this is about decomposition
It's time to breathe a little life into my little diary here. Hello to all readers...
Inhale.
Exhale-
So this composting mission is becoming more than I've bargained for- a challenge, if you will. The past several months I have been attending these meetings for this non-profit group, on my end trying to establish a reliable pick-up schedule for compost from whole Foods. Things are definitely getting better- we were only having the stuff being picked up once a month- but at this point if we can't acquire more land somehow (meet more farmers) then there's really nowhere to put the stuff, except in the dreaded compactor. Hell, those radioactive cantaloupes could have gone into Gary's van today, but it was complicated (yes, radioactive cantalouoes COMPLICATE things!)
So, we are having a soiree of sorts on December 3rd, at the house of two of the Board of Directors (Debbie and Steve). They keep e-mailing me, more than anyone at work now, about any old random thing, bit of information, "inspirational quotes", next conference call, etc. It's funny. If anyone knows a farmer or is friends with a grade-school teacher, let me know! I'd like to organize something with Jefferson County Public Schools for compost awareness. After the holidays of course...
Other than that, I had a freaky dream about someone at work. It was one of those dreams where I couldn't really look this person in the eye for a good day or so/
New feline. Little, gray, one white legging. I was walking to catch a transfer bus one night near Baxter, on Lexington. She saw me and hid behind a lightpole (don't you love when animals hide from you behind things like 5" diameter poles) (can't see you so that means you can't see me!) until I walked past and then she was all over me, all scrawny and yowling. I resisted, even though the lady at the house where I knocked explained that she was to be sent to a "shelter" the next day. A couple days later I parked right by the house and got out of the car and she catapulted towards me. I opened the passenger car door and she jumped right inside, and looked at me... and she is here now, eating eating eating and purring purring. Her name is Jawa Vireo, or sometimes Jawa Lazarou, and when I put a pic of her face here you will know why.
Tuesday I drove with M on part of his route. We went to three LG&E plants. Massive puffing spires and whole micro-Gary-esque cities of metal in the middle of green suburbia. I noticed the general mood of the office staff in these plants was not relaxed. At each plant I walked inside the front building with M and there were aerial photos of the plant in b&w. And the mountains of black coal piled next to the chutes...
We also explored a building closer to home, on the grounds of the old Crematorium. The building at the very back, at the end of the asphalt. We were on bikes. I noticed that the side door was unlocked (I swear, one of these days you readers will hear of my arrest, for trespassing... as far as I'm concerned
http://www.louisvilleghs.com/LGHS_MASTER/SUB/Stories/EasternCemetery/EasternCemetery.htm
it's always worth it- it's just too irresistable). We walked into this giant central room, absolutely annihilated. Someone took out their aggression, and probably avoided murder. Graffiti. Surfaces dented, smashed, soiled... even the bathrooms were in porcelain shards. There were papers strewn all over the green carpet and when I stooped over to read them I noticed that they were death certificates... from the fucking 1950's! This was the building where the bodies were cremated (in the impenetrably dark basement). But the upstairs- even with the spraypaint and the destroyed furniture, the shattered stained glass- was beautiful. We were shocked that the place could become abandoned and filthy in a neighborhood (normally) full of pride. I stacked the certificates together and placed them on a bookshelf (WTF?? how do these things end up on a urine-soaked carpet?). We heard a car engine shut off and ran out.
Just knowing about the historical lack of care and reburials that have occurred, it isn't so surprising about finding death certificates flaked about in that funeral home. But I did e-mail Dr. Phil DiBlasi (UofL). He seems to care.
Has anyone else been there?
Inhale.
Exhale-
So this composting mission is becoming more than I've bargained for- a challenge, if you will. The past several months I have been attending these meetings for this non-profit group, on my end trying to establish a reliable pick-up schedule for compost from whole Foods. Things are definitely getting better- we were only having the stuff being picked up once a month- but at this point if we can't acquire more land somehow (meet more farmers) then there's really nowhere to put the stuff, except in the dreaded compactor. Hell, those radioactive cantaloupes could have gone into Gary's van today, but it was complicated (yes, radioactive cantalouoes COMPLICATE things!)
So, we are having a soiree of sorts on December 3rd, at the house of two of the Board of Directors (Debbie and Steve). They keep e-mailing me, more than anyone at work now, about any old random thing, bit of information, "inspirational quotes", next conference call, etc. It's funny. If anyone knows a farmer or is friends with a grade-school teacher, let me know! I'd like to organize something with Jefferson County Public Schools for compost awareness. After the holidays of course...
Other than that, I had a freaky dream about someone at work. It was one of those dreams where I couldn't really look this person in the eye for a good day or so/
New feline. Little, gray, one white legging. I was walking to catch a transfer bus one night near Baxter, on Lexington. She saw me and hid behind a lightpole (don't you love when animals hide from you behind things like 5" diameter poles) (can't see you so that means you can't see me!) until I walked past and then she was all over me, all scrawny and yowling. I resisted, even though the lady at the house where I knocked explained that she was to be sent to a "shelter" the next day. A couple days later I parked right by the house and got out of the car and she catapulted towards me. I opened the passenger car door and she jumped right inside, and looked at me... and she is here now, eating eating eating and purring purring. Her name is Jawa Vireo, or sometimes Jawa Lazarou, and when I put a pic of her face here you will know why.
Tuesday I drove with M on part of his route. We went to three LG&E plants. Massive puffing spires and whole micro-Gary-esque cities of metal in the middle of green suburbia. I noticed the general mood of the office staff in these plants was not relaxed. At each plant I walked inside the front building with M and there were aerial photos of the plant in b&w. And the mountains of black coal piled next to the chutes...
We also explored a building closer to home, on the grounds of the old Crematorium. The building at the very back, at the end of the asphalt. We were on bikes. I noticed that the side door was unlocked (I swear, one of these days you readers will hear of my arrest, for trespassing... as far as I'm concerned
http://www.louisvilleghs.com/LGHS_MASTER/SUB/Stories/EasternCemetery/EasternCemetery.htm
it's always worth it- it's just too irresistable). We walked into this giant central room, absolutely annihilated. Someone took out their aggression, and probably avoided murder. Graffiti. Surfaces dented, smashed, soiled... even the bathrooms were in porcelain shards. There were papers strewn all over the green carpet and when I stooped over to read them I noticed that they were death certificates... from the fucking 1950's! This was the building where the bodies were cremated (in the impenetrably dark basement). But the upstairs- even with the spraypaint and the destroyed furniture, the shattered stained glass- was beautiful. We were shocked that the place could become abandoned and filthy in a neighborhood (normally) full of pride. I stacked the certificates together and placed them on a bookshelf (WTF?? how do these things end up on a urine-soaked carpet?). We heard a car engine shut off and ran out.
Just knowing about the historical lack of care and reburials that have occurred, it isn't so surprising about finding death certificates flaked about in that funeral home. But I did e-mail Dr. Phil DiBlasi (UofL). He seems to care.
Has anyone else been there?