http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Dickens
Notes on Britain Part I
Earlier this year I had a job working in a British restaurant. I was employed, working behind the bar making up drinks for the waitressess who were taking orders from the floor, giving them to me to fill. They'd chat amongst themselves, talking of nothings, and watching the clock like Big Ben were about to strike to end another year.
It didn't take long for me to realize that all of my experience that I'd gleaned from working in America was deemed insufficient and useless beginning with the first problem of ICE.
In the UK if you want the afore mentioned CHILL in your drink, you have to ask for it, and then after a while a couple of cubes it will (dis)appear in your drink in due time depending on the crap service that you may or may not be subjected to.
Slipping around on a greasy floor looking for a large scoop I'd been accustomed to in the States, I was endowed with a pair of oversized plastic tweezers; it's mate being a pixie sized ice-bucket. Replenishing that thing had me running up and downstairs to the ice maker which was stored in the grimy cellar below which was damp and was a constant reminder of the country I did NOT want to live in.
And so I created a LIVING IN BRTAIN CODE:
To any Briton visiting America for the first time, they'll find it, like I, at aged 12, the Land of the Free Re-Refills, and the self-service soda machine one of the highlights. But unlike Florida, England, where every beverage is deemed a rip-off and one of the few things a Brit will ever complain about is in a restaurant on home turf.
Complaints over a small thing, like ice is usually disguised, by your average Brit, is done by way of an apology and done with discretion. Complaining with anymore ambition that that, whether you're right or wrong is to be avoided.
Sending whole plates of food back for whatever reason is completely out of the question, especially when dining out with English company; It makes everyone at the table feeling uncomfortable, and they wish that whoever invited the stuntman rocking the boat will be assured never to be welcomed back again. They'll complain and apologize to each other at a later date.
Complaining in the correct fashion is a great British pastime, centuries old and steeped in authenticity. A person visiting Britain might encounter a such thing at any social setting nation wide. Complaining passively is even believed to boost morale in the work place.
It is advised to anyone experimenting with their first friendly complaint to start with a nascent headache or better yet find the worst part of your job and make a comment about that, and then just take it from there. You'll even find that making new friends and talking to strangers, they relax instantly with your light-hearted gripe, and with a bit of luck and good judgement your topic will be greeted with unanimous approval!
If you get scared, and draw a blank, start complaining about the British weather - even if it's sunny- it will never fail and still remains the oldest complaint in the book. Except for this recent Credit Crunch which has reached monolithic proportions. It's universal appeal is exciting for me because for the first time in decades the British REALLY have something substantial to complain about. I believe it has ignited a type of national pessimism that continues to unite anyone wishing to participate in the collective display of mediocre patriotism that only the British are capable of.
The scene behind the work
I've been giving the old blog a make-over in my spare time so it's been down a lot lately. My apologies for the 'invitation only' scare it was my only option during the dismantling process. I intend to transfer all content over to wordpress.com and the move has been anything but seamless, but I'm learning a lot about html and website building. I've starting writing some thoughts about Britain from an ex-pats perspective, so keep watching this space...
Happy Cinco de Mayo but for my friend Tommy: He's not exactly in synch with denial....
The news in Salt Lake hasn't changed much, except our friend and hero Tommy jumping up and down in the background of 2 News for Utah with a http://www.abettablog.blogspot.com/ banner in his hands! Only for the first 8 seconds mind you.... Bravo Tommy!
My heart is pounding with Salt Lake Rhythms ushered in by Robert Burns and his lady love Clarinda; an amateur Poess who was hot on his heels.
The Puffin Crunch
What is a blog?
A blog is a personal diary. A daily pulpit. A collaborative space. A political soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of links. Your own private thoughts. Memos to the world.
Your blog is whatever you want it to be. There are millions of them, in all shapes and sizes, and there are no real rules.
In simple terms, a blog is a website, where you write stuff on an ongoing basis. New stuff shows up at the top, so your visitors can read what's new. Then they comment on it or link to it or email you. Or not.
Since Blogger was launched in 1999, blogs have reshaped the web, impacted politics, shaken up journalism, and enabled millions of people to have a voice and connect with others.
And we are pretty sure the whole deal is just getting started.
"Don't leave your bag in a car" another proverb from George Joyce
Things must be going well; Puffin is in the process of building the biggest bubble nest I've ever seen. Or, is he taking me for a ride? You never know in the land of cut-throat England, things aren't always what they seem. I've been teaching my cockney caveman friend how to use the internet and I lent him my iPod because he loves one of my favorite artists Greg Brown. I went down to the Bournemouth beach to meet his son, Michael Joyce, who's a chef for Gary Rhodes restaurant in Christchurch - a historical town close to Bournemouth. And while we were walking along the beach promenade enjoying the view of Old Harry's Rocks, and the setting sun's promise of summer, Michael's fiancee's car was smashed into and George's backpack was stolen, along with my iPod.
You can't scam a scammer - George Joyce
I ask a million questions to whoever I decide to talk to. Whether it be a copper, a 'baccy' smuggler, a snob in high heels, or the local "rough sleeper" who's name is Ralph and sells the Big Issue outside of Marks here in Westbourne. Living in the Salt Lake valley for the last 12 years feels like cotton wool compared to here. People seem angry and will take what's not theirs because everyone feels like they're owed something. Animals have more decency. I've done a lot running around Bournemouth at night through the debris filled streets into clubs and out again and into a cab screaming my address and "get me outta here". The village of Westbourne is quaint and has been compared to Florida i.e lots of wealthy retired people. A favorite comic of mine once commented about the region, that the big give away are the RAMPS everywhere, even the shop windows are bi-focals. But the sum of all I've learned is yet to deliever it's purchase.
He wasn't that bad after all.
The interview went swimmingly until I started taking pictures, and then he asked for some references. He thinks I'm NUTS. He was very normal. So normal and fair that I hired him to clean my apartment once a month. He declined.
High-ho high-ho it's off to work I go
I shut my computer off for a day, listened to Beethoven's 9th and cleaned the penthouse. I felt squeamish about some of my blog entries and worried that I've been revealing too much and so I tried to forget about the internet altogether. Didn't last long!
Today, I have an interview with a guy I met in the village who's the assistant manager at some chain restaurant over here. I have the job, the interview is just a formality or more accurately, an opportunity for him to showcase his minute position of authority and flirt with me alone in his office. I've been rehearsing all morning how to look interested and how NOT to roll my eyes, but keep fantasizing about a swift left hook to his face. Hoo-aah!
I'll have to remember to NOT mention the ole blog in the interview.... let's wish him luck. Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang showed some compassion to the poor chap and rightly pointed out that he hasn't a clue as to who he's dealing with....
He's not a Siamese Fighting Fish, but a fighter nonetheless
As part of my English experience (other than eating fish n' chips and waiting for the bus) I'm getting to know the locals, the real Brits. Like the cab driver I remember as a kid in the back of a black taxi with my parents in London and him telling his story and the sudden disappointment of the arrival because there was always more to his tale. Or in Cornwall on holiday and the woman at the ice-cream shop calling me "love" or "Ta, petal", or "thanks a million", or "Bloody 'ell mate!". It's BRITAIN! And I'm trying to find it's finest. Or should I say, IT is finding me.
There's a Cockney man (cab driver type) that I have befriended here in the uppity little village of Westbourne and before I paint a picture of im through clever words and quoting his magnificent colloquialisms of old London I'll show you this photo I took of him. I'm sure Charles Dickens would have done the same if he could.
Meet George Joyce - born and raised in Landon town and is the last of a dying breed who loves his country and hates bureaucrats. But he chooses to fight them and claim every benefit he can just so the mass exodus of immigrants can't. I'm on the front lines of socialism warfare over here.
"The country's gone MAD!" he says rolling a cigarette using smuggled 'baccy' a friend of his picked up in Gibraltar. Tobacco gets taxed 3 times just crossing border lines within the E.U. He told me yesterday that, after filling out copious amounts of paperwork ("cor blimey") that The Council has decided that he's eligible to receive 50p a week for housing benefit. "That's more than a bloody postage stamp" he barks. Other great words are "barmy" and "crikey". He called me "clever clogs" the other day and I nearly died, it took me waaay back. I also got a cloud of tax free tobacco smoke in my face.
The man is a class act, the real McCoy and a fella I'm privileged to know. He should be followed around with a camera for all of us to enjoy. I'm sad to have lost my phone because, while talking with George one time and asking him a million questions like some kind of reporter, I had my finger on the record button. He knows this because I'm not sneaky and I can tell the man anything.
He's living the BettaLife without even knowing it. And I'll explain why sooner or later.
Learning how to say sorry
I've been angry at the world lately and took it out on a friend last night firing off vitriolic emails which were unfounded and not even close to the truth. I'm up late because I was up late last night talking with my Delta airline connection which will bring me back to the WINDs of POETry. With regards to the woman I offended I have apologized and made amends and learned; It doesn't matter if one steps in s*** but how one wipes it off. And I did both successfully. One can only hope for forgiveness. I will be forever a student of life. And a disciple of the Pollen Pathway.
'Just Keep Buggering On' - Winston Churchill
The last few days have been stormy both outside of my window and inside of me for reasons I'll not share on this public outpost of my own frontier. So sitting alone and pulling the cloak of heavens darkest blanket around me and spitting bullets of vitriol in every direction I ceased for a moment yesterday and picked up the phone and called favorite poet, Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Without even telling him of my woes, he was inspired to tell me how each of our trials are tailor made to suit our needs exactly to strengthen and fortify us as humans. The man's right. And I'll share why.
I've been back in England my home country for 4 months now living legitimately and trying to turn my passion of photography into a living. I saved the INS the trouble and kicked myself out of the America but before that I worked and survived living in the shadows for about 12 years. Failures there were plenty. But now I'm here struggling with a career when all I want is to settle down and adopt a few Ghanaian angels from my parents orphanage school. But for now this is my trial, this is my personal struggle tailor made to suit my growth.
