite explain the feeling of ancient kinship I have for the deer, not the hunters.

--Mitchell Hegman

From the North, Part II

Today I am posting photos I captured yesterday morning.  Yesterday, for the second day in a row, thick frost encased the tall grasses and the trees around my home.

 

--Mitchell Hegman 

From the North

We are presently experiencing our first cold weather impulse from the north.  I do mean cold.  The temperature dropped from short-sleeve to mittens in a matter of only a few hours.

That’s Montana for you.

This morning brought sunshine on thick hoar frost.  Wearing only slippers, sweats, a heavy jacket and with my hair all sticky-uppy I ran out and snapped a few pictures.  Today, I am posting two of those.

 

--Mitchell Hegman

Some Days are a Slow Crash against a Concrete Wall

I wake from a bad dream about my car not starting only to discover a housecat sprawled across my neck and feeling like a noose tightening.  When I look for breakfast I find only two gala apples in my refrigerator and a half-empty bag of corn chips in the cupboard.

The chips are stale.

News.  Barely surviving in the Philippines.  Tornadoes purpling across the Midwest and dismantling whole towns in seconds.  Something about somebody that shot somebody else.  Talk about healthcare is making me sick.  

I drive to town for a meeting.

By lunchtime I have missed three important phone calls, somebody shot somebody else somewhere, wind and snow are raking across the valley and the temperature has plummeted into the teens.

In the late afternoon I retrieve mail at my remote mailbox—finding three advertisements and a mailer meant for my long-gone wife.  One of the advertisement flyers slips from my hand.  By the time the flyer hits the ground, the wind has brought the fucking thing alive.  The flyer leaps away, bounds across the road, somehow clears the fence, and then trots off to join some horses huddled together like a dark shadow at the far end of the pasture.

At home again, I have one apple left.

And the stale chips.

--Mitchell Hegman       (Note to Gayle: We can’t slay dragons every day…but we try)