by Francis Scott Key 1814

(http://www.usa-flag-site.org/song-lyrics/star-spangled-banner.shtml)

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

"It's been a rough week. A few days ago, at UCLA's Resnick Neuropsychiatric Hospital, 6-year-old Jani toppled a food cart and was confined to her room. She slammed her head against the floor, opening a bloody cut that sent her into hysterics. Later, she kicked the hospital therapy dog.

"Jani normally likes animals. But most of her animal friends -- cats, rats, dogs and birds -- are phantoms that only she can see. January Schofield has schizophrenia. Potent psychiatric drugs -- in doses that would stagger most adults -- seem to skip off her. She is among the rarest of the rare: a child seemingly born mentally ill. . . ." More: http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-he-schizophrenia29-2009jun29,0,4834892.story?page=1

These are my two favorite Luis Royo paintings (click twice on each to see the largest version, the one with the highest resolution). If he ever does one with Glen Canyon in Colorado as a background, I'll add that to these two. But anyway, the first one is one I think of as the combat specialist, the master of combat arts who also teaches them, one of the deadliest warriors alive. Call her Kali, Medusa, or Michael:



And here is the one I call Gaia -- other names for her are Isis, Pallas Athena, and Durga. She is the archetypal warrior queen, who leads armies to battle. In her way she is far deadlier than the combat specialist, for she can set armies marching and win every war she becomes involved in. She is also a master of close-in combat. Her avatars are Elizabeth I of England and Isabela of Spain:

Looking eastward, out to the Cascades, there is a broad band of intense pink above a band of purplish-bluish grey above the mountains themselves. As sunset progresses, the pink band, known as the Belt of Venus, rises higher and higher into the sky, until finally it is gone. In the meantime, the sky above that band is a fading blue tinted with a lovely pale lavender. All that, thanks to the recent eruption of Russia's Sarychev Peak volcano.

Somebody just threw out the first bottle-rocket of the season, scaring my cat into fits and, doubtless, half the neighborhood with him. There are several complexes of buildings up and down this street, some of them up to 3-4 stories tall, with lots of units, and the noise rackets off the concrete-and-plaster sides of the buildings in all directions, crossing and criss-crossing until one's ears ring, listening to it.

-- Actually, the first bottle-rocket of the season was thrown out about four days before Cinco de Maya this year, along with several beer-bottles and some loud cursing in both English and Spanish. But who's counting?