Starbuck, my love and hero sits in a prison cell and will remain there for 2-6 months. That's his trial designed perfectly for him. As horrible as it sounds and as embarrassing as it is for me to be in love with an 'inmate' I have to respect God's plan and not to compare my trial with his or anyone elses for that matter.
Then there's my eternal friend, Sister Bacon Sizzle (you know who you are!) and I recall her experience from about 15 years ago when she asked the Universe for a challenge specific to her weaknesses so she may grow stronger. She got the challenge alright and overcame it beautifully but not without significant pain and frustration. What a woman! Her humility is astounding. I'm grateful to her and Mr KK/BB's, my parents, and Starbuck's, for I sit on the shoulders of giants and I'm learning everyday from The Master. My Muse.
So as I reflect upon these things, the feeling and presence of something greater than myself overcomes me. And what's more, I look to my left and see Puffin blowing his third bubble nest this month. He has forgiven me!
My friends, life goes on and things will invariably get worse or better but can always improve once we understand that our challenges cannot be compared to our brother's plight and that we realize our sentence is measured according to our own unique design. And then as we wake up to the challenge of our new dawning day, like a feast waiting to be devoured, we can allow the richness of life to wash over us. But before that happens we must be forced to our needs.
Happy belated Mothers Day Mom:)
Comic Relief aka Red Nose Day here in the UK
(the little pop-up dating ad which comes with the video is purely coincidental - Markus!)
Mr KK/BB has been lurking among the weeds....
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-words-of-my-dear-friendaunt-marie.html
Suicidal Blonde
I removed Puffin's lid tonight and set my camera to high speed continuous shooting mode (that's 6.5 shots per second) and sat there waiting for the bird to fly. I don't hate Puffin, I just need SOMETHING TO HAPPEN!! I've been a FREElance photographer for a local magazine www.DV8online.co.uk and working my bloody socks off! I've made a car payment with the money I've dropped on cabs, I have not been taking care of my two week long flu, and putting batteries in my speed lite flash like it was some thing with big teeth out of a George Lucas trilogy. I'm desperate for payback, something to make my soul fly and there's nothing that could make it soar like capturing my very own fish in flight. On normal days Puffin has been spotted dancing freely to Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2 in C# minor: Adiago Sostenuto. But other than that it's pretty much Nuffin.
Attention all BettaHeads
Puffin jumped out of his bowl last night. Luckily I was at my computer and sitting close enough to catch some movement from the corner of my eye. Puffin was lying there like a man drowning. I screamed, cupped my hands, and plopped him back in, and I can't remember what happened next. I remember waking up later on in the day and dreamt that Puffin and I were part of a traveling circus and people came from all over to see him ascend to the surface with great speed enough to launch himself up high into the air before plopping back into his bowl. I was the one running around trying to catch him. This is the first dream I've ever had of Puffin but not the first fish that's ever tried to escape.
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/01/tails-cuddling-and-other-trials.html
Either Puffin is suicidal or I'm just a careless and negligent Betta Fish owner. So please BettaHeads keep your water level at least below an inch from the top of the bowl. If you forget (like I did) put some kind of cover over it. Like an empty Harrods Chocolate box for example. Puffin - I love you and I'm glad that today I'm not saying R.I.P Puffin
Getting to know Ralph
The local tramp took my salt and vinegar crisps tonight.
Finally!
I guess he needed the salt.
I over-filled Puffin Palace as well
Let's hope he doesn't jump out.
Going with the flow
There's a homeless man who stands outside of Marks and Spencer's here in Westbourne selling copies of The Big Issue. The man's name is Ralph. He's gruff, he's dirty, and his fingers are long and filled with grime. I don't often shop in Marks but when I do I'll give poor Ralph a quid or 50p, never more than that because I'm certain of where it will go.... or am I?
The first time I offered Ralph a loaf of brown bread he turned it down, I wish I could remember his reason now. A second time I offered him one of my two-for-one packs of cookies and he refused saying he couldn't eat sugar because it's bad for his "teef". Tonight I offered the guy my bottle of water and he said he had plenty already. The man sleeps in a bush, I've seen him! He's not a phony, but I can't stop thinking of that Seinfeld episode of "Top of the Muffin" when the homeless shelter turns down donations because the sacks of muffins were topless.
While I'm on a rant, let's turn to the nearly topless tramps that makes up Bournemouth High Society. I am a photographer for the highly fashionable and borderline pornographic publication of DV8 magazine where I go out at night and take photos of Bournemouth's must be "scene" in bars and clubs. I take pictures of STUNNING women; they've got the hair, the skinny arms, the lips, you name it, it's ALL going on. I'll take their photo and right after the shot they come clip-clopping over to view my LCD screen and then squawk that I must erase it (which I don't) and insist that I take another one. They then adjust themselves into a peacock-like pose far from the beauty I captured of them at first. It's madness I tell you, madness! After those nights, I'm glad to get home where I meet Puffin preening himself as nature intended.
I've still got the flu but at least I have FIRE!
There's a bug been going around; Latin Fever
So the story goes: About a year ago when I was at the peak of my insanity I'd go down to my local tropical fish shop Fish4U (located 4010 S. Highland Drive SLC Utah) and hang out there, ask questions, check out the fish etc until (now this part is untrue and is now part of aBettablogs narrative) I became such a nuisance that I was eventually banned. So I created the character of Xavier Allzon LaFiesta and "sent him" to get me off of Fish4U's watch list. Banned from a tropical fish shop? Too hilarious of an idea for me to resist! But like any real rocket of a person, such is Xavier, there is a price to pay of knowing the guy. And that payment comes in the form of his good-for-nothing nephew; Jobim LaFiesta (see below). Who showed up at my Mum's house not too long ago and this is what I had to say about his latest antics.
"The look of total insolence!!! You have the WORST attitude Jobim. You were such a cute kid too. What on earth happened to you?? And how long have you been wearing that ridiculous bandanna? Mom said she's never having you over again, last Sunday was a disaster. You know my family are conservative republicans - what the hell were you thinking covering our front lawn with your handmade Che Guevara signs? Don't you know he's been dead for over 40 years, thereby making it impossible for anyone to "VOTE FOR CHE"?! It's "Viva Che" you moron."
Taken by my great therapist Eric Patton on my two month holistic retreat in the BC Rockies Canada.
Aloha!
Happy Anniversary to my parents Robin and his Lady Elizabeth Grey (the one with the great hair). I've told many people that if I could have half their marriage I'd consider my life a success.
I remember when living with them in Salt Lake City, there's an LED light in the kitchen that illuminates whenever the garage door opens and I recall on many occasions while chatting to mom in the kitchen and her seeing that light (dad coming home) and then running into the bathroom to adjust her hair or slap on a bit of lipstick.
My mother is an example of how wives should treat their husbands today and forever. Congratulations Mum and Dad; 33 years and still going strong!
Singing in the drizzle
It's taken twelve years of being gone from this green and pleasant land to really appreciate Britain. I may have spent the last three months walking around like a tourist, standing at wrong bus stops, and been treated like an American but I'm loving every minute of it. I'm a foreigner in my home country. I can take walks on Bournemouth's worst day of winter weather and not even need gloves. And when I'm walking to the bus stop I think of my other home of Utah where there's five months of five feet of snow rotting in the streets.
But then there's always Mr Kiss Kiss bringing me home with his CamCam...
Grand Tetons Wyoming/Idaho border, spring 2008
courtesy Dave Christensen
It was about this time last year that I had about eight fish living in their separate bowls spread all over my tiny apartment and it had gotten so cold that I had to move them all into my warmer and much smaller bedroom. I was livin-la-bettaloca. There were so many bowls it was like a Chihuly glass exhibit!
(McQueen - right click on the highlighted links and select "open in new tab")
I heard something today and I can't stop thinking about it; that my expensive camera "aint worth a bob unless it's put to good use in saving mankind." And the man is right. He tells me that seagulls are feeding in landfills 100 miles inland instead of the food waste that could be dumped out in the ocean where the seagulls belong. My camera isn't worth a dime if I don't change the course of life for something better. I've written a poem but it's under construction so you'll have to wait.
And this was the geezer. A wise man, a blimin' wise man.
Remembering Diablo or is it Phil
This is the late "Diablo" flaring at himself in the reflection. According to later reports he was "protecting his bubble nest from familiar looking intruders." Ah, bless him! RIP Diablo.
**Puffin Police**
Regretfully I kicked Puffin Palace for the second time this month and his little soft green tree --courtesy of DP FISHWAYS and anchored down with strange pebbles from Pompeii-- is now a leafy cloud in his bubble-less cosmos.
Some of the boughs hang down like a hammock and there Puffin sits and watches my every move, adjusting himself as I move around the room. It's the weirdest thing since Rojo.
Siamese Fighting Fish are among God's greatest creations! And the movie "Hot Fuzz" is one of man's...
...to be? That is the question.
Indecisiveness has been my Achilles heel since the moment I abandoned toddler-ville and that first word and imperative statement of "No!" What blissful certainty! Academia followed a few years later with it's perilous and uncertain waters of the 'maybe' and 'why not?' and I graduated with an obsession of seeing things from the other point of view. Throw on some strict Christian upbringing and I'm left on the battle field of what I should and what I want to do. Objectivism gone mad am I!
So, clinging to an empty barrel like someone lost at sea I ask myself what is FACT. What do I know? What do you know? I know beauty, virtue, and goodness when I see it and that I am a spiritual being having a human experience. That makes sense. That resonates and vibrates truth rhythms throughout my soul. When I'm in doubt about moral issues I'm grateful for my Dad who I go to for advice and direction. And when I'm alone and my brain and soul are divided and twice removed, and my to-do list is scrambled with egg and coffee stains I ask myself to make the distinction between what is important and what is urgent. And then I can move forward.
Don't go changing BettaHeads, miss you already
I'm heading up to York for a few days to reacquaint myself with the northerners. So while I'm gone I'm challenging all of you to do one random act of kindness each day; as though you were oiling the axis of our Earth's daily spin for good.
"Kissing eternity"
A prayer for the grieving
My heart is heavy tonight for my dear friend and mutual fan Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, who recently lost his father in law. To Dave he was a good friend, and the one that invented the great pseudonym markusurealious. My thoughts and prayers are with my favorite poet and his family.
O Puffin, Get over it!
I accidentally kicked my nightstand earlier and Puffin's bubblenest popped into oblivion. I walked into my bedroom a short while later and saw Puffin hanging there looking up at his now vacant bubble-less ceiling. The drama, the silence! I felt really bad so I walked into the village and picked up a bottle of Scottish spring water since he's due for a water change. Hopefully he'll develop an accent and a love for Robert Burns...
- O my luve is like a red, red rose
- That's newly sprung in June;
- O my luve's like the melodie
- That's sweetly played in tune.
- As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
- So deep in luve am I;
- And I will luve thee still, my dear,
- Till a' the seas gang dry.
- Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
- And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
- I will luve thee still, my dear,
- While the sands o' life shall run.
- And fare thee weel, my only love,
- And fare thee weel, awhile!
- And I will come again, my love
- Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
Robert Burns
And he huffed and he puffed and he blew and blew.....
'Puffin Palace' is located on my nightstand to my left and from there he watches me at my computer. When I get into bed at night Puffin will turn 180 degrees and watch me read until I turn off the light.
One day as we were both staring at each other wondering what the other was thinking, and me trying to put myself in his fins, he popped up to the surface for a breath. It then occurred to me how bright the bulb of my lamp must be in his eyes every time he ascends so I placed over his vase a black 6x4 piece of cardboard to shield him from the glare.
I continued with my work on the computer and about 20 minutes later saw that Puffin's bubblenest had almost tripled in size! I have been studying/writing about BettaFish for over a year now and I have never read anywhere that a dark cover on a Betta Bowl would encourage bubblenest blowing.
This is breaking news for all Betta enthusiasts.
What is a bubblenest?
This is taken from www.healthybetta.com
One day you wake up and see a grouping of tiny bubbles at the surface of the water in your betta’s tank. It may be along the tank wall, right in the middle, on the edge of a plant leaf, or another special place in your betta’s tank. What are all of these little clear bubbles you may wonder?
This huge bubblenest was blown by the betta Ermac. (Photo taken by Mike).
The purpose of a bubblenest
While it’s just fun for us to observe our betta building and tending to his bubblenest, the nest itself actually serves a very important purpose in the spawning process between male and female. A male betta builds a bubblenest as a means of attracting a female to mate. Once the nest and male gets the approval of a female and a spawn occurs, the male will place and tend to the fertilized eggs in the nest where they will later hatch.
The building of a bubblenest
If you’re lucky enough to catch your betta blowing bubbles for his nest, which usually takes place in the dark at night, it’s quite the interesting procedure. The male will take in air at the surface, then swim to the area beneath where the nest is being made and release a small bubble or two. The betta will continue this method back and forth until a nest of many bubbles is formed as they build up beneath each other. The actual bubbles are produced with mucous and you will notice they stick well to each other and any surrounding surfaces, which serves as a means to keeping eggs safe in the nest.
Now bzzzz has been silenced
As one last tribute to The Busy Bee I'm posting a poem I wrote while I was still working there. But after that it's back to my fish because PUFFIN has started building me a BUBBLENEST!!!! This only means one thing - that my love is being reciprocated (he's ready for lurve too but I won't go into that.) So here goes....
The Busy Bee - a poem
It’s the same everyday come rain or shine
When they walk through the door I consider them mine.
I tend bar at The Bee; a dive bar on State
We serve chowder for lunch and stay open till late.
I’ve heard many stories from behind the beer taps
The fish grows by inches after every Pabst.
But it’s more than just burgers and blue collar beer
They come for the “Hey Hun, it’s about time you were here!”
The regular fellows are Paul, Bob, or Mike
And a bearded Green Bay fan who arrives on a bike.
There’s a priest, and a poet, and a blond with long hair
And a grumpy old cop who sleeps in his chair.
There’s a phone with no numbers not even a dial
And the men’s room is scary and needs some new tile.
There’s a photo of George dressed up like a girl
The loudest one in there he's deaf, and it's Earl.
The beer has been flowing for some 65 years
It started with veterans but now there’s some queers.
Speaking of which let’s turn to the Greeks
The first to say homos were humans not freaks!
They’re mad with the Romans and resent the Turks
And still taking credit for Plato’s great works.
So unless you’re in Greece don’t bother with feta
When they walk through the door I consider them mine.
I tend bar at The Bee; a dive bar on State
We serve chowder for lunch and stay open till late.
I’ve heard many stories from behind the beer taps
The fish grows by inches after every Pabst.
But it’s more than just burgers and blue collar beer
They come for the “Hey Hun, it’s about time you were here!”
The regular fellows are Paul, Bob, or Mike
And a bearded Green Bay fan who arrives on a bike.
There’s a priest, and a poet, and a blond with long hair
And a grumpy old cop who sleeps in his chair.
There’s a phone with no numbers not even a dial
And the men’s room is scary and needs some new tile.
There’s a photo of George dressed up like a girl
The loudest one in there he's deaf, and it's Earl.
The beer has been flowing for some 65 years
It started with veterans but now there’s some queers.
Speaking of which let’s turn to the Greeks
The first to say homos were humans not freaks!
They’re mad with the Romans and resent the Turks
And still taking credit for Plato’s great works.
So unless you’re in Greece don’t bother with feta
The burgers and fries at The Bee are much better.
Did you think that you would ever see
beer dispensed by 2 stunning Queen Bees
Serving chilled golden nectar from 'On Tap'
with frosted base and frothy cap
Dreaming as you sit and stare
smelling sweet brews mist in the air
That maybe they'll let you drink all day
until your mind just drafts away
Then imagining your mouth might press
against a kegs sparkling effervescent breast
But sometimes in complete surprise
they'll bring you a ruben and nice order of fries
Poems are composed by fools like me
as I watch Mira and Cindy serving beer
at the Busy Bee
Dave buddy, yours is next.
The Beer HiveDid you think that you would ever see
beer dispensed by 2 stunning Queen Bees
Serving chilled golden nectar from 'On Tap'
with frosted base and frothy cap
Dreaming as you sit and stare
smelling sweet brews mist in the air
That maybe they'll let you drink all day
until your mind just drafts away
Then imagining your mouth might press
against a kegs sparkling effervescent breast
But sometimes in complete surprise
they'll bring you a ruben and nice order of fries
Poems are composed by fools like me
as I watch Mira and Cindy serving beer
at the Busy Bee
*****
More of Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang's (aka Dave Poet aka Markus Surrealious) can be found in the Betta Songbook in the BettaLinks section in the margin to the right.
A Major Kink in their Plans
The Busy Bee is a dive bar on State St. in Salt Lake City Utah that I used to tend bar and a job I had a lot of fun doing. And according to various accounts it has recently been closed down after 60+ years of doing business. For what reason? I've heard conflicting stories which fits The Bee's usual fare of gossip mongering. It's a sad end to an era not just for the regulars but for Utahns who go in looking for cold beer and the best garlic burger in town. I loved it because it reminded me of the pubs here in England, a true neighborhood bar filled with your regular wankers, tossers, and knob ends. (sorry mom!)
R.I.P. The Busy Bee Bar and Grill
At least we're not saying goodbye to BarnaBee the resident Betta fish I bought while I was there. And I believe he's in good hands, thanks to my good friend Cheri:)
For the Bee photo album click here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/britlette/BUSYBEEWEBALBUM#
(Hello Mike - welcome to the web!!)
Puffin and the Bloodworms
The only down side to keeping a BettaFish are the bloodworms I feed them. They're packaged into frozen cubes which need submerging in a little water and as it melts the vile things seem to wriggle back to life. Don't be tempted to throw a whole cube in with your Betta because an all-you-can-eat buffet is in fact lethal. I used to think overfeeding led to some kind of gut-explosion and was the reason behind Rojo's untimely demise but actually because of excess food decomposing and releasing toxic nitrates into the water, which can happen very quickly. So, I'm afraid your thawed out legions need to be put back in the freezer. Just keep them away from the ice-cream, ugh!
This is my new fish by the way. His name is Puffin and I love him. He's everything you'd want in a Betta; attentive, thoughtful, and even conscientious enough to "go" in his tree...
"Puffin Palace"
"Puffin Poo"
Happy Birthday to me!
In 1984 Britain's Torvill and Dean mesmerized the world with their gossamer indigo whirl of flawless ice dancing. They chose one of my favorite pieces of classical music to dance to, Ravel's Bolero. I'm still bewitched when I watch them today.
The duo won the first ever 6.0 for a compulsory dance at the 1984 Olympics. This performance is art, practice, precision, and beauty at it's finest. Watch close as Christopher Dean leads Jane to dance the very heartbeat drum of Ravel himself.
This reminds me of my Betta Diablo's performance where he played the part of Romeo in a swim/dance recital.
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/01/audience-weeps-over-rojos-epic.html
Remembering Phil et al
Monneypenny,
This is such a tragic loss. I am flooded now by memories. I remember how much I loved watching the Phil Donahue show especially when he'd come out and play his fiddle. His music always filled me with so much joy. And I'll never forget those commercials I enjoyed so much that Phil did for Philip-Morris Tobacco Co. They inspired me to start smoking again. Will he be buried in Philadelphia? I feel your pain, Moneypenny. To help you with your mourning process can I recommend a movie that might lift you up again? 'Kill Phil' is a favorite of mine for occasions such as this.. I hope it too might heal your breaking heart.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Yes it was a rather tragic ending to an otherwise eventful and fun trip. Katie delivered a wonderful eulogy by the toilet as I layed Phil into his final resting place. On his stone is written:
Phil
Feb 24,2008 to Jan 28,2009
He was one hardy fish
Tommy
Sticking your neck out
And the Lord said to Moses, "I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people; now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them". [Exodus 32: 9-10]
Now, I don't know about God's wrath but my friend Anne Bradshaw, author of www.annebradshaw.blogspot.com is hosting a contest/giveaway on her blog featuring a DVD lecture about alternative ways and preventative means to solving physical pain. Anne's great, and a total guru when it comes to grinding wheat, staying healthy, and diluting dish soap which I do now thanks to Anne.
Anyway check it out
http://annebradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/contest-super-prize-for-anyone.html
The Religion of PHILosophy - putting the heart in hearty
R.I.P Phil who passed away last week.
I proof read this post to my brother over the phone last night and he suggested that I differentiate man from fish. So, before I begin the story:
Tommy is my friend, is a person, and is still alive today. Phil is also my friend, but is a Betta fish and is now dead.
Tommy works for Delta Airlines and right after he got Phil was inspired to take a demotion at work so he could spend more time working on his passion of dismantling Harley Davidson motorcycles in his living room... One of the perks (or penalties) that came with this demotion was being posted at Las Vegas' McCarran airport for a few weeks every year. For the 2009 assignment Tommy has neither confirmed nor denied his "servicing" the slot machines at the Delta terminal but one night at the tables during a winning streak a man in a tuxedo interrupted Tommy's hand and placed in front of him an over-sized black telephone. A bewildered Tommy picked it up and received the news about his fish.
"I have to go" he said and picking up his jacket (he hadn't bought any luggage) cashed in his chips and was on the next flight out of Vegas.
A short while later he arrived home to Miss April who'd been BettaSitting for him. She had lit a small fire on his front lawn and invited the neighbours over for hot dogs. Tommy, not recognizing anyone, brushed past the crowd and called for April who was in the kitchen and had been drizzling melted chocolate over a pyramid of profiteroles she'd made, but was now standing on a chair and pouring it from a great height into the mouth of a gentleman who also looked completely unfamiliar to Tommy.
"Meet the neighbours!" sang April laughing as she missed the guys mouth and covered his mustache and nose in warm chocolate. "These aren't my neighbours!" screamed Tommy grabbing a towel and throwing it at the man. "April! Where's my fish?"
Who knows how Phil died and a surprising number of Betta owners have no idea why one day their little guy winds up floating at the edge of the bowl. I suggested that Tommy take a water sample down to Fish4U in (Salt Lake City 4010 Highland Drive) and like any good tropical fish store a simple pH test will tell the truth. To complete this Betta experience I have linked up with www.dpfishways.co.uk and www.nippyfish.blogspot.com and would encourage anyone with BettaHealth issues to consult these sources of first rate advice and support. But as for the religion of BettaLiving you can stay right where you are....
DP FISHWAYS
I took a bus to an obscure little town east of Bournemouth the other day in search of DP Fishways and as I walked through the door and smelled the familiar algae and homely dampness I thought for a moment I was walking in to my beloved FISH4U (located 4010 South Highland Drive SLC UTAH).
I resent shopping at mega-marts and every time I leave one of these creepy consumer labs I'm left craving the authenticity of a small town business. Places like Fish4U and DP Fishways are the last of the little guys and I'm finding some peace paying a little more for gravel just so my children and my children's children won't be subjected to some kind of New World Order. SHOP LOCAL!
DP FISHWAYS is located on
873 Christchurch Road
Bournemouth
United Kingdom
01202 42 2000 / 07918952928
www.dpfishways.co.uk
A Better Blog
6000 hits sustained! Whooeeee! Congratulations to everyone who's name I pulled out of a small shoe this morning and received free email addresses for their loyalty. Thanks BettaHeads!
I recently purchased the domain name www.abettablog.com, thus eliminating the 'blogspot' from the url. The move was not to snub Google in anyway, for Blogspot has been a dream to use and it's obvious that it was created by bloggers for bloggers, but when my pal Xavier for instance walks into a tropical fish store such as he did the other day and introduces himself or reminds people exactly who he is "a bettablog dot com" just rolls off the tongue and he can pay more attention to the accolades (or confusion) expressed by surrounding customers than having to find a piece of paper or write on his hand the spot from whence he came. I understand he autographed the back of his own hand not too long ago. Remember Xavier O, raffle winners?
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/02/betta-song.html
In the film As Good as it Gets Jack Nicholson's character (a successful writer) is asked by a breathless, swooning blond, "How do you write women so well?" He replies "I think of a Betta and take away reason and accountability".
Contention abounds!
Lately, I've been fighting with everyone I'm close to. If only the quarrels were as spectacular to behold as a pair of Betta's flaring each other off. But they're not, they're far from, and have left me feeling empty and restless. I'm now living in the UK on the south coast in an uppity little village where the locals love England and show it by their early morning walks and taking the car out for a drive on Sundays. I'm enjoying the solitude but these recent battles have left me yearning for some unconditional love. Love without advice. My cat, that's not really my cat, might be brought over next month, if all goes well with her shots and passport - yes animals can apply for travel documents. But while I wait for Kate to join me on the couch to watch some BBC, I feel it's time I get back to basics and back to BettaLiving. There's a tropical fish shop in Boscomb that I'll go pay a visit to tomorrow.
"Nothing, why?"First job application of the Year
www.islandreefjob.com A job offer/competition that's got ME written all over it... wouldn't you agree readers??
This video has been deleted for bad sound quality. Which is good since I have a job interview at the sandwich shop coming up. And furthermore, I believe there's a hole in the ozone layer directly above the Great Barrier Reef.
HUNGRY FOR BETTA'S ABROAD
Boyanka Angelova from Italy requested a Betta from me, so assuming she'd been following along and was up to date on the BettaLife I sent her a one special delivery. That was a year ago. From watching this short clip of Boyanka's performance I can only assume that she'd EATEN the Betta...
A Typical Situation
Here's Tommy and "Phil" vacationing together in Bermuda last summer, or was it 6th East about to leave for the Islands...? Can't say, but before I play the song "Just the Two of Us" you should know that standing off to one side is the BettaSitter who, after a 3 days of tending Phil, found every excuse in the bowl to have him "for just one more day".
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/03/finding-phil.html
And remember Randy, who picked up a brush again after he wallpapered his BettaBowl with an abandoned painting of his?
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/02/brenda-lees-son-randy-has-been-living.html
Randy now lives in a better apartment on the 4th floor with a view of his old place. Here's "Stubbs" critiquing Randy's latest piece.
Ich weiss nicht
Someone or something has translated my entire blog into German. I like Germans.
http://translate.google.be/translate?hl=nl&sl=en&u=http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/02/remember-ladies-never-look-prettier.html&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=1&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3DOBETTA%2Bwikipedia%26hl%3Dnl%26lr%3D
And after the ashes had been cleared how exactly did they raise that legendary bird?
I check in periodically to give the statcounter a flick much like those early days of aBettaBlog when my echo was the only response to my posts, and my moral dilemma was leaving that statcounter alone. http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/01/dulce-et-decorum-est.html. Ah! the BettaDays when gravel was the fashion and bubble nests the anthem. Sadly though, during my summer long sojourn all blog activity dwindled and today as I watch it whither back into obscurity like a slowly sinking ship, I promise to myself (and to any reader found washed up on these now barren shores of aBettaBlog) that I'll not let this era come to an end without delivering a slow and drawn out death. I shot photo #19717 on my beautiful Canon recently and added it to a folder which also had inside some camera phone pics I took 2 years ago beginning with this one...
I've argued that the simple life of keeping a Betta fish not just alive but happy might unlock truths about one's personal legend or unique calling in life. It's pretentious tone is the reason it started out as a joke but as I re-examined the four friends I'd given Betta's to (who's lives have changed in varying degrees for the better) it occurred to me how I'd over-looked my own BettaPersuits and passion for photography.
Exp: 1/60 f/8.0 ISO 400 135mmEmpirical evidence? Who's to say. But if you do decide to try the BettaLife for yourself just remember that your fish needs at least a gallon of water (spring H2O at room temp), a small feeding of blood worms daily, and aquatic plants for added protection and feeling of security. Bamboo leaves for instance, not only look nice but provide adequate shelter and encourage the building of bubble nests which is the ultimate sign of a grateful and very healthy Betta, or what I like to call BettaVita Magnifico!
The fountain of Knowledge and Sailing on The Great Salt Lake
My beloved Fish 4 U's new website...
www.rockiemountainreef.com
Warmongers!!
I walked into MegaPet tonight and spotted 3 guys in their twenties carrying a Bettafish each. Eying them suspiciously I followed them around the store for a minute and overheard one of them say "we're gonna have to get drunk first" I immediately recognized this to be the tell-tail sign for the dreaded Betta Fight Night. I confronted them at the check out stand and begged them not let the little guys fight each other. I told them I understood the temptation and how I'd even deliberated over having my own tournament, but to take a closer look at their magnificent plumage and how keeping one alive for more than a week will deliver untold blessings of peace and happiness. Boys, you know who you are! Let me know how your conscience is doing...
Here's how they look when they fight in safety
And I wasn't kidding about that petition...
http://www.petitiononline.com/Bettas/petition.html
Old Man Clem - tails of the underworld
Yet another testimony of keeping the Bettalive....
"Clem"
For Christmas gifts one year an eccentric boss hands out Betta fish to all of his employees as a token of his own imagination. That was 3 years ago. Meet Clem the only stocking filler o' fish to be alive today and enjoying a luxurious life of purified water and bamboo shoots provided by devoted owner Tanya the Swan, another disciple living the BettaLife. Tanya claims that Clem's health and happiness comes from swimming around in no less than a gallon of water and providing him with daily affirmations of "thank you for being alive" and "you're all that matters now". As Clem approaches the autumn of his life he watches with pathos the leaves falling outside his window sill and wonders if the seasons are rolling in to one.
Photo pending....
Photo pending....
Lesson 4. The Imagination: Combing your wig in public
I've been back in Salt Lake City for a few weeks now and so far so fair. The thrill of reuniting with my Starbuck after 5 months apart was a warm and familiar joy, and to commemorate I'm submitting the word "homesome" to Websters pile of '09 hopefuls. Maybe do away with that ghastly word "homely" which has done more damage to the home than the invention of Bisquik. Other changes? I've managed to lay low, escape unhealthy nostalgia, maintain cell phone abstinence, and wear the long dark tresses of a real hair wig that I picked up in Britain. Sadly however, in my absence all blog activity ceased and fallen back into the ashes from which it arose and now I'm feeling like a second rate celebrity with tabloid aspirations and trying to be the first person ever to legally divorce an idea. So I'm well if not for a little itchy.
Mira is still lost at sea.
The Voyeur
My restless night left me thirsty for a cup of tea. So going upstairs and turning the kitchen light on I found my little Fish sleeping and, like a parent watching a sleeping child I watched him suspended in oblivion hanging beneath his filmy ceiling. Meet Hai hai (pronounced Hi Hi). I found this little crown tail trying to bury himself under a marble in a jacuzzi style lava lamp that was "for display only" on a shelf in a Canadian Walmart. He's a skittish little fella and bolts to the other side of the bowl every time I come near, except tonight where he hung motionless, asleep. 
"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds". - Albert Einstein
Reading some of the comments people have left while I've been gone on my summer-long sojourn has ignited the fire within me to start writing again. I've been wracking my brains on which direction I want to take the "Saga of all things Betta" and I've been stuck for ideas. I have been reborn remember? That whole Ranch treatment center thing I did in the mountains really made a mark on my soul and I find life quite satisfying now thank you very much because I do what normal people do like read Forbes and eat skittles. Except now I drink tea and collect tea pots, how civil! I came out of rehab thinking that most people were alcoholics or were stricken with some kind of -olic and just didn't know it yet, or had even begun to conquer it like I had.
I left the beautiful bubble of my two month retreat and while boarding the plane I eyed with suspicion my fellow passengers. In all the normalcy it's become more obvious to me of how not-normal I am and as I look at people now I fancy to think that there is no normal, that we has humans are as vibrant and colorful as the fish I love to keep.
All is well, it truly is!
For those of you that don't know I just finished a 2 month holistic retreat at the foot of the Canadian Rockies in British Columbia. It's difficult to describe the last two months but holistic basically means 'whole' so my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being has undergone quite a change. I consumed an organic whole food, sugar-free, caffeine-free diet, practiced meditation everyday along with psycho-ed classes in the mornings and group therapy sessions in the afternoon, did volunteer work, took walks in forest, went fishing and mountain-biking, and I had the occasional massage, reflexology, and energy work done. It was the best 2 months of my life and the sum of my experience has brought about a mighty change of heart and the void inside of me feels like a deep pool of calm water. I feel reborn, reconnected to God, and have an inner peace that I haven't felt in years. I seem to have endless patience, I can love freely and forgive others, and I love my new and improved Leanne the way you do a newborn baby; unconditional love for a thing that has limitless potential. That Oprah was onto something...
I left BC a week ago and flew to the UK to spend some time with Mom and Dad. I'm in Spain at the moment visiting my brother Simon who's working in Salou for the summer then I go back to England until mid-august. I really fell in love with the Rockies while in Canada so I'm looking at going to school over there to study photography, which I've always had a passion for but never really pursued. Starbuck bought me a fabulous DSLR camera before I left the states and so far I've taken over 8,000 photos with it! I'm hoping to be back in Salt Lake City in the fall to visit friends and loved ones, but Canada's looking more like my new home.
While in treatment I found out that the local Wal-mart were selling Betta fish. Now, the stores in the States have been banned from selling fish because of the cruel conditions they keep them in and I guess the Canadian walmart have fallen below the radar because I was appalled to find a dozen or so Bettas lying on their sides in no less than an inch of water. It broke my heart to see their fins exposed and the water thick and dark blue from whatever goop they had them stored in. I summoned the store manager and explained that yes, they can survive in low oxygenated water but they're certainly not happy and won't live for very long. She promised to do something and I rescued four and took them back to the ranch.
A couple weeks later when I was volunteering at the SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) I mentioned the walmart travesty and found out that the store manager who I'd complained to that day had nearly gotten fired by her superior for raising hell about the poor conditions! What a lady! It just goes to show that inside all of us there's a Betta-fan dying to get out, some people just need a point in the right direction. You see, evil exists not because bad people do bad things, but because good people do nothing and there's a good lady in the little town of Cranbrook in the heart of the Canadian Rockies making sure that Betta fish have plenty of water to wiggle around and show off their plumage.
I've purchased the songs from Xavier's Tape Deck through iTunes and I'm in the process of making cd's. Anyone living in Salt Lake can pick up a free copy at the Busy Bee Bar and Grill 21st South and State st. (801) 466 0950. I'll have them done by this Friday. If you need me to send one by mail email me at britlette@hotmail.com (soon to be Leanne@abettablog.com ...shhh!)
Hi, my name is Mira and I'm an Betta-holic
Forgive me FISH 4 U for I have sinned. In a moment of weakness I bought another Betta from "Megapet" but purely for photographic reasons. The scanner beeped $2.89 and as the cashier looked for my change total on her computer screen I mentioned that I was only needing the little guy for a few days to photograph. Turning her head and smiling like a Stepford Wife she recited the stores refund policy to me and if the "product" was returned within 3 days I could get my money back. I left her with my change and receipt.
Meet "Caprese" (pronounced ca-PRAY-zay) I named him after my favorite sandwich made with fresh mozzarella, Roma tomatoes, and basil leaves. A product of Italy.
Livin' la BettaLoca
I live on the tenth floor in a one bedroom apartment and around this time of year maintenance shuts off the central heating on the upper levels expecting enough heat to rise from the milder temperatures of Spring. It's been off for two weeks now and yesterdays snow storm was not only my cue to put off spring cleaning another week, but to move a chilly Band of Betta's into my warm bedroom. Now, there's hardly enough room in there to swing a dead cat (which is the only form of cat I'll allow into my apt) but just the thought of waking up to a row of blinking Betta's with fins a flutter had me clearing off every surface to make room for the half dozen glass bowls. It could have been my sopping wet arm or the beep!beep! of my alarm clock that woke me that morning but Yossarian nearly went flying so I hurried down to FISH 4 U in search of a remedy. There were no tanks with partitions large enough and to buy six individual submersion heaters, even at F4U's competitive prices, would have cost me a small fortune. So giving up I wandered over to the new arrivals of Female Betta's where I found "Chi Chi" with an intense stare and "Lorraine" swimming around in circles and my thoughts turned to my celibate BettaBand of Brothers at home.
Chi Chi and NutraSweet Lorraine
Apparently females can live together quite happily in the same tank (or "brothel" as Diablo likes to call it) without attacking each other. And according to Chris at FISH 4 U, "females have much betta personalities"... whatever that means. It sounds like I got Betta-PUN-ked the more I think about it because I left the store with two more fish. And judging by the look on Lorraine's face, the state of Chi Chi's chewed off tails and the maniacal way the BettaBoys behaved when I introduced them to the little harlots it seems to me that everyone at #1005 got PUNked one way or another.
Phil and Yossarian noses to the glass waiting for the ladies to arrive.
Chi Chi with Lorraine hot on her half-eaten tails
...
...
I bought a ten gallon tank a while back and made a glass divider to house Diablo and Phil who stay busy making faces at each other all day. I'm still BettaSitting Phil from when Tommy left town a few weeks ago. Tommy, expecting to see his fish at the airport to welcome him home freaked out and assumed I'd killed his fish. So I invited him over to see the BFF's and while we stood there ooo-ing and aah-ing they busted out a secret handshake. Now I'm just a BettaSnatcher.
shake/fist/"Bro's before Ho's"/high five/slap!
WAHOO!!
Congratulations to ME for being the 3000th BettaBlog visitor! I think I would have given up blogging months ago were it not for my few loyal readers and their curiosity so to them I offer my sincere thanks and lashings of gratitude. We've come a long way folks...
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/01/dulce-et-decorum-est.html
Fish 4 U and Fish 4 Me but not Fish 4 everybody
I went into "Mega Pet" the other day looking for a bag of fluorescent yellow gravel. Their huge inventory just like the other Depot's and Mart's was mind-boggling. The fish took my breath away in all their sleeky vibrance and they looked to me more like an item Made in China than a freckled little soul wiggling around in a Thai paddy field. Starbuck found me wandering down the "fish tanks for your wall'" aisle carrying three electric blue Betta's and he reminded me of the four I had at home, the one I have at work, and the two I'd just bought at FISH 4 U. Insisting that the late "Oscar" had never been replaced I managed to walk out with a huge male with flawless magenta scales and endless crimson tails. I spent less than $5 and left the neon sterility feeling dirty.
I composed the following litany which I chant everyday to remind myself where my loyalties lie and why bigger, better, cheaper, and staying open till later with ten times more variety isn't always Betta...
F4U
Fish For You
41st South and Highland Drive
Fish 4 U with algae, bubbles, and plants
Fish 4 U a fountain of water salty and fresh
Fish 4 U Tuesdays at midnight come Siamese fighters
Fish 4 U Tuesdays at midnight come Siamese fighters
Fish 4 U Someone spying in camo with binoculars?
Fish 4 U Breathing damp air of green and blue
Fish 4 U Orchestral gurgling around you
Fish 4 U Small and neighborly
Fish 4 U Small and neighborly
Fish 4 U Knows your name
Fish 4 U An American aquarium dream!
Fish 4 U An American aquarium dream!
Don't the send the Joker when Death's at the door.
I think aBettaBlog is lacking depth and starting to feel like a meaningless show and tell. It started out as a parody, poking fun at people who take their pets too seriously. House pets these days are a shadow of what they once were as they've been domesticated and molded to suit our fancy. Ever noticed a dog smile or look up at you with the innocence and naivety of a young child? It would be creepy if it wasn't so adorable. My friend's Husky does this all the time, she's a wonderful animal but so far removed from her ancestor wolves that she's practically a real person. Our pets are no longer card-carrying killers of the food chain but are as threatening as a Care Bear with an opinion. But one thing remains true; that every pet-owner on this earth lives for that single moment when their return on investment purrs a homecoming, blinks a question, or sits on command.
So upon these amusements I started blogging this satire about Mira (my reluctant hero) and her experience keeping a couple Betta fish not just alive, but happy. Her big pay out never barked but fluttered wing-fins when she opened the door. Mira is unpredictable, directionless, and the debris accumulated from her ADD has left her with a mild but nagging anxiety that's not worth treating. Some days she's a conqueror and others a peddler of apologies, paranoia, and discouragement. So upon this canvas the colors of aBettaBlog are burned and the comedic tragedy yin and yanged until I started to sense a loss in altitude and frivolity became the case. The blog began to stall when Rojo died and Mira, after rifling through the trunk of her car, accidentally disposed of his Tupperware casket in a 7-11 trash can. The twin tragedy came with Fransisco's death a few days later and Mira flushes his stinking corpse down the loo.
Shakespeare's playing with humor and drama as co-dependents enabled him to take this audience into agonizing territories of the Human psyche. The deflation of Bettablog hissed into a wrinkle so looking to my protagonist for answers and finding her still at war with her ego, I let My Mira try selflessness on for size. Mira's consistent BettaLove providing the source of her strength she decides to give BettaGifts to the friends she thinks could use a boost. Mira, in a Kairos moment and without really knowing why, also offers her recipients her solemn promise that the experience of owning a Betta could change their life for the better. Total Bulls*** at the time.
And so far this authentic gesture of love appears to be working. Randy has several girlfriends and has started to draw again, painting pictures for his Betta fish who follows the lines from within his tank. Tommy recently flew up to Oregon to visit an old friend, is still dating sweet April and enjoying his demotion at work. As for Amberletta, she's spending time with her son who's learning how to feed Raphael twice a week instead of twice an hour and has a show and tell lined up at his school which Amber will be attending.
So the question remains; Was it the fish or the sound of ring of that promise? Whatever it is, from somewhere beneath all the nonsense, a message of Truth as begun to take form. I just wish I knew what caused those bloody fish to die.
Third Fish down
A friend of mine recently had a health scare and doctors are still unsure of what is wrong, so meanwhile friends and family sit in the darkroom of hope and fear waiting for the answer. In an effort to distract her mind and lift her spirits I bought Amberletta a silky red Betta fish with the longest tails that end in a curl of blue. Since both Rojo and Fransisco had both died in the same bowl I thoroughly rinsed out the gravel and pieces of wood debris and added a bamboo stalk. She was over the moon and after looking closely at her new pet she named him Oscar. She listened carefully to instructions on proper care and feeding procedures and took dozens of pictures. I held onto Oscar for a few days and while on the phone to my mother I watched the fish swim in circles on it's side and then die before my very eyes.
Letting go
I've become rather fond of grieving and I've developed an Oscar worthy far-away look that's heart-breaking. I start by gazing at the horizon with squinted eyes and a small smile, maybe a nod, then with an inward laugh I look skyward. After that I slowly lower my head and close my eyes in a long blink before opening them wide. Then, in a frightened stare, I mouth "why?" Thereafter I break the news of Rojo's death to anyone within earshot. Sympathy and self-pity isn't something I've ever wished for or sought out, but in this case for some reason I'm thoroughly enjoying it and I'm reluctant to move on.
I know he'd want me to be happy.
Funeral March
Some say my blog reads like a touching sonnet or an uplifting scripture so try to avoid all things negative and I seldom complain but last week was rough and so I'm sad to announce that Fransisco (a Betta I bought the day Rojo died) perished a couple days ago before I got to know him or even post a grand intro. I nearly had to cancel Rojo's funeral because to my horror his body was no where to be found. I thought about going ahead as planned but for Fransisco but I couldn't think of anything authentic to say about a fish I barely knew and I imagined myself standing at the door welcoming guests, then having to explain that the funeral was actually for my new fish which had died and Rojo's body was somewhere in the back of my truck. So I kept quiet and slipped Fransisco's corpse into the casket before the pallbearers arrived.
Diablo and I had a private memorial. The photo below shows a nervous Diablo saying a final farewell to his friend. It's really quite moving.
When someone we love dies, we're forced to think about an unknown frontier and what, if anything is beyond the threshold. I believe in a life after this one partly because of my faith and also because energy does not die, it simply moves from state to another. My thoughts are with Big N who lost his uncle over the weekend, I love you friend:)
Whiskey Lullaby to Rojo
His life went out like the frozen end of a brine shrimp.
He broke her heart: She might spend her whole life trying to forget.
We watched her drink his pain away, a little at a time,
But she never could get drunk enough to get Rojo off her mind,
Until the day on the rooftop,
Mira and Diablo, and the rest of the mourners.
They all put bottles to their lips and pulled the trigger.
And finally drank away Rojo's memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger,
Than the strength we had to get up off our knees.
Mira had found him with his face down in the bubbles,
With a note on the aquarium glass that said: "I'll love Mira till I die."
Then we buried him atop The Charleston,
As angels sung a whiskey lullaby.
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo.
The rumors flew, but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
And that fishy lady at Fish 4 U.
For days and days, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.
She finally drank her pain away, a little at a time.
But she never could get drunk enough to get Rojo off her mind.
Until the day on the roof
She put that bottle to her lips and pulled her hair back.
And finally drank away his memory.
Life is short, but this time it wasn't bigger,
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees.
We found her happy face again down at The Bee,
Clinging to a picture of Rojo and his favorite brew.
We toasted Rojo, and Mira, beneath the patio canopy,
While Dave and Dave sang a whiskey lullaby.
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo.
Rojo, Rojo, la la la la la la Rojo!
Mister Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Moving on
After I realized Rojo had perished I checked Diablo and found him building a bubble nest, which he either did out of sympathy or he's at it again. As much as I want to buy a female for Diablo I don't think I'm in the mood to procreate so instead I went down to Fish4U and picked up a yellow/peach crown-tail with red and blue tails and black beady eyes. Very theatrical indeed!
"Fransisco"
"Fransisco"A Rojo-shaped hole in my universe
So now I'm faced with a contaminated tank and three of Rojo's pets patrolling the waters. I'm worried about how I should introduce the new-comer so I turned to the internet for answers and became sickened by the number of reckless Betta owners that have absolutely no clue. "I've had my Betta for a year, should I change the water?... I've heard Betta's can survive out of water for up to 7 hours, how long should I let my 4 year old play with it in our sandpit? It's St Patty's Day soon, can the water green?" and so on. Has civilization gone mad? Is the second coming this weekend? My misery is in a tailspin.
I showed up at Fish 4 U this afternoon in a haze. I remember waving to the Betta Girl and saying something about not connecting with any of the new arrivals. As always the F4U staff were wonderful. The BettaGirl tested my water sample and said it was fine and suggested that maybe the three cloud fish that I gave Rojo as pets may have had something to do with his passing. She was very sensitive. I feel like Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" where he smothers his rabbits with love and enthusiasm.
I'm having a wake for Rojo this Sunday where I'll bury him in the garden on the rooftop patio of my apartment building. Anyone can come, just bring your own food because I'm not hungry.
I'm reminded of the film Garden State where Natalie Portman plays Sam who has her own pet cemetery. "Goodbye Jelly," she says, burying a hamster "I hope you liked me." I mourn because Rojo was more than my pet, he was my muse.
Thank you to everyone who offered their condolences.
Losing Rojo
Rojo died in the night. I'm taking his corpse along with a water sample to Fish 4 U where the Betta Girl will perform an autopsy.
I'm really sad.
Finding Phil
Being a Betta Whisperer isn't as easy as I thought. In order to finance this noble endeavor I'm working longer hours and have less time to write, but mark my words the experiences are a'flowing and this labor of love will soon bear some mighty fine fruit.
Take Tommy for instance, facing 40 and debilitated by depression and stress he put in for a demotion at his work. He did this just so he can spend more time on a couple of his uncomplicated hobbies of traveling and building Harley Davidson's. He's started to clean up his house for when his new cleaner arrives next week and even casually (and successfully) asked a girl out on a date. And all because of Phil. I promised Tommy that owning a Betta would change his life and it started to the second I said "I know what I'm getting you for your birthday". Note, this is the power of Betta-Force and I'm not trying to take credit for Tommy's change of fortune. Well, maybe a little.
What is NOT little is the story behind how Tommy and Phil became TommyandPhil. So I'll leave you with a teaser. Enter movie voice over guy...
IN A WORLD OF ANARCHY AND PLUNDER A BETTA IS FISH-NAPPED AND RESCUED USING THE BETTA-BASE AT FISH 4 U. THE THEFT WAS REALLY AN ACCIDENT AND THE GUY FELT AWFUL RETURNING IT THE VERY NEXT DAY. (sounds gripping) -- Kill Phil is now showing and is rated B for believable.
I think that covers it. Here's Phil
Take Tommy for instance, facing 40 and debilitated by depression and stress he put in for a demotion at his work. He did this just so he can spend more time on a couple of his uncomplicated hobbies of traveling and building Harley Davidson's. He's started to clean up his house for when his new cleaner arrives next week and even casually (and successfully) asked a girl out on a date. And all because of Phil. I promised Tommy that owning a Betta would change his life and it started to the second I said "I know what I'm getting you for your birthday". Note, this is the power of Betta-Force and I'm not trying to take credit for Tommy's change of fortune. Well, maybe a little.What is NOT little is the story behind how Tommy and Phil became TommyandPhil. So I'll leave you with a teaser. Enter movie voice over guy...
IN A WORLD OF ANARCHY AND PLUNDER A BETTA IS FISH-NAPPED AND RESCUED USING THE BETTA-BASE AT FISH 4 U. THE THEFT WAS REALLY AN ACCIDENT AND THE GUY FELT AWFUL RETURNING IT THE VERY NEXT DAY. (sounds gripping) -- Kill Phil is now showing and is rated B for believable.
I think that covers it. Here's Phil
Pets for my pets
Last night during a water clean/change I ran out of purification drops so I called FISH 4 U and the guy who answered the phone didn't seem to recognize my voice so I drove down there. Waiting until a couple minutes before close I entered the store and, in the form of an apology, I introduced myself to the new FISH 4 U employee. The guy was eager to help and a total nut and expert on Betta's. He told me all about his life in California as a Betta breeder and taught me about bubble nests, water changes, and the benefits algae. Did you know that a female's horizontal stripes turn vertical when she's ready to mate?? Fascinating! I'm guessing he moved here after meeting the Fish Lady online and they found love in a fish forum chatting about water filtration systems; "He had me at Betta Splendens is latin for Beautiful Warrior". I don't blame her, the man is an inspiration.
I ended up leaving the store with a pound of black gravel, a red coral arch, a soft mesh net, premium frozen fish food, and 3 albino cloud fish for Rojo to play with. I can see why they hired him.
FISH 4 U is located on 4010 Highland Dr, Holladay, UT (801) 274-0113. Pay them a visit, it will change your life.
WHY MY BETTA LOVES ME - Lesson #4 : "Inebriated Astonishment" is NOT adding beer to your fish tank.
Mr Kissing Bang,
There will be time for you and me
Time to meet Cindy for afternoon Tea
And they'll always be time for Beer at the Bee
Just not enough time to set Betta fish free.
I talked with Cindy this afternoon and she thought it was Thursday you were going to meet for scones and clotted cream... ? There has been a long over-due firing at the BB and a major re-shuffling of the schedule so CindyBee is going to be working some days from now on.
But you can still count on 'Friday Nights and the Queen Bee Duo' and my unwavering devotion to everything silly except when it involves tails, scales, and Betta males and then it is serious.
...in sickness and in health
I was never told Rojo's age when I got him and lately he's been acting rather lethargic, looking paler, and sits in his corner with a mindless expression. I think leaving my window open altered the water temperature so I've moved both he and Diablo to my bedside table and surrounded their bowls with votive candles and get well cards. He's looking better already thanks to this fantastic website www.healthybetta.com. It's comforting to know that there are people like me out there. I'm just wondering why the Fish Lady at F*** 4 U has never mentioned it...
Rebels without a cause, or a compelling argument.
That photo of Xavier in an earlier post was in fact his nephew Jobim and was taken a year ago around the time his band "FUNESTO" was breaking up. The name means 'evil' and Jobim named the group after the phrase 'See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil' which, he says, describes someone who doesn’t want to be involved in any given situation. Which is exactly what Jobim and his two cousins had in mind when they formed this musical trio. By their mid-twenties the sum of their combined education was less than a high school diploma and riding the coat-tails of their uncle Xavier's success they somehow confused his activism with far left ideology and came together to form a toxic blend of anger and stupidity. Self proclaimed passivists and disciples of Che Guavara every song they wrote sounded like their first and only success; an ode to communism in the style of a national anthem.
Juan Carlos LaFiesta
Antonio LaFiesta
Jobim LaFiesta "Escucha Me?"
http://abettablog.blogspot.com/2008/02/betta-song.html
Damage Control and a Second Chance
To my horror the pamphlet "Ten signs your fish is a MasterBetta" was a figment of my imagination and so I apologized to the wrongfully accused Diablo and paraphrased a couple proverbs about forgiveness. Diablo had no idea what I was talking about and just waited with a sour smile for me to finish my sermon and leave. But Xavier took the real hit. As usual he was happy to assist me in my search and he even said he was familar with the article. "Si Si" he said clearing his throat "I am a master of many things". He arrived at Fish 4 U the next morning and apologized profusley for not warning them ahead of time. This confused everyone since no one had the faintest idea who he was and why he stood in the doorway all morning greeting customers, autograph fish bowls, and tell stories of "Little Fin". He acted like a celebrity and so they treated him like one. He answered the bloody phone when I called down there and I hung up without saying anything.
The store stayed busy all day and everything was going swimmingly until a lady came into the store with a dead fish wanting a refund. Xavier who was standing on a chair at the time took her complaint personally and grabbing a handful of algae from the nearest tank threw it on the ground as hard as he could, then demanded to see the corpse. He beckoned the crowd to gather in and looking closely at the tail identified a unique fin-print and declared in a loud voice that the deceased fish was not from F4U but a genetically modified product from Wal-Mart known as the "$1.69 Master-Betta". A motionless crowd winced and somebody spurted a giggle. The cashier broke the silence by calling 911 and with a polaroid flash Xavier was banished to the Watch List.
Now years ago Xavier earned a place in the history books when he broke into Barry Manilow's mansion after he heard rumors that Betta's were to be given out as favors at the singers birthday celebration, but in the cold cellar the exquisite fish were perishing one by one. People watched Xavier being led away in handcuffs and his crumpled expresssion troubled the entire nation and for once he was taken seriously. This look of his became known as The Face of Defeat and it sent waves throughout the acting world and is still used as the base expression for all emotions melancholy. Xavier has worn out his famous grimace but he'll use it at every opportunity including the time he saw his name sharpied to the bottom of his photo at the fish store.
Outside in the rain-car-suicide-sit-and-watch-mobile I watched the Fish Lady hug Xavier with a blanket and walk up and down the aisles picking up dozens of inky petitions and tear-stained addresses for him to take to Washington. He sat there with that idiotic expression on his face sipping a warm drink like he was critically injured and by the time the police arrived his ban had been reduced to a two day suspension.
Diablo's roof of shame was in fact part of his Spiritual Bubble Retreat which is "centuries old and seeped in tradition and" to quote Rojo "is a ritual NOT to be taken lightly, much less desecrated but the likes of you Mira..." The wise fish also pointed out that had I NOT been buried in Betta-Smut and consumed with playing The Detective which he said was the worst display of role-playing he's ever seen, I might have learned something about Diablo's unique Bettage. He compared my attention span to a staple gun and predicted that future embarrassments could only be avoided if I learned to sit still and quietly observe the world around me. So clenching my teeth I listened like a Taoist monk to Rojo's diatribe on how Buddha was really a Betta.
After that Rojo asked if my Bettaship was current and how long I had been BettaSitting. Then he disappeared and a few hours later re-emerged with word from The BettaBoard saying that all would be forgiven if I found he and Diablo a WIFE.
I'm too jaded to be excited.
A man, a legend, a way of life.
Thank you Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang for your contributions and clever songs. May the flow of hilairity never dwindle! I have renewed enthusiasm thanks to your support and I'm looking forward to a healthy battle of wits. Mr Bang's songs will soon be archived in The Betta Songbook link to the right....
I printed out a micro-copy of "Born to swim wild" for Diablo and stuck it in his ever-growing bubble nest, which is all he seems to care about these days. He's obsessed with it's construction and I'm beginning to think that something more than fishy is going on under there. The loitering, the sluggish tails, the murmering! It's got to stop! I noticed a pamphlet at Fish 4 U titled "Ten signs your fish is a MasterBetta" and decided to pay them a visit. Finally, I have an excuse to drop in with a decent question to ask for once. Although, word on the street is that my name and corresponding photo has been seen on a list behind the Cash Register and has been put there for any new employee needing a "heads up". Fair enough, but a little excessive if you ask me, but more about that later. So to avoid any trouble I'll ask my old friend Xavier to see about the pamphlet.
Xavier Allzon LaFiesta is a fearless chap and founded the radical political group "BETTAQUALITY!". He spends most of his time on the streets of Washington D.C. badgering politicians (usually on their lunch hour) for legislative change in favor of Betta fish. Anything from Betta voting rights, health care, endangered species requests and so on. He claims to hold the record for the longest march in history on Capitol Hill which he did solo for 367 days back '97. For the most part he is considered a public nuisance and should have been locked up years ago for his relentless civil disobedience. But Xavier managed to charm the pants off the media and this circus act turned him into a tabloid darling and A-list celebrity in the Betta community. He has a thick latino accent, is obsessed with pirates, and was born with natural optimism which accounts for his unusual stamina in the uphill battles he chooses to fight on The Hill. He's short of nothing except maybe a good speech writer to help him address members at the next BNC (the Betta National Convention of course). In the whirl wind that is Xavier, he is noticed for his tendancy to lose track and jabber on about whatever excites him at that moment.
Xavier Allzon LaFiesta is a fearless chap and founded the radical political group "BETTAQUALITY!". He spends most of his time on the streets of Washington D.C. badgering politicians (usually on their lunch hour) for legislative change in favor of Betta fish. Anything from Betta voting rights, health care, endangered species requests and so on. He claims to hold the record for the longest march in history on Capitol Hill which he did solo for 367 days back '97. For the most part he is considered a public nuisance and should have been locked up years ago for his relentless civil disobedience. But Xavier managed to charm the pants off the media and this circus act turned him into a tabloid darling and A-list celebrity in the Betta community. He has a thick latino accent, is obsessed with pirates, and was born with natural optimism which accounts for his unusual stamina in the uphill battles he chooses to fight on The Hill. He's short of nothing except maybe a good speech writer to help him address members at the next BNC (the Betta National Convention of course). In the whirl wind that is Xavier, he is noticed for his tendancy to lose track and jabber on about whatever excites him at that moment.
I expect Xavier to glide into Fish 4 U and within minutes have my name taken off that pesky list and on to the board of directors.
Mi amigo Xavier Alzon LaFiesta
Mi amigo Xavier Alzon LaFiesta
You Can Keep the Bubbles On!
Betta, I'll clean out your bowl...real slow
Betta, clean out that gravel..No, I'll clean your gravel
Betta, clean up your mess..No I'll clean up your mess
Yes, yes, yes, But-
You can leave your bubbles on
You can leave your bubbles on
You can leave your bubbles on !!
Go over there and turn on the lights, no, all the lights
Now swim back here right by my chair...that's right
Raise your fins up in the air...shake em
You give me reason to write
You give me reason to write
You give me reason to write !!.
Suspicious bloggers are writing
Trying to tear us apart
They say my takes are wrong
They don't know what love is
They don't know what Betta love is
They don't know what Betta love is
I know what Betta love is !!
O Muse, where art thou?
One of my favorite movies is "The Candidate" starring Robert Redford. He plays a young politician running for Senate in early 1970's California. He's a young maverick, full of ideas and passion but in order to beat his opponent, an older more experienced Republican, he has to go against his own beliefs. After a series of compromises ole blue eyes secures a victorious win and the final scene shows California's newly elected senator sat in his campaign headquarters with the press going berserk outside and turning to his top adviser he asks "So now what do we do?".
The 600 plus hits delivered to my site over the last week has left me and the BettaBro's asking the same question and we're all feeling a little over-whelmed. Rojo hasn't moved out of his cave for days, which isn't a bad sign since he can handle it, but Diablo got a little self-consciousness over his dance recital from the other day and with all the attention, nay, publicity we've received he's made a bubble nest and is hiding under it.
Milestones and Mandates
I just turned 30 and already people are taking me more seriously. Living the BettaLife hasn't been easy for the three of us and finally the ridicule has eased off and the infidels are seeing the light. Currently my hit counter shows over 700 hits so there!
Waves of uncertainty
1. 600 hits and why
2. Have I reached a tipping point?
3. Do I need a publicist?4. Diablo won't eat bloodworms
Remember ladies - Never look prettier than the bride.
Dear Mr Bang Bang,
I'm writing in response to your comments. Your remarks were imaginative, empathetic, and indeed far more humorous than my own. Mr Bang Bang, it's one thing to be out-witted but it's quite another to be "out-fanned". I'm asking you sir, what my role is as your fan, if you would feel okay with being my #2 fan, and what your thoughts are on "mutual-fanship".
Thank you for hitting on my site.
Yours sincerely,
Miss Moneypenny
Pure love for under 10 bucks....
Brenda Lee's son Randy has been living on his own for several months. He's 20 years old and is a good lad but as I suspected he's been feeling somewhat lonely; an obvious Betta-shaped hole in his universe. So the other night Starbuck and I picked him up and took him to see the selection of Betta-orphans at "Fish 4 U". Leaving the boy in peace I re-introduced myself to the FISH LADY - someone only the loyal reader will recall - and like most people she was startled by my enthusiasm....
"I'd love to meet your fish...."
Starbuck's greatest quality is his appreciation for my blog. He recently expressed how much he's enjoyed reading each post and looks forward to his daily dose of betta-nonsense. As you can imagine this meant a great deal to me. Even though I joke about the lack of readership and pretend I don't care, I do care and I can't believe I finally have a real live fan. Starbuck #1 FAN!!!
"ALL THE BETTA TO HEAR YOU WITH"
Writing this blog has encouraged many of my friends to share with me their Betta experiences.
Last night Brenda Lee told me the story of little 'Gimp' who had a broken back, as though his body went around a corner or somebody had taken a fish and made a tiny boomerang. Also, Gimp seemed to be filled with air so he remained buoyant preventing him from ever swimming to the bottom of his bowl. Other fish teased him and called him names like "life-raft" and "bubble-butt'. Anyway, one day Brenda Lee (who loves to sing) made up a ballad about the Gimp and when she came to the line "Gimp is no pimp" the fish plunged to the bottom of his bowl making brief contact before the inevitable ascent. This unusual outburst must have been an exciting moment for both he and Brenda Lee and I wish I had been there. She's a great storyteller but things like that are always better in real life, which unfortunately Gimp did NOT have. Personally, I think the only think REAL thing in his LIFE was the possibility of a successful suicide.
So thanks to Brenda Lee we can safely assume that
A. Betta's can hear us
B. Betta-Bullying is real.
Audience weeps over Diablo's epic performance.
Diablo chose the love theme of Romeo and Juliet and stars as Romeo in this solo performance. The musical score is complex and highly dramatic and has always been a challenge for artists to portray the depth of emotion. But as you will see in the video below, the choreography of Diablo's movements embodies both grace and tension allowing the audience to see just how versatile a performer he really is. We see Diablo swim Romeo's unforgetable climb to Juliets balcony in an upward surge of life and love followed by a downward spiral sinking to the bottom as if dead. A premonition of things to come.
I thought the ending was anti-climactic as we see Romeo drifting slowly to the bowl's edge like a prop accidentally left on stage. Some finale's are intensified by that unanswered question, but here it just seems weak. If I were to conclude the world's greatest tragedy I'd be anything but ambiguous. And speaking of tragedy, the sequence was well over the time limit resulting in automatic disqualification. But in spite of that, it was without a doubt the most riveting and memorable performance of the season. Good job Diablo!
Hobbies, talents, and the importance of play.
Diablo's performance the other night must have inspired Rojo because today I found him doing what seemed to be some sort of dance sequence. It actually reminded me of the cheery springtime dance called "The Arabesque", I learned in Ballet years ago so I suggested he smile more. But what really struck me was his near perfect 180 pivot and how it led seamlessly into a measured ascent; the effect was quite majestic. With good posture and tails spread wide this modest final pose concluded Rojo's very first creative expression as a simple but thoughtful interpretative art form.
Rojo the Great
I took this photo with my camera phone circa September 2007, obviously before he swallowed the tumor/marble. Look at his plumage.
Dulce et decorum est
Operation StatCounter is now in effect and has tallied 8 visits so far. However, refreshing the page to artificially inflate numbers is a constant temptation so the counter will either serve as a beacon of integrity and honor or a cheap gimmick to lure other readers, including the ones that don't exist. After checking the homepage twice during this post the ticker has increased to 10 thereby validating my Integrity but raising serious questions about my psychological fortitude. I'm distracted easily, abandon subject matter for low-yielding tangents, and frequently end up in a Seinfeldian wasteland of solipsistic narcissism, redundancy, and meaningless rhetoric. Much like this one; a wordy nothingness like a cul de sac of ideas and the irony of being trapped inside my own invention starts making me queezy. Another 4 hits sustained.
The lies surrounding Rojo's ingested marble and his struggle with...
...Constipation
Description: Constipation is a fairly common problem with fish. It can occur due to lack of variety in diet. The fish's stomach will be swollen due to its inability to defecate. This may cause problems with buoyancy (similar to swim bladder disorder, where the fish is unable to swim properly and floats at the surface). Initially it is not dangerous to the fish but after several days secondary problems can occur: bacterial infection, damage to the swim bladder, or internal fluid leakage.
Treatment:Fast the fish for about 3 days. The lack of food will give the fish's stomach time to process and purge, allowing its swelling to go down. At the end of the third day, if the fish is still having difficulty, it may require a longer fasting period. A betta can, at extreme, survive for a month without food (this is part of natural survival technique) so do not fear not feeding your betta for a few days. They are very durable fish. At the end of the fasting period, if you really want to ensure the system is flushed out, you can feed a bite-size portion of a cooked and de-shelled green pea to the fish. Or, daphnia can work as a natural laxative. This, too, will help to purge out the system.
Giving the fish a soak in a salt bath can also work as a laxative.
* taken from the journal www.fishjunkies.com
Starbuck came home to me cooking a single green pea yesterday and commented that although the pea was out of it's pod, it still needed de-shelling and handed me a pairing knife mumbling something about bite-size and Betta's having teeth. A familiar blend of support and ridicule but at least he's reading my blog. Which leads me to ask: Is he a lone reader drifting through the vacuum of cyberness or are there throngs, even armies of fans ready to charge the second I resign? Am I ready to install a view counter and all it can reveal?
You can make a difference!
Please take a moment to sign the Betta Splendens non-cruelty petition in the link below.
http://www.petitiononline.com/Bettas/petition.html
"water water everywhere"
Rojo and Diablo have little in common. The frozen brine shrimp purchase was a waste of money and I think the fish lady took me for a ride. I question everything now.
I can't believe it's not Betta
You'd Betta believe it....hope you feel Betta soon! People are getting sick of me. I think I'd Betta stay home and hang out with Diablo and Rojo.
tails, bubble nests, and the pursuit of happiness
I had a Betta commit suicide once. My friend asked me to watch her fish for a week and one day i came home and found an empty tank and poor 'Richard' lying on my carpet like a crisp dark leaf.
I told this to the fish lady from the other day and apparently, in the wild, Betta's will jump out of their pockets of water and land on a leaf and take a nap. As much as I want to believe her I think the fish lady is full of sh**.
Alpha..Betta...Gamma...Diablo...?
Fish 4 U is a fantastic little store. The sales assistant was an EXPERT on fish especially Betta's. I told her all about Rojo and how much happiness he had bought into my life. She didn't laugh once and gave me a knowing nod, as though she'd actually MET him. Turns out, that Starbuck my boyfriend had bought Rojo from there, so she probably remembered what fish i was talking about. Small world! Anyway, the fish lady told me about the benefits of tea tree oil and suggested that i surprise Rojo with a frozen shrimp meal. Who would have thought?! We could have chatted all day but we were interrupted by some blond lady wanting to look at the frogs. Bitch! My irritation quickly gave way as my attention turned to a spry little black Betta on the third shelf wiggling at me to take him away. I had no idea they came in Black, nor that they could be as much as $15, but regardless, it was a match, and i snagged him before you could say "Rojo's gonna love that shrimp"
Names I've come up with so far are Diablo, Bullet, Wolf, Negro, Hawk, Rasputin, and Neil .
I'm really excited.
A fish named Rojo
I think Rojo swallowed one of the pink marbles from the bottom of his bowl. Either that or his Betta Bites came from a facility that produces nuts. The lump has been there for some time now, and I've been anxiously waiting for it to disappear. It looks like an enlarged adams apple, and when he eats, the top part of his face and head bobs up and down, to compensate. The last straw came when a friend of mine joked that Rojo had more chins than a Chinese phone book. So today I went to Fish 4 U on Highland Drive in SLC and came back with BETTA FIX a tea tree oil natural alternative medicine. Fingers crossed.
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